Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The bathroom was dark except for the sickly glow of the nightlight, casting sharp shadows across the tiles. Leonardo sat on the closed lid of the toilet, elbows pressed to his knees, staring down at the small plastic stick trembling in his hands. The test strip felt heavier than his swords ever had. He had a whole drawer full of them hidden away, stashed since the day he learned he was different, the day Donnie had explained what “intersex” meant in clinical detail and Leo had quietly filed it under secrets. But never—never—had he expected this.

The tiny screen blinked once, twice, then settled on the result he already feared. Positive.

Leo pressed his lips together to keep the sound from escaping. His throat burned anyway. He didn’t even know how long he’d been sitting there, body taut with shock, heart pounding against his plastron as if it could shatter it. The thought tried to take root—that he wasn’t alone anymore, that something fragile and impossibly small was now tied to him. He should have felt joy. He should have felt relief. He should have thought of hope.

Instead, his first thought was: How do I tell them?

The family was already broken. Mikey’s death had split them down the middle. Grief had calcified into something hard and sharp inside Raphael, who prowled the lair like a wounded animal looking for something to bite. Splinter’s eyes had dulled with sorrow. Donnie buried himself in endless projects, circuits and schematics scattered across his room like offerings to a god of distraction. And Leo—Leo had tried to hold the remains together, to pretend he still deserved to lead. But Mikey’s laughter was gone, and the silence where his voice should be was suffocating.

Raph blamed him. He didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. “If you hadn’t sacrificed yourself—if you hadn’t made Mikey open that portal—he’d still be alive!” Those words were a refrain, a blade driven deeper every time.

And maybe, in the quiet, Leo believed it too.

He set the test down on the sink, hands shaking. His reflection in the mirror looked pale and tired, eyes ringed in sleepless shadows. He pressed a palm against his plastron, lower, where something new had begun. It was terrifying. It was miraculous. It was his. And it was Usagi’s.

The thought of Yuichi steadied him, if only for a heartbeat. Usagi had always seen him—not the leader, not the failure, not the mask, but Leo. Just Leo. Maybe, just maybe, telling his family this truth could bring back a spark. Maybe they’d remember Mikey’s joy instead of only his absence. Maybe.

He gathered the courage, tucked the test away in the drawer, and wiped his face dry. The lair was quiet when he stepped into the common room, but he knew better than to believe it was peaceful. Splinter sat in meditation, though his ears twitched at every sound. Donnie hunched over a holographic blueprint, lenses glinting in the low light. Raph leaned against the wall, arms crossed, face a mask of impatience and simmering rage.

Leo swallowed hard. “I… I need to tell you something.”

Three sets of eyes turned toward him. He felt naked under the weight of them. His hands clenched at his sides, then relaxed again. He forced himself to meet their gazes one by one.

“I’m pregnant.”

For a long, unbearable second, silence held the room. Splinter’s eyes widened, mouth parting in shock before softening with something like sorrowful wonder. Donnie’s blueprint blinked out as his focus snapped fully to his brother. Raph’s jaw tightened, arms stiffening where they crossed over his chest.

Then, Splinter rose and crossed the space with surprising speed. His small, furred hands touched Leo’s arms, then slid up to his cheeks. His eyes shimmered. “My son,” he whispered, voice breaking. “A new life, even now…”

Donnie followed, awkward but sincere, wrapping arms around Leo from behind. His chin brushed Leo’s shoulder. “I—I don’t know how this is biologically possible given your condition, but… Leo, this is incredible. Congratulations.”

For a moment, pressed between them, Leo allowed himself to breathe. Warmth seeped into him from their embrace, a fragile reminder that not everything was lost. Maybe—

“Are you kidding me?”

Raph’s voice sliced through the moment like steel.

Leo pulled back, blinking at the storm building in his brother’s eyes. Raph stepped forward, each footfall heavy, his shadow swallowing the room.

“You’re pregnant?” he spat, as though the word itself was filth. “With everything that’s happened—you decide now’s the time to shack up and get yourself knocked up?”

“Raph—” Leo started, but the eldest wasn’t listening.

“You think this fixes anything? You think bringing a kid into this mess is gonna replace Mikey?” Raph’s voice shook, thick with fury and grief. “He’s dead, Leo! Because of you!”

Leo’s vision blurred, hot tears burning. “Don’t. Don’t put that on me—”

“If you hadn’t sacrificed yourself, if you hadn’t made him open that portal, Mikey would still be alive!”

Something inside Leo snapped. His hands clenched into fists. “I chose to sacrifice myself! I was ready to die, Raph! Mikey chose to save me—he didn’t know what would happen!” His voice broke, raw and ragged. “He made that choice, not me!”

Raph’s face twisted. His breathing came fast, ragged. “And now what? You get yourself knocked up?” He stepped closer, towering, voice a roar. “Go to hell, Leonardo!”

The words crashed over Leo harder than any blow. His chest felt hollow, air ripped from his lungs. He tried to form a reply, tried to fight, but the strength drained out of him all at once.

Splinter’s voice rose, sharp for the first time in months. “Raphael! Enough!”

But Raph was already grabbing Leo’s bag from beside the couch, hurling it toward him. It landed with a heavy thud. “Get out.”

The world tilted. Leo stared at the bag, then at his brother’s face, carved from stone and fire. Splinter’s hand pressed against Raph’s arm, trying to hold him back, but the damage was already done. Donnie hovered near, mouth open, words caught in his throat.

“Raph…” Leo’s voice trembled, thin as paper.  “I—”

“Get. Out.”

Leo’s knees threatened to buckle, but he forced himself upright. He bent down, fingers numb as they closed around the strap of his bag. His swords weighed heavier than usual against his shell. 

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The sewers grew colder the farther Leo walked. Damp air clung to his skin, seeping into his joints, slowing his limbs. His breath puffed in faint clouds in front of him, and each step splashed against the thin trickle of water running down the middle of the tunnel. His bag felt heavier than it should, straps digging into his shoulder, dragging him lower with every passing minute.

His body betrayed him faster than he expected. He’d always known he was different—warmth didn’t come easy to him the way it did to others. Tonight the chill was merciless, crawling over his plastron, slipping into his muscles until his fingers stiffened and his steps faltered. His teeth chattered against the words he whispered to himself, fragments of Mikey’s laughter, reminders to just keep walking.

But every few steps, the echo of Raph’s voice crashed through him: Go to hell, Leonardo.

He staggered once, catching himself on the slick wall, but the cold made even that grip shaky. His phone pressed against his palm was the only warmth he had, Usagi’s voice tethering him to forward motion.

By the time the faint glow of the Hidden City entrance bled through the dark, his vision swam. His knees buckled when he hit the steps, and only sheer stubbornness got him back upright. His whole body trembled as he dragged himself out of the sewer and into the bustling neon-lit streets.

The lights stabbed at his eyes, too bright, too alive compared to the gloom he’d left behind. He hugged himself, arms wrapped tight across his plastron, shivering so violently it hurt.

Then he heard it.

“Leo!”

Usagi’s voice cut through the noise like sunlight through fog. He was already running, ears bouncing, cloak flaring behind him. He reached Leo in seconds, catching him before he collapsed.

“Gods, you’re freezing,” Usagi whispered, arms wrapping around him instantly.

Leo sagged into him, unable to stop the sob that broke free. Usagi pressed him tighter, tucking Leo’s head under his chin, his fur brushing against Leo’s chilled skin. Warmth bled into him immediately, stark and shocking, and he clung to it desperately.

“Come on,” Usagi murmured, keeping one arm around him as he grabbed Leo’s bag with the other. “Let’s get you inside.”

The trek to Usagi’s apartment was a blur. Leo barely registered the crowds or the shouts of vendors, the neon lights streaking by like rivers of color. He was only aware of the solid presence beside him, Usagi’s body pressed close, his heat wrapping around Leo like a shield.

By the time they reached the small apartment, Leo’s shivering had worsened. His knees gave out at the threshold, and Usagi scooped him up without hesitation, carrying him on his back through the door. The warmth of the home hit immediately—steam from the kitchen, the lingering scent of rice and ginger—but Usagi didn’t stop there.

He set Leo gently on the couch, then stripped off his own cloak and wrapped it tight around him. Still, Leo trembled, his hands icy to the touch.

“Dammit,” Usagi muttered under his breath, already crawling onto the couch beside him. He pulled Leo against his chest, arms winding firmly around him, pressing as much of his furred body against him as possible. His chin rested against Leo’s head as he whispered, “You’re gonna be okay, baby. Just hold on. Let me warm you up.”

Leo buried his face into Usagi’s chest, inhaling the clean, earthy scent of his fur. The heat radiated through him, thawing stiff muscles, chasing away the ache in his bones. His body curled instinctively closer, seeking more, and Usagi only held him tighter, rubbing small circles against his shell with steady hands.

The trembling slowed, little by little. The ice lodged in his veins began to melt. And for the first time since he’d left the lair, Leo exhaled without choking on a sob.

Usagi kissed the top of his head, soft and lingering. “There you go. That’s better. Just breathe with me, yeah? You’re safe now.”

Leo let his eyes slip shut, clinging to the warmth, to the heartbeat thudding steady under his cheek. He could almost believe it—almost believe that maybe, just maybe, he’d

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Leo didn’t know how long he stayed pressed against Usagi’s chest, shivers slowly giving way to exhaustion. His body felt heavy, sluggish, but not from the cold anymore—this was grief dragging him under. When his breathing finally evened out, Usagi brushed a hand through his bandana tails and spoke gently.

“Think you can handle some food, babe? Just a little. Warm you from the inside, too.”

Leo’s throat worked, but his voice came out small. “…Yeah.”

Usagi pressed a kiss to his temple before slipping away, though not far—he was back within minutes, balancing a tray with a steaming bowl of dumplings and broth. The scent hit Leo immediately: ginger, garlic, soy, and the faint sweetness of cabbage. Comfort food. Mikey’s favorite. His stomach twisted.

“Eat,” Usagi urged, setting the tray on Leo’s lap and crouching beside the couch. “Doesn’t matter if it’s just a bite.”

Leo picked up a dumpling with trembling fingers, bringing it to his mouth. He bit down, the hot broth bursting across his tongue, the ginger biting through the haze. But after two chews his jaw slowed. His throat closed. He forced the mouthful down anyway, his stomach roiling.

“I can’t,” he whispered, lowering the chopsticks.

Usagi’s ears drooped, but he didn’t push. He took the tray back, setting it on the table, then returned to the couch and gathered Leo against him once more. “You don’t have to finish it. Just a little to keep you steady. I’m proud of you.”

The words unraveled something inside Leo. He pressed his forehead to Usagi’s shoulder, tears stinging his eyes again. His voice cracked as he finally let the story spill.

“Raph hates me.”

Usagi’s arms tightened, but he stayed quiet, letting Leo go on.

“He—he blames me for Mikey. For… everything. He said if I hadn’t sacrificed myself, Mikey wouldn’t have had to open the portal. That Mikey would still be alive.” Leo’s breath hitched. “And maybe he’s right. Maybe I should’ve been the one. But Mikey—he made that choice. He didn’t know.”

Usagi stroked the back of his head, silent.

“And now—” Leo’s voice wavered, thin and fragile. “Now I told them about the baby. I thought maybe it would help, maybe it would bring something good back into the family. But Raph… he—he threw me out. Said I was reckless. Selfish. Told me to go to hell.”

The words cracked open a fresh wound. Leo clutched Usagi’s cloak tighter, as though it could hold him together.

For a moment, only silence answered, filled with the distant hiss of the simmering pot in the kitchen. Then Usagi’s voice came, low and fierce. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Leo shook his head against his shoulder. “I don’t know if I deserve anything anymore.”

Usagi pulled back just enough to tilt Leo’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. His own were steady, dark with anger but soft with love. “Listen to me, Leonardo. Mikey made his choice. You made yours. None of that makes his death your fault. And this baby—our baby—doesn’t make you selfish. It makes you strong. Stronger than you think.”

Leo’s lip trembled. He tried to look away, but Usagi held him firm.

“You’re not alone in this,” Usagi whispered. “You’re never going to be alone again. Not while I’m here.”

The promise broke something open in Leo. Tears streamed freely now, hot and relentless, but for once he didn’t try to stop them. He leaned into Usagi’s touch, letting himself be held, letting the warmth soak into his frozen heart.

And for the first time since Mikey’s laugh had gone silent, Leo believed—just barely—that maybe he wasn’t beyond saving.

Chapter Text

The lair felt heavier than it had in years. Even after the invasion, even after Mikey’s sacrifice, even in the quiet that had followed, there had still been a sense of togetherness. But now, the air was thick with something harsher. Silence stretched, a silence full of jagged edges, and Raphael’s footsteps thundered against the tiles like the cracking of fault lines.

Donatello sat at the workbench, tools lying untouched. His hands clenched and unclenched, the way they always did when his brain was spinning faster than his tongue could keep up. He’d hardly slept; Splinter hadn’t either. They both kept listening for sounds that would never come — the soft shuffle of Leo’s feet, his sarcastic quips floating through the lair, the hum of his voice breaking tension. All gone now.

“Raph,” Donnie began, voice low but steady, “you know you overreacted last night.”

