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7:33. 7:33 in the morning, because nothing’s ever easy and life is a nightmare and everything on earth is out to get him specifically- specifically!- and Leo’s in his room, and he’s asleep because it is 7:33 the morning and anyone who knows anything about anything ever knows that you shouldn’t get up before nine unless you hate yourself or have like, a job or something, neither of which is a problem for Leo (employment is overrated and he’s the coolest guy he knows) which is great because again: that he means he can sleep. As expected and as he should, because realistically what else would he be doing? Ramming down his brother’s door for no good reason? At 7:33 in the morning? In this economy?
Anyways. At 7:33 AM (sharp, naturally) Leo’s in his room, and he’s asleep, and at 7:34 AM (A little dull, actually- lacking that sparkle, the x-factor, a certain je ne sais quois ) Leo is woken up horribly and unceremoniously by Donnie- as in his brother , as in his twin who he trusted - as he literally knocks the door half off its hinges and then just sort of stands there, all ominous and Donnie-like as Leo’s soul attempts to evacuate his body and flit off to the highest regions of turtle heaven. You know the one- reserved for people who did stuff like save buses full of puppies and donate a billion dollars to charity and that one guy who gave them a free pizza once because he couldn’t figure out the register and also just didn’t give a shit. Cool stuff like that.
… he is so so tired. What the fuck.
“Leonardo, I am going to ask you for a favor, and I am only going to ask you once,” Donnie announces, as Leo lets out a sort of groggy, high-pitched half-awake wheeze and thwacks his arm across his forehead. “You are going to listen, and you are going to agree without complaint, question, or clarification, and then you are going to carry out that favor exactly as instructed and we are never going to speak of this again. Do you understand me? Are you comprehending? Will you take destiny into your own hands and pick up what I- much in the way of bricklayers, rappers, and people with infant children- have so carefully and skillfully laid down?”
“Buh,” Leo says, and then- very carefully and skillfully- joins whatever the fuck it is that Donnie has apparently laid down, by which he means he rolls right off his bed and onto the floor. He barely manages to reach a hand up through the tangle of his sheets and flick his eyemask to the side, a movement that is not at all jerky or awkward or early-morning uncoordinated (swear on his $331.52 (tax not included) (shipping not included) (handling not included) (a steal!) Jupiter Jim comforter set) because Leo does not do jerky or awkward or early-morning uncoordinated but, like. It maybe does take a second or two. Maybe.
“Yes, yes, hi, how are you, good morning, pleasantries, whatever,” Donnie says, waving him off as Leo squints at the blurry shape of his brother where he’s shifting in the doorway, mildly agitated in that way he gets sometimes when he’s dealing with something that is absolutely not that big a deal at all. “We don’t have time for this. We’ve gotta get it done before the others wake up, because if we do not get it done before the others wake up then I will be- then I will get- then I shall- oh, the horror. I can’t even say it. I’m struck speechless. I am speechless, Leo.”
“Dude,” Leo manages, a sleep-slurred syllable that sticks to the back of his throat and that is completely ignored because Don’s on a roll, and when Donnie gets going then the going gets tough and then the going gets repetitive and then the going gets really really boring and, look. Leo loves the guy, he does, but sleep? Sleeping? The thing he’d like to be doing right now?
Yeah. He loves that a little more.
“They’d never let me live it down,” Donnie- who would know as much if he let Leo say literally anything - continues, not oblivious so much as just not really giving a shit. “I’d be hearing about it until I’m old and turtle-equivalent gray. Old and turtle-equivalent dead, which is the same as regular dead with the caveat that the deceased in question is also a turtle- a state of being that I of course have had on lock since the very beginning. Better than anyone else ever has, I’m sure. Such a turtle, a turtle as such. Anyways, I stand by what I said approximately three sentences ago. They would never let me live it down. They’d contact me from beyond the grave just to continue mocking me.”
