Genesis
Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…
Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.
Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.
Chapter One: Purple - Getting Over It
He loved her. So much. That had to be it, else it would not hurt so much. The pain was unbearable yet he could not call it unique. He experienced similar feelings over the course of some time, always involving her, but never this agonizing. Tonight, it was surely going to kill him, and there was nothing the clever turtle could do to stop it. It was not poison or a physical injury. Those were trivial ailments that dwindled in comparison. This wound, the very breaking of his heart to irreparable pieces was unavoidable, and there was no remedy.
November was trying to strangle him to death with cold, but he barely registered the temperature. Behind him, across the roof and then a building to the right, everyone he held dear to him huddled in a small apartment to congratulate and celebrate. Apparently the atmosphere was not lost without him; just another stab to his delicate state. Actually, he hated to be a bother, but concentrating on something other than his loveless life was difficult at the moment.
Casey and April finally decided to venture towards that final threshold. In the presence of friends and family, the man had proposed and everything went as planned. Michelangelo apparently had a heads up, for he sprung out the "party" supplies as soon as the much awaited "yes" was delivered. She said yes. Splinter and Leonardo nodded approvingly, as if both of them were somehow her father. He had asked them. It was obvious. She actually said yes. Raphael's frenzied search when they had first arrived finally clicked into the full perspective. Casey had lost the ring and the turtle jumped into action to find it. He would definitely be the best man. How could she marry ... Casey Jones?
Apparently Donatello's notice of engagement was lost in the mail. He was as surprised as April when everyone gathered around for the bumbled proposal. They didn't tell him. Casey didn't tell him. His eyes narrowed at the stab in the back he was currently experiencing. Everyone was so happy. She was so happy. He stuck out like a sore thumb.
Since he was already frozen with shock, the cold did not do much to earn his contemplation. He wanted to run, get away from everyone currently relishing in his misery, but he only ventured a rooftop over before he plopped down against an edged wall. It was against the rules to run off on his own during the night. Pairs minimum, else Master Splinter would worry. And as much as he wanted to scream, he could not bring himself to do it. So he just sat there, leaning his shell against that walled edge, collecting snow. At least maybe if he was low enough, no one would see him and they would think he ran away. If anyone cared at all that he was missing in the first place.
Donatello had no idea how long he had been out there. It did eventually dawn on him that he was absolutely freezing. He had not even grabbed his jacket. Perhaps he would have to go back just to escape the cold. Out of the freezing night and back into the frying pan. Great. His brain made the plan of action but his body did not move from its current location. He was being stubborn, or at least part of him. Wow, he would rather become a turtle popsicle than face her right now. Yes, he could easily see why he agreed to that arrangement. Her smiling face, lovely laugh, joy-filled eyes. And none of it was for him. All for some lunatic vigilante that never would have met her in the first place had the turtles not intervened. Irony at its best.
He heard footsteps. But he was on a snow covered roof in the middle of the night, so it could only be a small number of possible candidates. It could be the Shredder, coming to put him out of his turmoil. A band of foot soldiers, who would only serve to make him warm again through the motions and adrenalin necessary to send them back on their way. Of course he almost welcomed those two options over who it probably was; one of his brothers coming to drag his chilly bum back to the loft. Definitely brother, as had it been one of the first two options, he would have never heard someone coming. His brother was allotting him a courtesy.
He decided to cut his losses and save some face. With a less than energetic push, he raised himself slightly with the help of the wall, as if preparing to stand up. "I'm heading back, Leo. I didn't mean to worry anyone." Donatello prepared his best fake smile and finally looked up to his visitor.
"That's an insult if I ever heard one," a voice much rougher than Leonardo's answered back. Raphael stood directly over his younger sibling, looking down. The older brother sported a jacket, designed to keep a rider warm while riding a motorcycle. He reached out one arm to push Donatello back into a sitting position and tossed a purple toned coat into the turtle's lap. "I know ya don't wanna go back."
"Why do you say that?" Donatello responded innocently. He gratefully unwrinkled his jacket to drape around his freezing self. Raphael's weight plopped down to his side. Being protective is just embedded, Donatello thought, as Raphael had chosen to sit to his left, blocking the direction of the wind.
"Dunno." Raphael shrugged. Donatello looked over as his sibling fiddled with whatever else he had brought. He distinctively could hear the light clicking of glass. "Beer?" Raphael finally freed a bottle from its cardboard haven and offered it Donatello.
