thepurpleone | Cyberformed [] Inbox

Mikey shoots him a look. "No way! If you learn to cheat I'll never win!"

He isn't given much time to protest as the new round starts and he is drawn back into the game.

It starts off well enough, they seem to coordinating a little better, keeping to their tasks and staying out of each other's ways, but it isn't long until things start falling behind and orders start piling up. Mikey turns back over, falling out of his bean bag and scrambling to his knees while he still struggles to keep hold of the controller and keep his eyes on the screen.

There is no less yelling, but at least when they finish the level, it's finally with at least one star, allowing them to pass the level.

"That level of Jupiter Jim's underpants," he grumbles. "Hopefully the next one is better."

This isn't exactly the charming, relaxing co-op cooking game he was hoping for, but if asked, he is having fun. And it is doing the intended purpose of distracting and most importantly, making things feel normal.

That does get an impish grin from Donnie. "You're the one who suggested it! Don't get mad at me if you end up eatething thy words!"

At least with a designated task, Donnie's able to focus better, but things start to get crazy at the drop of a hat and since all he'd been told to do was chop things at the start, all his shouting consists of asking direction for where he should apply himself to.

One measly star. He flops backwards in the beanbag with a sigh. "Are you sure the difficulty level hasn't been accidentally set to superhumanly hard?" It takes him a moment to pull himself up so he can gear himself up for the next level.

"Yeah, it was a good idea when it benefited me! Otherwise it's just a joke!"

He casts a glare at his brother. "No! It's definitely fine!" Even as he says this, he coyly moves through the menu to double check the difficulty.

He switches it from normal down to easy.

It's fine.

"Ready to go?" He asks, situating himself back in his bean bag.

"...I can see you you know."

Mikey you can't be coy when he is literally sitting right next to you and in front of the same screen.

That that had been on normal is still insane, Donnie's brow twitching slightly at the implications, but he gives a firm nod once Mikey asks, holding his controller at the ready.

"Let's cook."

Mikey stares at him innocently and switches back to the level. He had no idea what his brother is talking about.

There is a little comfort in the fact that he can trust that neither of them will tell Leo about how much they're struggling with this game.

However, he's 99% certain that Leo would be just as bad at it, if not worse. With his lack of patience but overwhelming determination to win, it would be interesting at the very least.

Maybe he and Donnie can get all of the stars and then they can rub it in Leo's face when he struggles. It's only fair as his brothers.

"Just listen to me this time." He said with heavy implication.

This is everything and nothing like working in a kitchen, but Pizza Supreme forbid he lets Donnie anywhere near his oven after this. Not that Donnie would use it for actual baking. That was worse.

"Affronted gasp! I was listening to you! There's only so much for me to chop!" Donnie huffs, turning up his nose. "Maybe if you give better directions!"

...although to be fair Donnie might actually do much better at baking.

Mikey rolls his eyes, a more subtle gesture, but it's still there.

"You chop and then you do everything else that needs to be done! I can't do everything Donnie," he says. It's like he has to do everything around here!

He quickly and purposely starts the level before Donnie has a chance to retort again.

For a split-second he looks like he's about to throw the controller, but then the level's starting and Donnie's forced to resituate his fingers over the buttons. He grates his teeth together, muttering about who he'll chop as he sets his little character to it.

If Mikey hears the mutterings, he's blatantly ignoring them. All of his focus is on the game and he has no time for his brothers ramblings. There is a kitchen to run!

Honestly, who knows how long they end up playing the game. Probably far longer than they should have. Both for their physical and mental health, but also for their relationship.

If anybody has come by in their time of playing, Mikey certainly didn't notice.

But they finish the game. They didn't perfect all the levels, not yet at least, but they make it to the end and Mikey feels some level of satisfaction.

He flops back, exhausted in his seat and lets the controller fall into his lap.

"I never want to look at a little guy in a kitchen ever again," he mutters to the ceiling. This is a lie, they both know that he'll drag Donnie back in again in a week to try and 3 star all the levels.

If this is how Mikey is in the actual kitchen then Donnie is going to make sure he never sets foot in there when his brother's working on something. What a slave-driver!!

By the time they do get through...something, he feels like his thumbs are going to fall off. If he'd thought that having extra digits would have helped any, then he would have morphed them, but he's glad he hadn't thought of it at the time, certain all he'd end up with would be more sore fingers.

Donnie half-heartedly chucks the controller away from him from where he's sprawled on the floor, somehow at some point having moved off of the beanbag cushion. He pulls the thing closer so he can plop his head over it.

"We are never playing this game again," he decrees.

"Agreed," Mikey lies. "This game was a mistake," he says, as if he hadn't picked it, as if they hadn't just spent what was probably the whole day or night or whatever finishing the thing.

He was going to dream about this stupid game for years.

Maybe it would at least drown out some of the real nightmares.

Mikey rolls a little so he can better face his brother. "Thanks for playing with me Dee."

"Absolutely terrible, no replay value whatsoever," Donnie adds, even though somewhere in his heart he has the feeling they'll end up playing it again for all that he's saying. Maybe stating these things will make it less likely.

...he could make a Meatsweats mod and...

No, nono- not playing this game ever again.

Donnie glances over at Mikey, his annoyance evaporating at the thanks. He breathes a sigh, but the smile that touches his face is the most natural its been since they'd started talking.

"Any time, 'Angelo."

Mikey smiles. He's so tired. Now that they're done with the game, he can relax a little, and the bean bags are so comfy. Maybe he should move up to his little makeshift room, but honestly, he has not desire to move at the moment.

"This was good. I had fun," he says sleepily with a yawn. Even with all the yelling and frustration and repeated levels, he meant it. It was probably one of the times he felt the most normal since he arrived on the ship. No terrifying and stressful missions, no talks about how things were different, how they had changed, how afraid they were of the world, the universe, of growing up. Just him and his brother, bean bags and video games, sleepless nights and bickering that in the end, didn't mean a thing.

If he could curl up with this like a warm blanket, he would hold onto it for forever.

Personalized mods all around, weapons so they could breeze through things when things went panic mode- he really needs to look up a cheat code- Right, not playing this! What did we say??

It's...weird though. Feeling so relaxed despite having just played such a stressful game. How does that even work? Donnie decides it's not worth the effort to figure out, especially not when he feels like he could easily nod off. He pulls his own beanbag closer so he can actually use it as a pillow, thumbing the releases on his battle shell as he rolls onto his side.

"Mm," he replies.

Mikey wearily shifts so that his beanbag is smushed up against Donnie's and drapes an arm across his now exposed shell without much thought.

He's asleep within seconds and while nightmares still come, they're more about cooking than anything else. And he'll take that any day.

Cyberformed [] Inbox

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And all was well. The End.