Hey, it's been a while! I was going through my fic tag on tumblr recently and found a few stories (both 2012 and 2k3) that I'd posted there, but hadn't posted anywhere else. So I'll be publishing them here and on AO3. :) This one was written in 2014 as a birthday fic for hotmilkytea
- Flynne
The Worst Patient
April shifted her backpack on her shoulders as she ducked through a narrow archway. She reached out a hand to steady herself and grimaced as her hand landed in a slimy patch against the wall. "I have got to find an easier way to get down here," she muttered. Despite the unidentified slime on her hand, though, she felt a sense of accomplishment. She'd managed to find the lair on her own this time, without needing to backtrack or text one of the guys for help.
The damp, clammy air gradually became dry and a little bit warmer as she entered the turtles' home. "Hey, guys!" She smiled to see Leo, Raph, and Mikey come trooping out of the kitchen. Mikey waved enthusiastically, smiling around the piece of pizza he'd just stuffed in his mouth.
Leo smiled too, looking surprised but pleased to see her. "Hi, April! How've you been?"
"Oh, pretty good. Swamped with school, though. I think my teachers are having a competition to see who can pile on the most homework without causing a nervous breakdown." She let her bag thud to the ground and stretched her stiff shoulders.
"It's nice to see you, but we're actually heading out for a training run," Leo said apologetically.
"Oh, that's all right. I'm here to see Donnie anyway."
Mikey's wide blue eyes widened further. "Uh…Donnie?"
April's brows drew together in confusion. "Yeah. Tuesdays are homework nights, remember? He helps me with Trig."
"Might wanna try another night," Raph said. "Donnie's out of commission."
"What? Why? Is he okay?"
"Donnie's fine," Leo reassured her. "He's just sick. Didn't he text you to let you know?"
"No…he must have forgotten." April tossed a worried glance toward Don's closed door. Don rarely forgot anything, especially when she was involved. "Is there anything I can do?"
Raph snorted. "Just keep your distance."
"Donnie's…not exactly fun to be around when he's sick," Leo said in answer to April's quizzical look. "He doesn't even want Sensei around."
"He's been growling at us from his room for three days," Mikey interjected. "We're thinking of taking bets on how long he'll stay in there."
Leo absently backhanded Mikey's shoulder, but otherwise didn't acknowledge that he'd been interrupted. "It's best just to let him be. He'll be over it in a day or two."
"Hm." April was careful to keep a thoughtful, concerned look on her face, but inside she was smirking. Challenge accepted. "Well…you guys go ahead. I'll just peek in and see if he needs anything before I go."
Raph shrugged. "It's your funeral."
"It's been nice knowing you!" Mikey called over his shoulder as they left. "But don't worry, I'll buy flowers in your memory!"
April rolled her eyes as she waved goodbye. She headed to Donnie's room, taking a short detour to deposit her backpack by the pinball machine on the way. Even though their acquaintance hadn't been long, April had quickly realized that Donnie couldn't say no to her. She wasn't sure exactly what she thought about that, but she'd made a promise to herself that she wouldn't take advantage of it. Now, however, it looked as if she might have a legitimate reason to use her powers for evil. She took a deep breath and knocked gently.
There was a brief pause before an annoyed "What?" came through the door.
"Donnie? It's me."
"April?" The startled yelp broke apart into raspy coughing, and it was a minute or two before Don caught his breath enough to say, "What - what are you doing here?"
"Can I come in?"
"Uh…" There was the sound of shuffling bedclothes, then a hesitant, "…yeah, come in."
April stepped inside. The light was dim, but it wasn't soothing - it was an uncomfortable half-light, and the air was thick and stuffy. Don was sitting up in bed, pulling the quilt up to his chin in both hands.
"Hi," he croaked.
"Hi yourself." She smiled sympathetically. "You look awful."
"Well, then, my appearance is an accurate representation of how I feel," he mumbled, scrubbing a hand across his face. April hadn't seen him without his mask before. His big brown eyes looked even wider than usual, but the dark circles beneath them made his face look hollow and tired. He looked back at her. "What are you doing here anyway? The guys are out for a run, and - " He stopped suddenly, looking at April in dismay. "It's Tuesday, isn't it? April, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot. I should've let you know."
