Petra always has the best commission requests. The parameters were: sexy Chirrut & Baze… ABS… and Donnie Yen’s smile. Hehe. I didn’t think the end product would have so many pink hues, but I kind of love it. I’ve found I love to draw Baze’s hair A LOT, too.
There was a little hiccup IRL for me, so the commissions are coming out a little slower! But they are getting done, all those who are still waiting. Thank you for being patient!
A hand clasps over Mikey’s mouth and the youngest turtle shoots awake. Instincts kick in, and he grabs the wrist of whoever’s holding him and prepares to twist, but his attacker anticipates the reaction and takes his youngest brother’s hand before he breaks his wrist.
“It’s just me,” Raph whispers.
Mikey sags in relief at the sound of his brother’s voice. Raph loosens his grip when he feels Mikey’s body relax, and the orange-banded turtle sits up, blinking blearily at his brother. “Raph, what—“
Raph puts a finger to his lips and shushes him softly. Mikey’s muscles tense up when he sees the solemn look in his brother’s eyes; a look he only sees when they’re preparing for a fight. Raphael points at the nunchukus hanging on the wall above Mikey’s bed (always within reach), then gestures to their shared-bedroom’s door.
Quiet as the night, Mikey reaches up and takes his weapons in each hand, adjusting them until he’s comfortable. He stands up and silently pads to where his brother waits by the door. When Raph looks at him, he shoots him a questioning look. Why the hell did Raph interrupt his own beauty rest then wake him up as well?
When the red-banded turtle mouths “the Foot” in response, Mikey’s heart sinks.
Raph tilts his head to the side, silently asking if Mikey’s ready, and begins to open the door when his brother nods. Once it’s wide enough for them both to slip through, they melt into the familiar shadows of their home, waiting for Leo and Donnie to join them before they engage.
Raph shifts back and forth in his stance, anxiously awaiting the fight looming ahead. It scares him that he’s this ready for this battle; a battle that he hoped would never come, but was entirely prepared for it to do so. The possibility of their safe haven being found out has loomed above the Hamato family’s heads for years.
Finally, Mikey and Raphael hear Leo’s familiar, near-silent whistle echo down the hall from the kitchen, letting them know that he and Donnie are set. Raph and Mikey begin creeping down the hall until they’re just around the corner of their living room and across the hall from the kitchen.
Donatello and Leo peek out at them from the kitchen doorway. Leo signs: How many?
Mikey crouches and peers around the corner. He holds up a finger: One.
Leo frowns. One? The youngest turtle nods in response. Are you sure?
Mikey glares. A thumbs-up: Yes.
Lights flare up in their living room and Mikey jumps back behind the corner before he’s seen. It takes a second for the sudden burst of adrenaline to wear off and for Mikey to realize that it’s not a search light or the flashlight of a gun. A warm, colorful glow bathes the walls in comfort, and after a couple of seconds, Mikey shifts his feet and looks back around the corner.
His whole body relaxes when he sees you standing in the middle of the couches, humming softly as you string Christmas lights over the corner of their television. A Christmas tree less than half Mikey’s size rests cheerily in the corner, and he sees a couple of presents underneath it. A few boxes of ornaments are sitting off to the side, waiting to be hung up.
Mikey smiles and shifts back around the corner. (y/n).
Raph grunts quietly from behind him when he sees the sign and he leans around the corner to look as Donnie does the same. The corner of his mouth flips up into a smile when he sees you unraveling another strand of lights to string along the back wall. He takes a step back and smiles at Leo, who waits expectantly for a solid answer. Christmas.
Recognition dawns over Leo’s face and he can’t help but smile. Donnie goes to move around the corner to greet you, but Leo pulls him back by the top of his shell before he gets far enough out that you see him. He looks at his younger brother and puts his finger to his lips before signing: Bed. Surprise.
