thepurpleone | Cyberformed [] Inbox

"Mm..." Donnie nods a little, even though he doesn't necessarily look convinced. "Well, everyone's entitled to having an off-day I guess."

He feels like he should follow up with something more, but he's not entirely sure with what. Maybe it is just this one thing, although there really shouldn't be any reason Mikey's baking groove has been thrown off.

"Maybe...do something else for now?" he suggests. "You can always try baking later. I'm not sure how you find this sort of thing relaxing anyway, but to each their own."

Mikey finishes scrubbing a tray and places it on the towel to dry.

He sighs then quickly wiped his eyes on his arms before he can start crying. Normally it wouldn't matter. He would have absolute fire in front of his brothers without shame. But now didn't feel like the time. He's trying to be more put together than this.

"Because. It's something I can do, something I'm good at. It's familiar. Everything has a recipe, it's always made the same way but you can change it, make it your own, add new flavors. It... When I cook, when I bake. It makes me happy. It makes other people happy." Except this time. This time it was all wrong.

He rubs his eyes again and focuses on washing a mixing bowl.

Edited 2024-12-08 08:46 (UTC)

Oh no, is he going to cry? Donnie chews on his bottom lip as he watches Mikey, silently demanding why's and knowing he's not going to get any answers, not this way.

His brother's trying to explain, and he listens to every word like he can find something hidden between them.

Something's...not connecting for Mikey. His usual fix isn't working. And because it's not working, Mikey's not happy. Okay, yeah, he understands that. He just. Doesn't understand why.

Hesitantly, Donnie steps closer to the sink area, to Mikey. He folds his arms as he leans against the counter, still giving his brother space.

"...is there anything I can do to help?"

Mikey can feel his brother watching him and he's trying really hard to keep himself together. He puts all the focus into washing the dishes, pulling up a tray and grabbing a scraper to try and remove the cookie chunks that had be stuck to it. It would be better to soak it, but this gives him something to focus on, something with a little more effort.

He contemplates Donnie's question. The answer he wants is a solution none of them can give, so he tries to put himself more in the moment. What would help right now?

"Actually... can you... get rid of all the cookies?" He feels like looking at them right now is just going to upset him further. He's been trying to focus on the sink and not look at the overwhelming mess in the rest of the kitchenette.

All at once Donnie straightens. "Yeah, sure! No probbles," he says, maybe too hurriedly, but he's got all this nervous energy and nothing to put it towards until the direction from Mikey.

He moves to start gathering the offending cookies, taking them to the trash bin to deposit. The scraping sound is really gnawing at his nerves but he puts up with it as best he can while he cleans up. When that's done, he moves to start putting away some of the remaining ingredients, tossing away anything that looks like it'd be better suited for the garbage.

"Oh yeah, Mikaela's got a tree up in the bar. The whole place is decorated too, for the holidays I guess." He tries to ignore that annoying pang that comes up whenever thoughts of home get stirred up. "-anyway, there's a crafting station so you can make and add your own ornaments. Figured I'd let you know."

Mikey focuses on the tray, trying not to pay too much attention to the cleaning he's set Donnie to.

When he finishes and finally looks up the kitchen is already looking better and he feels some tension release a little in his chest.

"Oh really?" he asks, trying to sound casual as he sets the tray up to dry and grabs another dish. They were starting to feel unending. Why did he use so many? And for what, not a good cookie to count for it. He doesn't--

He takes a breath, he can't start spiraling, not while Donnie is here and trying so hard to help.

"I'll have to go check it out. Miss the snow days back home." He hopes his brother doesn't hear how strained his voice is, but it's hard to hide how sad it gets at the end.

He notices that he hasn't moved and quickly returns to his scrubbing.

It's too noticeable, not helping as Donnie finds himself with nothing left to dispose of. He stands beside the trash bin, trying not to think about 'back home', but it's hard not to, especially for such specific memories.

They'd already been teased out of storage when he'd gone to the bar to find things all decorated for a familiar holiday season. Two years away from home, away from New York and snow days and Christmas with April and Dad and all his brothers-

He sucks in a breath, trying his best to clamp down on those memories and the feelings that threatened to slink in with them. Maybe he shouldn't have brought up the decoration thing after all. Maybe he should get Leo to cheer up Mikey instead.

Why can't I do this?

