#PB&J bros

[minumi-chan]

Everything is Figure-outable - Ch. 1

Read on A03

Rated: G

Summary: Donnie endures the hug, maybe even enjoys it just a smidge. Mikey doesn't hug him like he is taking something. He hugs like he's giving you something, small and warm and precious, and it makes his touch so much more tolerable even when Donnie is feeling at his most skittish.

A/N: okay but.... Did anyone else catch the story Leo told in the heist ep with Hueso and Piel, where he frackin yanked out Donnie’s tooth and it was thewrongone?? Leo, my guy... commit to your actions less please... That's what inspired this chapter. The age in the chaps refers to Donnie, so if he is seven, Mikey is six. CW: for pulling teeth, and minor blood related to said pulling.

This work is part of a series, all stories intersect but can be read separately. This story focuses on Donnie and Mikey. There's a Disaster Twins story, as well as a Raph and Donnie story.

~~

Seven years old...

~~

In the middle of their shared room, Donnie whines quiet pitiful little cries. Such an urgent expression of emotion only ever prompted in the little softshell when under great duress. He gasps for his next breath, feeling the wetness on his chin and wiping absently, but his hands come away sticky. When he looks down at his fingers they are shiny with blood laden spittle, and his eyes widen as his small hands shake. 

Leo frets in front of him, looking between his brother’s mouth, his own hands holding a long cord of string and his brother’s crumpling expression as he stares at his bloodied fingers. He blinks at his brother’s mouth and stares a little bewildered seeing the loose tooth he was meant to be extracting still in his gums. Meanwhile in his hands... Oh no...

“D-Donbon? Um... I think, it’s okay, we can... maybe put it back?” Leo folds his hands around the bloodied tooth in his palm and smiles nervously as his twin’s breaths quicken. Donnie inhales deeply, chest puffing up, “No, no, no, no, no, Donnie, wait--” 

Donatello wails at the top of his lungs, long piercing and awful around a wide open bleeding mouth.

Leo can only break into a cold sweat as he hears multiple pairs of footsteps rushing towards the twins’ room, questioning shouts barely audible over Donnie’s screams. Panicking as their eldest and youngest brothers burst into the room, Leo chucks the tooth over his shoulder and plants his feet wide in front of his shrieking twin as if he had not just ripped a whole tooth out of his mouth. 

“Donnie!! Leo!! What’s wrong? Did you-- punch him in the mouth??” Raph exclaims upon seeing one bleeding little brother and the other very guilty looking twin. 

“IT’S N-NOT MY FAULT, DONNIE ASKED ME T-TO DO IT!!” Leonardo squawks over his twin’s howling, face scrunched into something between intense guilt and unconvincing denial. 

“He asked you to punch him?!” Raphael draws up to his full height looming over the twins with every ounce of big brother energy, as Leo begins his frantic explanation.

“No!! Both our tooths were loose--” 

“T-Teeth,” Donnie can't help but interject between great gulping sobs. 

“But teeths doesn’t rhyme, Donnie, we went over this--” 

“Leo--” Raphael growls the name slowly in rising irritation. 

“They were loose, but mine fell out this morning and we wanted to get our tooth fairy visit at the same time--” 

“S’not a f’rie. S’papa who--!” Donnie slurs still crying, alarmed when Raph suddenly steps in front of him signaling to stop frantically.  Raph jerks his head towards Mikey blinking innocently at them from the doorway still.  

“So Donnie--” Leo takes advantage of the interruption and points accusingly at his twin, “Said we could just get his tooth to come out with a string. So I got it out! And now, he’s being a baby about it--” 

Donatello screams in wordless rage and barrels around Raphael to pounce on his twin’s shell. The resulting chaos is loud. 

“Donnie-- wait, just--” 

“OW!! OW!! Get off!! I’ma bite you--” Leonardo graples against his twin’s fingers reaching vindictively towards his mouth.

“Donnie, quit it-- this isn't helping!” Raph grips the back of Don’s hoodie and pries him off the wriggling slider, holding Donnie aloft while he still kicks and shrieks bloody murder around his sobs. “Let me see Dee, just for a sec-- what the-- Leo!! His loose tooth is still there!!” 

“HE ASKED ME TO DO IT!! IT WAS HIS IDEA!!” 

“He asked you to pull the WRONG tooth??” Raph sets the soft shell down onto his feet, letting go only when it seems like he will no longer lunge at their brother. He stays firmly between him and Leo to prevent another scuffle. 

“Well, I thought it was a little weird it was so hard to pull-- but hey, now we’ll have three tooths for the fairy!!” 

“Teeth!!” Donnie cries, crouching into a little ball of misery and just covering his ears. 

“Leo-- Are you serious right now!! What were you thinking!!” 

“I told you!! Donnie was the one doing the thinking, that’s why this plan didn’t work!!” 

“Cut it out! You hurt your brother, now apologize!”

