Author's Notes: The last but not least of Don's brothers. Love ya, Raph.

Warnings: Implied sexual relations but still nothing explicit. There's a time and a place for that, but it ain't here. Enjoy.

Raphael

Two hours after Michelangelo creeps into Donatello's laboratory, Raphael is alone with Don in his bedroom, palms sweaty, heart-rate spiking. Oh, God, that feels good. He grins and, a little more roughly than necessary, throws Donatello to the ground.

He is trying to delay the grand finale. He wants to make this last as long as possible, because he's afraid of what comes after. He wants this to be over, because he loves what comes after.

Donatello never complains and never speaks. He always responds to Raph's roughness with the same. Don's roughness was a bit surprising the first time. But Raph figures that Don's just following his lead, letting his older brother be in control.

Raph likes being in control.

With a final shudder and a happy groan, Raph flops onto the floor, utterly spent. Don crawls over and peers down at him, eyes very serious.

"Are you okay?" Don whispers in a concerned tone that is not entirely unlike how Leo sounds after a battle. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Without fail Donatello asks that afterwards. If it wasn't so damn sweet, Raph would find it really annoying. Actually, he still does find it a little annoying. Raph shoos his younger brother away. "Nah. You think I ain't tough enough to take it?"

"Oh, no, no, no. I definitely think you're—"

"Donny, that was a joke." Raph sighs. "Y'know, all this is supposed to relax a guy."

Without deigning to reply, Don lies down on the floor next to him. Raph tenses. He's afraid of what comes now—as afraid as he is eager. He closes his eyes and, after a minute, feels Don's hand touch his cheek. Don caresses him wordlessly. Unbidden tears fill Raphael's eyes. Even after all these nights together, he still can't get over the unspeakable gentleness of Don's touch during these moments. It's wonderful and overwhelming all at the same time.

Before Don, there was little gentleness in Raph's life. There was training, there was fighting, there was roughhousing. But not since he was very small, small enough to still sit in Sensei's lap, has Raph been touched with anything like tenderness. As the tears slip down his cheeks, Raph feels Don brush them away.

"Are you sure I didn't—"

"I'm fine, Don! Jeez, can't you just shut up for one second? I swear, you're a big girl, with the way you always gotta talk after." Raph sighs and feels a sharp stab of remorse. He always ends up treating Don badly. Maybe because Don lets him. In a softer voice Raph adds, "Shut up and hold me, will ya?"

Don readily complies. He reaches around Raph's plastron and pulls him close. Raph wraps his arms around the beefy forearm across his chest and spoons against his brother. He's grateful that Don's holding him like this—facing away from Don means he doesn't have to look into Don's eyes. Looking at Don makes everything more real, and if this is real, Raph should feel guilty about it. He doesn't want to feel guilty just yet.

After a few minutes, Raph clears his throat to speak again. "I didn't hurt ya either, did I?"

"No. Not at all."

Raph grins in mild relief. He's always a little rougher than he means to be, and that worries him sometimes. "I just get kinda, well, caught up in the moment. Y'know?"

Don nods. "I know."

"Yeah." Raph sighs and allows himself to relax a little. Something occurs to him. "Hey, Don? You … you like it too, don't you?"

"Like what ?" Don sounds confused. Then when he realizes what Raph's talking about, Raph feels his brother's arms tighten their hold around him. "Yeah, of course I do. You don't think that I … "

"Let's be honest, Donny. I ain't the most observant guy around, and you sure ain't the easiest guy to figure out. And that means that, most of the time, I got no idea what's going on in that head o' yours."

Don's voice becomes very, very serious. "I like it, Raph," he says huskily. "I promise. I like it just as much as you do."

Raph doesn't reply.

"Wanna get in the bed? I bet it's a lot comfier than the floor."

Raph rolls his eyes but gets off the floor. He slides into the bed and moves over so that there's room for Don. As Don situates himself and lays his head on the pillow, his breath tickles Raph's face.

"Hey, Don," Raph whispers sleepily.

"Yes, Raph?"

Raph grins, though he knows Don can't see him in the dark. "Would it kill ya to pop a breath mint once in a while, Coffee-Breath?"

Don laughs and kisses Raph, who growls in protest. After jerking back and swatting at his younger brother, Raphael laughs too. Then he pulls Don back towards him, and Don rolls over onto his other side so that his shell nestles against Raph's plastron. This is how they always lay as Raph falls asleep, because Raph likes this position. It makes him feel like he's protecting Don—from what, he doesn't know exactly. From life itself, maybe. Yawning, Raph throws an arm over his brother's waist and buries his face in the soft warm place between Don's neck and shoulder.

Don waits until he's certain Raphael is asleep before carefully disentangling himself from the embrace. Wearily he makes his way to the kitchen. He sets the timer on the coffee pot, so that he'll have some freshly brewed first thing in the morning, then heads for his bedroom. He groans as his head hits the pillow. He's bone-tired, but happy.

He sets his alarm for six-thirty. Unfortunately, that's only three hours from now.

As he drifts into sleep, he thinks about his three brothers: Mikey's warm laugh, Leo's hesitant kisses, Raph's strong arms. He thinks about how, at night, he gets to see Mike's seriousness, Leo's vulnerability, and Raph's playfulness. And Donatello chuckles quietly to himself, as if at a private joke, because he knows his brothers are convinced he's doing them a favor.