"No." Donatello stated from habit alone. He had never tried alcohol before. It was one of those unspoken rules from Master Splinter that his hot headed brother always ignored. His self pity and loathing flooded back into focus as he remembered his current predicament. Then he felt guilty that one of his brothers had trudged all the way out here, and he was being very inhospitable. The second he felt the comforting warmth at his side, he immediately decided that he did not want to be alone. And so he cautiously wrapped his hand around that beer as if the bottle would burst in his hand and Raphael let go. He stared at it for a moment, waiting to Raphael to make some crack about how the pure one was about to have his first drink, but nothing came. He was almost disappointed, but then decided that maybe just having a moment 'Raphael style' was better.
Raphael up turned his bottle and it was half empty when he lowered it. Apparently he was really good at this whole alcohol drinking thing. Donatello finally thumbed the lid off of his own bottle. Neither of them felt like talking apparently. This was Raphael, of course. What could he expect?
So what does any scientist do in a new situation? They observe and mimic to the best of their ability. So Donatello threw the bottle back and tilted it upright for his first real swig of alcohol. It was fair to say some of it made it down his throat, but the rest was messily coughed back into the bottle. Raphael could not contain a low snicker. "This stuff tastes like ass." Donatello exclaimed, wiping his mouth with the jacket covering the back of his hand.
Raphael smirked. Donatello continued for the moment on how bad the beer actually tasted. He was about ready to believe ass would actually taste better than the beer. But he took another slow gulp anyway.
"Ya just gotta get used to it." Raphael's voice seemed amused by his younger brother's reaction.
"You can get used to the taste of urine, Raph. That doesn't mean it tastes good." Donatello quipped and then his bottle was empty. Really, it was not as bad as his musing suggested, but complaining kind of felt good at the moment, so he went with it. Raphael made no attempt to stop him. When he was offered another beer, he accepted.
The liquid courage made Donatello feel warm inside. His freezing self approved. He felt better, in a way. An empty better, but none the less his spirits were somewhat lifted. At least the lack of his mopey shell had been noticed, and for one selfish moment, he was astonished and glad. Surprised because it was Raphael who came running to his rescue; happy that at least he was being comforted. Not in a conventional sense of the word, but it was enough for the usually selfless turtle.
On that roof, they sat in silence, each gulping down a mouthful of the bitter booze. When the six-pack Raphael initially brought disappeared, four of those bottles laid to waste at Donatello's feet. Though, before he could begin his disappointment, a second cardboard container made its way from Raphael's side to their shared front side. Donatello helped himself to the soundless invitation and sighed heavily once another swig was achieved.
The night drew further and the second case found itself empty at the feet of the two brothers. Donatello's mind swirled. An instinct quickly fading in the back of his mind told him to hold his feelings in, but the alcohol thought otherwise of the situation. Logic reminded Donatello that spilling his emotional rollercoaster of feelings to Raphael was only going to result in humiliation when the turtle reminds him that he never had a chance. That his best friend was always the only one with a chance with April. He could not risk his feelings being brought to everyone's attention. He would feel like a fool. And yet, the liquor convinced him this was a fantastic idea.
"It hurts, Raph." Donatello spit out, his tongue a bit loosened by tonight's drink of choice. He felt comfortably dizzy, strangely enough. Who thought losing an edge of control would be consoling, but here he found himself.
"Then dun drink it, Donnie." Raphael instinctively reached for the bottle in Donatello's hand, but Donatello moved it out of harm's way.
"No. Not the beer." Donatello sighed again. He had to remember this was Raphael he was dealing with, not someone with any kind of insight.
And Donatello suddenly thought it strange that it was Raphael who rushed to his side. It would not be surprising in any other situation, but this was an emotional issue. A territory he envisioned Raphael never once exploring. The turtle would not simply understand.
Raphael had nothing to say to that. Instead, he fidgeted a moment, as if trying to gain the right words, but nothing elegantly flowed. With further hesitation, he patted Donatello on the shoulder twice. A second later, he rested his arm completely around his little brother and gripped him as reassuringly as he could muster.
Donatello enjoyed the embrace. An exceptional feeling uplifted in his mind, realizing what special treatment he was getting from the brother he least expected it from. Even if he knew Raphael had no idea why he was out there, at least he was willing to be there anyway.
It was not awkward, as Donatello would have imagined it a few days prior. Raphael was actually very calming. As he leaned heavier on his brother to further avoid the head spins.
"I know ya feel like shit n' all, Donnie." Raphael cleared his throat. "We. Me n' you n' Mike n' Leo…" Raphael's fingers restlessly tapped on Donatello's shoulder as he gathered his words. "We aren't meant ta be with people, ya know?"
Donatello's features tensed up. Did Raphael know what was happening? How could Raphael possibly understand the situation at hand? A defensive nerve was struck as the turtle turned to stare daggers at his brother. But had he actually seen himself, his daggers fell short behind half-mast eyes, thanks to the hefty handful of beers he downed.