“What!”

“You heard me!” 

“No way!!” 

“Leo--” 

“I didn’t do anything wrong!!” 

As their back and forth shouting only gets louder, Donnie just wants to crawl into a hole and make everything quiet. He jaw throbs where the gap in his gums bleeds and his skin feels like it’s prickling all over between the pain and the noise and the-- 

A small hand takes hold of one of his own, and Donnie startles with a hitching breath, looking up at the concerned face of his littlest brother. Mikey puts a single finger to his smiling lips and tugs at Donnie’s hand for him to follow. He doesn’t fight it as his little brother leads them out of the room and down the hall, leaving their elder brothers to their argument. 

Almost immediately Donnie’s skin stops feeling three sizes too small for his body. The prickly sensation is still present, but much less nauseating. The little box turtle pushes him into one of the bean chairs in the living room and motions for him to wait. Michelangelo’s paints and artwork are strewn about the tv room, papers upon papers of unfinished or still wet artwork are arranged by color family across a good portion of the floor. Several tubes of paints are in various stages of use, some unopened and spilling onto the floor, where Mikey has mixed them into a makeshift palette. Papa is not going to be too happy when he gets back and sees that part... 

The patter of feet returning distracts Donnie from analyzing the messy work of his little brother. Fat tears running down his cheeks and bloody spittle drips down his chin, reigniting his discomfort. But Mikey is there with a ready smile on his round little face as he hands over a clean towel, a bag of ice, and the first aid kit their father has taught them all to use. While he is still too upset to smile back, Don accepts the towel with a sigh of relief. The ice is uncomfortable but feels soothing against the throbbing in his mouth. Donnie does a quick mental checklist of what would make the most sense to use for this kind of injury. Sniffling, he riffles through the contents of the box set on his lap, finding a small tube of numbing tooth gel. It isn’t really something they have often have use for, but it theoretically should stop the pain... if only it weren’t so disgusting. 

With a shaky breath he uncaps the tube, squeezing the slightly sticky gel onto a finger and reaching for his mouth. As soon as he feels the squishy emptiness of the now toothless gap in his gums, Donatello dry heaves, pulling his hand away from his mouth immediately to spit bile around a whimper. 

“Dee?” Mikey’s voice is a barely above whisper, he leans into Don’s side and offers, “Want me to do it?” 

Donnie wipes his chin with the towel again, blinking around watery eyes and looking at Mikey for a long minute before nodding. He relinquishes the tube to his younger brother and tries to even his breaths again as Mikey’s hands draw nearer to his face. 

“Say aaahh--” Mikey teases, pinching his tongue between his own gapped teeth. 

His fingers are covered in dried paint that Don worries will now be in his mouth as Mikey slathers a little too much gel on. Donnie pulls back with another gag, but thankfully doesn’t heave this time. Relief slowly suffuses his mouth, but the taste and the sensation of tingling leave his mouth salivating so much he starts to drool uncomfortably. Was there ever even a comfortable amount of drool?? 

“Oh! Wait, I know what’ll help!!” Mikey whirls away, running straight across the palette of paints on the floor and spreading colors everywhere he steps. Oh Papa is so going to make them scrub the floor later....

The hum of the fan gives him something to focus on other than the slow steady throb in his mouth. He sup sups his next few breaths and chirps out a pained little whine to himself. Readjusting his cheek on the bag of ice his little brother had prepped for him, he whimpers softly at the odd tingle of numbness in half of his mouth as he tries to wipe the spit away with the now damp towel. Pink tinged saliva drips down his chin no matter how much he wipes, and Donnie huffs an uncomfortable sob at the sensation. 

“Dun cry, Dee... S’okay, here--” Mikey’s at his side again, pressing a paint stained cup to his mouth and motioning for Donnie to spit in it. His small clumsy hands press a little too hard, but Donnie spits obediently, removing some of the excess gel from his mouth in the process. 

Before he can express his gratitude to his little brother, Leo’s sheepish face pops around the corner of the couch, “Donnie? You need any help?”

Donnie glares at his brother, even as his eyes water again, but the numbing gel makes his tongue too thick to form words properly, “Oh aweh!!” 

"Aww, c’mon Don--"

“Leo.” 

Michelangelo is a head shorter than them on a good day, but he draws up his tiny body in front of Donnie like a tank. 

“Donnie’s not talking to you right now."

Leonardo blinks down at their little brother. 

“W-Why are you being so creepy?? I was just tryna help!” Leo squeaks, head ducking into his shell in dejection when Mikey crosses his arms. 

“Not today!!” The uncharacteristic aggression in Mikey’s voice has both twins staring in shock. “Expect his space!” 

“Ruh-spak--” Donnie tries to correct automatically, but his tongue will not cooperate. 

“That’s right, respect Don’s space, Leo. Out,” Mikey points towards the doorway.  