"You don't have to apologize to me! These things happen." She leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb. "You might need to apologize to Mikey, though. He said you haven't exactly been Mr. Sunshine."
Donnie looked a little guilty, but he looked annoyed, too. "He keeps knocking, offering to make me pizza noodle soup. He won't leave me alone."
April grimaced inwardly. Pizza noodle soup was rough even on a good day; and even if Mikey hadn't told her that Donnie had been snappish, the expression on his face would have given it away. April found it easy to believe that Donnie could manage biting sarcasm even while under the weather. She ignored his complaint, tilting her head to the side. "He also said you've been in here for three days."
"Three…?" His gaze grew unfocused as he thought. "Uh…yeah, I guess so." He sniffled and slumped forward, resting his chin on his knees. "I hate being sick."
April's heart went out to him. He looked wretched. But sympathy alone wasn't going to help him feel any better and April didn't have all night. "Well, no wonder you feel terrible," she said briskly. She gestured at the wastepaper basket overflowing with used kleenex. "This room is a mess, it's dark enough to be a cave in here, and it smells like sweat and old socks."
"I - I don't wear socks," he stammered, taken aback by the abrupt businesslike tone in her voice.
"That simple fact doesn't change the smell. Come on, Donnie. Out of bed."
"What? April, what are you talking about? I'm sick." The petulance was beginning to creep back in, but April wasn't about to let him dig in his heels.
"Yes, I know. And you'll feel less sick when I'm done with you." She folded her arms across her chest. "Get up."
"No!" he said indignantly, pulling the quilt closer to his chin. He caught himself snapping at her and paused a moment, visibly wrestling to get his irritation under control. "Look. April. It's nice of you to check on me, but I just want to sleep. There's really nothing you can do."
"I think I'll be the judge of that," she answered coolly. "You've been sleeping for three days. Do you feel any better?"
"Well…no, but - "
"When's the last time you ate?"
"Um…"
"Did you even take a shower during the last three days?"
"Hey! You can't just ask something like that."
"Well, that answers that question."
Donnie scowled. "Listen, April - "
"Listen, Donnie," she said in the same tone, cutting him off. "I'm not taking no for an answer." She smiled, but there was an undercurrent of steel to her voice. "Get up and hit the showers, Hamato." She knew Donnie's stubbornness was legendary, but he had not yet encountered the full force of O'Neil obstinacy. Not to mention that his resistance was worn down by several days of illness and sheer exhaustion.
He finally caved, climbing out of bed with a sigh and shuffling off to the bathroom. April felt a little guilty as she saw him shivering now that he'd given up the warmth of his quilt, but her guilt was short-lived as she saw the rumpled and musty bedclothes. She folded the quilt and set it aside, then stripped the sheets from the bed and dumped them in the corner. It didn't take her long to dig fresh linens out of the closet and re-make the bed. By the time she'd emptied the waste bin and gathered the discarded tissues into a garbage bag, Donnie was back, hovering in the doorway.
"April, you didn't have to do that."
She smiled at him. "It's no trouble. Feel better?"
He had the decency to look sheepish. "A little."
"Good." She picked up the quilt and draped it around his shoulders, lifting up on her tiptoes to get it completely over his shell. "I'm almost done in here. Go have a seat out in the main room and I'll be there in a minute."
He managed a little smile. "Yes, ma'am."
April finished tidying up, giving the flattened pillow one last punch to fluff it. She carried the garbage and the laundry to the appropriate areas and headed out to find Don. He was sitting on the sunken bench, wrapped in his quilt with only his head poking out. April didn't know how such a tall turtle could curl himself into such a small ball.
"Your room's all ready," she said, hopping down next to him.
"Huh? Oh, thanks," Donnie said absently. The brief burst of alertness the hot shower had given him was fading rapidly, leaving him looking drained and tired again.