Mikey grins and nods, accepting Raphael’s hand to help him up. Donnie and Leo are mere shadows as they sneak across from the kitchen to join their brothers. They all walk back to their rooms together before cautiously bidding good night once again, hoping (y/n) won’t hear.
Meanwhile, you continue to decorate the living room and, eventually, the kitchen, completely oblivious to the four turtles who just went back to bed with fond hearts. You have no idea what you do for the hearts of your friends. The small actions you perform for them only makes their love and gratefulness for you grow.
It was the clanging fire escape that made him stop.
He was halfway to the next rooftop when he heard it, and instead of tucking and rolling on the next roof, he landed silently on his feet. Mikey stopped a little further down the roof and gave him an inquisitive look, but Donnie waved him on, silently telling him he’d catch up. Another bang sounded from the alley below, and Donny crept silently to the edge of the roof to peer down into the darkness.
A girl about his age stood in the middle of the alley, clutching her purse to her chest. Judging from the large backpack she was carrying, he could only guess she’d been coming from the library, which is only a couple blocks down from their current position. Two large men–obviously muggers–flanked her, and even from up as high as he was, Donnie could see the girl’s (e/c) eyes flash back and forth between them. But, her eyes weren’t afraid. They were prepared.
“Come on, sweetie,” the first man crooned, stepping closer to you. “Just give us your pretty purse and we’ll let you go.”
You snorted, and Donnie’s eyebrows rose. He had not expected that. “You wish, bud-do. I’ll give you one chance to let me walk away, or you’ll be leaving with something a lot worse than my purse.”
The second man burst out into adenoidal laughter. “Listen to that: A wannabe badass.”
You shrugged, quirking your lips up as you look at him in mock-pity. “At least one of us is pretending.”
Donnie raised a fist to his mouth, muffling his chuckle. You really are a badass.
Both men, however, now had daggers in their eyes. “You just crossed a line, missy.” Man number one flipped open a pocket knife, slinking towards you like the criminals do in the movies. He tilted his head at his friend. “Get her,” he ordered. Nasally-voice lunged at you and Donnie didn’t hesitate to leap off of the roof to your rescue.
But then he sees you duck under your attacker’s arm and land a solid kick to his back, sending him flying so hard into the pavement the purple-clad turtle can practically see him eat pavement. He catches himself halfway to the ground, swinging himself up onto one of the fire escape landings. He’s not stupid enough to jump into a fight where he isn’t needed.
Donnie’s been crouching low in the shadows watching you fight for a couple of minutes now. Your speed and agility outmatch the brute strength of your opponents, and he’s finding himself more and more impressed as he continues to admire your skill. You dance around their punches and the swings of their knives like it’s a game. A game that you’re very obviously winning.
Donnie breathes out a laugh as you duck under yet another swing of nasal’s fist, tripping him as you run to his other side. He falls heavily to the ground and curses so loudly and so colourfully, Donnie raises his eyebrows. He’s glad Mikey isn’t here to hear that.
You snicker as you leap out of the brawl, and are about to run out into the street when the first man rushes over to you and grabs the back of your backpack. The force of his grip pulls you backwards and into him, and you would have landed on your butt if it weren’t for the man holding you to his chest. You throw your legs up before slamming them back to the ground, trying to flip the man over your back, but your backpack disables you. Your form is perfect, but you’re not used to fighting with a “shell.” Donnie shoots up from his crouch and perches on the metal railing, ready to jump in if he has to.
The man grapples with you as he tries to hold you against him. “Stop moving, you little brat. Jason!” he yells. “Get my knife.”
Jason rushes forward with the weapon too quickly for Donnie to react to the order. By the time he’s pushing of the fire escape, he can see the fresh blood glistening on your arm. You cry out and shake your body, doing your best to get out of the criminalistic embrace.