“ Dude, ” Leo repeats, a little clearer this time as he hauls himself until he’s just about sitting up. He draws his blanket closer around his shoulders and squints at the Donnie-blob in his doorway in a way he was hoping would communicate the general sense of What The Fuck he’s been running on but that doesn’t seem to faze Donnie even a little bit. Even at all. What the sweet ever-loving shell is he going on about?
“Not, of course, that I think any of you would have much realistic success in contacting the afterlife,” Donnie-blob says, commiserating and still ignoring him. “ I could do it, of course. Michael, if he puts his mind to it. You, if and only if you get lucky and sufficiently irresponsible with those portals, which shouldn’t be a problem if we’re extrapolating from past behavioral patterns. Raphael if he punches hard enough. Draxum comma Baron, provided that he can get the time off of work, which I don’t think is happening. Capitalism is a scourge, and I am contradicting myself.”
He’s not gonna stop. God, he’s not gonna stop. Donnie is up and at ‘em and Donnie is feeling talkative- the horror - so Donnie’s gonna stand right there in the doorway at 7:34 in the morning and he’s gonna stand there and talk until Leo’s old and gray and tearin’ it up in the bingo hall. He’s still going. God.
“Dude. Donnie. Dontron. Hey,” Leo says, coherent this time at least as he snaps his fingers in Donnie’s general direction until he a) shuts up and b) looks enough like he’s paying attention for this whole thing to land well. “Beauty sleep, brother of mine. Look it up, listen, learn a thing or two, and then please for the love of the great pizza supreme in the sky, stop waking me up every time you start thinking about necromancy. You think about necromancy waaaaaay too much. My sleep schedule is in shambles.”
“It’s the crossing the uncrossable boundary of it all,” Donnie says, and then shakes his head. “Wait. No. No no no, I know this one. You will not distract me with talk of the undead, Leo; I am on a mission.”
“Doesn’t matter anyways, ‘cause the only zombie here is me,” Leo grumbles. “Green and everything. Shambling. Seriously Donnie, dude- I was
asleep.
”
“Yes, ha, ha, hilarious,” Donnie says, snapping his teeth sharp and vicious around each one of those perfectly enunciated fake laughs like he wishes they were Leo’s head. “Your sense of humor is as…
Leo
as always. And I’m afraid I don’t particularly care that you were asleep. I suspected as much, actually. That’s not the point here.”
“The point can be anything I want it to be. My room, my rules,” Leo says, giving up entirely and just sort of flopping down onto his floor blankets. Mmm, floor blankets. He is so so tired.
“August 31st, 5:34 PM, Leonardo to Donatello regarding the latter’s request to retrieve a personal effect from the former’s room: ‘Sure bro, come right on in. Mi casa es su casa,’” Donnie announces. “In your own words your house is my house, brother of mine.
My
house,
my
rules, and-er
go
-
my
point.”
“Eg go my leggo, dude,” Leo says, but waves it off anyways because seriously. Sleep. “Fine. I’ll allow it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to, but I’ll allow it because I’m just super nice and great like that.”
He stops for a moment. Considers.
“Also literally some sort of martyr,” he adds, and Donnie hisses lightly in what’s probably exasperation, maybe.
“Stop being dramatic. This will be quick, assuming that all goes to plan. It’s just a favor. Just one itty-bitty little minuscule tiny favor,” he lies like a dog through his teeth , and Leo goes for his best shot at a sardonic laugh when he’s not really sure what sardonic means past being pretty sure that it’s not a kind of fish.
“Yeah but like, you always say that and then it never is,” he says, which he thinks is not only super reasonable but also way, way more civil than he should have to be.
“That’s reductive,” Donnie- who wouldn’t know civil if it woke him up at 7:33 in the morning- fires right back.
“Oh my god you think everything’s reductive,” Leo tells him. “Not everything is reductive, dude. Some stuff is too much stuff, if you know what I mean.”
