#I've had Blanket Wizard Donnie in my head for a week now and this gave him an excuse to break free

[biographydivider]

“Is that something you want to talk about?”

Rottmnt😉

"So...is that something you want to talk about?"

Raph leaned his full weight against the closet door, making it creak. "D?"

A long moment of silence. Then; a single knock.

No.

"Okay, tha's fine. As long as I know you're in there, bud. If I gotta organise a search party I'd wanna do it before Dad gets home." He laughed; a single awkward bark.

The Comfy Closet had been something Donnie and Dad had put together after The Great Sudsy Meltdown when Donnie was five. It was stuffed full of bedsheets and pillows, old pyjamas worn to a buttery softness, once-loved plushies waiting for their moment to shine and fuzzy, cosy blankets. Usually, Donnie just took a armful to bed when he was feeling overstimulated. Tonight, apparently, he'd simply walked in and closed the door.

It had been Raph's fault. He'd missed the signals that Donnie was approaching Meltdown Status; the glassy eyes, the snappish responses to being prompted to tidy up the common room/work on survellience for the next patrol/drink some water once in a while, the gritted-teeth insistence that they all thought he was stupid, that he wasn't a dumb-dumb, you know, and why couldn't everyone just shut up for a second...

So Raph, being Raph, had reached out and spun him by the shoulder, insisting Donnie needed to tell him what was wrong. And that was when Donnie spat back; "Do not fucking touch me, Raphael."

"Oooooooooh," Mikey had sang, sticking his head into the garage at just the wrong moment. "Donnie cuuuurrrrsed, he gon' get in trooouuu...ble."

Seeing his brother's faces, he'd swiftly retreated. That had been two hours ago, and no-one had seen Donnie since.

"Look, D," Raph continued, picking nervously as the skin of his knuckles, "I don't think you're a dumb-dumb, alright? No-one does. I just...I just blunder on ahead sometimes, y'know? Barking orders and giving you guys a hard time for...for nothin'. Like, you guys aren't babies no more, are you?"

A single knock.

"An'...an' I've always done that, haven't I, D?"

Two knocks. Yes. Raph winced. He knew what Donnie was thinking about. He was thinking about it, too.

Raph had been six. Dad hadn't been good for a month or two. Distant, you know? So Raph had been Big Brother, Playmate and Authority Figure for a while, and the younger kids were starting to rebel. He'd managed to wrestle Mikey and Leo into the bath, but Donnie was being stubborn. He liked his stink, apparently. So Raph had picked him up bodily and dumped him in the tub. Donnie had slipped, and bashed his soft shell against the taps, hard. His head went under water and he'd inhaled a lungful of frothy bathwater; triggering the biggest meltdown ever seen by man, rat or turtle. Not long after, the Comfy Closet was born.

Raph's knuckle worked its way into his mouth, and he worried at the skin with his tooth. Something he only did when he was feeling nervous. Or guilty.

"Aw, D...I'm so sorry. I just...you'd think after all this time, I'd be able to read yous guys' signals better, huh? Some leader I am."

Dont cry. Don't cry don't cry don't cry don't--

A creak. Raph stilled. The feeling of a hand inching its way along the ridge of his shell, down to his shoulder.

Pat. Pat pat. Pat pat pat pat pat pat pat pat...

Raph snorted; his nose suddenly full of tears and snot. Donnie had had a lot of nonverbal spells as a tot, and it always made Raph fret. Especially after the Great Sudsy Meltdown. So his brother used to sit and drum merrily away on Raph's shell, or his leg, or the top of his head. It was his little way of saying hey, I can't talk right now, but that doesn't mean we're not speaking. I still love you.

Raph reached up, found the wrist that the hand was attached to.

Pat pat pat pat pat pat. Pat pat.

They did that for ten minutes or more, in silence. Then, Raph laughed.

"We're so dumb."

Two knocks.

"Well," Raph continued, "when you want it, the shower's free. You can have it as hot as you want, with the scrubby brush for your shell? It'd make you feel better. Then maybe we'll order takeout, play some video games...you still need to help me with my Creature Crossing island..."

The closet door bumped against his shell; once, twice. Then, Donnie emerged; shark plushie shoved under one arm, Pooh Bear blanket wrapped around his shoulders like the cloak of some disgruntled, pre-school wizard.

"'m keepin' the blankie," he muttered. "An' no-one's gonna say nothin' 'bout it. Capisce?"

"Okay, that's fair. You're a grown turtle, after all."