Disclaimer: I definitely do not own the Ninja Turtles.
A/N: I meant to work on other things tonight, but I've been watching the 2012 show through again from the beginning (darn hiatus…) and one line from "I Think His Name is Baxter Stockman" inspired this quick one shot. When the guys notice the T-Pod on Stockman's suit on the news and Mikey admits to losing it, Donatello freaks on him, but Mikey turns it back around by blaming Don and saying, "You know I can't be trusted with nice things!", this popped in my head. Thus this takes place in the 2012 'verse, when the Turtles are in their mid-twenties. Be prepared for Donnie and Mikey brotherly fluffiness. I hope you enjoy!
Donatello had never been a light sleeper. He had always blamed it on the constant stream of caffeine coursing through his veins and the fact that his ever busy mind did not seem to be equipped with an "off" switch. It was both a blessing and a curse he supposed, and with recent events in his life, it still had proven to be both a blessing and a curse.
In the hazy limbo between slumber and full consciousness, his ears registered the cries a split second before the rest of his mind did. When awareness caught up with his hearing, his mahogany eyes opened to the darkness of his room. A thin sliver of light shown in through the crack at the bottom of his door.
He glanced over at the monitor station that he had assembled, aghast to find that they were off. The speakers were silent, and the screen was blank. How had the batteries died that quickly?
"Oh no…" he scrambled to his feet, not even bothering to put his mask on. "Oh no no no no...April will kill me...how long has he been crying…" His words were more scrambled than the mess of eggs Mikey had cooked for breakfast the other morning.
He had assured her he could do it; he was capable. He had read all the books, amassed all the knowledge he could, and cataloged everything away in the files of his mind. He was a virtual walking dictionary on the topic. How could he fail him? The most important job of Donatello's life...and he was already proving to be a grade A flop. No surprise for the second member of the B team.
The cries grew more insistent, setting the genius' instincts on edge. A sidelong glance at his clock gave him the time of 2:32 am. Just a few short months ago, he would normally have been awake at this early hour, tinkering in his lab, but now he stole any precious moment of sleep he could. Days and nights had blurred into a glopy mess of lumpy oatmeal.
Making his way out into the hall, the wails grew louder beyond the sound barrier of his door. Raphael's and Leonardo's doors remained closed, but Mikey's was slightly ajar, and the light was clearly on. He could hear some muted hip hop song playing from Mikey's turtle-pod.
As soon as he reached the top of the spiral stairs, the crying ceased all too abruptly for his liking. He tensed, immediately concerned, senses on high alert. That didn't seem right. None of the books had said that this would happen. What was wrong? The worst possible scenarios began rushing through the genius' mind at a frantic, uncontrolled pace.
He raced down the stairs, all ninja dexterity forgotten in a jumbled mix of anxiety and fatigue. He leapt down the remaining few steps, stumbling slightly upon his landing. He turned the floundering of his feet into a sprint and headed for the pit in the middle of the den.
It was there that he paused to the sight of the last thing he ever expected to see. Mikey's shell was facing him. His little brother was swaying back and forth slowly, and he was singing. The words were hushed and gentle, so soft and feathery, that Donatello was not able to make out the lyrics. Michelangelo was the boisterous brother, the ever constant bundle of energy. Observing him being so...calm...was not something Donatello was used to. But even his tired mind was capable of complex mathematical equations, thus something as easy as putting two and two together made the nervousness melt from the turtle like ice on a sweltering summer day.
"Mikey?"
Michelangelo jolted ever so slightly at hearing his name. He turned around smoothly, a bundle of fuzzy blue blankets cradled protectively in his arms.
"D?" Mikey questioned, his tone still carrying on it a hint of his earlier surprise. "You should be in bed, bro."
"No," Donatello shook his head, "I told April she could have the night off…she needs the rest...is Niko…?" again his words were a chaotic mess, falling on top of each other, each running into the next like an intricate pattern of dominos.
"Shellax, bro, the little dudes a-o-kay," Mikey answered, his voice a soothing calm like a fresh summer breeze.
