AN: Hey Again! Heres another oneshot. I was not sure if I wanted this in the series of oneshots because it IS longer but, in the end, I thought WHY NOT, yanno? Anyways. Its Don and Mike again. Maybe next time we will get someone else to star, yah? Those two sure are taking up the spotlight...
"Ok so, there I was, totally flying down the turnpike under State Street on my board, yah? I was ripping up the sewer walls like no other turtle or man has ever attempted, you shoulda seen my speed man! Anyways, the turnpike deal. So I was going and everythin's just a blur, yanno?"
Mikey paused, wide excided eyes looking right at Donny as the latter sat down and placed what he had collected during the first part what was guaranteed to be a wonderful story by Michelangelo the Gifted, sorting them by what order he would have to use them in. First came wash clothes soaked in warm water, for cleaning, second came antiseptic, for protecting Mike from infections, then came bandages of various size and make, from simple yet effective band-aids to a large roll of pristine white wrappings. Mikey would need all of this for this latest… adventure.
Mike did not wait long for the response from his older brother, and was seemingly not phased that Don did not respond back to him for he went full steam ahead, "So suddenly a little isty bisty grey blur kinda mixes with the other blurred colors like, RIGHT in front of me, and so there I was, traveling over a thousand miles an hour and I'm thinkin' 'What is that grey thing?' when BAM, I realized what it –OW!- was. Is that really necessary?"
"You got a lot of dirt in these scrapes, Mikey; I have to get it all out, so yes it's really necessary." Don said, knowing that Mikey KNEW it was important to get them clean and just wanted to be a pain in the shell about it. Donny kept his cool though; he knew the real fight was not with the warm damp cloth, this was just a simple battle. The War was when he started on the antiseptic.
"Not really, Don. You could just leave it in there, it might be just like a splinter, you know, when the skin will just, like, naturally push th-"
"So, the grey blur, what was it?" Don interrupted Mikey's talk on things that he apparen tly had no clue about. Like your body would naturally push out all the crud he has in these scrapes…
"Oh, Right! So! This grey blur comes infronta me and I have like, a half a second to react to it because I am going all jet speed on my wheels, when it hits me. It's a rat! A Rat!" At this he threw his arms out, knocking down the large brown bottle to the ground, Probably on purpose, trying to get rid of it, but luckily the cap was still tightly screwed on and so none of the cleansing, if not sometimes painful, liquid leaked out onto the floor.
Sighing, Don put the towel on the counter next to where he had Mikey sitting, bent down and grabbed the bottle before it rolled too far away and placed it on the counter with a bit of force, making a dull thudding sound that resulted in a tight 'awh darn it' smile from Mike.
"Sooo…. Like, I couldn't hit the rat, 'cause that's like... Squishin' Master Splinter!" Mike started up again, trying to push the topic away from his sad attempt at keeping the evil liquid away from his broken skin and back onto what was important; His Crash. "What did I do, you ask?"
No, I didn't ask, Don thought to himself, and I am not truly sure I really want to know what got you into this mess. But he said nothing out loud.
"I changed course! Buuuuuut… I didn't know that a wall was right there…" God, if Mikey only knew how much he had scared his brother.
Careful, slow, precise. That was how Don moved as he slowly put chemicals into a little bottle was held tightly over a Bunsen burner by clamps. For a moment as his hand with a dropper hovered over the opening to the vial his arm shook with the effort to stay steady, and he had to stop for a second, glaring at his arm like some sort of traitor before it stilled once more and he was able to put two drops of something or other into the vial, the contents now turning a vicious, sickly looking green, letting off malicious looking fumes.
Biting his lip he grabbed another, clean dropper and gathered some clear liquid from a small, glass bottle. Once more he begged his arm to stay steady before dropping one, two, th-RING RING RING- The. Whole. Dropper.
Before he had a moment to analyze what had happened the vial burst, shattering into a million pieces. The liquid was spent and nothing showed of its existence other then smoke as it lazily dissipated overhead. Somehow Donny had been spared and no glass had managed pierced his skin, only bounced harmlessly off of his tougher than normal skin, and he had worn protective glasses as well as thick rubber gloves. He had been lucky.