Raphael just slightly adjusted himself and ignored the stare. He peered at something across the roof as if it really held his interest.
And the defense was over. Of course Raphael understood. If anyone in this family comprehended the hardship of uncontrollable emotions, it was Raphael. And, for a moment, Donatello pitied the turtle who stepped out of his natural element of callousness to comfort his lonesomeness.
A veil of discomfort lifted when Donatello lost his most trusted secret. A hundred questions followed, but he did not bother turning into an inquisitor on his brother. But his tongue loosened. Donatello was no longer fearful of what he might accidentally say. He felt more and more inclined to share his insight with his present company. Why did he hold it in, in the first place? His swimming brain forgot.
"Why him." Donatello moaned, his voice slightly slurring. He sounded tired, but he was wide awake. That was odd.
"They're good ta-gether." Raphael replied. His voice was as soft as he could probably manage. "An' you're not a human, Donnie." Raphael painted the picture exactly how it was.
Logic, for once, was not Donatello's rescue. Tonight, it evaded him. "I'ma good guy, Raph." Donatello fortified his feelings to the choir. "If she gives me the chance, I can show her tha- -"
"You got a good brain, Donnie. So think about what you're sayin." Raphael did not sound annoyed. He was trying very hard to be supportive. Donatello appreciated this greatly, whether or not her realized it. "April's a great gal, right? She's our friend. Our family." Raphael checked to make sure his younger brother was still listening.
"Yes." Donatello nodded upon seeing Raphael's curiosity to his attention. He even through in a nod. He was listening; he was also feeling mighty different than ever before. He'd blame it on lovesickness, but when his toe knocked over an empty bottle into a patch of snow, he thought otherwise.
"April's great n' she deserves the best, Donnie." Raphael said with a serious undertone. "Casey can give 'er love n' devotion n' all that crap." Raphael then brought his point home. "…n' kids, Donnie."
That one stung. On the giant list of things Donatello could never offer April as a lover, it was a future full of children. Donatello grimaced at the reminder.
"They can have a normal life, Donnie." Raphael sugar coated his words the best he could. "An' of course she still loves us. Ain't nothin' gonna change." Raphael found this comforting, but Donatello had other ideas about the how the lack of change would feel.
Raphael, infamously known for not being able to stand the silence, tried his hand again. "Ya know, last time I ran out, I got surface restriction for two weeks." Raphael attempted to lighten the mood.
Donatello recognized Raphael's attempt to change the subject and decided to go with it. "You didn't come home for two days, Raph." Donatello pointed out. "And you still went out after you were grounded."
"Nah, Donnie." Raphael interrupted. "I wasn't grounded. Kids get grounded."
"You were grounded, Raphie." Donatello retorted with his first real smile of the night. "Not that it stopped you." There was a hint of admiration behind that accusation. He sensed it immediately.
"Well Mastah's gonna go easy on you, I bet." Raphael referred to Donatello's skipping out and 'running off.'
Donatello shrugged. "I did not break any rules." Donatello felt as though he was telling on himself to Raphael, the rebel, instead of clearing his name of any slanderous activity. "I'm not alone." He added. Boy did he feel drunk saying that cheesy line.
"Heh." Raphael gave his brother a quick tug before preparing to stand. Donatello must have brought him to his limit of mushy-brother-bonding. "It's gettin' late, Donnie. Bout time we got your drunk ass to bed."
"I'm not drunk." Donatello said as he pushed himself up, and immediately fell back on the roof in his sitting position. The realization that he was feeling the effects made him half-heartedly laugh. The lightheaded sensation when Raphael pulled him to a standing position almost made him fall back down.
"Yur toasted." Raphael waved his hand in front of his brother's face like a drunk-o-meter.
Donatello took a few steps and the effects really started to kick in. From his stagnant position, he felt only tipsy, but once his body was in motion, he could feel the warmth spreading all over, making his choice of words and actions a bit harder to control.
"We're takin' tha stairs." Raphael gently pushed his brother's shell towards the fire stairs adjacent to the building they occupied. "Dun make any racket, we gotta get home in one piece or we're both dead."
And Donatello lightheartedly enjoyed the journey home as he experienced, for the first time, what it was like to be out of complete control of what was happening. It was not so bad. Practically relaxing. Maybe Raphael would be open to the appeal of a drinking buddy.
Raphael held his arm tightly as they descended down the stairs. For a moment, Donatello lifted his head dreamily.
"I could get used to this."
Holy hell, is she putting up another story? NO way.
..BTW: Genesis means beginning. I know it's the first book of the bible or whatever, but I have always really liked the word. I am in no way referencing the bible.
And by the way, Kristee - I told ya it would take me a LONG time to write this. ^_^