Raphael froze mid-step. His shell rose and fell with a sharp inhale, the sound like stone grinding together. He turned, and his eyes burned with something too raw for words. “Overreacted? Donnie, you don’t understand the pain I went through when Mikey started disintegrating right in front of my eyes! I was his oldest brother! His protector!” His fist slammed against the wall, rattling loose dust from the pipes. “I couldn’t save him. I watched him go, piece by piece.”

Donnie shot up from his seat, his calm veneer shattering. “I do understand, Raph! Don’t you dare act like you’re the only one who lost him. I was Mikey’s older brother too. We all were. We all watched him vanish, and none of us will ever forget it.” His voice cracked, brittle but sharp. “But you can’t just shut Leo out because of your grief! That won’t bring Mikey back, and you know it.”

For a heartbeat, Raph looked shaken — like Donnie had pierced through something. But then his face hardened, walls slamming back into place. “Forget it. Useless arguing with you.” His voice was rough with finality. With one furious motion, he shoved past Donnie, storming down the hall. The door to his room slammed so violently the walls vibrated, leaving an echo like thunder in his wake.

The silence afterward was almost worse than the yelling.

Splinter emerged from the shadows, his cane tapping lightly against the floor. His eyes, dulled with age and heavy with sorrow, flicked between the two sons still standing in the common area. “My boys,” he said softly, his voice fraying at the edges. “This family bleeds from wounds we do not know how to heal. But tearing away from each other will only deepen the cuts.”

Donnie’s hands shook as he raked them over his face. “Papa, he’s shutting Leo out completely. He doesn’t even want us to say his name. How are we supposed to fix this if he refuses to listen?”

Splinter lowered himself into a chair, his back curved with weariness. “I thought perhaps… I should go to Leonardo. Speak with him myself.”

Donnie immediately shook his head, panic flashing across his features. “No, Papa. It’s too risky. If Raph finds out—” He stopped, pressing his lips tight together before finishing. “Besides, we don’t even know where Leo is. He could be anywhere in the city. If we make a move and Raph sees it as betrayal… it’ll fracture us worse.”

Splinter exhaled slowly, as if the weight of centuries had settled on his shoulders. “My son is out there, carrying pain he should not bear alone. To be denied comfort in his hour of need…” His eyes glistened, the flicker of a tear catching in the low light. “It is unbearable to me.”

Donnie sat down across from him, voice softer now, though no less tense. “It’s unbearable for me too, Papa. I hate it. Every part of me is screaming to go find him, to make sure he’s okay. But if we lose Raph completely, this family might not recover. And then where does that leave Leo when he does come back? With nothing to return to.”

The two of them sat in silence, united in grief but divided in choice. The lair no longer felt like home — it felt like a tomb, haunted by voices missing and memories that replayed with no mercy.

Down the hall, behind his locked door, Raphael leaned against the wood, breathing hard. His fists were raw from hitting walls, his throat sore from yelling. But it wasn’t anger that burned him from the inside out — it was fear. Fear of losing again. Fear of letting someone close only to watch them vanish like Mikey had. And in that fear, he clung to rage, because rage at least gave him something solid to hold.

And so the lair remained in stalemate, every corner aching with what had been said — and all the words left unsaid.

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Morning crept into the Hidden City with a haze of neon glow from the lanterns strung outside Usagi’s apartment. The world beyond the windows hummed with the muffled chatter of markets, the hiss of street food stalls firing up, and the distant calls of vendors. But inside, the apartment was hushed, save for the occasional drip of pipes and the soft snore of the rabbit warrior curled beside his guest.

Leo stirred first. His stomach twisted in sharp knots, a churn that rolled up his throat without warning. He groaned, hand pressed flat against his plastron as he sat up on the couch. His body was warmer than it had been the night before — no longer that bone-deep chill that had made Usagi panic and wrap him tight in his fur. Still, the sudden rush of nausea forced him to his feet, stumbling toward the small bathroom down the hall.

“Leo?” Usagi’s voice was thick with sleep at first, then alarm as he heard the retching. He shot upright, ears twitching, and darted after him.

Leo was hunched over the toilet, bandana tails spilling forward as his body convulsed. His throat burned, his breath came in shudders, and humiliation flushed his cheeks even as his stomach refused to calm. “Ughhh… gross…” he rasped, voice muffled against porcelain.

Without hesitation, Usagi knelt behind him, gathering the blue fabric of his mask in one careful hand so it wouldn’t dip forward. His other hand rubbed slow, firm circles along Leo’s shell. “It’s okay, babe,” he murmured, voice steady, grounding. A soft chuckle slipped out — not mocking, but warm, a reassurance that this wasn’t something to be ashamed of. “You don’t scare me that easy.”

Leo coughed, spitting before slumping back against the wall. His chest heaved with each uneven breath, eyes squeezing shut. The damp air of the small bathroom clung to his skin, but his shivering had stopped. He wasn’t freezing anymore. That alone was a relief.

Usagi reached for the small shelf above the sink, pulling down a thermometer. He pressed it gently against Leo’s mouth, waiting until it beeped. “Much warmer,” Usagi confirmed, ears perking slightly with relief. “No more ice turtle tonight.”

Leo groaned, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. His pride wanted to brush it all off, to joke, to pretend this wasn’t happening. But his body betrayed him — weak, nauseous, vulnerable in a way he hated.

“I’ll get you some water,” Usagi said softly, brushing a thumb over Leo’s shoulder before standing. The rabbit padded into the kitchen, footsteps quick but light, and returned moments later with a glass. He crouched again, holding it out with both hands. “Small sips, okay? Not too fast.”

Leo hesitated, embarrassed, but took it anyway. The first sip hit his raw throat like heaven. He let the cool water linger in his mouth before swallowing, then went again. Usagi watched, coaxing with gentle nods until half the glass was gone.

“There you go,” Usagi said, taking the empty glass back. He sat beside Leo on the cool tile floor, leaning his shoulder lightly against the turtle’s. “You scared me last night, you know. You were so cold I thought I’d have to wrap you like a dumpling.”

Despite himself, Leo snorted weakly. “Guess I’d be a… blue dumpling.”

Usagi’s chuckle was soft but genuine, his hand finding Leo’s again. “Exactly. My blue dumpling. And I’m not letting you freeze again, not while I’m here.”

Leo’s eyes stung, though whether from the nausea or the affection, he couldn’t tell. He leaned his head against Usagi’s shoulder, exhaustion weighing heavy. For the first time since being thrown out, since hearing Raph’s voice spit words sharper than blades, Leo let himself relax. Just a little. Just enough to breathe.

And Usagi stayed right there, warmth radiating through his fur, steady as the promise he hadn’t spoken aloud yet: you’re safe with me.

Chapter Text

The Hidden City was never quiet, not really. Even in the hours before dawn, when most of its neon lights dimmed and the shops shuttered down, there was always a hum beneath the stone streets—something ancient, something restless. Yuichi Usagi had grown used to it over the years. The noise no longer unsettled him, but tonight, as he sat at the low table with a pot of tea cooling in front of him, his ears flicked at every faint sound from the other room.

Leo had been sick again.

Not violently, not as badly as that first awful night when he’d come stumbling into Usagi’s arms half-frozen, but sick in the quiet, steady way that gnawed at the edges of his strength. The sound of him coughing up bile in the bathroom still echoed in Usagi’s chest.

It wasn’t the sickness itself that rattled him—Usagi had faced bloodier, crueller battles than this, and Leo was a warrior hardened by scars. No, what unsettled him was the way Leo tried to laugh through it, to shake it off as if nausea burning his throat was nothing more than a stubbed toe. Like suffering was something he had to earn the right to complain about.

Usagi had followed him earlier, as he always did now, standing in the doorway of the tiny bathroom. He had held back the tails of Leo’s bandana, rubbed the ridges of his shell with steady circles until the spasms passed. When Leo had mumbled, “Gross,” and rinsed his mouth at the sink, Usagi had grinned and quipped, “Well, at least you’re not aiming for my sandals this time. Progress, babe.”

The joke earned a weak laugh, hoarse but real. It was enough.

Now, Leo was curled on the couch beneath a blanket, half-dozing with his head tilted back. Usagi stayed close, watching. Not hovering—Leo would hate that—but present, grounded, a sentinel who knew his place wasn’t the battlefield tonight but here, in this small apartment that had suddenly become the center of two worlds.

He lifted his teacup but didn’t drink. His hands were restless, his heart worse. For all his training in patience and balance, Usagi couldn’t stop the thoughts from circling: I’m a samurai. I swore my sword to honor, to justice, to my clan. I was not trained to be… this. To be someone’s anchor when their own family has cast them out.

Yet when he looked at Leo, pale in the low light, lips still tasting of bile, eyes shadowed but stubbornly bright, Usagi thought—No sword, no duty, no war has ever asked more of me. And nothing has ever mattered more.

His ears flicked when Leo stirred, groaning faintly as if fighting off a dream. Usagi set down his cup, leaning forward. “You okay there, love?”

Leo cracked one eye, gave a groggy smile. “Depends. Did I pass out drooling on your couch again?”

“You did,” Usagi said solemnly. Then he let his grin break through. “But don’t worry. I’ve started charging for laundry services. You owe me at least three dumplings per stain.”

Leo chuckled, the sound rough but warmer than any tea. “Dumplings again? You’re obsessed.”

“Correction,” Usagi replied, resting his chin in his hand as he studied him. “I’m obsessed with keeping you from vanishing like smoke, which means feeding you, whether you like it or not. The dumplings are just a bonus.”

Leo rolled his eyes but tugged the blanket tighter around his shoulders. His throat must still sting from the sickness—he hadn’t spoken much since coming out of the bathroom. Usagi noticed the way he swallowed, winced slightly, then tried to hide it.

He let it go. Not because he didn’t care, but because he did. Leo’s pride was a delicate thing, bruised enough already. Pushing would only make him retreat.

So instead, Usagi reached out, letting his fingers brush lightly over Leo’s hand where it clutched the blanket. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t trap him—just touched, grounding. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know. Not here. Not ever.”

For a moment, Leo just stared at their joined hands, silent. Then he whispered, “Yeah… I know.”

And Usagi believed he did.

Still, when Leo turned his face into the couch cushion, shoulders shaking once—whether from cold or from the memory of loss—Usagi pretended not to notice. He only sat back, ears tilting toward the window where the Hidden City hummed on, and thought again of the vow he hadn’t spoken aloud yet:

If your brothers cannot see you for what you are, then I will. If they cannot carry this with you, then I will. By blade, by breath, by love—I will.

And with that, Usagi let the silence settle, holding watch over Leo as dawn crept like pale fire into the Hidden City.

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Three months had passed.

Three months since Leonardo had walked out of the lair with only a bag over his shoulder and grief in his chest. Three months since Raphael had slammed the door on him, shutting out more than a brother — shutting out the chance for healing.

The lair carried that absence like a wound.

The kitchen, once alive with Mikey’s jokes and Leo’s half-baked puns, had fallen into a rhythm of silence. Plates clattered, silverware scraped, but no laughter filled the spaces between. Even Donatello’s steady hum of science-talk seemed quieter, as though he too had run out of words.

That morning, Splinter sat at the end of the table, fingers folded around a teacup that had long since gone cold. Donnie leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his mind clearly elsewhere. The hum of the fridge was louder than either of them.

Finally, Splinter spoke. “You have been counting the weeks, haven’t you?”

Donnie’s head lifted. His mask was shadowed from sleepless nights, but his eyes still sharpened. “Of course I have, Father. I’m a scientist, not a fool.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “By now… three months, give or take. First trimester almost over.”

Splinter’s ears lowered, his voice a whisper. “Three months of him alone.”

Donnie looked away. Alone. The word stuck in his throat like a bone. He adjusted his glasses, needing the motion to distract from the weight in his chest. “Not entirely alone,” he said carefully. “Leo’s resourceful. He knows how to take care of himself.”

The words rang hollow. He knew it, Splinter knew it. They both knew Leo was strong, yes, but not invincible. Not when carrying new life. Not when carrying the guilt of Mikey’s sacrifice and Raphael’s rage.

Donnie let out a breath. “Still. I keep running the math in my head, Father. Calories, hydration, metabolic stress, how the mutation might… complicate things. And without monitoring, without—”

His voice cut short at the sound of heavy footsteps.

Raphael entered, shoulders hunched, jaw tight. He didn’t look at them right away, just went for the counter and poured himself water. But his movements were too sharp, too deliberate, and Donnie’s stomach sank.

He’d been listening.

“Three months, huh?” Raph said finally, voice low but edged. He didn’t turn, didn’t even sip from the glass he held. “That’s how long you’ve been sittin’ around, whisperin’ behind my back?”

Donnie stiffened. Splinter’s ears flicked, his eyes closing briefly as if to steady himself.

“Raphael,” Splinter began softly.

But Raph wasn’t listening. He turned now, glaring across the table, eyes dark with something that burned hotter than anger and colder than hate. “You think I don’t hear you? Every night, talkin’ like maybe this… this pregnancy makes things better. Like maybe it replaces what we lost.”

Donnie pushed off the counter, slamming his palm down on the table. “Don’t you dare put words in my mouth, Raph.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Raph snarled, stepping closer. “You talk about him like he’s some miracle, like he’s not the same reckless idiot who got Mikey killed!”

“Enough!” Splinter’s voice cracked like a whip, but neither son flinched.

Donnie’s hands shook, but not from fear. His own anger rose, cutting sharp as any blade. “Leo didn’t do this to replace Mikey! You think I don’t miss him? You think I don’t hear his laugh in every corner of this lair? For shell’s sake, Raphael—we all lost him. But shutting Leo out doesn’t bring Mikey back, it just kills what’s left of this family.”

