Ooh baby here we are again.
Now, I'm sure you're wondering "Giggles, why can't you set a regular scheduled update?" and the answer is I've had ADHD for 31 years and they only just NOW figured it out, so I guess I'll just go with what I know best.
Anyway, this was heavily inspired by a blurb I saw on tumblr, but I have searched everywhere for it so I could give proper credit to the original and I haven't seen it since the one day I read it but that's how much it affected me.
Splinter never missed much.
Raising 4 boys who he also trained to be ninjas taught him to be aware, even of the more inconsequential moments; especially those little moments. Not just in a safety sense, he knew his boys were getting older and so was he; they became men faster than a blink of an eye and he wanted to appreciate all of those moments where he could silently admire the type of men they'd become.
He never missed how they gravitated to their handful of friends, or the professional and stoic approach to their police arrangement.
It was normal for his two middle sons to go out to pick up take out for movie night; Raphael very often dragged Donatello out of his work to get food, knowing that if he got him to take a break and stretch he would be more apt to actually relax and watch the movie rather than tinker on whatever project he had in the corner of the room. It was very normal for them to stop on the way to grab Dana and accompany her down; April usually arriving earlier with Casey in tow, and Dana a good excuse to order pick up and send her in to retrieve food.
Splinter did not miss the insistent need for touch between the exuberant young woman and his second eldest son, never far away from each other on nights with the whole family, often each other's first call or text to ask how their day was and if they wanted to go for a drive, sit in the weight room, be doing nothing in particular other than existing in each other's presence until the hour ticked late and it was easier to stay the night than to brave the journey topside.
It was very normal to hear his sons and their friend coming back, both boys carrying an even split of pizza boxes and the blonde perched up on the elder turtles shoulders; seated on the upper edge of his shell and legs dangling down to the top of his chest plates, fingers idly playing at the length of fabric from his red mask.
After depositing dinner safely, he'd pivot toward the couch, a recent upgrade at the hands of Donatello and a little insistence from Dana.
"Hey, big boy, hurry up and put me down, your shell is starting to make an indent in my butt." A gentle tap of his head and a wiggle of her hips to relieve the settling discomfort.
"Well it's a good thing it's so big then!" A light hearted call from the kitchen, their savior and her paramour getting snacks prepped for a double feature. The younger woman could only smile and roll her eyes before rebutting.
"Yeah, well at least I don't have weird thumbs!" Auburn hair attached to a half hearted disgruntled face peered from the doorway.
"Excuse me ma'am, I'm sensitive about those!" Her cousin could only cackle as the big brute ferrying her sat in front of the couch and ungracefully dismounted her onto the awaiting cushion below. And there they stayed, no effort of Dana to remove her still dangling legs from over his shoulders, no movement from Raphael to indicate he'd move to a proper seat; he, in fact, seemed to settle back against the front until paper plates were dispersed and he leaned up to grab slices, several for him and 2 for his scarf that had "the biggest air bubbles, I love those silly little bread domes."
They would remain like that, an overhang of legs that didn't seem to affect either of them, only shifting as April and Casey claimed their spots at the other end of the couch and his youngest scrambled into the last remaining space on the couch to be tucked between "his favorite girls." Donatello, rolling his desk chair out to free the arm chair for Splinter and Leonardo preferring a meditation cushion had them all settled in to start.
Splinter didn't miss, when plates were put to the side and all of the young ones quieted with exception of occasional crunches of popcorn, and he'd secretly lost interest in whatever strange action that Michelangelo had picked for the evening, the shift between the two. Dana wordlessly would shift forward, bringing most of her thigh over his shell and shoulders, and like an automated response Raphael would allow himself to lean his head into the plushness of her inner thigh. She would lean forward, an awkward curl around his son's head and shoulders that couldn't look more uncomfortable but didn't seem to affect her, resting her head on the top of his, gentle so as not to displace the mask wrapped around it, and after settling would absently trace her fingers over the tails of his mask, the tops of his shoulders, the upper lip of his shell. There was no exchange of words, no look of hesitation from either of them, not even a moment of eye contact to very quietly draw into one another's touch; like it was as easy as breathing and as routine as brushing teeth.
No, splinter never missed much.