Michelangelo added the finishing touches to his culinary creation with a flourish. This, without a doubt, was one of his finest dishes yet. He'd really thought hard about it, making sure that the variation on the usual theme was applied in such a way that it would be instantly recognisable, with ingredients that blended together in delicious perfection.
The taste was guaranteed. After all, he'd consumed the first lot all by himself and his entire collection of taste buds couldn't possibly be wrong. He hadn't quite meant to test so many, but they were just so good that before he realised it, they were all gone! So, then his task had been to replicate the success, which he had achieved admirably.
With a satisfied belch, Mikey slid the second batch onto a plate. Scooping it up, he grabbed the accompanying carton of orange juice before trotting happily into the living area to proudly present his invention.
"Here you go! I brought you-"
Michelangelo cut off, a pout creeping onto his face. On the cushions, Raphael lowered the magazine onto his elevated leg and twisted to look at him.
For several days now, Raph had been confined to resting. His walk through the sewers with an open cut had, predictably, earned him an infection within the wound. The reward? Several toe-curling baths of salt water, then the injury was belatedly stitched closed.
Mikey suspected that Leo hadn't been trying to be particularly gentle, and he knew that his eldest brother was no-where near as practiced as Donnie or Sensei at sewing cuts. But Raph had endured it with the expected stoicism, then conceded to being benched with unexpected placidity.
Walking over to stand before his other brother, who was dozing against the cushions, Michelangelo balanced precariously on one foot in order to gently nudge Donatello with Stubby toe.
"That's gross, Mikey," came the unwanted observation from the peanut gallery. "When did you last wash your feet?"
Mikey loaded his voice with righteous outrage. "Dude! Don't use that word!"
The incredulous look Raphael shot him, before shaking his head and going back to reading, was not the comically incensed response that Michelangelo had been angling for. Maybe his brother was mellowing with age. Or maybe his fever had returned, the turtle thought with a wary glance.
But Raph wasn't his concern, Donnie was. His poor brother had… Well, not quite mentioned being hungry, but not argued the point when food had been suggested. So, being the dutiful sibling that he was, Mikey had immediately taken himself off to the kitchen to prepare a feast of fast breaking.
For Donatello to nod off again before he could present it was rude, but he'd forgive that. After all, his scrawny brother was still recovering and rest would help. Almost as much as a succession of good meals.
Over the past weeks, it had become increasingly apparent that any overexertion led to Donnie suffering a seizure. As such, Leo had insisted that they handle their injured brother with kid-gloves and not permit him to push himself. Even without that command, Mikey would have done everything he could to save his beloved brother from any further harm and aid his recovery.
Fleeting moments of benevolence aside, Raph generally had the compassion of an enraged hornet. Leo willingly did his part, but with so many other things nagging the leader's attention, Mikey had taken it upon himself to shoulder the mantle of chief nurse.
"C'mon, D," Mikey encouraged, along with another nudge from Stubby. "Grub time, bro!"
His brother's eyelids fluttered open. "Mnh?"
"Good morning to you too!" Michelangelo greeted buoyantly, before excitedly holding the plate right up to his brother's face. "Look what I made for you."
Donatello recoiled from the looming plate, before slowly gazing at it. "Whu-?"
"It's a pizzancake!" Mikey explained, pride shining with every word.
Raph suddenly reached over to grab the plate. "Give me that! What are you trying to feed him this time?"
Caught by surprise, Michelangelo found the dish unwillingly relinquished. Scowling, he sought to defend his creation. "It's a pizzancake, Raph. Give it back!"
"I heard you the first time." Raph's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's in it?"
"It's a pancake, topped with strawberry jelly and shredded cheese."
Raphael's top lip curled. "You can't feed that to Donnie! It's… It's weird! Jelly and cheese? On a pancake? Why didn't you just make a pizza, idiot?"
Michelangelo folded his arms. "It's not weird, it's delicious, brah!"
Clearly unconvinced, Raph reached out to tear an experimental chunk off with his fingers. Stuffing it into his mouth, he chewed cautiously for several long moments. Then, reluctantly, he conceded, "Actually, it's not that bad…"
"I told you! Cheese and fruit are like… Onions and ice-cream!"
"And this is why we don't trust you."
Raph was about to tear himself another piece when Mikey snatched the plate away. "It's not for you! I made it for Donnie."
The named turtle was still sprawled upon the cushions, watching the exchange with a dazed expression. He recoiled again as the plate was shoved back in front of his face.
"Eat up!" Michelangelo encouraged.
Several long seconds passed before Donatello seemed to realise everyone was waiting for his response.