Raph’s breath hitched, fury and grief warring in his face. His fist clenched tight around the glass until it cracked in his grip, water spilling across the floor.

Splinter rose slowly, laying a hand on the table as if to ground the storm. “My sons…”

But Raph’s chest heaved, his voice breaking into a growl. “Forget it. You don’t get it. Neither of you.”

And before either could stop him, he stormed out of the kitchen, the slam of his door echoing down the halls like a final word.

Splinter stood frozen, his whiskers trembling. Donnie pressed both hands against the counter, his knuckles white. The silence afterward was worse than the shouting.

Because beneath all the fury, the three of them knew the truth:

The family was breaking, one piece at a time.

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The smell of dumplings still lingered in Usagi’s apartment, faint and comforting. The city outside hummed its endless chorus, but within these walls, the world had narrowed to a couch, a blanket, and the sound of Leonardo’s steady breathing.

For once, he wasn’t nauseous. For once, his stomach had accepted food without rebellion. The quiet peace of it should have soothed him. Instead, it made the silence feel too loud, too empty.

Leo rolled onto his side, staring at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell, but the weight pressing there wasn’t physical. His mind drifted where he didn’t want it to—back, always back.

He hadn’t meant to remember. Memories came like knives when you least expected them.

One night, months ago—no, a lifetime ago—the brothers had sprawled in the lair’s living room. Pizza boxes scattered across the table, soda cans littering the floor. The air had been thick with laughter and grease, and someone—probably Mikey—had suggested Truth or Dare.

Leo could still see it, as if the scene was painted in firelight: Donnie sitting cross-legged with his laptop beside him, half-distracted but still playing. Raph leaning back against the couch, smirking, arms crossed like he was too cool for the game but still very much in it. And Mikey, the youngest, grinning ear to ear, eyes sparkling with mischief.

It had been Mikey’s turn.

“Truth,” he’d said, wagging his brows like he had some great secret.

Raph had pounced on it immediately. “Alright, little man. Outta all of us—who d’you think’s most likely to end up a parent first?” His voice had been teasing, careless. Just a joke.

But Mikey hadn’t even paused. He’d turned, grinned, and pointed his slice of pizza straight at Leo.

“Easy. Leo.”

Leo remembered choking mid-bite, coughing as crumbs flew. “Dude?! Why me?!”

“Because, bro,” Mikey said, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “You give off those vibes. Responsible dad energy.”

“Responsible?!” Leo had wheezed, wiping sauce off his plastron. “I’m not responsible! I’m the guy who dives headfirst into portals without thinking!”

“Exactly,” Mikey shot back, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his slice. “That’s dad behavior, man! Risky, dumb, but like… totally full of love.”

Donnie had rolled his eyes, muttering something about skewed data samples. Raph had barked a laugh and shoved Mikey’s head playfully. Leo had turned red, sputtering, “I’d be the worst parent!”

The memory blurred there, dissolving into laughter, the sound of family alive and whole.

Leo’s throat burned as reality returned. His eyes stung before he could stop them. The couch blurred, the ceiling blurred, everything blurred, until his body curled in on itself. His hand drifted to his plastron, brushing where new life grew, and his chest ached so fiercely he could barely breathe.

He didn’t hear Usagi approach until the samurai settled beside him, silent, ears bent low in quiet understanding. Usagi didn’t ask. He didn’t press. He simply wrapped an arm around Leo’s shoulders, pulling him close, letting him bury his face against warm fur.

Leo’s sobs shook through him, raw and helpless. And Usagi held him as though he’d known, all along, that this was coming—that grief had no cure but witness.

Across the city, in the lair, Donnie sat alone in his lab. Screens glowed dimly around him, data scrolling he wasn’t reading. His hands hovered over the keyboard, motionless. His mind wasn’t here.

It was back there too. The pizza night. Mikey’s laugh. The way Leo’s face had turned red as they all teased him, Raph roaring with laughter, Splinter shaking his head fondly. Donnie remembered it too vividly—the exact pitch of Mikey’s voice when he’d said, “Leo, definitely Leo.”

And now, three months later, Mikey was gone. Leo was carrying a life inside him. And Donnie, logical, rational Donnie, found himself whispering to the empty room, “You were right, Mikey. You were always right.”

His hands trembled against the desk. His throat closed. And when his glasses fogged, he didn’t bother wiping them clear.

Because some memories weren’t meant to fade. Some burned, forever.

And in the spaces between grief and silence, the Hamato family—broken though it was—still carried echoes of laughter that would never die.

Chapter Text

Ten months had crawled by since the world collapsed.

Ten months since Michelangelo had laughed his last laugh, thrown his last smile, and burned bright enough to tear open the prison dimension to save his brother.

Ten months since Leonardo had been dragged, bloody and broken, out of that hell, only to vanish again into the world five months later—this time not stolen by war, but driven away by his own kin.

The Hamato lair was still standing. But it no longer felt alive.

The air was thick with damp, every corner dustier, every pipe a little rustier. The fridge hummed like an unwanted guest. The TV glowed dimly, throwing canned laughter into empty rooms. The kitchen smelled of leftovers no one touched.

The place had been built for four brothers, their sensei, and their noise. Now it felt like a cave carved out of grief.

Splinter spent most of his days in front of the television. His favorite old shows ran on loop, the jokes predictable, the endings familiar. Once, he had laughed at them wholeheartedly, whiskers twitching with mirth. Now, his chuckles were thin, forced, his eyes glassy. His sons rarely sat with him. He did not call them to train, or lecture, or even eat. He seemed to shrink further into his chair with each passing week, retreating into a comfort too shallow to heal.

Donatello filled the silence with work. His lab was lit at all hours, screens casting a harsh blue glow over his face. His hands shook sometimes from too much caffeine, too little sleep, but he never stopped. Not when the scanners failed. Not when the informants lied. Not when every tracker came up empty.

Five months. Five months since Leo had been thrown out with nothing but a bag, and Donnie had been chasing his shadow ever since.

He told himself the numbers didn’t lie. The Hidden City was vast, yes, but not infinite. Somewhere, some signal had to slip through. Somewhere, Leonardo was leaving a trail. Donnie only had to find it.

But the numbers never gave him what he wanted.

At two in the morning, his monitors sometimes reflected his own hollow eyes back at him. And then, in the dark, he’d whisper—not to the screens, but to the absence beyond them:

“Where are you, Leo?”

Raphael was the hardest to watch.

Most nights, he holed up in his room, the clang of weights reverberating down the hall. But when he emerged, it was usually to sit in Mikey’s old room, hunched before the altar they had built.

The shrine was overflowing now: Mikey’s favorite hoodie draped over a chair, his sketches pinned in uneven clusters, his video games lined like sacred texts. There was even an old pizza box, preserved despite its stale stench, because Mikey had once doodled a smiling sun on the cardboard.

Candles guttered on the floor, the wax running thick like rivers. Raph would sit for hours, staring at the altar as if trying to sear it into his memory. He rarely spoke. When he did, it was to mutter Mikey’s name, or whisper apologies no one else was meant to hear.

Donnie passed the room often. He never went in. It felt wrong, like trespassing on a wound Raph wouldn’t let close.

The three of them orbited one another without touching. Splinter with his shows. Donnie with his screens. Raph with his shrine.

It was survival, but it wasn’t living.

And under it all, the wound of Leonardo’s absence throbbed like a second scar, fresh and angry. They did not speak his name. Not at the table. Not in the halls. Only Donnie dared, and every time he did, the air turned sharp, as if even the lair itself refused to hear.

But tonight, Donnie couldn’t swallow the feeling of being alone…

The lair had always been messy. Piles of comics, half-eaten pizza boxes, Mikey’s endless clutter—it was their kind of chaos, the kind that made the place a home. But ten months later, the mess was different.

The comics stayed unopened. The pizza boxes gathered dust. The walls echoed too much when someone dropped a cup or opened a door. It felt less like a lair and more like a cavern carved into grief, every shadow too sharp.

Meals were the hardest.

The kitchen table had been made for six. Even when April visited, even when Casey Jr. stayed over, the heart of the family had always been the four brothers sitting shoulder to shoulder, Splinter watching from the head. Now, the table was a grave marker.

Splinter rarely joined them. He would sit in front of the TV with a small bowl of rice and eat in silence, the screen painting shadows on his face.

Raph didn’t eat much, either. He usually just sat at the table with food in front of him, untouched, arms crossed like a wall. Sometimes he carried his plate to Mikey’s room, placing it beside the altar as though his little brother might come back and eat it. By the time he retrieved it, the food was always cold, the smell sour.

Donnie ate standing up, one hand on his datapad, the other shoveling whatever he could manage into his mouth. His appetite was mechanical, a thing to keep the machine of his body running while his brain worked on the endless problem of Leo’s disappearance.

But in the quiet between bites, he noticed the details no one else would admit out loud.

The candles in Mikey’s room burned lower every day.

The pile of Raph’s weights grew more dented, as if they’d been thrown rather than lifted.

The fridge was too full for so few mouths.

And somewhere in the dark, an empty chair sat across from him at every meal.

Leo’s chair.

The first week after he left, Donnie had set a plate for him out of habit. Splinter hadn’t stopped him, but Raph had shoved it away with a snarl. After that, no one dared again.

But the absence lingered all the same.

Five months. Donnie counted them like heartbeats. Five months since he’d hugged Leo last. Five months since he’d seen that cocky smirk that hid too much pain. Five months since he’d watched Raph throw him out with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, shoulders squared even though his eyes shone.

And five months into a pregnancy Donnie had pieced together from timing, symptoms, and the fragments of overheard confessions.

He hadn’t told Raph outright yet. He wasn’t sure if Raph even remembered the timeline—or if he did, whether he chose to ignore it. But Donnie remembered. He always remembered. Numbers never lied, and Leo’s absence lined up too perfectly with his discovery.

Donnie knew what five months meant. What strain it put on the body. What dangers it carried. And Leo, for all his strength, wasn’t invincible.

Every night Donnie stared at his data screens, replaying the same thought over and over: He needs help. He needs us. And we’re not there.

That thought sat in his chest like a splinter he couldn’t dig out.

And as he sat in the kitchen that evening, datapad glowing on the table in front of him, he looked across at Raph’s hunched frame, arms crossed, food untouched—and he knew he couldn’t keep silent. Not anymore

The scrape of Donnie’s fork against the plate was the only sound in the kitchen. Across from him, Raph sat with his arms folded, the untouched meal between them cooling in the silence.

Donnie’s datapad blinked beside him, graphs and calculations glowing faintly. His hand hovered above the screen, but his focus wasn’t there. His eyes flicked to Raph—tense shoulders, clenched jaw, that storm brewing in his face that had never really gone away since Mikey.

It would’ve been easier to stay quiet. But easier wasn’t the same as right.

“Raph.” Donnie’s voice was low, steady, but it cut through the stillness like a blade.

Raph didn’t look up. “What.”

Donnie exhaled, then set his fork down. “It’s been five months.”

Finally, Raph’s eyes snapped to his. Narrow. Defensive. “Don’t.”

“I’m not asking for much,” Donnie pressed, refusing to shrink back. “Just… just to search for him. To make sure he’s okay. You don’t have to talk to him. You don’t even have to see him if you can’t stomach it. But we can’t keep pretending he’s not out there.”

Raph’s lip curled, a warning. “Pretending? You think I don’t know he’s out there?!” He slammed his palm on the table, the dishes rattling. “I know, Donnie. Every damn day, I know. And every day I remember why he’s gone in the first place.”

Donnie’s throat tightened, but he pushed forward. “You know he’s around five months pregnant now, right? He needs care more than ever.”

That landed like a blade between them. Raph flinched, eyes wide for a flicker of a second before his face twisted into something darker.

“Don’t you dare throw that at me,” Raph growled, voice rough. “Don’t you dare act like that changes anything. Reckless, selfish—he always was. Getting himself into this? It doesn’t replace Mikey.”

Donnie’s chair scraped back as he stood, anger boiling over. “Replace Mikey?!” His voice cracked, louder than he meant, but he didn’t stop. “That’s what you think this is? That Leo’s carrying a child because he wants to replace our brother?! You think so little of him—of us—that you believe that?”

Raph shot up, towering, fists shaking at his sides. “You don’t get it, Donnie—”

“I DO get it!” Donnie snapped, jabbing a finger at his chest. His voice trembled, but the fury in it kept him standing tall. “I was Mikey’s brother too! I held him in my arms when it happened! I saw the same thing you did! And you’re not the only one who lost him, Raph—you’re not the only one hurting!”

The air between them crackled. Raph’s breath came heavy, chest rising and falling like a caged animal. Donnie’s hands were clenched tight, his datapad screen still glowing behind him, the graphs and numbers irrelevant now.

“Then why the hell are you defending him?” Raph spat. “Why are you defending the one who started all this?!”

Donnie’s voice dropped, sharp and cold. “Because he’s our brother. And no matter how much you hate him right now, he still is. And he needs us.”

For a long moment, the only sound was their breathing—the ragged fury of two brothers tearing open wounds that never had time to heal.

Then Raph let out a harsh laugh, bitter and broken. “Useless arguing with you.” He shoved past Donnie, the slam of his door moments later shaking the walls.