“See? See? See? That is reductive! You are trying to reduce me, and it will not work because my spirit is indomitable and you are a sad little man,” Donnie says. “Now chop, chop! Up and at ‘em! Face the day. Do me my favor.”
“I already said that I would,” Leo- who did not, in fact, say that- lies like a dog through his teeth. Two for two, baby! “You haven’t told me what it is. I can’t do a favor I don’t know. Not even
I’m
that good.”
Donnie considers this for a second. Donnie considers this for a second second. Donnie considers this for a second more for good measure.
“Fair enough
,
” he says finally, which is a bit underwhelming considering that it took like, ten billion seconds to come up with. “Fine. The favor I need is assistance. As in: I need your help.”
Hmmmmm, okay. Well Leo doesn’t love that.
“Alright,” he groans, heaving himself right back up and doing his damndest to shake himself into escalating crisis mode when he’s still half-asleep. “What’re we talking? FBI? CIA? IRS? Some other appropriately ominous three letter organization? Doesn’t matter, because the first step for dealing with any of those is gonna be going into hiding. Tell me if this sounds too unrealistic, but I’m thinking… the sewers. Yes? Yeah? Good? Best plan you’ve ever heard?”
“No. Emphatic,” Donnie says, and then shoots a furtive glance this way and that before walking into Leo’s room and shutting the door which, okay. Fine. Nothing ominous about that one.
“Are you gonna kill me?” Leo asks after a second because he lied, alright? He lied! It’s ominous! He’s… ominousified! Sue him!
“No. That’s not why I’m here this time,” Donnie says which is not reassuring and is not meant to be. He sends another furtive glance around the room and then leans a little forward. “You’re familiar with video games, I assume.”
Okaaaay, non-sequitur. Leo blinks at him.
“Uhhhh, yeah dude. Sure,” he says. “Little bit. Heard of ‘em here and there. Saw one at the grocery store the other day, talked for a little while, said we should go get lunch and catch up sometime but I don’t think that’s actually gonna happen. I’m gonna be real with you, I don’t know what you’re trying to get at.”
“I’m getting there,” Donnie snaps, and then sighs. Very deliberately runs a hand across his forehead, to show just how much Leo is annoying him, probably. Donnie’s cool like that. “See, the thing about video games is that they’ve been around for a decent amount of time by this point. Not as long as some other things, naturally, but long enough.”
“Right,” Leo says, because sure. Okay. Fine. Why not.
“And because they’ve been around for a decent amount of time, there are a lot of video games in the world. Fewer down here, but such is the way of the sewer,” Donnie continues, ignoring him, which. What the fuck, man.
“Right,” Leo says anyways and again, still a little wary but like, It’s 7:39 in the morning. What else is he supposed to say?
“And the nature of such a thing is that some of those video games will be more difficult than others,” Donnie says, still in that walkaround, to the left kinda way, and Leo huffs a sigh through his nose.
“Right,” he says. “Let’s get to the point mayb-”
“Don’t interrupt me, it’s rude,” Donnie interrupts, rudely. “Now as I was SAYING, some of those video games are more difficult than others, and with my being an avid collector of games of all sorts- video, board, mind, etcetera- as you are well aware, then statistically speaking it would only be so long before I came across a game that… a game that…”
His face is all screwed up. His face is all screwed up and he looks like every word is basically covered in honey mustard or mushroom soup or something, and wait a second. Wait a second. Wait wait wait a second. This is starting to look a little familiar. This is starting to look a lot familiar. This is starting to look like it’s all comin’ up Leo , baby, because this is starting to look like it’s all about what it’s alllll about, and what it’s all about is the great equalizer, the punch-up punch-down punch-sideways punch-diagonal line of defense, the man and the myth and the legend, the bane of- and this is important- younger siblings everywhere:
A mildly difficult video game.
Oh, fuck yeah.