Mikey feels something shift and he quickly wipes his eyes before turning to look at his brother. For trying to the "emotionally unavailable bad boy" Donnie sure made himself far more expressive with those eyebrows. Not that Mikey couldn't have been able to tell there was a dip in the mood anyways. He knew his brother. The whole mood hadn't exactly been great to start, but Mikey felt a little bad for upsetting Donnie. He was already having a hard enough time and Mikey's common tactic of "look how sad I am forget that you're upset and pay attention to me," doesn't exactly work in this situation. They're kind of getting to old for those kind of games anyways.

"Maybe... it'll be good to do something so normal. We can decorate them together. With Leo and we'll put them in our room."

He drains the sink and dries off his hands, even though the dishes are far from done. His still feeling disconnected, restless and agitated, but it's helping to try and put his focus somewhere else. Just as long as he didn't look to hard at the rest of the kitchen.

He isn't sure how long he'd let the quiet lapse between them, hoping it hasn't been that long although certain it had been long enough to have been noticed. Donnie lifts his head as Mikey offers his suggestion.

His brother is still trying, even when he was the one hurting. It makes him feel dismally guilty for forcing Mikey to step up just to keep their figurative boat from sinking. Donnie takes a moment longer, just to make sure he has a handle on those emotions he isn't supposed to be exhibiting.

"Maybe..." he says, not the best nor most convincing rejoinder, but he doesn't want to bring things down again. "You'd probably have to give us pointers."

Edited (TENSES) 2024-12-15 05:11 (UTC)

Mikey busies himself by tidying up, stacking dishes, handing Donnie a rag to wipe down counters as he grabbed the broom.

"Nah," he said, his voice a little lighter. "And ruin your creativity? We need uniqueness and variety," He said, finessing the air and putting emphasis on the words. He was definitely going to be giving them pointers.

"We should decorate more." They had done quite a bit, considering, it had started to feel like their own space and not just a place where they were taking up space. But there could be more. Always more. It was nothing like the lair.

It's something to occupy his hands, so Donnie doesn't make too much of a fuss as he sets to work almost automatically.

"Uh-huh." Well...maybe he could do something with metal? Heck, he could change stuff from one material to another. But what would be passable as a decoration?

He blinks at Mikey, taking a moment to realize he might just be talking about holiday decor. Slowly he takes a look around. For the most part things had been his. Clean, efficient, everything where it needs to be. But up here is where they live, where his brothers stay. It had been a questionable decision before, but now he can't think of having them anywhere else. Just so long as they don't mess up anything of his workshop and lab, or his garden, of course.

"Yeah, maybe..." he cautiously agrees.

Mikey continues on. Donnie isn't being very conversational, but that's okay, Mikey can carry them. Talking is helping a bit, though that tight feeling is still in his chest, hot and fluttering and sickening. He isn't sure who he's trying to distract more at this point, himself or his brother.

"Maybe we can set up the arcade again like we did back home. Get some more string lights in here, I'll paint some of the walls. You can do cool stuff with your gauntlet right? I bet you could make a cool chandelier and then we could be really fancy!"

He gets a little excited, even if it doesn't have the usual energy.

"Wait, we should write this down."

"There's already the 'Cool Organics' room for arcade things. I think the noise would drive me crazy if we stuck one in here," Donnie points out.

"...but lights could be fun up here. And I wouldn't mind if you did the walls... I mean, there's a lot of wall space," he says as he looks up and up above the slab that makes up their shared living space. He snorts a laugh at the thought of a chandelier.

"A chandelier might be pointless given how high the ceiling is from here. That'll be a whole lot of cable...."

But given his tone Mikey can tell, he's definitely starting to think about it.

"Yeah, but it's not our arcade room," he said with an emphasis on the pout. He's managed to find a data pad that is more their size for him to start taking notes and drawing pictures.

"I definitely have some ideas for the walls. The lights are going to be a lot of cables anyways, this space is huge. Do you think we can build a Jupiter Jim Statue? I bet that would fit."

Even as he talks, he's drawing little squares and what is supposed to be a rough approximation of their room with the different walls and doodling different ideas for them. They are very sketchy and kind of hard to tell what's going on, but there's obviously some semblance of Raph there, and what could probably be April and Splinter and then another one with Anemone, all surrounded with text and messy flare.

"Did you not hear the part about the noise?" Donnie sighs. "We can potentially do it though. There's plenty of shelf-space to just make another level out of it."

He stops his counter cleaning to throw a flat look over at Mikey. "I am not making a statue- that would have been much easier to pull off when I was stuck in Shockwave's body anyway." He regrets not doing more with the room when he'd been in that form, but the lift and partitions for rooms on the recharge slab had been the most of what he'd considered to finish at the time.

His frown fades a little as he sees what Mikey's doing, a smile tugging at him then. It's a much better sight than the frustrated ball his brother had been moments ago. He steps a little closer to look at the rough ideas his brother puts down.