Donnie stood frozen in the kitchen, the echo of the slam ringing in his ears. He sank back into his chair, pressing his palms hard against his eyes, willing himself not to break.

The table between them sat cold, the food untouched.

And Leo’s empty chair stayed empty.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The apartment was alive tonight. Steam curled from the kitchen, fragrant with garlic, ginger, and chives, and the soft golden glow of the lights made the whole space feel like a refuge from the damp, lonely tunnels Leo had left behind.

He stood at the counter, sleeves pushed back, carefully folding dumplings one by one. His fingers were clumsy compared to Usagi’s, but he was determined to get it right. The flour dusting on his scales made him look half like a chef and half like a battlefield casualty. He muttered under his breath each time a dumpling sagged wrong, then tried again.

“You’re scaring them into submission, ninja,” Usagi teased from across the room, ears twitching with amusement. He was drying the dishes from earlier, a towel flung over his shoulder like it belonged there.

“Not scaring,” Leo said with mock solemnity, pinching the edges of a dumpling tighter. “Disciplining. Gotta show these dumplings who’s boss.”

Usagi’s laugh was bright and full, echoing through the apartment like sunlight on stone. “Poor dumplings. They never stood a chance.”

Leo grinned despite himself, shaking his head. For the first time in months, the weight pressing on his chest felt lighter.

By the time the dumplings were steaming in the bamboo basket, Usagi had drifted into the kitchen, pretending to be helpful but mostly just hovering near Leo. He leaned casually against the counter, ears angled forward, eyes fixed on Leo with a softness that made the turtle’s skin prickle.

Leo glanced sideways. “You’re staring, samurai.” His tone was teasing, but heat crept up the back of his neck.

Usagi didn’t flinch. In fact, he stepped closer, slipping his arms around Leo’s waist. His palms rested against the gentle swell of Leo’s bump, warm fur brushing cool scales. He pressed in just enough that Leo could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing against his shell.

“Nope,” Usagi said simply, voice low. “Just enjoying the view, ninja.”

Leo nearly dropped the dumpling he was holding. His cheeks flushed hot, and he gave a halfhearted glare. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re beautiful,” Usagi countered, quick as a blade, kissing the curve of Leo’s jaw before pulling back just enough to smirk.

Leo’s blush deepened, but he leaned into the touch anyway, letting the moment wash over him. For the first time since Mikey, warmth flooded through him without immediately being chased by guilt.

Dinner was clumsy but perfect. The dumplings were uneven, some bursting at the edges, but Usagi ate them like they were treasures. Leo rolled his eyes when Usagi made exaggerated moans of delight after every bite, but the sound of their laughter filled the room more than the food did.

Later, they cleaned together—Leo wiping the counters while Usagi darted behind him to swipe at spots he “missed,” laughing every time Leo swatted him with the dish towel. It ended with Usagi scooping him around the waist, hands once again brushing the bump as he spun him clumsily across the kitchen floor.

“No music?” Leo asked breathlessly, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t need music,” Usagi replied, twirling him until they were both dizzy. “I’ve got you.”

They collapsed onto the couch in a heap, laughing until their sides ached. The movie playing on the TV was forgotten as Usagi tucked Leo under his arm, pulling him close, ears flicking lazily.

But as the laughter faded, Leo shifted with a small wince. His hand went to the small of his back, rubbing absently at the sore muscles beneath his shell.

“Back pain again?” Usagi asked, already sitting up straighter, concern etched across his features.

“Yeah,” Leo admitted, trying to wave it off. “Feels like I’m carrying a boulder back there.”

“Not on my watch.” Usagi slid behind him, large hands firm and gentle as they pressed against the lower curve of his shell. His thumbs moved in small circles, working into the knots with surprising care.

Leo melted instantly, head dropping forward with a groan. “Ohhh, yes. Right there. Don’t stop.”

Usagi chuckled, amused at how quickly the sarcasm had drained out of him. “You’re bossy even when you’re melting, ninja.”

“Shut up,” Leo mumbled, though the words were half-slurred from bliss. He guided Usagi’s hands slightly lower, tilting his shell just so. “There. That’s where it hurts most.”

Obliging, Usagi kneaded the sore spot with patient rhythm until Leo’s breath steadied, the tension unwinding from his frame. He rested his chin against the back of Leo’s shoulder, murmuring softly, “Better?”

Leo sighed, eyes fluttering shut. “You have no idea.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy like it had been in the lair. Here, it was soft. Comfortable. Safe.

But when Leo’s hand drifted instinctively to his stomach, the curve of his bump beneath his palm, his smile faltered. Mikey’s voice came back, teasing and warm: “Leo would be the parent, definitely Leo.” The memory stung like a bruise pressed too hard.

Usagi felt the shift, but he didn’t pry. He just tightened his hold, hands steady and warm against Leo’s back.

“You’re allowed to miss him,” Usagi murmured. “And you’re allowed to be happy now, too.”

Leo swallowed thickly, blinking fast. He leaned back into the rabbit’s chest, letting the warmth of his hands and the rhythm of his breath quiet the ache inside.

A baby on the way. A samurai partner who cherished him. Laughter, warmth, a home filled with life.

What more could a red-eared slider want?

Chapter Text

The kitchen was quiet, save for the low hum of the fridge and the faint drip of a faucet Splinter had been meaning to ask Donnie to fix for weeks. Silence had settled over the lair so thick it felt like dust—unmoving, heavy, clinging to everything it touched.

Donatello sat at the table, a mug of untouched coffee cooling beside his hand, dark circles carved beneath his eyes. Across from him, Master Splinter flipped through a worn stack of old VHS tapes, pretending to be invested in which film he would watch next, though his gaze kept drifting toward the doorway. They were waiting. They always were, these days.

The sound of heavy footsteps finally broke the stillness. Raph entered, shoulders hunched, eyes storm-dark, muttering something under his breath as he rummaged in the fridge for leftovers.

Donnie’s jaw tightened. He’d been biting his tongue for days—weeks—and he couldn’t anymore. “Raph,” he said, his voice firm but edged with restraint, “we need to talk.”

Raph didn’t even glance back. He slammed the fridge shut with a grunt, a plate clutched in one hand. “Not now, Dee.”

“Yes, now,” Donnie snapped, standing up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor, the sound slicing the silence. “You can’t keep pretending this doesn’t matter. That he doesn’t matter.”

Raph froze mid-step, shoulders tightening. Slowly, he turned, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t start this again.”

“You think I want to?” Donnie’s hands curled into fists at his sides. His voice cracked with frustration, words spilling faster now that the dam had burst. “You think I enjoy begging you every day just to consider searching for him? He’s out there, Raph. Alone. And you’re here, rotting yourself from the inside out because you’re too damn stubborn to admit you overreacted.”

Raph’s lip curled, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Overreacted? You call what he did a mistake I should just forgive and forget?” His fist slammed down on the counter, rattling the silverware. “He doesn’t deserve—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Donnie’s voice thundered, louder than Raph had ever heard from him. His glasses slid down his nose, but he didn’t bother pushing them back up. His eyes burned. “He’s our brother, Raph! He’s your brother! You can hate his choices, fine—but you don’t get to erase him from this family!”

Splinter stirred at the table, quietly setting down his tapes, his gaze sharp and sorrowful.

Raph’s breathing was heavy now, chest heaving, muscles taut as a bowstring. “You don’t understand what it feels like—”

“I do understand!” Donnie cut in, voice cracking again. He jabbed a finger at Raph’s chest. “I watched it too, Raph! I watched Mikey go! We all did! You’re not the only one carrying that pain, so stop acting like the rest of us didn’t lose him too!”

The words hit like a slap. Raph’s nostrils flared, his hand tightening around the plate until it cracked in his grip.

“Red…” Splinter’s voice was soft, pleading. “Listen to your brother, he is right.”

But Raph shook his head violently, the storm in his eyes spilling into rage. “This is useless. You’ll never get it.”

He turned on his heel, storming toward the hall.

Donnie’s chest heaved as he shouted after him, voice raw, “He’s five months pregnant now, Raph! He needs care more than ever! And you’d rather bury your head in grief than admit you threw him away!”

Raph froze for just a heartbeat in the doorway, his back rigid. His hands trembled at his sides—but he didn’t turn around. Without another word, he shoved his way into the hall, footsteps echoing like thunder before a door slammed shut.

Silence returned to the kitchen. But this time, it wasn’t heavy with waiting. It was jagged, cutting, and it left the air cold.

Donnie stood there, chest heaving, teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. Splinter bowed his head into his hands. Neither spoke.

For the first time in months, Donnie didn’t just feel anger toward his brother. He felt fear. Fear of what Raph’s rage—and Leo’s absence—might finally break.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The city above was alive with light, but the Hidden City below was a shadowed world of its own. Lanterns swayed over narrow alleys, casting sickly glows on the uneven stone streets. Vendors shouted their wares, kids darted between stalls, and Yokai of every size and shape went about their evening as though the weight of the human world above meant nothing at all.

And through it all stormed Raphael.

He pushed past a group of frog Yokai without so much as an apology, his hood pulled low. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, knuckles aching from the blow he’d dealt the counter earlier. The echo of Donnie’s words still rang in his ears, sharp as broken glass: “Five months pregnant now, Raph! He needs care more than ever!”

“Care,” Raph muttered bitterly under his breath, jaw tight. “He didn’t care when Mikey—”

The thought splintered off before it could finish, buried beneath a growl. His chest heaved. He needed space. He needed air. He needed something other than the choking silence of the lair, the accusing eyes of Donatello, the disappointed sighs of Splinter.

But he didn’t get space.

The alley he turned into was darker, narrower. The lanterns here flickered as though the light itself didn’t want to linger. The hairs along Raph’s neck prickled, his instincts sharpening like blades.

Too quiet.

A shadow detached from the wall. Then another. Then three more.

By the time he reached the end of the alley, a half-dozen Yokai had stepped into view, their forms bristling with weapons—rusted pipes, jagged knives, claws that gleamed like obsidian under the dim light. Their eyes burned with the kind of hunger Raph knew all too well.

“Well, well,” one of them hissed, a lizard-like Yokai with a crooked jaw. “Look what wandered into our corner.”

Raph’s fists curled tight, teeth bared. “Bad night to be stupid.”

The first swing came fast. A pipe clanged against his forearm, but he shoved it away with a snarl and slammed his fist into the lizard’s chest, sending him sprawling. Another came at his back, claws slicing the air, but Raph ducked low and swept his legs out from under him.

It felt good, in a way—releasing the storm in his chest into something he could hit, something he could break. Each punch, each kick, each slam of muscle against bone was a release. For once, he wasn’t thinking about Leo. Or Donnie. Or Mikey.

But the Yokai kept coming. And Raph—already worn thin from sleepless nights and meals skipped—was slowing down.

A fist caught his jaw. His vision blurred. A blade slashed across his shoulder, hot blood blooming through the fabric of his hoodie. He staggered, breath rasping.

“Still standing, huh?” a bull-headed Yokai sneered, twirling a chain in his hands. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

The chain cracked against Raph’s shell with a sound that reverberated down the alley. His knees buckled. He forced himself up again, roaring, throwing another punch—but his aim faltered. His body wasn’t keeping up with his rage.

Another strike. His breath hitched. His legs gave way.

The last thing he saw before his vision tilted sideways was the lantern light above, flickering like it, too, might go out. Then the ground rushed up to meet him.

And Raphael, the unshakable pillar, the leader of the Hamato family, fell.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The Hidden City market was alive with color and sound, stalls brimming with produce, fabrics, and trinkets from every corner of Yokai life. The air carried the scent of sizzling dumplings and incense, laughter rising and falling like music between the narrow aisles.

Leo waddled alongside Usagi, one hand absentmindedly resting against the curve of his belly, the other clutching a bag of fresh greens. His gait had changed over the weeks, slower, careful, but Usagi matched him step for step without complaint, his ears flicking happily as he pointed out a vendor selling hand-carved toys.

“You don’t need another sword-shaped rattle,” Leo teased, rolling his eyes.

Usagi grinned, slipping an arm over Leo’s shoulder. “Maybe not. But our kid does.”

Leo’s cheeks warmed. He ducked his head, hiding a smile behind the edge of his bandana tails. For a moment—just one—it felt like everything ugly had been left behind. The grief, the anger, the fracture of family. Here, in this bustling corner of the city, there was only them.

Then the world shattered.

A body stumbled into the market square, crashing hard into the stone path just feet ahead of them. Gasps rippled through the crowd as vendors pulled their wares back from the splash of blood that followed.

Leo’s breath froze. The figure lay sprawled, his broad shoulders unmistakable even under torn fabric.

“Raph!” Leo’s voice cracked, breaking into a sob as he shoved the grocery bag into Usagi’s arms and waddled as fast as his body would let him. His legs felt too heavy, his hands shaking, but he pushed through the crowd until he dropped to his knees beside his brother.

Pain lanced through his joints from the crouch, but he didn’t care. His hands trembled as they cupped Raph’s face, slick with grime and blood. “Raph, open your eyes! Do not pass out on me, big man! I cannot carry your heavy ass!” His words tumbled out fast, desperate, voice climbing toward hysteria. “Wake up, please, just—wake up!”

Raph groaned faintly, lids fluttering, but his eyes rolled back, his breath ragged and shallow.

Leo fumbled for his phone, his vision blurred by tears. His fingers shook as he jabbed Donnie’s number. The line clicked.