“A game that what?” Leo hums, and then lets a slow grin spread across his face. It’s a close thing but he manages to contort himself into something that lets him steeple his fingers under his chin and wow, okay villain arc! Knock ‘em dead! “A game that was a bit… hard for you maybe? A little…difficult? A game that you need the help of me, your beloved older brother-”
“First: you are ten minutes older than me at absolute most,” Donnie… well, he kinda seethes, but at the end of the day (or the start, as it unfortunately were) what’re you gonna do. “Second: I am not saying that I need your help. But I am also not not saying that I need your help. You understand.”
“Loud and clear. You need my help because the game’s too hard for you because you may as well have just hatched a day ago,” Leo says, stretching his arms above his head and like, mentally jogging in place a bit to warm up because as much as that would add to the bit he would not stand up right now on threat of death itself. It’s kinda nice down here, actually.
Anyways, back to the point. Donnie looks like he’s trying to set him on fire with his mind, which is fine. Occupational hazard.
“I was not born yesterday,” he says, very slow and with a not insignificant amount of murderous intent. “And also I am going to throw you through the window.”
Clear. Super clear. Good on him for having goals, but also: glaring flaw. Huge glaring flaw. Embarrassingly glaring flaw.
“We live in the sewers,” Leo tells him.
“Then I will make a window and throw you through that,” Donnie- notoriously stubborn and notoriously predictable, so Leo should’ve seen this coming maybe- says. “I will construct a house if necessary. A house with turrets and verandas and large vaulted windows, through which to throw you.”
“Awww but then who’s gonna beat that level for you?” Leo asks, sliding his voice right down the way into wildly wildly obnoxious. “Raph? Mikey? I can hear your reputation crumbling from over here, dude. At least I’ll keep quiet about it.”
“No, you will use this to try and blackmail me,” Donnie corrects, correctly, and Leo gives a good ol’ one shoulder shrug.
“Win some, lose some,” he says. “Except for you, I guess, in which case it’s lose all of ‘em. You know. Like you do.”
“You’re insufferable,” Donnie says.
“You woke me up ,” Leo says right back, and then they just sort of stare at each other for a moment.
“Fine. Aggravated sigh. Are you going to help me or not?” Donnie huffs after a moment, but don’t let that fool you. Don loves his dramatics. He’s having the time of his life over there.
He’s also about to be hit in the face full force with the realities of older- also cooler, but what’s that got to do with anything?- twin supremacy, thus shattering whatever Gaming Confidence (™) he’s managed to muster up through years and years of hanging out in his room alone for hours and hours on end. Ah, they’re all so optimistic when they first start out. So wide-eyed and fresh-faced and green, so to speak. Leo’s gonna take a sledgehammer to this era of precarious peace. Leo’s gonna be so so annoying.
“Yeah man, sure, let’s go,” he says to that end, pulling out the grabby-hands (timeless classic) in his general direction. “Let me, your beloved older twin brother give it a go. Those nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds really make a difference when it comes down to it y’know, and even if you don’t believe me now you’ll see soon enough, because when I was your age-“
“Stop. No. Shut up,” Donnie says, definitive and definitively cutting him off. “Catch.”
Wait, catch? Catch? What does he mean catc-
Leo barely manages to snatch the prized-possession gameboy color (atomic purple, naturally) that Donnie pulls from his shell and then throws at his head like it is not, in fact, a prized possession, just before it passes the point of no return which, alright. Close call if there was ever a close call. Don loves that thing, even if it’s been so modded that it’s like, the gameboy of Theseus by this point. Screen, buttons, shell, bells, whistles, lions, tigers, and hell, let’s get some bears on up in there too- Leo’s also like, ninety percent sure that there’s a saw involved but he doesn’t know where and he really doesn’t know how, and honestly seeing as he’s super attached to all his fingers and toes and stuff he’s decided that it’s none of his business.