As if to prove his point, Michelangelo walked evenly over to his brother, each step smooth and calculated. With a shaking hand, Donatello pulled aside the opening in the mass of blankets. The angelic sleeping face he was beholden to - that looked so much like his own - warmed his heart just as much it had the first time he had seen it just a few weeks ago. His son...For all his brains, he was still in awe that he had created this tiny little guy with his amazing April. They had never even had the slightest inkling it was even possible. But after April had discovered she was pregnant, Donatello had theorized that since she was in reality part mutant, it had made their procreation possible. And here Niccolo was, the living proof of this theory...and their love.
"He's…" Donatello breathed, his voice trailing off.
"He's fine, dude," Mikey said airily, his smile clear in his words. "Fresh bum, belly full of bottle...the little dude is good to go for some z's. 'Course he kinda peed on my face...and spit up on the floor, but I remembered everything...even to burp him. Just how you taught us."
"Mikey...I…" Donatello fought for his words. "He's my responsibility...I…"
"And when was the last time you had more than two hours of sleep, D? Your voice is starting to sound like goopy sludge."
Niko squirmed some in his sleep, and Mikey adjusted his hold on him to get the infant more comfortable.
"I just figured you could use some sleep," Mikey continued as if there had been no interruption.
"'Sno biggie, Niko and Uncle Mikey got some bro time. It was awesome. Pretty soon he'll be playing Contra with me." Mikey grinned toothily.
Something clicked in Donatello's brain, and his expression turned accusatory.
"The monitors...did you…"
Mikey's eyes widened and a sheepish look crossed his features.
"Yah...them…" he chuckled nervously. "I...might...have ninjaed my way into your room and turned them off…"
"Mikey…"
"D," the young uncle returned the same admonishing tone. "Dude, your eye bags have eye bags and you look like a character out of one of my favorite B horror movies. I was just tryin' to help."
Donatello's eyes flickered between his younger brother and his son. He opened his mouth to offer a retort, but as his sleep deprived mind processed the situation more, he found he had no rebuttal to make. His shoulders slumped and he let out a heavy sigh.
"I know, Mikey," he said in a whisper. "It's just that I told April I'd take care of him tonight...and now I'm screwing that up…"
"You're not screwing anything up, bro!" Mikey exclaimed, as if Donatello had just said the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard. "You're an awesome husband and bodacious dad. Sensei even told me so himself the other day. And that's saying something since sensei is an awesome dad too. We're all super proud of you, bro."
Donatello perked up, the familiar spark reigniting in his eyes.
"Really?" he asked hopefully, like a small child seeking approval.
"Mmmhmm…" Mikey hummed, nodding in an exaggerated manner. "But even super dads need their sleep. So go on, I got this. It'll give me some more time to figure out words that rhyme with 'pizza' and 'orange'. It's hard to sing baby songs with those!" Securing the baby in one arm, he made a "shoo" motion with his other hand, then promptly replaced it around his nephew.
"I…" Donatello began but his sentence was swallowed by a yawn. He suddenly realized just how exhausted he was. "...ok…"
He began to make his way back to the stairs, stopping mid-way. He turned back around to get one last look at his brother and son before attempting to get a few more hours of sleep.
"Hey Mikey...thanks…" he said gratefully.
"No problemo, D."
Once reaching the staircase, he placed one foot on the bottom step before pausing for a moment.
"And Mikey?"
"Yah?"
"I guess you were wrong all those years ago…"
"Eh?"
"You really can be trusted with nice things."
A/N: So there you have it. So much fluffiness I just hacked up a furball. A special thank you to Firebird Scratches for permission to use the name Niko, since that is the name of an OC from "Best Selves". THANK YOU SO MUCH! And a little background on why I chose that name. The renaissance artist Donatello's father was named Niccolo, so I thought it would be fitting for that to be Donnie's son's name. Little Niko sounds adorable anyways. And Gwydion, if you are reading this...like Mikey's video game choice? ;) This also ended up a little longer than I intended...so if you're still here at the end, I appreciate it! Thanks for reading!