Laugh Til It Hurts

(Author's Note:
First off, this takes place in the 2003 cartoon universe, because that is how I imagined everything in my head at six in the morning. Second, this isn't connected to CFR Crossfire, although it could be, because things are pretty damn vague. We could place it shortly before the events of that story, before Michelangelo becomes psionic, while they're still older and not having quite as many adventures, when they're nearly twenty and settling softer. Yes. Let's do that. My first 2003 TMNT fanfic that is separate from my other TMNT fanfics. Also, I officially headcanon Mikey as Donnie's assistant, because Donatello has got to be very tired.)

Laugh Til It Hurts

He was tired. He glanced at the clock. It had only been a few hours, really, maybe five hours? It hadn't been that long since the incident even happened, but it felt like so much longer now that there were no more millionths of a second feeling like forever.

Oh, he was tired. The adrenaline leaving should have been enough. His mind wasn't built for that, it just kept going. Heh. They were the same, really, he just kept forgetting because his brother was louder on the outside than he was on the inside.

He ran his hands over the bandaged arm again, feeling the pulse thrum steadily under his thumb, just because he could feel it and that felt good, seeing as just over five hours ago, he was feeling it strain and stutter and flutter and he didn't want to think about it.

He turned in the wheeled chair to adjust one of the hanging lamps, and heard a faint, groggy, "Hey, what's going on?" from the bed.

Donatello whipped around so fast the lamp swung. "Mikey, don't move your hand, I gotta check for nerve damage!" and he'd said it so fast he didn't realize. He blinked. "Oh, you're awake! Oh, good."

Mikey was watching him with lidded, foggy eyes, a little dilated, but they were the same blue, the same brightness. The bruising on his right temple and cheekbone stood out like purple shadows. He lay very still against the raised hospital bed they'd gotten years ago from a medical facility, and he was breathing very carefully. "Hey, Donnie. Is April okay? How long've I been here?"

"April's fine, we're all fine." Don gently lifted Mikey's left hand like it were porcelain, and ran the tips of his fingers across the palm. "Can you feel that?"

Mikey grunted. "S'tickly. Kinda burns."

Don nodded and moved his brother's fingers, one by one. "Feel that? Any numbness?"

"Still kinda burny."

"Burny is better than numb."

"Yep. You taught me that. Taught me lots of stuff."

Donnie bit his lip and moved down to the wrist itself, the gauze hiding the hasty stitches hiding the jagged flesh hiding the pierced artery, and maintained eye contact.

Mikey just blinked slowly like a cat. "It fucking hurts, Donatello."

He huffed. "Just checking. You know."

"I know."

"You remember what happened, Mike? You've got a concussion too, so go slow."

Mikey shifted, closed his eyes for a minute, his fingers relaxing and falling back against Don's hand. "Mmm. Big ninja battle. We took some heavy hits. I 'member, April had that old artifact they wanted, I was helpin' her get to a safe spot...Casey was right behind us..."

"Yeah..."

Mikey blinked and locked eyes with him, the brightness increasing like a light through a door. "One of the ninjas came at us to get the artifact. I fought him. He...he hit me in the head and...um." He swallowed thickly.