Donnie lands on the ground just in time to kick Jason in the chest, sending him flying back into the alley wall. He hits with a loud thud, and Donnie reaches up to catch the pocket knife out of the air, which flew out of the idiot’s hand as he was assaulted by the turtle. He turns to face you and your current captor and narrows his eyes, tossing away the knife as he glares. The man’s eyes widen with fear, and Donnie sneers. “Let her go,” he growls.
The man’s head practically vibrates as he nods, ripping his hands off of you as if your skin suddenly started to burn. He runs out of the alley like a bat out of hell, with his lackey close behind. Donnie watches after them for a moment to make sure they’re really gone before turning back to you. You’re leaning against the alley wall with your purse around your wrist as you clutch your bleeding arm. Your eyes aren’t fearful as they analyze him, only cautious. As if you’re expecting Donnie to attack you too.
Donnie raises his hands out in front of him in a peace gesture. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Promise.” It takes you a moment for you to nod, and the second you do, Donnie is striding towards you, pulling his first aid satchel off of his back. You press yourself further into the wall at his approach, but in the back of your mind, you know he’s not going to hurt you.
You have to be dreaming as you watch what seems to be a giant turtle rummage through a sack. He has a slightly-frayed purple bandana tied around his eyes with taped-glasses tucked over them. What has to be fifty pounds of equipment is piled up on his shell, extending up over his head. And, he’s muttering to himself as he searches for whatever he’s trying to find. Muttering. In English.
“What the hell,” you gasp, your breath shaking slightly as you do.
He glances up at you for a second before looking back down at his work, pushing his glasses up as he does. “Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t run away screaming yet.”
“So am I,” you mutter. The turtle chuckles, and your jaw drops a little more as he pulls something out of his bag. He bites a small pair of scissors between his teeth and drops the bag before pulling out what seems to be a bottle of alcohol and gauze. You raise your eyebrows. “What the hell are you, a medic in the turtle army?”
He seems to think about it for a second. “I guess you could call me that.” He steps closer to you and takes your injured arm into his three-digit hand. He doesn’t give you any warning as he pours a little bit of the alcohol over the long gash on the inside of your forearm. You gasp at the sting, and he looks up at you guiltily. “Sorry. It’s better if I don’t tell you beforehand.”
You nod to show he’s forgiven, and the turtle goes back to work. “I’m Donatello, by the way,” he mutters as he places pads of gauze across your injury. “But you can call me Donnie. Hold this,” he orders, gesturing to your arm. You press your hand against the gauze to keep it from moving as he bends back down to his bag.
“I’m (y/n),” you introduce yourself. “Thanks for that save.”
Donnie shrugs as he straightens back up. “It’s my job.” He gently takes your wrist and moves your hand off of your injured arm so he can begin wrapping it. “Where did you learn Judo?” he asks.
You raise your eyebrows. Everyone you know says “Karate” because that’s the only martial art they know. This turtle-guy was able to pick out what style you fight with just from watching a two-minute battle. “I’ve been at a dojo since I was a kid,” you respond. “What about you? How did a giant turtle learn Judo?”
“Ninjutsu,” he corrects, tying off your bandage as he does. You whistle appreciatively, and he grins shyly up at you from where he’s picking up his bag. “I’ve been training my whole life too.”
The corner of your mouth raises so you’re looking up at this insanely-tall turtle, smiling like an idiot. You clear your throat and gesture down to your throbbing, but dressed arm. “Thanks for your help, Nurse Turtle.”
Donnie laughs, and your smile widens at the little snort that comes with it. “Please, do not let my little brother hear you say that.”
“Wait–there’s more of you?” you nearly-shriek incredulously.
“And, that’s my cue to leave.” Donatello steps back with a smile, slinging the medicine pouch back into its respective spot on its shell. “Goodbye, (y/n).”
“Wait!” you call after him as he jumps up onto the fire escape. You file his dead-silent landing into the back of your mind as you watch him turn back to look down at you. “Will I see you around?”
