A/N: As promised, chapter 2. I will be uploading one chap per day. Once again, a big Thank You to Raphfreak for beta-reading.
Reviews are welcome, as always. :)
Chapter 2 -Splinter's Illness-
Splinter was not having a good day. His headache was worse, and although Donatello had kindly covered him with three blankets, he still shivered.
"Master? I've made you a cup of tea." Splinter made an effort to smile at his blue-banded son.
"Thank you, Leonardo," he rasped. "What are your brothers doing?"
"Donnie's looking up cures for the common cold on the computer, and Raph's in the dojo, beating up a dummy. I think Mikey's in our room. He was mad at me 'cause I told him he can't go sewer-skating. He's probably sulking."
"I am glad you are all finding ways to entertain yourselves, my son. Now, I would like to rest."
"Ok, Master Splinter. You can call us if you need anything else, ok? We'll all be right here."
"Yes, my son." Splinter smiled, proud of his sons' efforts to keep him comfortable. He knew he had a day, at most, before the boys became restless and started fighting. It was a miracle that Raphael and Michelangelo hadn't argued all day. No doubt Michelangelo had taken refuge in the small room the boys shared with his precious comic book collection. Splinter lay back, closing his eyes. Peace was rare in the Lair with four seven-year old turtles. He would enjoy it while he could.
"Didja find anything yet, Donnie?"
"No, Leo. Just he should drink lotsa orange juice. Have we got any chicken soup?"
"I don't know. He says he wants to sleep."
"Ok. When he wakes up, we should see if we can make him some chicken soup."
"I don't know if we have any chicken soup, Donny."
"Well go check. The website says chicken soup is best for a cold."
"Ok, I'll look." Leonardo figured it was easier to go along with his brother than to argue. Sure enough, though, the cupboards held not one can of chicken soup.
"Whatcha doin', Leo?" Raphael stood leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his plastron.
"Trying to find some soup for Sensei," replied Leonardo. "We don't have the right kind."
"Soup's for losers," sneered Raph. "I want pizza for lunch."
"We don't have any pizza, Raph. Master Splinter isn't well enough to go get any, either. How about a bologna sandwich?"
"Yuck. I hate bologna. We got any tuna?"
"There might be a can in here…"
"You mean, it's not already mixed? How we gonna mix the mayonnaise in? I don't know how to make it," grumbled Raphael.
"Well, it's either that or peanut butter sandwiches, Raph. It's all we have." Leonardo hauled out the economy-sized jar of peanut butter Splinter had managed to carry home.
"Peanut butter… Well, ok." Raphael slouched to the table. "You gonna ask Master Splinter to fix it?"
"No, Raph. Splinter's sick. We can fix our own," said Leonardo, setting the peanut butter on the table.
"Oh, right. Gimme the bread, will ya?"
"Sure, Raph. What do you say?"
"Gimme the bread or I'll punch ya."
"Nice, Raph. Real nice." Leonardo plopped the bread onto the table.
Raphael grinned. "Hey, whatever works," he said, reaching for the bread.
"Leo, didn't you get that soup yet?" Donatello walked in, frowning. "What're you guys doing?"
"We're havin' lunch, Donny. You want some?" Raphael spread a thick layer of sticky peanut butter over his sandwich.
"What about Master Splinter's lunch?" Donatello huffed. "What if he gets hungry?"
"Don't worry, Don, we'll save 'im some peanut butter," said Raphael, his mouth half-full of gooey sandwich.
"He needs chicken soup!" insisted Donatello.
"He's resting right now, Don. Come on, sit down and have a sandwich," coaxed Leonardo. "We'll ask Master Splinter what he wants when he wakes up, ok?"
"He really needs chicken soup." Donatello let his older brother lead him to a chair. He sat down, still grumbling, and fixed himself a sandwich.
"I'm goin' to play a video game," announced Raphael, roughly brushing the crumbs from his plastron. He left a sticky trail of peanut butter across his chest. Donatello made a face.
"Wash your hands, Raph. You'll get the controller all sticky."
"Oh, all right, Mom." Raphael ran his fingers under a token stream of water, and wiped them on the ragged dishtowel. "Happy now?"
Donatello nodded, his attention mostly taken up by his sandwich. "Hey, where's Mikey?" he asked suddenly. "He's gonna want some lunch too."
"He's in our room," said Leonardo. "Hey, Raph, why dontcha tell him its lunchtime. He probably forgot."
"I wanna play Atomic Space Blasters," grumbled Raphael.
"Just tell Mikey, Raph."
"Ok, ok, Leo. I'm goin'."
Raphael muttered under his breath as he walked across the den. He banged on the bedroom door. "Hey, Mikey. Lunch."
There was no answer. Fine, thought Raph. You want to sit in there all day with your stupid comics and miss lunch, go ahead. I'm gonna go play video games. He walked away, leaving the closed door silent behind him.