Leo hesitates, “But--”

“OUT!!” He stomps his little foot with a determined glare and Leo wilts, looking at Donnie one last time before slinking away. 

Donnie knows he’ll be back, and maybe he’ll even feel like listening to his inevitably poor apology when he returns. But right now, he’s glad to have his little defender keeping his most annoying brother at bay until he feels better. Mikey waits until Leo is out of sight before sitting on the floor in front of Don and pulling a blank paper near. He neglects all of the many brushes at his fingertips in favor of dipping his fingers straight into some paint to begin a new piece of art. 

The sound of Michael’s fingers drifting across the paper and the hum of the fan is the only thing that breaks the comfortable silence between them. Normally, Mikey would be talking his ear off excitedly about whatever idea he was putting to paper, but his little brother has become surprisingly adept at knowing when Donnie needed quiet time to center himself again. Squishing further into the bean bag, Donnie rests his cheek on the back of ice and lets his eyes close against the dull throb in his mouth, quietly sniffling to himself. 

He’s nearly dozed off when a warm hand on his cheek startles him into sitting up again. His littlest brother pouts, hand outstretched, now waiting for his permission. Donnie sup sups again, but he nods. Purple paint stains streaks his cheek as Mikey wipes away a stray tear. With an annoyed huff, he wipes his other cheek before Mikey can stain that one too. 

“Oops,” Michelangelo grins and Donnie knows it was on purpose, but he can’t truly get mad at that gap toothed smile. Frowning for show, he looks down at the paper in his little brother’s hands.  

He struggles around the numbness in his mouth, tonguing at the gap of the missing tooth and shivering in disgust at the squishy feeling. Mikey frowns at him in concern, but he just shakes his head to reassure he’s mostly fine now. Wiggling his snout towards the paper, he tilts his head in question and waits.  

Bouncing with enthusiasm, Michael turns it around for him to see, careful to only handle the corners where the paint is driest. 

“It’s ta make ya feel better! Lookit-- This is me and this is you! We gots matching tooth gaps!!” 

Donnie studies the drawing presented to him. Michelangelo must have picked up his brushes at some point while he was dozing to fill in the details, because his depiction of the pair of them is impressively accurate. He looks over the details in their faces, the wide grins prominently displaying their gapped teeth. Mikey even got their unique scale markings correct. Squinting at his own face, he studies the thick elegant brows Michael drew over his mask and glasses, eyes widening in delight and rubbing over his own browless forehead as he stares at the drawing contemplating several possibilities for adopting the trait in the near future. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Mikey start to rock side to side with a satisfied grin. 

His fingers are careful not to smudge as he traces the phrase Michael wrote crooked across the top of the work. 

~~

Wǝ go togǝttǝᴙ likǝ pǝaᴎut aᴎd j��lly buttǝᴙ, bay-bǝǝ!! 🐝~💜🧡

~~

Some of his letters are backwards, there’s an extra T in together, and no H at all. He has placed the word ‘butter’ after the wrong condiment entirely and Donnie is sure he hasn’t even noticed it. It’s a struggle to keep his eye from twitching as he looks at the mistakes, the corrections waiting on the tip of his tongue even as he holds them back. But his silence makes Mikey's face start to fall a bit, looking at the drawing worried and then back at Donnie. 

"Did I spell something wrong again?"

Donnie looks up from the page to his only little brother. Slowly he grins wide just like in the drawing, tilting his face to emphasize his new tooth gap.

"No. S'perfect," he tickles under Mikey's chin and is rewarded with a peel of giggles and a flailing hand that slaps unfortunately at the achy side of his face, "O-Ow..."

“Sowwie!!” 

Donnie pokes at Mikey’s snout in answer, pushing him away with a single finger as he bursts into laughter again. It distracts him from the hurt in his face, and makes somewhere in his chest fill with something heavy and warm. Putting his ice bag in his hoodie pocket, he takes hold of the painting carefully, and offers Michelangelo his free hand without a word. Mikey bounces with excitement and folds both his little hands around his older brother’s, following him without question as he leads them out of the tv room and towards the area designated recently as his “lab.” 

It’s a work in progress and he only has a workbench for when he’s pulling apart electronics, and a separate desk area for the PC he is building. He stops in front of the mess of casing and wires, stretching onto his tiptoes to reach the corkboard Papa helped him mount to the wall behind the monitor. There he pins the artwork in a place of honor, where anyone walking into the lab can see. 

He watches his little brother radiate with joyful pride to see his work displayed so prominently, little hands squishing his cheeks as he laughs to himself and rocks on his heels with excess energy. Donnie knows what he wants, and knows Mikey is trying really hard to avoid further discomforting him while he’s having a sensitive time. Still, Don lifts one arm up, opening up his side to his little brother. 

“C’mere, Peanut,” he says aloud, and Michael’s eyes get impossibly bigger as he squeaks with joy and wraps himself around Donnie without further hesitation, rubbing his face into his hoodie with a delighted hum.  