It’s all good though. It’s all cool. He figures that if the world really wants him to find out then they’ll burn that bridge when they come to it, with the help of the lasers that Donnie’s also probably installed because he’s always had a thing for lightshows. Hatsune Miku concerts. Light-up sketchers. The busted streetlight up by April’s that he’d stood under for like, ten minutes the other day practicing his, quote, “horror movie debut.”
…Leo could’ve done it better. Leo did do it better. Leo was out there rattling chains and chanting ominous warnings with the best of them, by which he means the worst of the worst because like, ghosts and stuff.
Anyways.
“I’d say you should be more careful with this but like, seriously dude, it’s solid as a rock. She lift or what?” Leo says, prodding at the buttons as Donnie plops down beside him on the floor and does that thing he does where he stares over your shoulder really hard and personal space is found dead in a ditch out back but also he’s emphatically not touching you but also he’s staring way too hard at whatever it is you’re doing for it to be any kind of casual (or yknow. Normal.) interaction at all. It’s affectionate, Leo thinks. Maybe. Might be a threat. Kinda hard to tell.
“A lady never tells.Though I may have made a few modifications. Here and there is all,” Donnie sniffs.
“Yeah, I can see why. This thing’s as old as Splinter, ” Leo says, waving the gameboy and then stopping that real quick because again: saw. Lasers. Hidden cameras dedicated specifically to taking unflattering candids of the coolest turtle he knows. “Literally ancient. They dug it up next to a bunch of dinosaur eggs. They found evidence of it growing crops by the Euphrates. Wouldn’t it be easier just to get something I dunno… not this?”
“She is like a fine wine, first of all,” Donnie informs him, severe and way too emphatic for what’s probably sort of like almost kinda a friendly conversation. “Gertrude gets better with age. You can really only appreciate the craftsmanship of these older consoles once the realities of planned obsolescence sets in. These are made to endure, Leonardo. Understand that. You will need this information later.”
“ Gertrude? ” Leo wheezes, not giving a shit about whatever point it was Donnie was making because, like. Gertrude?????
“Gertrude is a lovely name,” Donnie scoffs. “And Gertrude is a lovely console, and
you
are not doing much level-beating over here.”
“Lying to yourself there, dude. Not even like, funny lying, like this is just sad,” Leo grumbles, but he unpauses the game anyways because he’s the bigger person like that and then there’s no time for talking because immediately some robot-looking thing comes flying from out of left field and he just manages to dodge, thank god, because if he’d died immediately then Donnie never would’ve let him hear the end of it. As it is he’s kinda fighting for his life out here already. Fighting for his life, but dang if his little green guy isn’t looking good while doing it- those swords are downright fetching, alright? It also doesn’t hurt that Leo’s sorta tearing it up right now. Knockin’ ‘em dead. God, he’s so so cool.
“I dunno man, I’m kiiiiiiinda killin’ this,” he says as he smashes at whatever button with reckless abandon. “They’re gonna have to report on this. They’re gonna put me in the news.”
“They will not. Not for many reasons, but mostly because you missed a soldier back there, and those are important, those are important, you need to kill all of those- I’m trying to get a perfect score,” Donnie says, which. Alright dude. Why doesn’t he do it if it’s so easy, and actually Leo’s onto something there. Give him a sec. He’s gotta get on that.
“If it’s so important then why don’t you do it?” Leo grouses, mashing at the back button anyways to absolutely no avail. “Can’t go back. Can barely go forwards, actually. Seriously dude, how old is this?”
“Not very, comparatively,” Donnie says. “Plenty of things are older. And regarding your letting enemy forces survive, nay, thrive: it’s fine, I suppose. I will just field the imperfect score with grace and dignity, much as I do everything else on this miserable, miserable planet.”
“Again, man: you could always do it yourself,” Leo says, all offhand and nonchalant and stuff as if he isn’t putting his heart and soul into instigating that turtle into the stratosphere.