“Dee—” Leo’s sob caught in his throat, but he forced the words out, panic cracking each syllable. “Dee! It’s Raph, he’s hurt! He’s near the marketplace, he’s bleeding bad, please—you have to come!”

“Leo—?!” Donnie’s voice came sharp, disbelief tangled with fear. “Stay there! I’ll be right—”

Leo barely heard the rest. He tossed the phone aside, pressing his trembling hands against a deep gash along Raph’s arm. His blood-streaked bandana tails dragged against the stone as he bent low, panic in every breath.

“Babe!” Leo shouted, his voice raw. “The medkit—in the bag! At least I can try to patch him until Donnie gets here! Hurry!”

Usagi snapped to attention, ears shooting upright. “On it!”

He fumbled with the grocery bag, hands scrabbling past vegetables and rice until he pulled out the battered medkit. His heart hammered as he shoved it into Leo’s hands, then crouched beside him, one arm wrapping protectively around Leo’s shoulders as if to shield him from the crowd’s stares.

Leo tore it open with trembling fingers, scattering bandages and antiseptic across the ground. His breathing was ragged, tears blurring his vision, but his hands moved with frantic precision as he pressed gauze against Raph’s wounds.

“Stay with me, Raph,” he whispered, voice breaking as he pressed down harder, blood soaking through the bandages. “Don’t you dare leave me too. I can’t—” His throat closed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I can’t lose you.”

Usagi pressed a steadying hand to Leo’s back, his other reaching to guide Leo’s frantic movements. “You’ve got him, love. You’ve got him. Just keep pressure—Donnie’s on his way.”

But Leo barely heard him. His whole world had narrowed to the broken giant at his knees, the blood seeping through his hands, and the desperate hope that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t too late this time.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Leo’s hands shook as he worked, blood smearing across his plastron and staining his fingers. The gauze was already soaked through, crimson blooming too fast, but he pressed harder, biting back a sob. His breath came in shallow gasps, chest heaving, the weight of his bump making it hard to crouch low enough. One hand clutched his belly protectively as the other tried to hold Raph’s life together.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, voice cracking, bandana tails damp with tears. “Not like Mikey… please, Raph…”

Usagi hovered close, his fur brushing against Leo’s arm, hands steady even as his eyes darted nervously over the gathering crowd. He reached to wipe sweat from Leo’s brow, murmuring softly, “Steady, my love. You’re doing it. He’s holding on because of you.” His words were gentle, grounding, a tether to keep Leo from spiraling too far into panic.

Then—footsteps, fast and pounding, cutting through the noise of the market.

“Leo!”

Donatello’s voice snapped through the chaos like lightning.

Leo’s head jerked up just as Donnie pushed through the circle of Yokai onlookers, his bo staff clattering against the stones as he dropped to his knees beside them. His eyes swept over Raph’s wounds, sharp and clinical even as they widened with fear. But what struck him harder—what knocked the air from his lungs—was the sight of his twin crouched there, tear-streaked and shaking, belly round beneath his hoodie, hands stained in their brother’s blood.

“Dee…” Leo choked, his voice small and breaking.

Donnie didn’t waste a second. “You did good, Leo,” he said firmly, pulling out his own advanced kit and snapping gloves over his trembling hands. “You kept him alive. I’ll take it from here.”

Leo nodded, swallowing hard, but his hands refused to leave Raph. It was only when Usagi gently pried them back, whispering reassurance, that Leo finally let go.

Donnie moved with efficiency, cleaning and stitching, stabilizing blood flow, securing pressure where Leo’s frantic patchwork had started. His face was a mask of focus, but every so often his jaw clenched, teeth gritting against the storm of emotions threatening to burst free.

Minutes stretched like hours. Then finally—Raph’s breathing evened out, shallow but steady.

Donnie sat back on his heels, chest heaving, gloves soaked. For a long moment, he stared at his brothers—the broken giant unconscious on the stone, and the smaller twin, clutching his belly with one hand and Usagi’s sleeve with the other, tears streaking down his cheeks.

Something inside Donatello cracked.

Without warning, he reached forward, wrapping his arms around Leo and pulling him into a fierce embrace. His voice broke into a ragged whisper against Leo’s shoulder:

“You have no idea how much I’ve been searching for you, lil’ bro.”

Leo froze, breath hitching. Then his arms slid around Donnie’s shell, clutching tight. His sobs came harder now, messy and unrestrained, muffled against his twin’s plastron. For the first time in months, the weight of exile, grief, and fear loosened—just enough to let him breathe.

Usagi rested a hand against Leo’s back, his steady warmth grounding them both.

The three of them stayed like that for a long, unspoken moment—clinging to the fragile truth that, no matter how fractured, the Hamato bond hadn’t shattered completely. Not yet.

Chapter Text

The steady beep of machines broke the silence. The sharp tang of antiseptic stung the air.

Raphael’s eyelids twitched, heavy as stone, but slowly—painfully—he pried them open. The hospital ceiling swam into focus, bright lights glaring down at him. His body ached, wrapped tight in bandages, every muscle screaming its protest.

A low groan rumbled from his throat.

“Raph?”

The voice was soft, careful, almost afraid to hope.

He turned his head, sluggish and slow, and found Donatello sitting stiffly at his bedside. Donnie’s posture was rigid, his face pale and drawn, but his eyes burned sharp, locked on him like he was afraid to look away.

And next to him—Raphael froze.

Leonardo sat there, perched nervously on the edge of his chair, one hand instinctively pressed against the curve of his belly. His eyes were red-rimmed, tracks of dried tears cutting down his cheeks. The bandana tails that once always flicked with cocky bravado now hung limp, weighed down by months of grief.

For a moment, Raph thought he was still dreaming. That the ambush had ended differently and this was some cruel trick of the afterlife. But then Leo blinked, and his eyes softened, and his lips trembled as he whispered:

“Raph… you’re awake.”

The words pulled something sharp in Raphael’s chest. He tried to push himself up, but a hiss escaped through his teeth as pain lanced through his side. “Ugh… what the hell happened?” His voice was raw, gravelly, as though he hadn’t spoken in years.

Leo leaned forward, one hand twitching as if to reach for him but stopping halfway. “You—you were ambushed. In the Hidden City. We found you.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, gaze darting briefly toward Donnie. “Dee patched you up.”

Raphael blinked, his memory slotting pieces together—the chain, the blows, the lantern light flickering out as darkness swallowed him whole. He clenched his fists against the sheets, shame flooding hot and bitter.

Before he could speak again, Leo shifted awkwardly in his chair. His hand tightened over his bump, and his eyes lowered. “I… I should go. You’re safe now, and… I should head home.” He started to rise, his movements slow, careful, like even standing was a task.

“Wait.”

Raph’s voice was hoarse, but it cut through the sterile air like a blade. His hand twitched against the sheets, reaching out, not quite touching but pleading all the same. “Leo—don’t. Stay. Please.”

Leo froze, caught mid-motion. His eyes flicked to Donnie, who said nothing, only watching him with a tension that vibrated in the silence.

Raph swallowed hard. His pride clawed at his throat, but he forced the words out anyway, each one scraping raw. “I… I wanna apologize. For everything. For the way I treated you.” His voice cracked, and he looked away, unable to face Leo’s gaze. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Leo’s lips parted, breath shuddering in and out. For months, he had dreamed of hearing those words. For months, he had cursed Raph in the silence of Usagi’s apartment and cried into his pillow for the brother who had cast him aside. And now, here they were, small and broken but real.

He managed a small, trembling smile. “It’s okay, Raph.”

The room seemed to loosen, just slightly. For the first time in months, there was a thread of peace. Fragile, but there.

Then Leo added softly, almost too soft to hear: “But I really do have to go. Usagi’s waiting for me.”

The words hung in the air like a flare in the dark.

Both Donnie and Raph stiffened. Their heads snapped toward him in unison, eyes narrowing, voices dropping low.

“Leo…” Raph’s tone was gravel, heavy and dangerous. Donnie’s followed, quieter but edged with steel. “…who’s Usagi?”

Leo’s heart lurched. He cursed himself silently, the slip of his tongue unraveling everything he’d tried to protect. He forced a shaky laugh, already moving toward the door as quickly as his body allowed. “Nice chatting, guys. Gotta go. Bye!”

He waddled fast—faster than Donnie thought possible with the curve of his belly—but before he could make it to the door, Donnie’s hand shot out. He caught Leo’s wrist, not harsh, but firm enough to keep him there.

“Leo,” Donnie said, his voice low, no longer sharp but painfully earnest. “Who is it? I’m not angry. I just want to know. As your older brother. Please.”

Leo’s shoulders sagged, breath shuddering. He stared at the floor, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. For a long, heavy moment, the only sound was the steady beep of Raph’s monitor.

Finally, he lifted his gaze, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“…He’s my boyfriend.”

The silence that followed was heavier than anything Leo had ever known.

Donnie’s grip slackened, his eyes wide, searching. Raph’s jaw clenched, his expression unreadable, a storm gathering behind his gaze.

And Leo—Leo stood frozen, heart hammering, wishing desperately he could melt into the floor and vanish.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The silence after Leo’s confession stretched on too long. Too sharp. Too dangerous.

Raphael sat up straighter, the heart monitor next to him spiking as his pulse thundered. His eyes blazed with a mixture of disbelief and fury, hands clenching the hospital blanket so tight his knuckles went white.

“Your what?” His voice was low, the kind of tone that usually came right before a storm.

Leo flinched, his hand flying instinctively to his stomach, protective, defiant, both at once. He forced himself to meet his brother’s glare. “I said—he’s my boyfriend.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Raph’s voice rose, gravel shredding every word, “you went and got yourself knocked up by some guy we don’t even know about?! Some stranger?! While Mikey—while everything else was fallin’ apart—”

“Don’t,” Leo snapped, the word cutting like a blade. His voice wavered, but the steel beneath it surprised even him. “Don’t you dare drag Mikey into this.”

Raph’s nostrils flared, his whole body straining against the stitches holding him together. “Then explain it to me, Leo! Explain how the hell you thought this was okay! Five months, and you didn’t think to tell us? You just ran off—”

“I didn’t run off!” Leo’s voice cracked, and tears welled hot in his eyes. “You kicked me out! You told me to get out of your sight, remember? You made it very clear I wasn’t wanted!”

The words hit harder than any blow. Donnie shifted uncomfortably at Leo’s side, his hand half-raised as though to intervene, but the fire between the two was too consuming.

Raph shook his head, teeth gritted so hard his jaw ached. “So your answer to that was shacking up with some guy? Letting him in when you knew damn well we were all broken? You didn’t think maybe your family should meet him first?”

Leo’s hands trembled against his bump, his tears spilling over now. “I didn’t need your permission to love someone, Raph! For once in my life, I chose something for me, and I’m not gonna apologize for it!”

“Leo—” Donnie started, but the tension snapped before he could get further.

The door creaked open.

“Blue?”

All three turtles froze.

Splinter stood at the threshold, leaning on his cane, his small frame trembling. His eyes were wide, wet with unshed tears, his whiskers twitching as though he didn’t believe what he was seeing. His voice broke, the way it hadn’t since Mikey’s funeral.

“Is that you?”

Leo’s head whipped around, his breath catching in his throat. “Papa?”

In an instant, the rage and fire melted. His tears spilled freely as he stumbled a step toward him. “Papa—”

“Oh… my baby Blue,” Splinter whispered, his cane clattering to the floor as he shuffled forward, his arms reaching out. He cupped Leo’s face in his old, trembling hands and pulled him close, pressing his forehead to his son’s. “I have missed you so much.”

Leo choked on a sob, clutching his father tightly, burying his face in his robe. The world outside that embrace fell away, if only for a moment.

Then Splinter’s gaze lowered. His hand brushed lightly over Leo’s bump. A soft smile tugged at his lips. “And how is Usagi? Is he taking care of you?”

The hospital room detonated.

“YOU KNEW ABOUT USAGI?!” Raph and Donnie roared in unison, their voices rattling the walls.

Splinter blinked, ears twitching in confusion. “Of course,” he said simply, as though it were obvious. “Leonardo told me about him one day. I noticed my son was happier than usual, and I asked. He spoke of Usagi with such fondness I could see it was love.”

Donnie whipped toward Leo, betrayal stinging sharper than any blade. “You told Papa but not me?”

Raph’s fists slammed against the bedrail, his monitor spiking again. “You trusted him but not your own brothers?!”

Leo pulled away from Splinter, tears flooding anew, his chest heaving. “Because he listened!” His voice cracked with anguish. “Because he didn’t look at me like I was a mistake! Because I couldn’t take hearing one more word about how I wasn’t enough, or reckless, or selfish!”

The room shook with their voices, three brothers and their father standing in the center of years of grief, love, and rage colliding at once.

And through it all, Leo’s hand never left his belly.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The shouting hadn’t settled yet. The air still stank of anger, grief, and disbelief. Raph was half-risen out of his bed despite the IV tugging at his arm, Donnie’s hands twitching like he wanted to throttle someone, and Splinter stood caught between his sons, his cane on the floor, his old heart threatening to break a second time.

Leo’s chest heaved, his hand gripping his stomach like it was the only anchor keeping him upright. His tears streaked his face, and his throat ached raw from arguing. He wanted to vanish. To run. But there was no running anymore, not with five months of life cradled inside him.

The door swung open.

“Babe?”