Donnie settles for patting his head lightly, and endures the hug, maybe even enjoys it just a smidge. Mikey doesn't hug him like he is taking something. He hugs like he's giving you something, small and warm and precious, and it makes his touch so much more tolerable even when Donnie is feeling at his most skittish. When Mikey looks up at him and beams, Donnie wonders if his face has the same silly look that Raphie gets whenever Donatello chooses to hug him. 

He doesn’t pull away, or push Mikey back, not even when determined footsteps approach the entrance of his lab. His hand remains on Mikey’s head, keeping his little brother close even as he turns them towards the intruder. 

“Okay ‘Tello-- hear me out!!” Leo says striding into the lab uninvited with hands up in a sign of pre-emptive surrender, “You can pull one a my tooths that’s not loose and we’ll call it even. Whatta ya say, Dontron?” 

Teeth-- Donnie stares at his twin and valiantly keeps his correction a mental one, then tilts his face down to look Mikey in the eye, catching the subtle glint of chaotic fervor shining in it. Without answering, Donatello finally separates to turn and dig into the toolbox on his workbench. Pulling out what he needs, he throws the bag of ice freezing his hoodie pocket onto the bench where it lands with an ominous rattle. 

“Deal,” he says low with his back still to Leo, before glancing at Michelangelo again. “Angelo, hold him down, please.”

“Can do!” Mikey cracks his little knuckles with a smile, pouncing on their elder brother before he can change his mind. 

“Mikey, what--” 

Donatello turns around and clicks his pliers together several times as he slowly approaches his twin, his manic gap toothed grin matching Michelangelo’s. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The echoes of Leonardo’s muffled screams make Raph race into the darkened interior of Donnie’s Lab and skid to a halt to stare in shock for the second time that day at the scene before him. 

Mikey is octopus wrapped around Leo’s head and shoulders, patting his forehead aggressively while saying ‘there, there’ in a decidedly uncomforting way. Donnie is kneeling beside them, a bloodied tooth pinched in the nose of the pliers he has in hand, while he smushes a slightly melted bag of ice over Leo’s mouth. Leo stares at him tearily, pleading for his aid as he whimpers between the two youngest gremlins of the family. 

“WHY ARE YOU GUYS THE WAY THAT YOU ARE?!?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This is why Raphael has a chasm at 16 years young. x’DD

This story originally began its life as a chapter for my other story ‘A Twin Thing’ which is why it has so much Disaster Twins energy, but as it became more about Mikey and Donnie than the twins in the end, I decided to go in a different direction with it and make it a part of its own story featuring more Donnie and Mikey moments. I cover so many headcanons here, but one I want to point out is Donnie’s personal nickname for Mikey being ‘Peanut’ from the mistake he makes in his drawing. This nickname is referenced in the Bad!Future timeline chapter in ‘A Twin Thing,’ since this was initially meant to be a part of that storyline.

[abbeyofcyn]

I think I forgot how to draw

[pageofheartdj]

Bros hanging out with the other♥

[jtophat]

It’s crazy that these are the exact lyrics to Far Away From Tulsa

[zeroistic]

need an ashswag stream to debrief wtf went down yesterday

[freakinator]

man i dont even care if pb&j are falling into the cycle of violence, theyre doing it in such a frustrating way i dont even think its worth it

[pillowprincessvarric]

my instinct was to brush aside ur comment about leftovers but then i realized that if i felt convicted there must be a reason. anyways i found out i dislike the texture of some reheated foods (like pastas) a few years ago and if i keep the sauce separate from the noodles it's a much more pleasant experience. eat ur leftovers save money reduce waste

Oh yeah totally. Bases like pasta & rice should generally be stored separately from whatever wet you put on top of it. I also think a lot of people would find the experience improved if they reheat both things separately. I also find that cooking pasta in the sauce initially means it reheats better, but also pasta cooked in sauce is generally a different texture experience altogether so mileage may vary.

[halosparkyt]

Stupid little comic me and my friend, MIDD are working on.

part one.

we had no idea what we were doing my guy

TW: BLOOD!

[kirbyskisses]

i don’t read heavy monsterfucker or super dark content fics but the tags and titles they have on ao3? wild.

if you ever need to laugh just scroll like 2 pages.

[newtmntfan]

Tags I Wil Use

Hi I'm going to attempt to organize this blog with duo tags and stuff. The names I use may not be right or make sense, but this is my blog, so I'll use what I like and can remember.