“Your implicit threat is understood, if not necessarily appreciated,” Donnie says, pulling his knees up to his chest and hunching over to see the screen a little better. “Hold the B button down for longer to jump higher. No, for longer. No, for longer. Are you making fun of me?”
“Yeah,” Leo says, hitting the B button three times really really quickly and watching his little character dude hop on the spot. Another robot zones in on him and he has to stop having his fun for a second to try and kill that thing before it kills him horribly and unceremoniously and leaves him dead and miserable and heavily, heavily judged by Donnie from now until forever.
“Well don’t,” Donnie says, unsympathetic to Leo’s plight as always. “Mock me all you’d like, but when push comes to shove then you will see. Then you will see, Leonardo, and you will know that you should have listened to me because I know what I am doing, and say whatever you’d like but if you think about it then my having to play this level several times over actually makes me better at this game than you because I gained a greater knowledge of the various enemies and their attack patter- oh, you beat it. Hm.”
“Read it and weep, Don,” Leo says watching as their character hops into an elevator that from the looks of it exists for the sole purpose of facilitating Really Bad Days. “Watch it and weep. Whatever.”
“This will be the last time,” Donnie announces as he snatches the gameboy back from over Leo’s shoulder at what’s basically the speed of light. “Your assistance is… appreciated-” like pulling teeth, dang- “but I’ll be able to handle both this and any other game from here on out. I hope you were appropriately appreciative of this ego boost because there is no going back, Leonardo; only on and ever up.”
“Yeah, okay,” Leo snorts, tugging his comforter tighter around his shoulders. “I don’t think you’re gettin’ out of this one that easily, dude. You’re gonna be a geriatric mutant ninja turtle and asking me to help you beat level 59 of 1993 ‘hit’ game Jupiter Jim’s Space Jams: The Far Out Sequel or something and seriously dude, where do you even find some of these?”
“A little bit of here, a little bit of there,” Donnie says, wide-eyed and innocent and abso lutely out and downloading shit from shady websites. “Nothing to worry about.”
“You understand that that’s super suspicious,” Leo tells him.
“Of course,” Donnie says, heaving himself up stretching which is probably good. Turtle has a posture like a. Turtle. “Again, on purpose. This is very in character for me; I’m not sure why you’re surprised. That seems like a bit of an oversight on your part, actually. Are you feeling alright?”
Oh my god.
“Donnie. Dude. It’s like, seven something in the morning. You woke me up, ” Leo says, staring him down with the hopes of communicating just how much he does not want to be awake right now, but it doesn’t really land on account of the fact that Donnie just straight up does not care. Full stop. He doesn’t care. In fact, he looks a little proud.
“I did do that,” he says just in case Leo forgot or something, and then cackles at some sort of joke that only he gets, head thrown back and hands on the hips and everything because all this wasn’t painful enough on its own, apparently. “I did do that. I did in fact do that. I did do that!”
He turns sharp on his heel then and walks right out of the room, gameboy very carefully clutched in one hand and voice pitching on and on looping the same phrase until it’s downright delighted and also loud enough to echo all throughout the lair, so if Mikey and Raph didn’t already know about Donnie’s failed gaming escapades well then they sure as shell do now. And like, fine. That was fine. A little weird yeah, and super abrupt but also very Donnie all around, so nothing to worry about. Nothing that Leo’s gonna worry about, anyways. Nothing that’s gonna worry him, no, no, no, because Leo?
Leo’s goin’ right back to sleep.
…after he gets up and closes the door that Donnie left wide open. Fine, Donald. Well played. This will mean battle, this will mean war, this will mean the fight of a lifetime- after he wakes back up. After he closes the door and falls asleep and wakes back up then it will be war. Maybe after he eats too. Does his skincare routine, naturally. Waters a plant or two just for good measure. Then it will be war, and you will see, you all will see, you all will see but Leo will not because Leo?
Leo will be asleep. For real this time.
… after he gets up and closes that door he forgot about during his monologue there. God damn it.