With a loud moan he grabbed a dry towel to gather up the glass that he could when his shell cell rang once more. Looking on the screen he saw the name of his younger brother and debated to just ignore it. No, he did not need to hear about the new game that came out today and no, we cannot afford pizza tonight.
In the end, however, Don answered, for he was not a malicious soul and, who knew. Maybe Mike had something interesting to tell him. Maybe Mike found a toaster for the one he broke this morning, or maybe he was calling to say sorry for breaking said toaster. "Hello, Mikey."
"Oh, uh. Good, you, uh, answered." Mike said from the other line, his voice slightly muffled and strangely a little strained.
"Yah, I 'uh' answered. Is there something you need?" Ok. So maybe Don could get a little malicious every now and then. He was hoping for an apology, or a toaster, or a mixture of both, not a disjointed response.
"Are you, uh busy?"
Don sighed, throwing his gaze out to the last little evidence that he had been busy, "Not any more…"
"Oh. Good. Can you, uh, pick me up?"
"What, too tired to walk back home Mike?" Don jested.
"I… cant really walk…" Ok. That sounded half way serious. Don straightened up and walked towards the drawer that held the sewer sliders keys.
"What happened?" Flashes of what could have happened bombarded him mind. Mikey ambushed by Foot Ninja, alone and without backup. Mikey attacked by a gang of Purple Dragons, beaten and bloodied. Bishop finding him, taking all the 'samples' he wanted and leaving his baby brother for dead. An unknown enemy overwhelming and injuring him beyond belief. Donatello tried in vain to control his imagination as he grabbed the keys and turned towards the lab door.
"I biffed it on my board…" Ok. So that was not really an enemy other then Mikey's strange ability to do extremely stupid things.
"Mike, I will be there in three minutes. Tell me what hurts." Really, he just wanted to keep Mikey talking. If the easily excited turtle had a concussion it was important to keep the kid awake.
"Uh, my right side hurts and I think I sprained my wrist again because it hurts just like last time." He stopped and Don's heart sped up, worry etched on his face as he raced down the sewers, following the little blinking dot that represented right where Mikey's shell was.
"Mike, Mikey!" He called into his phone.
"I'm here, I'm here…" Michelangelo said with a long suffering sigh on the other side of the phone was hard to miss.
"Mikey, what's wrong, what else is hurt, what else happened?" Don rattled off, saying it so fast that he nearly tripped over his own words.
"Huh? Oh, nothing else is hurt really. It's just… Just…" Mike stopped talking again for the briefest of moments before starting again in a coined Mikey Whine, "I broke my board man."
Don sighed; almost laughing at how messed up his younger brothers priorities are. "Almost there, Mike."
It had not taken long to gather Mike up, helping him hobble back to the slider and gathering the remnants of what was, at one point in time, his skateboard. They traveled back to the lair with Mike complaining the whole time which, Don reflected as he drove, had to be a good sign because if Mike was not complaining about something or other then something was seriously wrong.
"OW OW OW OW OOOOOW!!" Mikey complained, gripping the edge of the table as Don finished up putting antiseptic on all of the scrapes.
"Oh, come now, it's over, you baby," Don scuffed, putting the dark brown bottle in front of Mikes face and tightening the lid as if to make a point.
"…ow…" Mike said once more in a small but still somehow just as whiney voice, his face casted downwards and his lips down into a pout. Don rolled his eyes and wrapped up his wrist that was, indeed, sprained (not a bad sprain but one that would have to be handled with care for around two weeks), and then put Band-Aids on the things that needed them. He had made sure to grab Mikey's special Spiderman ones and now the youngest turtle was entranced at one on his arm, looking at it closely with a small smile.
"Ok, all done. You're free to go." With a flourish and a smile Mike hopped down, not even hissing as the scrapings on his leg were bent with the movement and jumped to the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV in the same movement.
Donny quickly gathered up the materials he had used in patching Mike up, pondering on how he was going to find a new skateboard for Mikey. Of course, he could make a new one out of a fresh piece of wood, that in itself would be a challenge; getting the dimensions right. And maybe he could do some add-ons, make it faster and smoother…
Then again, did he really want to give Mike the ability to go faster?
AN: Hoped you enjoyed! I'll make another one sooner or later!