[And he'll never admit it or talk about it in a hundred thousand years, but Leo lifting his fist for a bump makes something huge and warm swell up in his chest, overtake his organs, his muscles, his bones. He doesn't feel things of course, and he'll maintain that until his dying breath or until he finally gets some therapy tailored specifically for people on the spectrum, but this...
He lifts his own fist to tap it against Leo's. It's okay if Leo's not okay yet- not that it's okay that Leo's not okay, but it's okay if Leo isn't ready to be okay too. Leo heard what Donnie was trying to say, with too many words and not enough kindness, probably, in his tone. Mikey can sit there and sob and hold onto people and they can feel it seeping in through their skin, and Raph just has a way of speaking that's so sincere, so clear, that it's as if he's cracked open your chest to speak directly into your heart, but Donnie-
Well, when Donnie talks it usually doesn't work out well. Not that it stops him, it's just-
Refocus. Leo's not okay but he's willing to try. He's willing to let Donnie handle things while he's not okay. He understood that all of that was Donnie saying, I'll handle things, and I'll help you make sure we're okay, and I love you.]
Welp. That's enough brush-up, I think. [Donnie tosses his tablet onto one of Leo's shelves and slaps his knees.] Give me a second and I'll put together a rig with a widescreen on your ceiling so we can play Mariokart. [Also useful, since Leo's going to have to be generally stationary after the surgery, too.
And he really did mean it about a second or so, because within minutes Donatello and his robotic arms have assembled a complex framing apparatus that suspends a TV not directly facing down, but such so that Leo doesn't have to crane his neck or try to look down in order to have a perfect view. Donnie passes over a controller as he sets up Mariokart, so they can play and have fun and be ready for tomorrow, a day which might change everything.]
no subject
or until he finally gets some therapy tailored specifically for people on the spectrum, but this...He lifts his own fist to tap it against Leo's. It's okay if Leo's not okay yet- not that it's okay that Leo's not okay, but it's okay if Leo isn't ready to be okay too. Leo heard what Donnie was trying to say, with too many words and not enough kindness, probably, in his tone. Mikey can sit there and sob and hold onto people and they can feel it seeping in through their skin, and Raph just has a way of speaking that's so sincere, so clear, that it's as if he's cracked open your chest to speak directly into your heart, but Donnie-
Well, when Donnie talks it usually doesn't work out well. Not that it stops him, it's just-
Refocus. Leo's not okay but he's willing to try. He's willing to let Donnie handle things while he's not okay. He understood that all of that was Donnie saying, I'll handle things, and I'll help you make sure we're okay, and I love you.]
Welp. That's enough brush-up, I think. [Donnie tosses his tablet onto one of Leo's shelves and slaps his knees.] Give me a second and I'll put together a rig with a widescreen on your ceiling so we can play Mariokart. [Also useful, since Leo's going to have to be generally stationary after the surgery, too.
And he really did mean it about a second or so, because within minutes Donatello and his robotic arms have assembled a complex framing apparatus that suspends a TV not directly facing down, but such so that Leo doesn't have to crane his neck or try to look down in order to have a perfect view. Donnie passes over a controller as he sets up Mariokart, so they can play and have fun and be ready for tomorrow, a day which might change everything.]