"I… Uh, g-gonna… Sit up, f'st," he slurred, raising a hand.
It wasn't clear whether he'd intended to move to a position to push himself up, or was trying to nudge the plate out of his face to give himself more room for the manoeuvre. However, the arm swung in an uncontrolled arc, ploughing into the rim of the dish.
Mikey watched in helpless dismay as the plate twisted in his fingers, before being overturned and plummeting towards the floor. His carefully crafted pizzancake landed partially on Stubby with a wet splat, followed a moment later by the tinkling noise of shattering crockery.
There was a moment of stunned silence, before Donatello's apology cut through it. "I-I... S-s'rry!"
Hoping over to wipe his foot on a nearby magazine, Michelangelo shook his head. "Hey, it's no problem, D! Lemme just…"
He looked up to see their eldest brother rushing towards them, evidently having been drawn by the noise and fearing the worst. "What's happening, is he-"
Raph clamoured stiffly to his feet. "Everything's fine, Leo. A plate just got dropped, that's all."
Hopefully Raphael had finished with the magazine that had just been defaced with strawberry jelly, Michelangelo thought quietly to himself. Ignoring his two eldest brothers as they perfected their glares at one another, he headed over to Donatello.
Donnie was busy regarding his own arm in both sadness and betrayal, an expression that made Mikey's heart ache. Setting the juice carton aside, he reached out to clasp his brother's hand between his own and pull it protectively in to his chest.
"Hey, it was just an accident, brah. Don't worry about it! Let me help you sit up."
Liquid brown eyes turned towards him, so filled with misery that for a moment Michelangelo worried that he had made things worse. But, after a brief downward glance, Donatello looked up at him and swallowed slightly before giving a tiny nod.
Responding with an encouraging smile, Mikey dedicated one hand to holding guardedly on to the one he'd stolen, while the other slipped around his brother's shell to ease him to an upright position. As he did, he was dimly aware of Leo picking up the broken bits of plate around his feet and Raph settling back down.
"You want another pizzancake?" Michelangelo offered, before hesitating uncertainly. "Or… Something else?"
Donatello's mouth parted a couple of times before words finally emerged. "P-Pi…zza…an… Uh. That wou'd… wou'd… gr-great, Mikey."
Reluctantly releasing his brother's hand, Michelangelo offered a beaming smile before turning to follow Leonardo towards the kitchen. He trotted over to the fridge, while nearby the leader tipped the bits of broken crockery into the trash.
"So, what happened?"
Mikey hesitated a moment before answering. "It was just like Raph said," he replied, breezily. "A dropped plate."
Pulling the milk and eggs from the fridge, he turned to find Leonardo waiting for him. "You know that's not what I meant. Donnie knocked it, didn't he? He can't control his movements."
Michelangelo stared down at the ingredients. "It was an accident. I… He… The plate was too close."
"I know, Mikey. I know it was an accident," Leonardo replied gently. "I'm just trying to understand. The sooner we know Donnie's limits, the sooner we can learn to cope with them."
He was making it sound like Donatello wouldn't recover, Michelangelo realised in alarm. Setting his mouth in a determined line, he fixed his brother with a steely glare. "He's getting better! You'd be all wobbly too, if you'd been hit in the head like that."
Leo's quick nod of agreement surprised Mikey's stern expression away.
"You're right, I would," Leonardo agreed. "And I would get better, but… But maybe not all better."
He hesitated, shuffling one foot. "Mikey, serious injuries… They don't just go away."
Deep down Michelangelo knew what his brother was trying to say, what he was trying to tell him. But he didn't want to hear it! Donatello would be fine. He was getting better. Day by day, he was slowly improving. Before long, he'd be back tinkering in his lab and everything would be normal again. Mikey was sure of it!
Leo was searching his face, Mikey suddenly realised. Trying to gauge how much he was taking in, judging whether to keep talking.
He didn't want to hear anymore. Stepping past his brother, Michelangelo dropped the ingredients onto the counter. Grabbing the packet of flour, he tipped some into the bowl.
"He wants a pizzancake," Mikey abruptly explained. "But we're out of strawberry jelly, so I'm gonna have to use grape."
"It'll still taste good, but it'll be purple instead of red," he lamented.
Leonardo's vacillation was palpable, but after a few moments he reached a decision and walked over to stand by Michelangelo.
"I'll help," he offered, reaching to take an egg from the carton.
Donnie would get better, Mikey thought to himself. He watched Leo rap the egg firmly against the rim of the bowl, causing spidery cracks to spread across the shell.
Donnie would definitely get better.
On the second tap, the egg shell crumpled completely.