April's face softened in sympathy. "Donnie, when's the last time you ate?" she asked. She kept her voice gentle this time, knowing that the time for bullying him into cooperating had passed.
"Day before yesterday," he answered quietly.
She sighed. "Donnie…"
"I'm just not hungry." He would have sounded defensive if he hadn't been so weary. "The smell of food makes me feel like I'm going to be sick."
"You can't go on like this. You have to eat. If I bring you some food, will you at least try?"
He looked reluctant, but nodded.
April climbed back out of the pit and headed for the kitchen. She knew from personal experience that being sick really put a damper on the appetite, but she'd seen how shaky Donnie looked and she knew he'd feel better once he'd had some food, no matter how much he said to the contrary.
She dug into the pantry, pushing aside poptarts and pocky and Chef Boyardee (that one made her wrinkle her nose - only people who grew up with worms and algae as part of their diet would eat that stuff) until she found some vegetable broth that didn't look too adventurous for a sick turtle with a poor appetite. It only took a few minutes to heat the soup on the stove. She decided to pour it into a mug instead of a bowl and carried it out to Donnie. He curled his hands around the mug, sniffing cautiously at the steaming broth before taking a small sip.
"Is that okay?" April asked.
He gave her a little smile. "Yeah. Thanks."
"You want anything else? Crackers, maybe?"
"No, I'm okay. Maybe a little water, please?"
"Sure. Finish as much of that as you can. I'll be back once I put stuff away." She headed back to the kitchen, put away the remainder of the broth, washed the pot, and filled a glass with tepid water.
Donnie had finished most of the broth by the time she returned. It wasn't much, but at least it was a start, and she didn't scold him for not emptying the mug. She reached out to put her hand on his forehead as he took the water. She frowned a bit as she felt how warm he was, but her mouth lifted in a slight smile when he sighed and leaned into her palm. "What do you think? Ready to go back to bed?"
"I'd rather not," he answered. "I'm still so tired, but I've been cooped up in there for days."
April carefully schooled her expression to keep the triumphant smirk off her face. The only person responsible for keeping Donnie "cooped up" was Donnie himself. "Okay. Tell you what, I'll bring my homework over here and keep you company."
"You don't have to," Donnie answered - but the hopeful look in his eyes belied his words and made her smile.
"I know. I want to." She hurried to retrieve her backpack, then plopped down next to Donnie and reached for the remote. There wasn't much on television Tuesday nights, but after flipping a few channels, April found a Yankees game. She turned the volume down low as she dug out her trigonometry book. "Do you mind if I have this on? I don't really watch baseball, but it's good background noise."
Donnie was smiling. "No, this is fine." He pulled the quilt more closely around his shoulders and settled back with a sigh, blinking sleepily at the television.
For a while, the only sounds were the quiet scratch of pencil on paper and the faint voices of the announcers over the muted roar of the crowd. April kept a subtle eye on Donnie from time to time as she worked. When she saw his head bobbing tiredly, she sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, if you don't want to go to bed, at least lie down."
He nodded. "'Kay."
April plopped a throw pillow down beside her and gave Donnie's quilt-covered arm a tug. He folded over to lay on his side, still curled up beneath the quilt, with his head on the pillow. April smiled fondly down at him and patted his cheek.
"Your hand's cool," he murmured drowsily. "Feels nice."
"Sleep well, Donnie," she said quietly. She picked up her math book again and got back to work.
Splinter emerged from his quarters a bit later, headed for the kitchen. She gave him a little smile and wave as he passed by. April hardly noticed the soft whistle of the kettle, but a short time later, Splinter emerged carrying two steaming mugs. He paced over to stand in front of April and set one of the mugs down beside her.
"Thank you for coming," he said quietly.
She smiled up at him. "I'm glad I could help."
Splinter's whiskered muzzle curled in a smile. He lingered long enough to gently brush his hand over his sleeping son's head, then withdrew. April lifted the mug, inhaling the fragrant aroma of the tea. She took a long, appreciative sip, then settled in to work once more. The crack of a bat and roar of the crowd from the television heralded a Yankee home run. At her side, Donatello slept on.