A Team (all Raph and Leo duos)

B Team (all Mikey and Donnie duos)

Head and Heart (All Leo and Mikey duos)

Brains and Brawn (All Raph and Donnie duos)

Blueberry Bros (All Leo and Donnie duos)

Fire buds (All Raph and Mikey duos)

Rottmnt Duos

Sunset Duo (Raph and Mikey)

Disaster twins (Leo and Donnie)

Pb&j Duo (Donnie and Mikey)

Leader duo (Raph and Leo, they should've been co leaders dAMNIT)

Portal duo (Leo and Mikey)

Code Smashers (Raph and Donnie)

Interdimensional Duos

Arson Bros (2003 Mikey and Rise Mikey)

Murder Duo (Rise Donnie and 2012 Raph)

Crossover (when the same turtle is featured)

💙💙💙 (Leo)

❤️❤️❤️ (Raph)

💜💜💜 (Donnie)

🧡🧡🧡 (Mikey)

Credits

@cray-cray-anime

Fire buds

Head and Heart

@dysfunctional-doodle

Arson bros

@excali8ur

Murder duo

[catboyrome]

i do NOT have the attention span to watch this interview rome did

[caeserfroggysalad]

New refs same old besties @grapejuice720 hiii

[patricia-taxxon]

Attempting to extend sympathy to my younger self via self insert fiction.

"Hello there!"

I looked up from the lunchbox on my lap towards the source of the sudden loud voice, standing four or so feet away from me was a… dog? He stood on two legs, an eager look on his face. I looked around, none of the other kids were nearby.

"Hello?" I said back, a little confused.

"My name is Paul! What is your name?" The dog replied, both in an oddly formal tone of voice and… loudly, even though he was close enough to grab.

"My name's Bradley." I said, and went back to my PB&J.

"How old are you, Bradley?" asked Paul, in that same babyish but too-formal tone, almost like a robot.

"I'm eleven." I replied, without looking up.

"I'm ten!" He said back. "Nice to meet you!"

Several seconds passed, and he didn't move or look away. I realized he was waiting for me to say something.

"Nice to meet you too, Paul." His tail twitched as I said that, but he quickly moved his paw behind him to hold it in place until it settled. "Sorry," He said, before asking another question. "What do you like to do?"

His awkward storybook-speaking was offputting to me, but no one ever talked to me at recess, especially not completely out of nowhere like this. I answered his question, "I like playing Smash Bros," but I don't know why I thought of that first. I didn't really feel like finishing my lunch, I started to pack it away for later.

"What's that?" He said back. Was that a joke? He looked curious.

"Uh… it's a game, you can play as different Nintendo characters and fight each other." I waited for him to respond, but he was still listening. "You can uh… you can be Sonic."

"That's really cool!" He said. "Can I sit next to you?"

"Hm? Oh, okay, I guess." I replied. The dog's tail instantly sprung to life, and he once again moved his paw to stop it. "Sorry," he said, and moved swiftly to sit on the bench next to me, a bit closer than I thought he would. He looked up towards me like he wanted me to keep talking, or… it looked like he was looking at the top of my head, I wasn't sure.

Instead of explaining Smash Bros anymore, I asked a question myself to take the pressure off. "What do you like to play?" Paul blinked and his ears perked up. "I like Marble Blast Gold!" He almost yelped out, before drawing back. "But… shhh, don't tell anyone. I'm not supposed to talk about it."

That didn't make any sense. "Huh? What does that mean?" I asked.

"It's the best game ever, you like… you roll, and you have to… like, you have to get to the end. Uh." He stammered. "But I'm not… I'm not allowed to play it anymore, my teachers said I'm too obsessed."

"That's bullshit." I spat.

"Yeah!!" He yelled, leaping up onto his haunches, tail wagging up a storm, until he noticed again, and pressed his paw to stop it. "Sorry." he said.

"Why are you doing that?" I asked.

"Doing what?"

"Stopping your tail." I pointed to his butt. "Aren't you like… a dog, or something?"

Paul cocked his head like I asked him a really stupid question. "Yeah? Why." He said, carefully.

We stared at each other for another couple of seconds. I didn't know how to word my questions without sounding awkward. "I've met a lot of… dogs, and wagging tails is pretty normal." I felt insane saying it out loud.

"Well I'm special!" Paul beamed. "I can talk, I can stand on two legs!" He got up and stood upon the bench, barely reaching eye level with me. "I'm in a class for special dogs only." He bumped a fist on his chest.

"Oh… okay." I said, not really understanding. I guess the rules were different for dogs that talk. It felt weird watching him do that though, and saying sorry for it too. "Are special dogs… not supposed to wag?" I asked.

"Yeah. No wagging." He replied. "'Cus humans don't wag."

"But humans don't have tails in the first place." I looked behind myself to check. "So you don't actually know if humans would wag or not, right?" I was getting seriously weirded out by this conversation, but I just kinda kept going. "How'd you learn to talk, anyways?" I asked, Paul looked like he was processing what I said very slowly.

"Like I said, I'm special." Paul repeated. "I'm learning how to make it disappear, like everyone else. First I gotta learn how to keep it still, though, so the magic works."

"Magic?" I said back to him. I mean, it wasn't all that weird compared to meeting a talking dog, but the word still threw me off.