The voice cut through the chaos like a blade through silk. Calm. Steady. Familiar.

Usagi stepped into the room, ears perked, dark eyes immediately softening when they landed on Leo. He moved with purpose, not hesitation, as if the roaring storm inside the hospital chamber meant nothing compared to the turtle swaying on his feet.

“Babe, we have to go,” Usagi said gently, already striding toward him. “Your checkup. Remember?”

Leo wiped his face with the back of his hand, trying to pull himself together, but his knees buckled the moment he shifted. He laughed weakly through a sob. “I’m coming, I just—ugh—need help standing.”

Before Donnie or Raph could react, Usagi was at his side. In one smooth motion, he slipped an arm around Leo’s waist and steadied him, his other hand resting against the small of Leo’s shell with quiet familiarity. Leo leaned into him, sagging like a man finally allowed to rest.

“Easy,” Usagi murmured, his tone tender but laced with steel. “I’ve got you.”

The room went dead silent.

For the first time, Raph and Donnie truly saw him—not just a name, not just a shadow. The tall samurai rabbit, armor traded for casual clothes, standing with his brother like he’d been part of their family for years.

Usagi adjusted his hold, then turned his head. His gaze met Splinter’s.

And then—without hesitation—he bowed. A deep, respectful bow, one hand pressed over his heart.

“Master Splinter,” he greeted quietly.

Splinter’s lips trembled, his eyes shining again as he bent down just enough to return the gesture with the gravity of an old warrior. “Usagi,” he said softly. “Thank you for protecting my son.”

Leo clung to Usagi, silent tears spilling down his cheeks again, this time not from rage or fear but from the relief of being seen, of being held.

Behind them, Raph’s breath came harsh and jagged, torn between fury and shock, while Donnie’s wide eyes flickered with something more complicated—hurt, yes, but also the tiniest flicker of relief that someone, at least, had been there for his twin.

But no one spoke. Not yet.

Because in that moment, the truth no longer hid in whispers or shadows. It stood in the room with them, ears tall, arm steady, heart unwavering.

Usagi was real.

And Leo had chosen him.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The hospital hallway smelled faintly of antiseptic and warm metal, but to Leo, it felt almost comforting, grounding him in the midst of the storm that still clung to his chest. His hand rested over his bump as he walked, supported gently by Usagi. Each step was careful, deliberate, his body reminding him that this little life inside deserved caution, love, and attention.

Donnie followed close behind, eyes flicking between Leo and Usagi like a hawk, trying to reconcile the peaceful confidence in Usagi’s movements with the tidal wave of questions crashing in his mind. Raph had stayed behind in the room, still processing, still coiled with restrained anger and disbelief—but this was Leo’s moment, and Donnie wasn’t about to interrupt his twin.

“Leo, wait,” Donnie started as they entered the examination room, “before we—uh, before they start, I just… I need to know.” His voice was low, careful, almost apologetic as he glanced at Usagi. “How… how long have you two been together?”

Leo squeezed Usagi’s hand briefly, his heart racing. Usagi didn’t flinch. Instead, he straightened, ears twitching confidently.

“Three years,” Usagi said quietly, smoothly, meeting Donnie’s gaze without hesitation. “We’ve been careful, responsible, and—” he cast a warm glance at Leo, “—we take care of each other. Always.”

Donnie blinked, processing. His jaw worked. Then came the next question, quicker, sharper. “So… all this time, he’s been… your boyfriend? And this,” he gestured gently at Leo’s bump, “is… yours together?”

“Yes,” Usagi said simply. “He’s my partner. And this,” he tapped lightly against Leo’s side, “is our child.” His voice didn’t waver, didn’t falter, and yet it held a warmth that seemed to fill the sterile room with something like calm.

Leo pressed closer, allowing himself a shaky breath, letting Usagi’s confidence anchor him. The tears from earlier had faded into a quiet shiver of relief and awe—this was his life now, messy and terrifying and beautiful.

The nurse arrived just then, greeting them with professional warmth. “Alright, Leonardo,” she said, motioning to the examination table. “We’ll start with the usual checkup, then we’ll do an ultrasound.”

Leo swallowed hard and moved toward the table, Usagi gently helping him onto it. His fingers rested instinctively over his bump, feeling the subtle curve, the soft movement of the life inside. He took a steadying breath, glancing at Usagi, whose hand brushed over his shoulder, offering silent reassurance.

Donnie stayed close, hovering just behind them. He glanced at Usagi once, suspicion and protectiveness still tangled in his gaze, before shifting his attention fully to Leo. “You okay?” he asked softly.

Leo gave a small nod. “Yeah… just a little nervous. But…” His voice caught. “It’s okay. I’ve got him.” He nodded toward Usagi, whose eyes met his with unshakable warmth.

The checkup progressed, each procedure gentle, precise. Usagi whispered small jokes, nudging Leo to relax, making him laugh softly despite the thrum of tension in his chest. The ultrasound machine whirred to life, the screen flickering, and the first glimpse of their child appeared.

Leo gasped, hand trembling over the monitor. A small shape, a tiny heartbeat flickering steadily. Tears pooled in his eyes again, but this time they were tears of wonder, of relief, of joy that seemed impossible after months of grief.

“It’s… it’s healthy,” the nurse said warmly. “Strong heartbeat. Everything looks perfect.”

Leo exhaled shakily, leaning into Usagi’s side as Donnie observed silently. His little brother’s face softened, a rare, small smile breaking through the worry lines. “You really… you really took care of him,” Donnie murmured, glancing at Usagi. “I can see why he… why you’re so important to him.”

Usagi inclined his head respectfully. “I promised him, and I mean it. He comes first. Always.”

Leo reached over, gripping Usagi’s wrist with both hands, the simple touch grounding him, reminding him that this was his life now—full of both grief and joy, loss and hope. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to feel that maybe, just maybe, everything could be alright.

The ultrasound continued, the soft bleeps and the flickering screen filling the room with life, warmth, and a fragile sense of peace amid the storm that still raged outside the walls.

Chapter Text

The Hidden City market was alive in a way that sometimes overwhelmed Leo’s senses. Lanterns bobbed overhead in shades of gold and scarlet, their glow spilling onto cobblestones still damp from the earlier rain. Vendors barked from every corner, waving skewers dripping with spice, baskets brimming with fruit that glowed faintly in the dark. The air was thick with fried oil, incense, and the metallic tang of too many bodies moving at once.

For Usagi, it was easy to navigate—his tall frame cutting effortlessly through the crowd, his stride steady and brisk like a soldier who knew exactly where he was headed. For Leo, who carried not just the weight of the crowd but the five-month curve pressing outward from his shell, each step took conscious effort. His hips protested, his back ached sharply, and every few strides, his breath caught just enough to remind him how much harder walking had become. One hand braced at the small of his shell, the other curved protectively over the swell of his stomach, Leo trailed behind, fighting not to grimace.

Usagi glanced over his shoulder, ears twitching, and smirked. “C’mon, ninja, are we getting home tonight or do I need to rent a room halfway there?”

Leo squinted, lips twitching despite himself. “Ha. Ha. Hilarious, samurai. Truly. Don’t quit your day job.”

“Oh, but this is my day job,” Usagi shot back easily, eyes gleaming. “Protecting you, annoying you, keeping you on your toes.” He tapped his temple with a finger, then grinned wider. “I’m just naturally talented.”

“You’re naturally insufferable,” Leo corrected, shifting his weight as he tried to quicken his pace. His breath already felt heavier, though he fought not to show it.

Usagi tilted his head, pausing just long enough to let his grin turn sly. “Or maybe I’m just a fun-guy.”

Leo stopped dead, staring flatly at him. “…Did you seriously just make a mushroom pun?”

“Sure did.” Usagi’s nose twitched smugly. “Don’t worry, I’ll cap it off right there.”

Groaning loud enough to make a vendor pause mid-sale, Leo dragged his palm down his face. “I swear, Usagi, keep that up and I will burn dinner tonight.”

That made the rabbit spin around, clutching his chest in mock horror. “Not the dumplings! You wouldn’t dare commit such a crime.”

“Try me,” Leo threatened, voice flat but his eyes glinting.

The two locked gazes like duelists across a battlefield, Leo wobbling slightly from the effort of standing his ground while Usagi held his act of devastation, ears drooping dramatically. A beat passed, then another, until Leo broke first with a breathless laugh. The sound cracked, half genuine, half choked from exertion, but it softened the tension between them.

“Don’t test me,” Leo said again, smirking even through his fatigue. “I’m perfectly capable of ruining dumplings out of spite.”

“Not my dumplings,” Usagi replied, narrowing his eyes, though his lips tugged up in a smile. “Have mercy, ninja.”

The smile didn’t last long for Leo. His next step dragged harder than it should have. The laughter faded into silence, his face pinching as his hand pressed tighter against his lower back. His breaths came quicker, less controlled, and he cursed silently that his body betrayed him so openly.

Usagi caught it instantly. His smirk slipped into something gentler, his pace slowing until he fell in step with Leo. Without making a show of it, he reached for Leo’s hand, threading their fingers together and steadying him with the other hand pressed against his shell.

“You’re pushing too hard,” he said softly, his earlier joking cadence gone.

“I’m fine,” Leo muttered, though the rasp in his voice made it a poor lie. “Just… a little tired.”

“You’ve been tired since breakfast.” Usagi squeezed his hand, his thumb brushing over the calluses there. “And that’s fine. You don’t have to prove anything. I’d rather walk slow with you than drag you through the street like some stubborn turtle who refuses to admit his limits.”

Leo rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged faintly at his mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Usagi leaned close enough for their foreheads to brush, warmth bleeding from him into Leo’s chilled skin, “you love me.”

Leo huffed a laugh that trembled more than it should. “Keep running your mouth, samurai, and I’ll make sure the dumplings don’t survive tonight.”

Usagi gasped so dramatically a child across the street pointed and giggled. “Heartless. Absolutely heartless.”

“You’ll live,” Leo shot back, and for a moment, the world around them blurred into nothing more than the warmth of Usagi’s hand and the glow of lanterns overhead.

But even with the banter, Usagi noticed. He noticed how Leo’s breathing grew heavier with every block, how his steps shortened until he practically waddled, how sweat beaded at the edge of his bandana. He didn’t comment this time. He only slowed further, letting Leo set the pace. He kept his arm firm against Leo’s back, bearing as much of his weight as Leo allowed, guiding him past the crowd with a patience that spoke louder than any words.

“You’re worth every slow step,” he murmured at last, just low enough for Leo to hear.

Leo’s chest clenched at that, heat flooding his cheeks. He wanted to make another smart remark, wanted to threaten to torch dinner again, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he let the silence settle between them, his fingers tightening slightly around Usagi’s hand. For a few precious minutes, it was enough.

And then the shout cut through it all.

“Leo—wait!”

The voice cracked down the crowded street, raw and desperate, scattering the fragile calm they’d built. Both Leo and Usagi turned sharply, eyes widening as a familiar figure sprinted toward them. Donnie, staff clutched in one hand, gasping for breath, eyes wild with something between hope and terror.

Leo froze, every muscle locking tight. His hand flew instinctively to his bump, shielding it, while his chest heaved like the air had been punched from him. His throat closed around his brother’s name before he could force it out.

Donnie skidded to a stop a few feet away, panting hard, gaze locked on Leo as if he might disappear if he blinked. “Leo,” he rasped, his voice already breaking. “You’re… you’re really here.”

Leo’s whole body trembled. He swayed on his feet, and Usagi’s arm was the only thing keeping him upright.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Leo’s knees were still unsteady from the weight of his body and the gentle strain of his growing belly, but Usagi held him steady, wrapping his arms lightly around Leo’s middle as the market buzzed around them. Donnie’s eyes, wild with desperation, didn’t leave him for a second. Each step the younger twin took felt like walking on a tightrope, balancing exhaustion, relief, and the raw ache of missing months of family life he couldn’t get back.

“I… I shouldn’t have—” Donnie started, voice breaking mid-sentence as he swallowed hard, throat tight. His staff hung limply at his side, useless now against the flood of emotion. “I shouldn’t have let you go, Leo. We should’ve been there. I—I was supposed to keep you safe. I was supposed to… fight for you like a good older twin, and I failed. I failed you.”

Leo’s chest tightened. The words carried all the weight of Donnie’s guilt, and Leo could feel it pulling at the small place in his heart that still hurt for Mikey. But it was tempered now with gratitude and, yes, even joy at seeing Donnie here, standing in the glow of the lanterns, finally present.

“Dee,” Leo said softly, voice low and laced with exhaustion, “it’s okay. Really. I… I’m fine now. I’ve got Usagi with me, and I’m happy.” His eyes flicked to the rabbit beside him, feeling the warmth and steadiness of Usagi’s hands against his shell. “You don’t need to keep apologizing.”

Donnie’s gaze faltered, the tears he’d been holding back breaking free. “I… I just—” He stumbled forward suddenly, crossing the last few feet in a burst of emotion, and launched himself at Leo. The turtle barely had time to react before he was being enveloped in a crushing hug, Donnie burying his face in Leo’s shoulder and holding on like he might never let go.

“Dee!” Leo gasped, flailing a little as his free hand instinctively shielded his bump. “The… the bump, Dee!”

Donnie pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, tears streaking his face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t hurt you, right?” His voice was trembling, every word laced with fear.

“Nope,” Leo reassured him, voice shaking too, but gentle. “You’re good, Dee. Really.”

