Workshopping

3. Are you Okay?

Mikey's POV.

I know it might sound stupid and cliché, but did I hear that correctly? Did my big brother Donatello, who hasn't spoken to anyone for three months, just ask if I wanted to sit with him? Am I just hallucinating? Did I never actually wake up?
I'm on the verge of squealing when Donnie, seemingly reading my mind, answers for me.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."
I immediately start vigorously nodding my head, giving him a huge hug as a thanks. After a second or two -because I know he's not one for lingering touches- I let go, I still got stuff to do, and I make him aware of that.

"Ok then, I'm gonna finish this up and then I'll come sit with you. Do you want any cake Don?" I query, while opening the top of the frosting tub and reaching for my spatula.

"Hmm.. yeah, okay." he responds. He pats my shoulder and adds "I'm gonna go sit down if you don't need anything. Holler if you need me.. but don't actually holler because that's a bad idea and you'll probably wake someone up and-"

I notice he's about to go into some kind of rant about all the different possible situations that would resort from my shouting, so I cut him off short.

"Alright Donnie, I'll call if I need you. Now go sit down and relax before you start rambling, mkay?" I raise my head and look back to -almost- meet his gaze, giving a little smile. He nods and leaves the room.

I look after him as he leaves,
admiring the patterns on the soft flesh of his shell.
He's so pretty... wait what. Uh ok, I'm gonna ignore that and move on.

Just when I'm about to put the first strip of icing on my cake, my hands start trembling again. I really don't wanna disturb Donnie; but he said I could call if I needed help.. but I don't want him to worry about my hands.. oh whatever.

"Hey Donnie? Can you come here for a quick sec?" I reluctantly whisper-call, craning my neck to the door.
"Yeah sure! What is it?" comes the reply.

"Uh.. I'm having a tiny bit of trouble with the cake decor. Would you like to help me?" Ughh. I feel terrible for this.
"Of course, Angelo! Gimme a sec and I'll be right there." The next freaking moment he's right there behind me, looming over my shoulder because I got stuck with the stupid short turtle genes.. BUT THAT IS BESIDES THE POINT- I jump a little and whip around, hiding my hands behind my shell for some reason.

"Jiminy Cricket, Donnie! Warn a guy next time eh?"
"Oops, sorry Michael," he gives a little chuckle. "Now, you said you needed help with the cake? Why is that?" His eyes travel down my arms, to where my hands are hidden behind my shell "..And what is behind you?"

Of course he's gonna be curious. Shit, how am I gonna find a lie for this, and possibly hide it? Better to tell the truth. And tell it fast so he doesn't comprehend anything I say! I take a huge breath and let it out as fast as I can.

"Okay so after Leo decided to sacrifice himself and I opened the portal and you guys helped and yada-yada-yada my hands started shaking and it's been going on for months and I haven't been able to do anything without my stupid mystic hands getting in the way." I finish, then releasing the rest of my breath. I slowly look up and search his face for any sign of understanding and comprehension.

And just my luck, he understood every single word.
"If you thought saying all that really fast would somehow stop me from knowing what's up, you've forgotten that I think at the speed of sound." Donatello pats my head with a soft smile, then takes my hand and spins me around -like a dance- so that I'm facing the counter, and then comes around beside me and hands me my spatula.

I'm embarrassed and flustered and dizzy, so I'm trying to look at anything but Donnie as I try -and fail- to grab the spatula from his hand. Stupid shaking. He takes my wrist, sending these weird tingles up my arm, and puts the spatula in my hand.

"I'll have to make you some compression gloves for the shaking. It'll help, I promise. I'm so sorry I wasn't around to fix it earlier." Donnie looks down at my hand and I think I see his eyes water.

He lets go after a couple seconds, shakes himself out a bit, and bends over the counter to grab a spare spatula from the holder.

"So, where do we start?" he asks, looking at me from the corner of his eye.

"Okay so we want to start on the side here," I gently take his arm and maneuver it to the correct position, "and keep it there while moving the plate. Make sure to keep the same amount of pressure on the cake."

"Okay, I think I got it," Donnie says. His eyes are fixated on the cake, his eyes sparkling and his tongue is stuck out a bit.

I have to catch myself before I end up staring, but the little things he does are just so captivating. I shouldn't be feeling this way. He's my brother, for fuck's sake! Y'know, it's probably not even what I think it is, it's probably just because I haven't seen him in his entirety for this long in literal months. That must be the reason!

Nothing weird at all. Right..?
"Okay, that should do it! Good job Donnie!"
"Thank you Mikey! I'm quite proud of myself." He does that stupidly cute smug smile thing he always does when he's accomplished something. Good lord, I need to go back to bed.
"Okay, you grab the plates and silverware, get yourself set up; and I'll carry this in, sound good?" He offers.

I look back up at him.
"Okay, but only if you're okay to hold it."
"Yeah I'll be fine! I got this little brother."
"Okay." I give him a thumbs up, best I can really with all the tremors. Then I turn, grab everything we need, and go into the common room to get myself situated.

A couple minutes later, Donatello comes in with the cake, and my hands aren't shaking as violently, so that's good.

"Ho-kay, ladies and gentle-turtles, I present to you.. The B Team Supreme- oh- too loud," Donnie restarts in a softer volume, "The B Team Supreme." He's added a swirl on the top with icing, little icing dots around the top and bottom rims, and sprinkles are littered all over it.

"Wow, Don, this looks super tasty!" I whisper-shout.
"Thank you Angelo," he gives me that smug face again, "I worked very hard on it."
"Well then let's do it some honor and dig in then, hey?" I say.

I open the display cover and grab the cake knife.
"Actually.. would you like to do the honors?" I hold the knife up to him, like some sort of peace offering.

"Why thank you, kind sir! I would love to slice your cake."
"Our cake."
"Our cake." he repeats.
He slices a couple pieces out of the cake, puts each one on a plate, and hands one to me. I take it with a "thank you," and start eating.

We eat in silence, but it's enjoyable, just us together. It's a moment I never want to leave, but it's ripped away from me too soon.
"Hey, Mikey?"
"Yeah dontron?"
Who knew such a simple question could make someone panic so much?

"..Are you okay?"