Leo & Donnie, trick (Please no character death, thank you!)
This will make more sense if you read the previous trick or treat (the Leo and Draxum trick)
Unfortunately this has become. a whole Thing. I didn't plan for it, it just happened. I'm currently calling it the Sidelined AU
CWs: Internalized ableism, light passive suicidal ideation
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Here's what being stuck in a demonic suit of armor for two days gets you:
Brittle bones.
No mystic powers.
Hovering brothers.
A catatonically depressed dad.
A catastrophic decrease in muscle mass.
Chronic fatigue.
A concerning amount of brain fog.
A bedroom on the ground floor (under construction).
Sensitivity to light and smell.
And a wheelchair. Apparently.
Donnie brought it in ten minutes ago, and he's spent that long infodumping about all the features he's built into it. Leo hasn't really kept up, because of the whole brain fog situation, and because he doesn't normally listen to infodumps of this length, anyway.
Instead he's been focused on keeping his lunch down. Something about the wheelchair twists his gut in a sharp way. It just feels so... final. Like if he sits down in that, he's officially given up.
Donnie is still rattling on. He's been smiling the whole time. Leo doesn't know what about his situation invites smiling.
(Some part of his brain, the less bitter and angry part, notes that it's the same smile Donnie has whenever he shows off new tech. Leo ignores that part of his brain.)
"Any questions?" Donnie asks him suddenly, and Leo blinks his way out of his own thoughts. Donnie is looking at him expectantly. Still smiling, his hands gesturing at his creation. The wheelchair. Leo's gut twists again and he swallows forcefully. Reaches over and sucks down the last of the water from his water bottle, and even that simple motion takes Herculean effort.
He's already forgotten what the question was, so he says, "No," because he feels that sums up all his feelings about the situation.
"Excellent," says Donnie, because he can't read a room to save his life. "Then do you want to take it for a test run?"
Leo stares at him so he doesn't have to look at the chair.
"No," he says again.
Finally, Donnie's smile falls. It morphs into something concerned, and Leo isn't sure he likes that any better.
"You said you were feeling alright," he says.
Sure, he did say that, because all he ever says when they ask how he's feeling is "alright." Well, that's not true. Sometimes it's "okay." Or "fine." Or, "Jeez, Raph, stop worrying about me before that chasm gets any bigger."
The point is, he did say he was feeling alright, but alright isn't good enough for... whatever this is.
He struggles over his words for a bit before finally getting out, "I don't need a wheelchair," which is the main point, as far a he's concerned.
Now Donnie's expression turns more frustrated. "Yes you do."
"No, I don't."
He sighs. "Leo, we've been over this. Your legs aren't strong enough to carry your weight, and you can't risk a fall in your condition. Do you want to be healing from a broken pelvis on top of everything else?"
He doesn't. But he doesn't say that, just stares stubbornly at Donnie to avoid looking at the chair.
"The wheelchair is only for now," says Donnie. "Once you've recovered enough, a walker, then a cane, or crutches. We've been over this-"
"I don't need a cane," says Leo, cutting him off. "Canes are for old people."
"They are not," Donnie argues. "They're for whoever needs them. Which includes you."
"I don't need one."
Donnie grumbles something under his breath that Leo can't hear, because damaged hearing is another one of the things being trapped in a demonic suit of armor for two days gets you. "Alright. Is there something wrong with my engineering?"
He frowns. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, is there something unsatisfactory about the chair that I can fix so you would be more willing to use it." He gestures at it. "It's okay if my design isn't to your liking. I have others."
Leo shakes his head. "This isn't about your engineering." This isn't about you.
"Well maybe if we make it about my engineering then you'll stop being so stubborn!" Donnie snaps, and Leo feels his hackles rising.
"Oh, screw you, Donnie."
"Screw me?" Donnie spits back. "Screw me for trying to help and not just watch while my brother lets himself waste away! Yeah, screw me."
"You don't have to watch anything," Leo snaps back. "The door's right there."
"What's your end game here?" Donnie demands, taking an angry step forward. "You complain about Raph carrying you everywhere, but you aren't doing anything to fix your situation. You won't exercise, you won't use the wheelchair - you're giving up!"
"I'm not giving up!" Leo lies.
"Yes you are and I'm sick of watching it!"
"Then leave!"
Donnie opens his mouth like he wants to argue further, but then he throws his hands up and turns on his heel. "I'm done," he says, then stalks out. He tries to slam the curtain behind him as he leaves, but because it's a curtain it just ends up swinging back and forth.
Which means Leo can clearly see as Raph and Mikey duck out of sight.
"Donnie, maybe you shouldn't have-" Raph begins, but gets cut off.
"I'm not treating him with kid gloves. If he wants to rot in bed then let him."
"He's having a rough time, so-"
"You can keep coddling him. But I'm done."
Leo hears retreating footsteps, then a heavy sigh. Raph is still right outside his room.
It takes him a moment, but he pokes his head in eventually.
"Heeey buddy," he says, adopting his baby voice, and Leo wants to scream but he doesn't have the energy. "Need anything?"
"No. I'm fine," he says instead.
"You sure? Because Raphie can-"
"I'm fine," he says again, tired, and lays down so he can stare at the ceiling. "I'm just gonna sleep."
"...Okay. Night Leo."
He's gone and doesn't come back. Mikey doesn't come, either.
Leo regrets his decision a few minutes later, because all that yelling made his throat dry and painful, but his water bottle is empty, and he doesn't have the energy to get to the kitchen, and if he uses the chair...
He groans, pulling his blanket over his head. Already, the brain fog is turning his thoughts to white noise, and the fatigue is pulling him down. Thirsty or not, sleep will come.
Another thing being trapped in demonic suit of armor for two days gets you: a cure for insomnia.
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