The embrace lingered for another heartbeat before Leo’s hands unconsciously rested on Donnie’s shoulders, guiding him back just slightly. “Hey… Dee,” Leo said, smiling through the tears now prickling his own eyes, “take care of Papa and Raph for me, yeah? Make sure they don’t completely fall apart while I’m… gone.”

Donnie sniffled, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. “God… you always find a way to take care of us, even if you’re not physically present, huh?” His voice cracked, but it carried awe and affection that made Leo’s chest swell. “Yeah… I’ll take care of them. Love you, little bro.”

Leo froze. Love me? The words struck him like a bolt of lightning. Donnie—the twin who so often seemed incapable of expressing emotion, the one who kept his feelings buried under layers of logic and sarcasm—just said I love you to him. Leo’s throat went dry, eyes wide with shock and something that felt dangerously like warmth flooding through his chest.

“Dee…” Leo whispered, voice trembling with disbelief and a shy kind of pride. “My… my older twin… saying ‘I love you’ to me? To me, Dee?”

Donnie chuckled softly through his tears, brushing a strand of wet hair from his eyes. “Yeah… I… I meant it, little bro. You’re… always looking out for us, even now. You’ve got your own life, your own… everything, and you’re still thinking of us.”

Leo felt his own lips curve into a shaky smile, heart pounding. “Well…” He let out a soft laugh, the weight of emotion pressing him down even as happiness flickered brightly beneath it. “Love you too, Dee.”

Donnie’s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected reciprocation, and then he squeezed Leo’s shoulders once more before stepping back, tears still shining in his eyes. “You… you really are amazing, Blue. Even when you’re tired, even with… everything going on. You’re incredible.”

Leo let out a long breath, leaning a little on Usagi as the rabbit’s hands still rested lightly against his lower back. “Thanks… Dee,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion and fatigue. “Really.”

The market noise faded around them, swallowed by the shared quiet and unspoken understanding. For a moment, the three of them simply stood there—Usagi steady at Leo’s side, Donnie finally breathing easier, and Leo… just feeling the relief of having his twin present, sharing in a connection he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for months.

This hug, this small reunion, didn’t erase the grief of Mikey’s absence, didn’t undo the tension of the past ten months, but for the first time in what felt like forever, Leo felt like they were truly a family again—even if fractured, even if bruised, even if some wounds were still raw.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Raph had been discharged under strict instructions to rest, leaving the lair quiet, almost hollow in comparison to the bustling energy it usually held. Leo and Usagi were only halfway home, the city streets glowing faintly under the lantern light. Normally, the walk from the hospital to Usagi’s apartment would have been short, but Leo’s careful, measured waddling slowed every step. The five-month bump pressed forward with a gentle, insistent weight, making it harder to keep balance, and his breath came a little heavier than usual.

“You’re really waddling tonight, ninja,” Usagi teased, falling in step beside him, sliding a hand lightly along Leo’s lower back. “Is it the bump, or are you just trying to make me wait?”

Leo flushed slightly but shook his head firmly. “Nope. I’m strategically walking… without tripping, samurai. Every step calculated. Totally necessary.”

“I see,” Usagi said with a grin, leaning down so he could press a soft kiss to Leo’s lips without forcing him to stretch or strain. “Strategic enough to slow the pace for me?”

Leo exhaled against the kiss, letting a small laugh escape despite the ache in his legs and lower back. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, then shifted a hand to rest against his lower shell. “This isn’t easy. Every step, every shuffle—five months in—my body’s trying to remind me I’m not invincible.”

Usagi’s eyes softened, his hand lingering on Leo’s side. “I notice,” he said, thumb brushing gently over the swell of the belly. “Every little movement. Every breath. And I get to help, which is kind of fun… even if you make it slow and dramatic.”

Leo gave a tired smile, leaning slightly into Usagi’s touch. “You enjoy this too much,” he murmured. “Watching me shuffle around like a very determined turtle.”

“I do,” Usagi admitted softly. “Every step. Every little shuffle. I get to be close to you, feel you breathing, and help if you need it. It’s perfect.”

Meanwhile, a few blocks back, Donnie marched back toward the hospital to sign Raph’s discharge papers. His thoughts refused to settle, racing with worry and relief and a desperate longing to see Leo again. “I have to know he’s okay,” he muttered to himself, picking up his pace. “I have to see him… check that he’s really safe.”

Raph groaned behind him. “Can’t you talk about something else, Dee?”

Donnie didn’t slow. “No. Not unless you let me visit him, Raph. Not unless you forgive him… for loving someone he genuinely loves.”

Raph stopped mid-step, arms crossed, jaw tight. “Is that what you want, Dee?”

“Of course,” Donnie said firmly. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. To see him smile again. To see him… alive and happy.”

Raph growled low in his throat, jaw tightening. “Fine. You can go. But don’t drag me into this. I’m not ready to face Leo again.”

Donnie’s chest swelled. Relief and excitement battled in his chest as he didn’t hesitate, spinning around to throw his arms around Raph. The hug was fierce, almost desperate, squeezing the stubborn older brother tight. “Thank you,” Donnie murmured, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I… I promise I’ll take care of him.”

Raph stiffened, then gave a reluctant grunt, letting Donnie pull back with a huff. “You’re annoying, Dee,” he muttered, but didn’t protest further.

Up ahead, Leo waddled slowly, talking quietly to Usagi about the little details of the hospital: the funny antics of the nurses, his strange dreams the night before, and how his body was slowly adjusting to carrying the baby. Usagi listened, teasing lightly but mostly attentive, his hand still steadying Leo’s lower back and bump.

“Take your time,” Usagi said, noticing Leo’s breathing deepen slightly with the effort. “We’re not racing. Every step counts, and I’m happy to walk at your pace.”

“I know,” Leo murmured. “I just… want to get home. But this isn’t so bad—not with you here.”

Usagi smiled, leaning down again to press a soft kiss to Leo’s lips, steadying him. “Good. That’s all that matters. You, me… and the bump.”

Leo let out a slow, exhausted breath, melting a little into Usagi’s presence. Every shuffle, every careful step, became easier because Usagi was there—holding, steadying, listening. And somewhere behind them, Donnie was now allowed to finally see his little twin, and Raph had begrudgingly agreed, letting the older twin take that moment for himself.

The city stretched quietly ahead, lanterns glowing, and as Leo waddled on with Usagi by his side, each step felt like a small, victorious moment: family, love, and care threading together across the distance, finally allowing a little light to filter through months of fear and grief.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The door to Usagi’s apartment opened with a soft click, and the warmth inside immediately washed over them. Leo’s legs trembled slightly, every step from the hospital to here having taken a toll on his body. His breaths came in short, measured gasps, the five-month bump pressing forward, making each shuffle heavier than the last.

“Almost there,” Usagi murmured gently, sliding an arm around Leo’s back and waist to steady him as they crossed the threshold. “Lean on me. Just a few more steps.”

Leo’s hands rested lightly on Usagi’s shoulders, gripping for support as he tried to keep his balance. “I… I don’t know how I’m still standing,” he admitted, voice breathless. “That walk… it’s harder than I thought. My legs… my back…”

Usagi guided him carefully toward the couch, one hand steadying his lower back, the other lightly supporting his belly. “I’ve got you,” he said softly, leaning closer so Leo could feel the warmth of his body. “Every step, every shuffle. You’re safe now.”

Finally, Leo sank into the fluffy couch cushions with a long, exhausted moan. His body sagged into the support, and for a moment, he just let himself breathe. Usagi knelt beside him, placing his hands gently along Leo’s sides before leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

Leo let out a low, drawn-out moan into the kiss, leaning fully into it, his exhaustion melting into warmth. When he finally pulled back slightly, voice husky and breathless, he whispered, “You’re… too good to me, babe.”

Usagi’s ears flicked with a soft giggle, brushing a stray lock of hair from Leo’s face. “Only the best for my strategically waddling boyfriend,” he teased, pressing another brief kiss to his lips.

Leo groaned softly, tilting his head against Usagi’s shoulder. “I’m not waddling!” he protested, though the words were more playful than angry. “I’m strategically walking… without tripping, samurai. Every step calculated, precise… totally intentional!”

Usagi’s eyes sparkled as he let his hand linger along the curve of Leo’s belly, brushing gently over the bump. “Precision ninja, huh? I’ll let it slide… for now,” he teased.

Leo let out a short, breathy laugh, shifting slightly against the couch cushions. “Waddling? Nope. Professional. Skillful. Very intentional. A skill,” he added with mock pride, pressing a hand lightly over his lower shell as he leaned further into Usagi’s warmth.

The room felt cozy, filled with the soft hum of city lights outside the window, the quiet comfort of the couch, and the gentle rhythm of their breathing. Leo, exhausted but safe, allowed himself to melt into Usagi’s support, each careful shuffle from the hospital fading behind him, replaced by the calm of home and the soft, playful presence of the rabbit he loved, and the relentless back ache that came with pregnancy.

Chapter Text

Leo grunted, puffing his cheeks as he tried once more to heave himself off the couch. His arms strained against the cushions, his plastron flexing under the effort, but after a few seconds of struggle he collapsed back down with a huff. The sound was pitiful, almost theatrical, as he threw his head back and groaned.

“That’s it. I live here now. The couch has claimed me. This is my destiny,” he declared dramatically, voice muffled against the cushions.

From the kitchen doorway, Usagi’s ears flicked at the noise. He leaned one shoulder against the frame, smirk tugging at his lips as he took in the sight of his boyfriend sprawled in defeat. “Need a hand, waddling ninja?”

Leo peeked one eye open to glare at him. “I told you—I don’t waddle. I strategically walk without tripping, samurai.”

Usagi crossed the room, slow and deliberate, until he stood directly in front of the couch. He folded his arms, eyes sparkling. “Strategically walk, huh? Looked more like strategic furniture fusion from over there.”

Leo sat up just enough to squint at him, cheeks warming. “Wow. You’re so funny. Really, I can’t stop laughing.”

“I can tell.” Usagi extended both hands down toward him. “Now, c’mon. You know you need me.”

Muttering under his breath, Leo finally grasped his hands. With a grunt—and quite a bit of tugging from Usagi—he managed to stand. He leaned against his boyfriend’s shoulder for a second, catching his breath, one hand braced on the underside of his very round six-month bump. “Ughhh. Why do I feel like I weigh a whole tank? You better believe I’m blaming you for this.”

“Me?” Usagi’s brows rose, though his arm instinctively shifted to steady Leo’s lower back. “Don’t remember being the one who decided to grow a whole new person in their belly.”

Leo gave him a scandalized look, smacking his chest with one hand. “Excuse you?! You’re supposed to be supportive, not brutally honest.”

Usagi’s teasing smirk softened into something gentler, his thumb brushing soothing circles at the small of Leo’s back. “Alright then. You look good, love. Better than good. You’re glowing.”

Leo groaned, rolling his eyes, though his lips twitched with a blushy smile he couldn’t quite hide. “You’re ridiculous. A ridiculous samurai.”

“Always.” Usagi bent down just enough to press a kiss against his temple, voice dropping low in mock seriousness. “Though if we’re being honest… I’m not strong enough to hoist your ass off the couch anymore.”

Leo gasped, hand flying to his chest in faux betrayal before laughter burst out of him, loud and unrestrained. “You’re the worst! Who says that to their pregnant boyfriend?!”

“The honest kind,” Usagi answered smoothly, slipping his hand into Leo’s again. “But don’t worry. I’ll still keep trying. Can’t let my ninja become part of the couch forever.”

Still chuckling, Leo shook his head. “Lucky for you I love you, or I’d strategically maneuver my foot right into your shin.”

“Mhm,” Usagi teased. “Hard to pull that off when your strategic maneuvering looks a lot like waddling.”

This time, Leo only groaned, dragging a hand down his face—but he didn’t deny it. Somewhere along the way, he had stopped fighting the word. Waddling was just part of his reality now, even if he refused to admit it out loud.

With Usagi’s steadying hand at his back, Leo made his way to the kitchen. His steps were slow, careful, but purposeful—the kind of walk that said yes, fine, I waddle, but I’m still a ninja. He opened the fridge and rummaged for a moment, cravings leading his hands straight to a bowl of pineapple chunks, fresh strawberries, and bananas. Balancing the bowl carefully, he waddled back into the living room, plopped himself onto the couch with a relieved sigh, and immediately began stabbing at a strawberry with a fork.

Usagi sat beside him, watching with an amused tilt of his head. “So that’s today’s craving, huh?”

Leo chewed a piece of pineapple with exaggerated satisfaction. “Mhm. Sweet, sour, and gone in about five minutes if you don’t let me eat in peace.”

As if on cue, Leo’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He reached for it, squinting at the screen before unlocking it. A soft sound escaped him as he read the text.

“It’s Donnie,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “He’s coming over at five to help build the crib and finish setting up the nursery.”

Usagi’s ears perked, expression softening. He didn’t say anything right away—just reached out, brushing his knuckles lightly along Leo’s cheek. Leo leaned into the touch, balancing his bowl of fruit against his bump, the warmth of domesticity settling over them both like a blanket.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The knock came a little after four-fifty, right on Donatello’s usual early-bird timing. Leo had barely managed to stand up from the couch—Usagi steadying him the entire way—before the door opened to reveal his twin, arms full of a large box that looked far too heavy for anyone who wasn’t Donnie.