"Yeah, lookit!" The dog hopped off the bench, hunched over with his back facing me, and started screaming like he was about to go super saiyan. I didn't know what I was supposed to be looking at, I was too startled. I might have been imagining things, but I think I saw his tail slowly retracting into his body like a lazy snake.

"Paul! What the fuck are you doing??" I shouted, but instead of responding, Paul just… went silent and flopped onto his side. I quickly rushed over, yelling "Are you okay? What just happened?" I looked over his body, flat on the asphalt. His tail had grown all the way back and… his body shrunk. His head was halfway tucked into his shirt like a turtle. His paws barely poked out of his sleeves, pointing directly forward from his body. He didn't look like a kid anymore, he looked like a dog that someone stuffed into some kid's clothes.

After a second, I thought it wouldn't hurt to poke him. "Paul? Recess is almost over." I poked at his chest, and he rolled onto his back limply. I suddenly felt silly trying to talk to him, like I was trying to reason with a pet. I tried a different approach, I clapped my hands and rapped on my knees. "Hey! Up! Food!"

Paul's eyes shot open, and he sneezed, before wiggling his legs to right himself. He took an instant and a half to realize where he was, and he suddenly cowered, looking straight at me, shivering. "Hey, what's wrong?" I whispered. He looked side to side, back at his own doggish body, and back to me. He blinked, looking like he was about to run away.

"No, no, it's okay." I tried to be reassuring, I'd never had a dog before so I didn't really know what I was doing. I almost forgot that I'd just been talking about Smash Bros with him. "Uh… do you like granola bars?" His ears perked up, and his tail swayed, his new… anatomy making it hard to reach back and stop it this time. I grabbed my backpack from behind me and rummaged through it for leftovers, I got the other of the two bars inside the wrapper, the one I didn't eat, and held it out in front of me. Paul approached me slowly, his nose twitching. "Can you… eat this, even?" I asked, as he sniffed the crumbly rectangle. He licked it soon after, and started nibbling and snarfing after that. I watched carefully, scared to make any sudden moves.

Paul looked up at me again, and I noticed his eyes were a little different. More definition, like I could tell a little more what he was feeling. His new eyes looked concerned, like he was waiting for me to do something bad. He reached up with a paw, it was looking a bit more like a hand now. I let go, and he held the bar himself as he munched away, sitting plainly on his knees.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"Maghic." The dog said through a full mouth.

"That was magic?" I replied. "I saw your tail shrink, I'm pretty sure."

Paul swallowed. "How much?"

I thought back, the image was still clear in my head. "Like… barely at all. A couple inches?"

"Aw…" He looked disappointed in himself.

We sat in silence for a bit, but there was a question I wanted to ask. "Why do you want to get rid of your tail? Like… that looked painful."

"Mrs. Millie said I can go to the regular class if I can turn human," the talking dog said, proudly.

"You're pretty bad at that." I chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his ears without thinking. Paul looked like he was about to take it personally, but suddenly lost his train of thought as my hand touched his head. "Bwuhhf…" He woofed under his breath, his tail twitched and his paws lost their thumbs again. I quickly pulled my hand back, "Sorry! I didn't…" Paul's eyes took a second to form together again, and he looked right at me, "That wasn't fair." he whined, but his tail was still wagging.

"You really are a dog!" I said, glancing sneakily behind him. Paul followed my gaze to his own tail, yelped, and quickly pressed it down with both paws.

"Oh, come on, stop it." I joked. "It's psyching me out, it looks like it hurts when you hold your tail in place like that."

Paul turned his head back at me. "It doesn't… hurt," he said, slowly and surely.

"Hm. Whatever you say." I got up and went back on the bench. After I turned around to sit down, Paul was already running towards me. I didn't have any time to think before he bounded into my lap and butted his head into my chest while his tail went crazy. The impact knocked the wind out of me, but he was pretty small, I got it back in just a second. Paul yipped and barked, maybe there were some normal words in there too, but I couldn't understand it. This is where I realized he wasn't a very special dog after all, I think he was just normal.

I scratched behind his head and stroked his back through those baggy clothes, and this time he didn't mind. He might have been crying, it was hard to tell, I didn't really know what dog crying looked like. Eventually, he settled down. I couldn't feel his shoulders anymore, he seemed in danger of falling out of his shorts if he wasn't careful. I had a dog in my lap, an extremely normal dog. He stretched his body up and rested his head on my shoulder. "I like you, Bradley." He said, a little too slowly, and a little too loudly. I didn't know what to say to that, he barely knew me. This was all very weird. "You're a good dog." I said back, just because it felt right.

I could feel Paul's body shaping up into a more human posture again as he regained composure. He let go, turned to the side, and sat down on the bench next to me again, staring at his paws in his lap. I leaned over, "You okay?" I asked. He didn't answer, he just put his paw on my wrist and started twirling the hair under my sleeve.

