Workshopping

2. Too Early for this

Donnie's POV.

Bzzt, bzzt, bzzzzzzt.
'Y'know what? Screw this, I don't care.' I think to myself as

I set the screwdriver down.
I've been working on this smoke-bomb kind of a thing for days, but I don't know why. Maybe a distraction? But from what? My thoughts? Emotions?

Barely express them, and avoid them most of the time anyway. Recent events? Probably.
Whatever.
It's 2:30 in the morning, I don't know why I'm still in my lab. I haven't slept in a long time, been pulling all-nighters so that I don't have to leave.

But why don't I wanna leave?
Why don't I wanna see anyone?
I should be checking on Leo, checking on Raph, and Mikey, and Pops. I should be talking with April, helping Casey get used to his new life. I should be taking care of my family. I should be taking care of myself.

I should have more motivation to tinker around with garbage I find in the junkyard. I should be active. I should be Donatello.
Yeah, let's go with that. Take small steps, plan things out. It shouldn't be too too hard, right? Right.

Well let's start with a snack, and some water. I grab the flashlight that's been shining on a holder and point it to the door. Walking - or more so tip-toeing - to the door because my lab floor is creaky as hell, I turn the knob and leave the room, closing the door behind me.

Immediately I'm hit with a smell. Something's cooking; I sniff the air again, trying to guess what it is. It's sweet, like a cake.. is Mikey up? Or is my brain playing tricks on me because of my lack of sleep? I decide to investigate. Taking small leaps down the hallway, in a little dance to avoid the creaky planks, I make it to the stairwell. Using every ounce of ninja training in my body, I shift my weight to make as little noise as possible while I step down the stairs.

I walk into the common room and I am met with Mikey, but he has his headphones in, and he's sprawled across the couch in a light sleep.
"What the hell Mikey? What are you doing at 3 in the morning?" I whisper to myself as I grab a blanket and drape it across his middle.

The smell from the kitchen is stronger now, and I'm certain that he was baking. Just as I'm going to investigate, he's up and immediately is clinging to my shell.

"Donnie? What are you doing up so early?" he asks, the drowsiness is clear in his voice.
"I could ask the same thing, Michael." I retort.
I can feel his face heat up behind me, a terrible sensation on my shell that I hate with a burning passion.

Was he embarrassed being caught in the middle of the night?

"Well, I had a bad dream, so I came down here to dest- uh.. bake." He hesitated. Why?
I'm pulled out of the small thought process when Mikey queries "Why are you down here Donnie?"
"Oh- well- uhmm..." I stutter, not knowing if I should tell him my little life plan.

From what I've seen in the past few months, he seems exhausted, anxious, and stressed. Is that what he was going to say? Destress? If he's stressed, why doesn't he say it? What comes out of my mouth is barely half of the truth: "I'm just hungry, Angelo. Nothing to it.

Not that deep. Also, you might wanna get whatever you're baking out of the oven, before you burn down the house."
He detaches from my back and sprints into the kitchen with a soft "Oh yeah!".

I internally laugh, because we do have to remind him to get his food out of the oven, or off the stove every once in a while.

All other goals forgotten, I grab a couple beanbags from the pile in the corner and pull them to the middle, along with two crates, creating a makeshift table in the center of the common room.

Straightening up, I walk into the kitchen, where Mikey is trying -and failing to do so- to grab his home-made icing from the back of the fridge.
"Oh- hey Donnie, can you help me grab this please?" He asks as he cranes his neck to meet my gaze.

"Sure Angelo." I reach up into the fridge and grab it.
As I hand it to him I comment "I set up a couple beanbags and the big crate so that we can sit down when you're done. Is that okay?" I say that, and immediately he gives me the brightest smile, something I haven't seen in months.

A smile this big for something as simple as sitting together in the living room?

I start to wonder just how great his mental state has been. I snap out of it, knowing I might zone out and get lost in my thoughts, so I just respond to my own question.
"I'll take that as a yes, then."