Here's one more to round out the set, from a drabble posted on my tumlbr.

Onions

"You know what you need?"

Wincing, April looked up at Mikey. The bump on her head had gone down significantly overnight, but it had left a dull ache behind, along with a wealth of bruising. Bruising that matched his, truth be told.

"I dunno," she said. "What?"

"Chicken soup!" He grabbed her arm — the one that wasn't mottled with dark bruising from the attacker she hadn't even seen — and started dragging her toward the stairs.

"What—Mikey—whoa!" She stumbled after him, struggling to keep her balance. Not that she actually thought he'd let her fall. He'd been almost overwhelmingly attentive since they'd found her in the alley. "I'd love to oblige, but you know Donnie's grounded me on account of possible head trauma."

"Pssh, we're not going topside, sis. We're gonna make it!" He grinned over his shoulder at her. "Nothin' cures what ails ya like homemade chicken soup!"

April raised a brow, then stopped, because it hurt. "It's not gonna have pizza in it, is it?"

"Naw, that's for making stuff interesting. Not healthy." He ducked through the doorway, courteously holding the curtain aside until she could pass through, his other hand still on her elbow to steady her.

"No algae and worms, either."

"You gotta stop hatin' on the algae and worms, girl. It's offensive to my culture." He grinned at her. "But naw, this is your soup. Nothing you don't want in it."

He didn't let go of her until she was seated at the table, whereupon he went to the cupboards and rummaged through them, pulling out a cutting board and setting it and a knife in front of her. "You can help chop stuff."

But as he shoved a pile of vegetables toward her, turning away quickly to pull a can of chicken stock off the shelf, she couldn't help frowning a little. "Mikey? You okay?"

"Huh?" he glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression unguarded for just a moment before the jovial grin was back in place. "Sure! I mean, you can't fix everything with soup. But it's a start, right?"

April's eyes widened in sudden understanding. They'd told her what happened, and since they'd brought her back, she'd watched Raph alternate between extreme doting on his family and moments of quiet, intense brooding, and the more Mikey tried to cheer Raph out of it, the worse it got. She understood. She was no stranger to loss like the one Raph had suffered. But she also knew what helped make it feel a bit better. And knew that Raph was going to need a little help getting there.

She pulled the cutting board toward her, selecting the largest onion and driving through it with a savage chop. An instant later, she let out a cry that had Mikey leaping to her side, his massive hands grabbing hers and turning them anxiously. "What happened? Did you cut yourself? Do I need to get Donnie?"

"No," she said lighltly, then raised her voice. "I'm just having some trouble with these onions."

Mikey winced, clearing out an ear with his finger. "Geez, April, I don't think they heard you in Poughkeepsie."

"Have patience, grasshopper," April murmured sagely.

A second later, the curtain over the doorway jerked aside, and Raph stormed into the kitchen. Without a word, he stomped up to the table and plonked himself down on the opposite side, reaching across and yanking the cutting board over. "Then let someone who knows what they're doing have a go."

He hacked savagely through the onions, making short work of them. And as he chopped, a slow, steady stream of tears trickled down his face. He looked up once, catching April and Mikey staring at him, and frowned. "What? It's the onions."

"Of course it is," April said, and quietly started peeling a carrot.

"Ohhhh," Mikey breathed in her ear. "Girl, you are gooood."

"I know." She looked up at him. "I've had practice."

Without another word, Mikey reached over and hugged her tightly from behind before moving back to the counter to deal with the chicken. Slowly, the pile of vegetables grew, and the comforting, homey smell of chicken soup began to filter through the lair, and a great deal of heated argument took place on the subject of spices, and by the time they were sitting down to eat it, all three of them were laughing so hard that there was no need for the onions anymore.