I quickly jerked my hand away and covered the hairy skin. "Don't look at that!" I snapped.

"You have fur too!" Paul yelled.

"No, no, that's hair. I'm just…" I didn't want to explain, it was too embarrassing. I looked like I had my dad's arms, I hoped that no one would see. "It's a condition."

"Oh. Okay." Paul stared into the distance again. We sat in silence for another couple awkward seconds before the bell rang.

"Bye, Bradley." the dog said, scampering off.

"Bye, Paul." I waved after him, being sure to hold my sleeve up with my other hand.

[pageofheartdj]

Ah okay this work very nicely for me actually❤

We know everyone looks up to Raph, as the oldest. Which includes Mikey.

And he dislikes how Raph babies him, so he really wants to prove himself to Raph, to make him see Mikey just as capable and trustworthy as everyone else!

Leo is the second oldest and Mikey looks up to Leo too. They are similar fun loving goofballs(even if Mikey is on a gooder scale of morals XD) and he doesn't get the same delicate treatment from Leo like from Raph. So who is better to one-up than the literal golden standard?xD

And lastly I do not remember Mikey competing with Donnie ever. As the youngest and second youngest, despite them being VASTLY different, we constantly see them spending time together and supporting each other's ideas.

[pippenplayz]

So Rise TMNT Duo names I've heard:

🟪Don & Leo🟦

Disaster twins

Midnight Duo

🟦Leo & Raph🟥

Magnetic Duo

Leader Duo

Switch Duo

Blue Raspberry

A-Team

🟧Mikey & Donnie🟪

PB&J Duo

Smarts and Crafts

B-Team

Sun & Science

🟦Leo & Mikey🟧

Baja Blast

Portal duo

Sun and eclipse

Sunrise Duo

Tidepods

Unicorn Bros

🟥Raph & Mikey🟧

Sunset Duo

🟪Don & Raph🟥

Brains and Brawn

Jampackets Duo

🟨April & Don🟪

Bannana Pancakes

DNA Duo

🟦Leo & April🟨

The gay agenda

Ikea Duo

🟧Mikey & April🟨

Orange Lemonade

Citrus Duo

🟥Raph & April🟨

Eldest Siblings

Pink Lemonade

🟥Raph & Cassandra🏒

Shred Red

Cherry Duo

🟦Leo Future Boy🔑

Father and Son

Sensei and Student

Edit: This is constantly updated with every Duo name that gets commented that I don't have in here.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"dance recital" - hotch x mom!reader!

your family attends your daughter's dance recital

1480 words, domestic family fluff

cw: none? unless u hate kids then don't read this xD

a/n: i am looking at requests and actually have a couple of them started! inspiration just struck and i needed dance dad hotch xD plz keep sending requests i love getting them

---------------

Lizzy had been practicing for weeks, at home, in the car on the way to school, even in the waiting room at the dentist’s office. If there was a free moment, she was up on her toes, practicing her dance routine.

When she turned four, she was so excited to sign up for dance class, and now her very first recital is later today. She takes it very seriously, and you attribute that entirely to her hardworking father. 

You’re standing in the kitchen, packing the picnic lunch you’ll be sharing as a family after her recital in the park. PB&J, no crusts, for Jack. Even though he’s nearly ten and he should be eating his crusts, you can’t help but to baby him a little. He’s been such a good big brother to Lizzy. You were anxious about that when you were pregnant with her, since Jack was so used to being the only kid. And there would always be the looming presence of Haley and the family he was a part of before you came along.

But Lizzy became the center of Jack’s world when she was born. He’s so doting and always playing with her, from when she was an infant to now. 

Nutella and peanut butter sandwich for Lizzy, because she has a sweet tooth just like her mother. Turkey and cheese for you and Aaron. “D’you want mayo, honey?” You call out to wherever Aaron is in the house. He was in the living room just a few minutes ago, but with your two crazy kiddos, he could have ended up anywhere. 

“Just the mayo, no honey,” Aaron jokes and nearly makes you jump as he enters the kitchen, padding silently behind you despite being the largest person in the house. Must be that fancy tactical FBI stealth training. 

He stops at the counter, leaning against it and facing you. Your eyes meet his and his voice is low when he speaks to you. “You need to make a big deal out of this,” he prefaces, nodding to the doorway. You don’t fully know what he’s talking about, but you understand enough, so you set your butter knife down and turn around to face the doorway. Aaron makes a drumroll on his thigh. “Come on in, kids!” 

Jack enters first, in a bright orange t-shirt that is definitely a size too big. Written in blue, puffy fabric paint, no doubt by Jack himself, are the words PROUD BIG BRO. Jack’s also holding Lizzy’s hand, escorting her into the kitchen. She’s in her violet tutu and has her hair up in two haphazardly pulled-back pigtails that could only be described as the work of her father. She’s walking on her tiptoes, with her free hand arched up in a semicircle shape, mimicking all the ballerinas in her books. 