Mikey frowns, something between a glare and a pout. "No fun, Donnie, a statue would really pull this place together, if Leo was here, he would agree with me."

His doodles have slowly drifted from wall ideas into rough comics. Not full ideas, just silly little ideas of different interactions and adventures, for both his family here and back on Earth.

There doesn't seem to be any purpose in them, any line of reasoning, but he's clearly relaxed quite a bit, laying down on his stomach at some point as he worked on his sketches.

"Uh, agree to disagree- No, a statue would be impractical, end of discussion."

Donnie's tone is firm, but he hides a smile as he watches Mikey. He's also glad he's cleaned up the floor of crumbs. "Want anything to drink?" he asks as he drifts towards the fridge. He could totally go for an iced coffee or something but he'll settle for something on-hand so his brother won't be left without company.

Mikey doesn't look up from his comic doodles. "I'll make sure to remind Leo how boring you are," he said with no animosity whatsoever.

"Sure! I'll take something sweet." And by sweet he probably meant something with way too much sugar. He was always about the balance of flavors, but sometimes, an overly sweet drink was good when you felt like you had run yourself ragged. Physically and emotionally.

Donnie snorts at that, though he doesn't feel offended by it. Boring Donnie seems more preferable to...whatever he's become lately.

"Unshocked, I am," he says, shaking his head with some fondness as he cracks open the fridge. Right. They need to restock. But at least there's still something. He grabs a bottle of whatever ridiculously sugar-crammed soft drink his brother prefers for whatever reason, and a canned coffee that doesn't taste completely horrible.

Walking back over, he balances the bottle on Mikey's shell and plops down beside him to pop his coffee open.

Mikey lets the bottle balance for a minute while he finishes up the page, sticking his tongue out a little bit as he concentrates.

Eventually, he finishes and rolls in a way that allows him to catch the drink and lays on his back, rocking a little on his shell as he stares at the ceiling. After a moment he sits up and opens the drink, downing half of it.

"Thanks." He crosses his legs and rolls the bottle in his hands, watching it turn. He gives a heavy sigh. "Sorry I worried you. I know this isn't really your thing, but having you here really did help. I'm just sorry you had to walk in on it at all."

While Mikey works at his sketches, Donnie quietly sips from his coffee can. It's such a strange 180 from how things had been moments ago, and while he's sure he can retrace the steps back to how they got to this point, he doesn't want to. That doesn't need to be revisited. This moment is more preferable than the last.

His eyes slide over to Mikey as his brother speaks up again, can still at his lips as he considers what to say.

"I'm sorry I'm not good at...fixing this kind of thing," he says carefully, his gaze drifting towards the opposite wall. Raph would have known what to say. Leo probably would have done so much better too. "But I couldn't not do something." Even if he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Mikey continues to rotate the bottle in his hand, not looking all that interested in actually drinking it at the moment.

"You don't have to fix everything, Don. I wasn't expecting... I didn't want you to see that. I don't know what happened." Maybe that was a lie, he did know what happened, in a way, but he didn't want to confront it at the moment. Not with Donnie at least, who was doing his best to just help in his own way. Mikey could deal with this one without putting too much on his brothers.

"But you did help. You stayed, when it was probably scary and that... that means a lot to me." His hands tighten a little around the bottle.

"...that's not exactly a good answer, Mikey," Donnie says, looking over towards Mikey again. "It's not like you to get so frustrated, especially not with kitchen things."

It's...not because of him, is it? I he stressing out his brothers because of everything?

"...I wasn't just going to leave you. What kind of brother would I be?"

Shit. This isn't the direction he wanted this conversation to go.

"Yeah, I know, just. Im sure this was just a bad day." In a long list of bad days. It was the first time for the baking though. He really hoped he hadn't lost it completely. He wasn't sure where he would be if that was the case.

"I would have understood," he says. Upset? Probably, but he gets it. He and Donnie were close with each other in a way they weren't with the other two and maybe there was a certain, unspoken understanding there that Raph or Leo didn't quite have. Mikey got it. Not always in the same way, not always right away, but he understood and never took it to heart. Even if it hurt sometimes.

Donnie doesn't even have to say anything, the dubious look on his face saying enough in regards to that. Mikey has bad days, sure, but this had been something else. That expression he'd seen on his little-big brother's face when he'd come in on him had been unsettling, like he'd walked in on a complete stranger.

He almost looks downright offended that Mikey thinks he would have abandoned him. There's a vehement shake of his head.

"That wasn't an option."

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