Junk

Title: GadgetSummary: Donatello gets more than a little offended by something Raphael says

Rated: T (lang)Dis: I don't own TMNT

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Donatello sighed in slight annoyance as Raphael came into his lab. He loved his brothers, really he did, but his lab was his escape. Mikey skateboarded in the sewers, Raph went with Casey to beat on gangsters without his brothers, and Leo meditated in the dojo. Was it too much to lock himself in his lab for ten minutes without someone interrupting his solace?

"Yo, Don, I was gunna work on my bike but I can't find my socket wrench. Got a spare?"

"Red tool chest in the corner, second drawer."

"Man," said Raph, looking around the lab. Donatello had three tool chests, one of them blue and the others red, along with some smaller tool boxes. He had three workbenches filled with projects and Raphael whistled. "You have a lot of junk. I'm surprised you keep track of it all."

Junk? Junk?! His stuff wasn't junk! Okay, maybe at some point it was junk because a lot of the things he found were from the junkyard but... These things he had, were his pride and joys, and NO ONE got to call them junk.

Not even Raph.

"If that's how you feel then maybe you don't need to borrow my socket wrench," said Donatello, twisting around on his stool. He narrowed his brown eyes at his brother's shell. Raphael was rummaging around the drawer, grunting like a barbarian.

"Don't be so touchy, Don, ya know what I mean."

"No. I really don't. I mean, I don't go into the garage and mock your bike or the parts I acquire for you... From the junkyard."

"Yo." Raph turned around, pointing the socket wrench at Donatello. "Don't bring my bike intah this."

"Don't degrade what I've worked hard on, then," said Donatello and the two of them shared a glare before Raphael relaxed: rolling his eyes.

"Fine. I'm sorry. Can I have this or not?" he asked, his apology dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, yeah," said Donatello, turning back around in his chair. Raphael strolled out of the lab and Donatello breathed easier when he was back in his solitude. However, his annoyance was still evident in the jerky movements of his hands with his tools and he huffed out a breath. "Junk. The nerve."

END