im actually a huge tool for human au ;;
i changed from present tense to past tense at the last minute, so apologies for anything that i missed during editing
"For fuck's sake, Mike, take the damn medicine!"
"No! It's gross!"
Raph made a noise that sounded kind of like a very angry cat who is being harassed by a toddler, and tapped the side of the cough syrup bottle impatiently. He had to admit, the stuff was pretty nasty, but it was all they had and Mikey couldn't stop coughing. He glared at his brother.
"Just get it over with," he growled. "It's probably not as bad as you remember." Mikey shook his head firmly and coughed a little.
"No way," he said. "I hate that stuff and you can't make me drink any!"
"Don't test me, boy," Raph said dangerously. Mikey tried to glare at him, but another bout of coughing wouldn't let him. It was that gross, wet-sounding sort of coughing—Donnie said it's called a "productive" cough, but Raph just called it disgusting.
"Can't I have something different?" Mikey asked, as soon as his coughing subsided. He spit a glob of saliva and mucus into a tissue.
"This is the only stuff we have," said Raph. "I'd have to go to the store to get anything else…" Mikey looked at him with those dang big blue eyes, giving him the most pitiful look he could. "Oh, no! No way! I'm not gonna drive to the store just to get you different cough medicine!"
"Please, Raph?!" Mikey's voice was hoarse from coughing, but Raph suspected that he was playing it up quite a bit. "The syrup is so gross…"
"Quit complaining," Raph snapped, but he immediately felt bad because Mikey looked genuinely hurt by his tone, and the way he slumped over further and hugged his knees was pitiful. It made him want to go to the store and get him those cough medicine lollipops even though he was seventeen and should have outgrown those a long time ago. But Splinter, Donnie and Leo were all working, the registration on Donnie's car wasn't up to date, and all Raph had was his motorcycle but only one person could ride on that and he couldn't leave Mikey home alone. He scowled and said,
"You can take it or leave it." But that was the exact opposite of what he wanted to say, and he was pretty sure that it wouldn't be long before he went back on his word. Mikey pouted at him, but didn't say anything, and they sit there for almost an hour without speaking.
Finally, Mikey started to ask Raph to bring him another comic book, but his request was cut short by yet another hack attack. Raph slapped his hand on the couch cushion and stood up.
"Alright, fine, let's go to the store," he said. "I'll get you some fucking medicine."
"But—"
"Quiet, don't make me change my mind." Raph headed into the kitchen to check the grocery list and grab the keys to Donnie's Nissan Versa. "Get dressed. Maybe I'll get you a new comic book, too, if you're nice about it."
"Cool! But, uh…" Raph came back into the front room to find Mikey still sitting in the same spot. He looked sort of pained, and Raph frowned.
"You okay, kiddo?"
"I guess," said Mikey. He braced his hands against the couch and tried to push himself up, but slumped back again with a sort of strangled whine. "My ribs hurt."
"Maybe we should stay home, then. The grape syrup isn't that bad."
"No! I'm not drinking any of that stuff," Mikey said firmly. "Just help me up." Raph stuck the keys in his back pocket and grabbed Mikey's hands. "Ow! OW—not like that! Let go!"
"Here," said Raph. He leaned over his brother. "Put your arms around my neck. Don't be a pansy about it, dude. There—ugh, you need to brush your teeth…" He straightened up slowly, and Mikey was able to stand without much trouble this time. Raph almost clapped him on the shoulder, but thought better of it. "Now can you walk, or am I gonna have to carry you like a princess?"
"I can walk," Mikey said with a frown. "It hurts to lift my arms very high, though. Can I just wear this to the store?" He was wearing an old Captain America shirt with a hole in the right sleeve and a pair of Leo's paint-stained sweatpants. Donnie would never have allowed it, but Raph just shrugged and said,
"I don't care. Now get a move on."
Mikey half-walked, half-hobbled to the door and slipped on his sneakers without socks, and Raph couldn't help but laugh at him because he just looked funny. Mikey only let him get away with it because he couldn't get over there fast enough to punch him on the arm. After writing a note in case one of their brothers or father got home before them, the two of them made their way down to the parking garage at the remarkable speed of...turtles. It took them twenty goddamn minutes to take an elevator down three floors and walk to the car.
"I'm about ten seconds from regretting this," said Raph as Mikey struggled to lean down enough to get in the front seat without curving his spine. Mikey frowned at him.
"It hurts to lean over, okay?!" he snapped. Raph put his hands up, and waited another ten seconds before sighing loudly. Mikey leaned on the car door and glared at him. "Got a better idea?"
"Yes, lay down in the back seat, you moron."
"...that'll work. Okay."
Raph smirked as he usually does when he's right, and opened the door so that Mikey could lie down. Donnie won't be very happy about his wrinkled papers, thought Raph, but then again he didn't really care that much. "Hold onto one of the seat belts," he said before closing the door. "It'd be pretty counterproductive if you went rolling off the seat." Then he got into the driver's seat and started the car.
Luckily the grocery store was only a few blocks from their apartment complex, and the streets in Turtle Bay were a breeze compared to the rest of Manhattan. They didn't come across any police cars, thank God, and reach the store before ten minutes had passed. The parking lot was crowded, though, forcing Raph to park farther from the entrance than Mike would have liked.
"C'mon, dude, let's get this done," said Raph. He helped Mikey out of the car and they made their way to the front doors of the store. (Bless the inventor of automatic doors.) Nobody really gave them a second glance—most people probably thought they were high or tripping balls. At least there were no annoying employees asking "Need help finding anything?" every fifteen seconds. Raph already knew where the medicine aisle was...all the way at the back of the store, just as luck would have it. Mikey was leaning more heavily on his brother with every passing minute, and Raph was starting to get genuinely worried.