You’re beaming, and take the sight in silently for a moment before bursting into uproarious (for one woman) applause. “You guys look so great!” You exclaim, grinning at the kids, and then back at your husband. He’s got this sly look on his face and you want to smooch it off. “When did you make this shirt?” You ask Jack, stepping forward and grabbing his face with both of your hands. You kiss his forehead and ruffle his hair.

“Dad and I did it while you were at the store last night,” Jack explains. 

“I love it, baby,” you tell Jack, and he beams. You stroke the apples of his cheeks with your thumbs before releasing him. 

Lizzy lets go of her brother’s hand and leaps for you. “My big girl is all dolled up for her first recital,” You lift her up, hugging her close. “Did Daddy do your hair for you?” you ask.

“Yes! He sang our song and I didn’t cry!” she says. You always sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star to Lizzy while you brush her hair because she’s very tender-headed. It makes your heart soar to learn that Aaron did it, too. 

“I’m so proud of you!” You kiss Lizzy’s face all over until she squeals and wriggles to get away. “Why don’t you guys go play in the living room for a little bit, and we’ll get going soon,” you suggest. Jack races Lizzy into the living room, leaving you and Aaron in the kitchen alone. 

“You did her hair,” you say as you smirk up at Aaron. 

“Yeah, I know. It's not as good as when you do it,” he settles back against the counter and you roll your eyes. He’s holding his palms out, wiggling his digits. “I’ve got sausage fingers, and she cries if you pull the twist-tie too hard. It’s heartbreaking.” 

“And you made a shirt with Jack,” you say, ignoring his self-deprecation. Your smirk has turned into a full-force, Category Five Grin. 

Aaron realizes what you’re doing as you inch a little closer. He takes your wrist delicately, tugging you toward him, and you kiss his lips three times in succession, each a quick thank-you for all he’s done. “You’re the one driving her to classes twice a week,” Aaron deflects. “And Jack to school, and to soccer practice, and doing all the shopping and-“

“Aaron,” you roll your eyes in warning. You hate when he butters you up like this. You’re just doing your job, just like he is when he’s away on cases. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he holds his hands up in defense, and you snatch them like they’re precious jewels. You kiss him again, this one longer and lingering. 

You finish packing your family’s lunch into the cooler. Lizzy’s recital is at a small amphitheater in the park, and after you drop her off with her teacher backstage, you and your boys find a good spot on the green to set up your picnic blanket. 

Aaron makes this small grunt when he squats to sit down on the ground and you hold back a snicker. Jack does not read the room and calls him an old man. 

You’re giggling as you sit down, Aaron tugging you to sit between his legs. You affectionately run your hand through Jack’s hair a few times before the first class comes up onto the stage. 

You watch the first class, and the second, clapping politely. Then, the four-and-five-year-olds are announced, and you are on your feet immediately. You hear a bit of rustling and Jack and Aaron are standing up, too. You grin when you see Lizzy with the other little kids, holding the hands of the boy in front of her and the girl behind her as they all walk in a line. 

Their dance is simplistic and whimsical and joyful, set to a light, poppy tune that makes you think of spring. You’re grinning and watching Lizzy float across the stage. She’s not the most graceful, but she hits every move at the right time.

You hear rustling behind you and turn over your shoulder to see Aaron and Jack subtly performing the dance with the class. They’re not moving nearly as dedicatedly as the group on stage, but they’re helping Lizzy from the audience. It’s so sweet you want to cry. 

When Lizzy’s group is finished, the three of you on the lawn explode in applause. Aaron wolf-whistles behind you and Jack is cheering, “that’s my sister!” 

After the other classes go, you’re allowed to head back and pick up Lizzy. She’s giggling with the other kids in her class, but she freezes and grins like it’s Christmas morning when she sees you. 

“Mommy!” she squeals, and runs to you. You lift her up off the ground in a hug and spin her around, before passing her off to Aaron. He does the same thing. “Dizzy! Dizzy!” She’s squealing, and Aaron finally sets her down. 

“Dizzy Lizzy, huh?” Aaron teases, running his thumb and his forefinger down one of her pigtails. “You did so good, sweet girl!” He was never the best at baby-talking to Lizzy, but now that she’s a little girl, he speaks to her so excitedly and she always beams when she learns her father is proud of her. 

“You got the leap at the right part!” Jack exclaims proudly, and you watch as Lizzy hugs her big brother. 

You point out the picnic blanket with the cooler and tell Jack to take Lizzy ahead to it. Jack loves being responsible, so he takes Lizzy by the hand and leads her towards your family’s setup. 

Hanging back with Aaron, you look up at him and brush his dark hair off his forehead. “You learned her dance?” you ask with a small smirk on your face. 

Aaron’s dark eyes gaze into yours and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close to him. “She was doing it every chance she got,” he shrugs, like it’s totally no big deal. “You’re telling me you don’t have it memorized?”