If it hadn’t been nearly pitch-black in that alley, you would’ve seen the flush that spread across his green face. “Maybe.” And with that, he propels himself up to the roof and vanishes.
Donatello’s birthday had started out the way it always did:
Him, sleeping peacefully and snoring softly, only to be awakened by his name being called.
His eyes cracked open and he saw his brothers looking down at him. Raphael smiling at him, gold eyes glinting. Mikey trying desperetly not to laugh and even Leonardo snickering.
“Happy birthday!!” they all shouted.
Immediately, a loud popping noise was heard and Donnie sat up with a shriek. His body and bad were now covered in sparkly purple and green confetti as his brothers laughed.
“Come on, get outta bed, birthday boy!” Mikey said, yanking him up.
Now awake, Donnie smiled at his brothers. It was a stupid tradition but he knew that he would be disappointed if they stopped doing it. Even if he would be finding confetti everywhere for the rest of his life…
“Does the birthday boy get breakfast?” he asked.
“And coffee, just how you like it.” Leo replied.
Everything after that was the way it always want. A big breakfast made by Mikey, his brothers teasing him as they decorated the Lair, and his father telling loads of embarrassing stories about him as a baby (complete with pictures).
April and Casey showed up, each carrying a box and then…Y/N. Donatello wasn’t trying to pick favorites, but he was most excited to see Y/N.
After all, they had never celebrated his birthday before. It was odd, but he noticed that his brothers seemed excited to see her too. Leonardo whispered something to Y/N and Mikey and Raph couldn’t stop smiling.
But he forgot about as soon as Y/N kissed him.
“Happy birthday, Don.”
“Are you my present?” he quipped, earning a laugh from Mikey.
An hour later, the party was set up. Blanket “tents” strung up around the room, pillows and comforters spread out on the ground. On a low table, an Italian dinner was set up and all of Donnie’s favorite people gathered around it.
April and Casey sat next to Y/N with his girlfriend sitting cloeset to the turtle, his brothers on the opposite side, and Don and Master Splinter on either end.
Everyone laughed and talked and Donatello began to think that this had been his best birthday yet.
But it wasn’t over yet.
“Hey, is the birthday boy ready for presents and cake?” Leonardo asked.
The table was cleared off and Donnie was presented with a big chocolate cake as everyone sang “Happy Birthday”.
“Make a wish, my son.” Splinter said softly.
And he did, blowing out the purple candles as his family cheered happily.
And then he opened his presents one by one. Big boxes of old books, textbooks and science fiction novels lay stacked inside. Asorted gadgets scavenged from a junkyard (Donnie was already planning what he could do with those), and old VHS tapes Raph and Casey had fixed up.
“My turn!” Y/N said, quickly darting off to…Leo’s room?
Donatello looked at his family in confusion and they looked back at him excitedly. Y/N returned with a large box wrapped in purple polka dot paper and placed it on the ground.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
He opened it and immediately smiled.
A slightly beat up box that contained a big, brand new tent. He thought of the old one he had, patched up and put together after breaking a million times.
“This is perfect!”
“I thought you might need it.” Y/N replied.
“Huh?” Donnie had barely heard her over his excitement.
“For your trip, bro. You and your lady, out in the wilderness…you gotta have shelter.” Michelangelo said.
Donnie looked up, his smile only getting wider.
“We know that you wanted to go camping this year but couldn’t…so we thought we’d all pitch in and get you something for later.” Leo added.
“And then we had an even better idea. A birthday vacation!”
“Are you guys sure? I mean, is it okay if I…” Donnie asked.
Master Splinter looked at his son and said,
“Everyone deserves to spend time with those closest to thier hearts. We will miss you and Y/N, but we will also manage.”
Donatello grinned at his friends and his family before pulling Y/N into a big hug.
They all giggled over the love birds and Y/N whispered to him,
“Is it a good present, darling?”
“It’s perfect.” he whispers.
And it really, really was.