"Hey, perk up, man," he said. "What kind do you want?" Mikey squinted at the shelves for a while, long enough that Raph suspected that he was too tired to actually read the labels. Well, this was a bad idea.
His first thought was to call Donnie—he would know what to do. (None of them have ever been very inclined to call a doctor unless someone was, well, dying.) He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number three, shifting his shoulder to support Mikey's weight better.
"Pick up, you geek," he muttered, tapping his foot impatiently as the phone rang over and over. Finally—
"Make it quick, Raph, I can't hide in the stock room for very long. What do you want?"
"Long story short, Mikey won't take the cough medicine we have at home so I caved and took him to the store to get something different. But he's pretty out of it, man, he's getting weaker by the minute over here."
"Hm...is he still coughing up phlegm?"
"Yeah. It's fuckin' gross."
"Does he have chest pains?"
"Yeah, and aching ribs, too. He can hardly lean over. He had to lay in the back seat on the way here."
"Wait, you took my car? I haven't renewed the registration on that yet! That was totally—"
"You can yell at me later!" Raph snapped. "What sort of medicine should I get for Mike?"
"It might just be a cough, or it could be pneumonia...leave the cough medicine, and get him some ibuprofen or acetaminophen."
"What the fuck is that?" Donnie muttered something, and Raph could guess that he was probably rolling his eyes.
"Just get Motrin! The little orange pills. They might card you, though, so be prepared for that. Shoot, my manager is paging me—if he develops a fever, take him to urgent care." Raph groaned. "I know, but he might need prescription antibiotics. I really gotta go, see you guys at eight!"
"Bye." Raph hung up and looked over the shelves again. At first he thought he'd have to look farther down the aisle, but then he spotted the orange label on the very bottom rack. By the time he grabbed it and they had gotten to the register, Mikey looked practically dead on his feet and Raph was really getting worried. The cashier didn't card him, just took his money with hardly a word and then asked him if he needed a bag. "Nah," he said. "Here, Mike, could you put this in your pocket? You've got more room."
"Huh?" asked Mikey. He blinked at Raph, then squinted. "Sorry...I think I was asleep..." Raph stared at him for a second, then shoved the bottle and a few coins change into his own pocket and knelt down in front of his brother.
"Here," he said. "Get on my back."
"What? Why?"
"Just do it, you're lucky I'm not calling a doctor!" Mikey half-frowned, but did it anyway and Raph straightened up again with a grunt. "The fuck, dude? You're like lead!"
"Are you calling me fat?" Mikey said, but he sounded more tired than insulted.
"Nah, but let's just say it's a good thing I can bench press three-hundred."
After glaring at everyone and clearing a path to the door, Raph carried Mikey out of the store, across the parking lot and to the car. More people gave them funny looks this time around, and Raph gave them all a withering glare (he would've flipped the bird if his hands were free). Getting into the car was a little awkward, though, as Raph practically had to lay back in order to put Mikey down and he had to concentrate hard on keeping his balance so that he didn't crush his little brother's ribs even more.
They evaded the police once again, and made it home before the clock struck six. Raph carried Mikey back up to the apartment, feeling kind of like a fireman or a survivor of the apocalypse—except a lot less cool because Mikey sneezed on him twice on the way.
"Sorry," he said meekly, as Raph swore several times and yelled something about germs.
"If I get sick, I'm gonna kick your butt," Raph said with a scowl. He dug the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the apartment door. Mikey just yawned in his ear. "I take it you're feeling better, then."
"I don't feel dizzy anymore," Mikey replied. He slid off of Raph's back and kicked off his shoes once they were inside the apartment. "I'm kinda hungry, though. Can I have pizza?"
"What makes you think I have pizza?" Raph rearranged their shoes so that the toes were pointing towards the door, then straightened up and puts his hands on his hips. Mikey hobbled over to the couch and flopped down onto it.
"OW! Man...uh, when do we not have pizza?"
"That's a good point, but Don and Leo split the last few pieces today," said Raph. "They took them to work for lunch." He made his way to the kitchen, peeling the plastic wrap off of the Motrin as he went. "Besides, I don't think it'll do you any good."
"Pizza is the universal medicine," Mikey said matter-of-factly. Raph rolled his eyes and filled a glass with water as Mikey fell into a coughing fit. He dug a bright orange pill out of the bottle, and brought it over to his brother.
"Here," he said, once Mikey's coughing subsided. "Just gulp it down."
"It's so orange," Mikey said faintly, examining the Motrin tablet for a moment before popping it into his mouth and taking a big drink of water.
"Did you get it?"
"Ugh...yeah." He drained the glass, and handed it back to Raph. "I hate having to swallow pills whole." Raph shrugged, and patted him on the shoulder before getting up and heading back to the kitchen.
"It takes practice," he said over his shoulder. "I can get, like, four at once."
"Yeah, well, you do it every day," Mikey said. He dug the television remote out from between the couch cushions and squinted at the buttons. "Where's this week's TV Guide?"
"Probably under the coffee table." Raph dumped a handful of saltine crackers onto a plate and took it out to Mikey. "Here, you can eat these. I dunno what's okay for you to eat right now, but those should be fine." He leaned down and grabbed the TV guide from underneath the coffee table.
"Anything good?" Mikey asked, as Raph leafed through the pages.
"The second Night at the Museum movie is on."
"Is that the one with the pilot?"
"I guess," Raph said. He settled down on the couch beside his brother and took the remote from him. For once, Mikey didn't protest, and they actually managed to watch the movie in peace.