“Dee!” Leo breathed, his face lighting up.

“Leo…” Donnie’s voice cracked before he could get another word out. He dropped the box gently just inside the door and was across the room in seconds, pulling Leo into a hug that was firm but oh-so-careful, one arm bracing the back of his shell, the other curved around his shoulders. His head bent down close, voice trembling. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Leo’s hands clutched at Donnie’s sides, his throat tightening. For a moment, he just let himself sink into his brother’s embrace. “Missed you too, Dee,” he whispered, blinking rapidly as he pulled back enough to give a watery smile. “You’re hugging me like I’m fragile glass.”

“You’re not glass,” Donnie said matter-of-factly, though his gaze flicked to the round curve of Leo’s belly with a protective intensity. “You’re just… precious cargo right now.”

Usagi, who had been watching quietly from his spot by the counter, finally stepped forward to grab the box. “You brought a crib?” His ears perked as he read the label. “Blue and white.”

Donnie adjusted his glasses, visibly proud of his choice. “I know they’re his favorite colors. Thought it’d be perfect for the nursery.”

Leo rubbed the back of his neck, lips twitching. “Dee, I appreciate it, I really do… but maybe we should find out the gender first? I kinda want the crib to match their vibe, you know?”

That earned a chuckle from Usagi, who had already set the box aside. He moved back to Leo’s side, slipping an arm around his waist in that casual way that made it obvious he’d done it a hundred times before. “Babe,” he said, ears tilting toward Leo, “what if it’s a boy? Blue and white are perfect.”

Leo tilted his head back to shoot him a mock-serious look. “No way, babe. It’s a girl.”

Donnie blinked between them, clearly caught off guard by the casual way they were tossing this conversation back and forth.

“Oh, really?” Usagi smirked. “You sound awfully sure, ninja.”

“That’s because I am,” Leo shot back, eyes narrowing with playful confidence. “And you know what? Let’s make it interesting.”

Usagi’s ears perked, tail swishing slightly behind him. “Go on.”

“If it’s a girl, I win. If it’s a boy, you win,” Leo declared, resting a hand dramatically over his bump. “Loser of the bet has to change diapers until they’re potty trained. Every. Single. One.”

Usagi’s laugh was loud and bright, filling the small apartment like sunshine. “Deal!” He extended a hand.

Leo grinned, shaking it with equal parts smugness and affection. “Prepare yourself, samurai. Because you’re looking at the future diaper champion of the household.”

“Oh no, babe,” Usagi countered, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “That title’s gonna be yours. I can already smell the victory.”

Donnie, standing there with his arms crossed, looked between the two of them with wide eyes, a mix of exasperation and disbelief plastered across his face. “You two… are actually betting on diaper duty?”

“Obviously,” Leo said without missing a beat, stabbing a fork into the bowl of strawberries he’d abandoned on the couch earlier. “What’s the point of a relationship if you don’t make dumb bets?”

Usagi chuckled, bumping his shoulder against Leo’s. “Exactly.”

Donnie sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward anyway. He sat down heavily on the other end of the couch, watching his twin with an expression that hovered somewhere between fond and overwhelmed. “I can’t believe you. A whole baby on the way, and you’re still making bets.”

Leo shrugged, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of pineapple before pointing his fork at him. “Hey, you cope your way, I cope mine.”

For the first time in a long while, Donnie laughed. It was small, quiet, but it was real.

Donnie rolled his shoulders and adjusted his glasses, standing again with a kind of restless energy. “Alright, enough mush. Let’s get this thing put together before you two get distracted with more ridiculous bets.”

Leo smirked around a mouthful of banana. “Bold of you to assume we’re not already distracted.”

Usagi chuckled, ruffling the back of Leo’s head before moving to grab the boxed crib. “C’mon, ninja. We can’t keep the future ruler of diaper duty waiting.”

Donnie pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were regretting every decision that led him here, but there was no hiding the warmth in his eyes. “You two are insufferable,” he muttered. “Insufferable and disgustingly happy.”

“Jealous,” Leo sang as he heaved himself up off the couch, grumbling the entire way. His hands immediately went to his bump as he shuffled toward the nursery. “Not my fault you don’t have a samurai boyfriend to make dumb bets with.”

Usagi shot Donnie a sly grin over his shoulder. “I make excellent dumplings, too. Real package deal.”

“Fantastic,” Donnie deadpanned, following them. “Do you come with a return policy?”

Leo cackled at that, his laugh bubbling out like it hadn’t in months. “Oh, Dee, you’ll love him by the end of the day. Promise.”

The nursery was still mostly bare—just pale walls with a few sticky notes Leo had slapped up with vague ideas for furniture arrangement. A folded rocking chair leaned against the far wall, and a single baby blanket sat draped over the windowsill, like a quiet promise of what was to come.

Donnie stopped in the doorway, looking around slowly. His chest tightened in a way he didn’t want to admit. This wasn’t just hypothetical anymore. Leo wasn’t just playing house. There was a baby coming, and this room was the proof.

Usagi dropped the heavy box in the center of the floor and crouched down to slice the tape with practiced ease. “Alright. Instructions say it’ll take at least two hours.”

“Two hours?” Leo repeated, lowering himself gingerly onto the rocking chair with an exaggerated groan. “More like two minutes if Donnie’s doing it. He’s practically a human Swiss Army knife.”

Donnie huffed but didn’t argue. He knelt by the box, pulling out pieces with Usagi and sorting them into neat piles. “You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered.

“You love me,” Leo corrected with a smug grin.

Donnie’s hands froze for a beat, and then he gave a short, sharp laugh. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “Unfortunately, I do.”

Assembly started with Usagi reading the manual out loud in an overly dramatic voice, earning groans from both turtles. “Step one,” he intoned like a stage actor. “Align panel A with side rail B. Warning: failure to properly secure bolts may result in structural instability.”

“Usagi, it’s a crib, not a death trap,” Donnie grumbled, snatching the page from his hands.

Leo leaned back in the rocking chair, fruit bowl balanced against his belly, watching the chaos with amusement. “This is better than TV.”

“Glad we could entertain you, Your Highness,” Donnie said dryly, but there was a faint curve to his lips.

Piece by piece, the crib began to take shape. Usagi’s hands were steady and quick, but it was Donnie who really carried the rhythm, fitting screws and tightening bolts with a practiced efficiency. Every so often, Leo offered “helpful” commentary from the chair—most of which was ignored.

When the final piece clicked into place, Leo clapped his hands together. “Look at that! My baby’s first fortress.”

Usagi wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, then came to stand behind Leo, hands slipping instinctively to rest on his shoulders. “Not bad for a samurai-rabbit-engineer duo, huh?”

“Correction,” Donnie said, standing and brushing dust from his hands. “Genius turtle-engineer and rabbit who can follow directions.”

Usagi smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Leo’s head. “Semantics.”

The moment was light, but then Donnie’s gaze fell on Leo again—his twin, belly round and hands protectively folded over it, smiling like he hadn’t in months. His throat went tight. He crouched down, resting a hand over Leo’s.

“Leo… I’m sorry,” he said quietly, so soft it almost didn’t leave his lips. “For not finding you sooner. For… for letting it go this far.”

Leo blinked, startled by the rawness in his brother’s voice. Slowly, he reached out, resting his other hand over Donnie’s. “Dee… I’m okay. I’ve got Usagi, I’ve got the baby… I’m happy. That’s what matters, right?”

Donnie’s eyes burned, and before he could stop himself, he wrapped his arms around Leo in another careful hug. He shook with it this time, breath catching against Leo’s shoulder. “You always take care of everyone. Even when you’re the one who needs it most. It’s infuriating.”

Leo laughed shakily, patting his back. “Yeah, well. Somebody’s gotta keep you guys alive.”

“God, you’re impossible,” Donnie whispered, pulling back with damp eyes but a crooked smile. “But I love you, little bro.”

Leo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “You?! Emotionally constipated Donatello Hamato?! Saying ‘I love you’?! I must be dreaming.”

Usagi chuckled, ears twitching as he crouched beside them. “If you’re dreaming, Leo, don’t wake up. I like this one.”

Leo grinned, eyes shining. “Love you too, Dee.”

And in that nursery, surrounded by half-assembled furniture and mismatched baby blankets, the disaster twins found each other again—even if the cracks in their family weren’t fully healed.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

By the time the last screw was tightened and the leftover packaging shoved to the side, Leo felt like he’d run a marathon without moving an inch. He hadn’t lifted a single piece of wood—Usagi and Donnie had taken over everything—but just watching, sitting, and balancing the heavy swell of his six-month bump had left him sagging deeper into the rocking chair, lids drooping despite the noise.

Usagi noticed first, of course. He leaned down, brushing his lips against the side of Leo’s temple. “Babe, you look like you just fought an army of Shredder clones. You didn’t even lift a finger.”

Leo groaned, pressing a hand to his stomach. “Carrying this around is already a full-time job, Samurai. If I moved more than ten steps, you’d be peeling me off the floor.”

Donnie, who had been standing quietly near the newly assembled crib, stole a glance at his twin. His expression softened despite himself. He’d never imagined Leonardo—ever the sharp, unshakable leader—like this. Fragile in a way, yes, but content too.

Leo caught the look and managed a tired grin. “Don’t look at me like I’m made of glass, Dee. I’m fine. Just… heavy.”

Usagi chuckled, crouching to help Leo adjust in the chair, easing his back into a softer angle. “Heavier and slower every day, my waddling ninja.”

Leo’s lips quirked. “Strategically walking samurai. Don’t forget it.”

Donnie huffed out a laugh under his breath but didn’t comment. Instead, his gaze lingered, soaking in the picture—Leo nestled into the chair, Usagi fussing over him with an ease that spoke of routine. He almost felt like an intruder, but at the same time, something in his chest loosened at the sight.

Leo shifted again, reaching out a hand toward Donnie. “You know… you could stay for dinner. Usagi makes killer dumplings and, uh—” He broke off with a sheepish smile. “I think I’ve earned a double portion after today.”

Donnie’s lips pressed into a thin line, torn for a moment. He wanted to stay. He wanted to sit across from Leo, hear him laugh more, let this fragile sense of normalcy stretch just a little longer. But reality tugged at him like a chain.

“Tempting,” Donnie admitted, pushing his glasses higher on his snout. “But if I don’t show up at the lair for dinner, Raph will—” He exhaled sharply, half-frustrated, half-exasperated. “He’ll lose it. You know how he gets.”

Leo’s smile wavered, but he didn’t push. “Yeah. I know.” His hand fell back to his stomach, fingers idly tracing the curve of his shell. “Still… the offer stands. Anytime.”

Donnie swallowed, his throat tight. “Thanks, Leo.”

Usagi glanced between them, ears twitching, but didn’t say anything—just smoothed a hand down Leo’s arm, grounding him with a soft touch.

As Donnie finally turned toward the door, he paused once more to look back. The nursery was still incomplete, the crib bare, the room needing life. But somehow, seeing Leo there—round-bellied, exhausted, but smiling faintly as Usagi murmured something into his ear—it didn’t feel empty anymore.

“See you soon, little bro,” Donnie murmured, just loud enough for Leo to catch before slipping out.

Leo closed his eyes, letting Usagi’s warmth at his side anchor him as the weight of the day finally dragged him under.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The lair was quieter than usual when Donnie finally slipped through the tunnels, a little later than he’d intended. His shoulders sagged, muscles aching from carrying the heavy boxes earlier—but his mind was still tangled up in the sight of Leo’s tired grin and the way Usagi had kissed the crown of his head like it was second nature.

Raph was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He didn’t even look up at first, just grunted, “You’re late.”

Donnie bit back the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Was helping.”

“Helping who?” Raph’s voice was deceptively calm, but his eyes flicked up, sharp and suspicious.

Donnie met his gaze evenly, refusing to squirm. “Leo. The crib’s up. Nursery’s starting to look like a real nursery.”

For a beat, silence filled the air between them. Then Raph snorted, shaking his head. “Figures. You disappear half the day, come back with sawdust on your hands, and it’s ‘Leo this, Leo that.’”

Donnie slammed a mug onto the counter harder than he meant to. “Because he’s our brother, Raph. Whether you like it or not, he’s still Leo. And he’s not alone out there—he’s building a life. He’s… happy.” His voice cracked at the end, betraying the weight of everything he’d been holding in.

Raph’s jaw tightened, the muscle working. He looked away, grabbing a dish towel just to have something to fidget with. “Happy? With some guy we barely know? With a kid comin’ into a world like this? Sounds reckless to me.”

Donnie stepped closer, glasses catching the dim kitchen light. “Reckless? Raph, he’s six months pregnant. He’s exhausted. He needs us more than ever, and all you can think about is whether you approve of the guy holding his hand?” His voice rose with each word, the dam finally breaking. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you push him away just because you can’t stand that he found a little light after everything!”

The towel dropped. Raph’s glare snapped back to him, raw and unguarded. “Don’t you dare talk like you know what it’s like to lose—” He stopped himself, biting off the rest, breathing heavy.

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the faint hum of the fridge.

From the doorway, Splinter’s quiet voice slipped into the room. “Enough.”

Both turtles turned, caught off guard. The old rat shuffled forward slowly, cane tapping against the floor. His eyes softened when they landed on Donnie, then shifted to Raph. “I hear your voices from my room. Still, always arguing about the same thing.”

Donnie looked down, guilt gnawing at his insides. Raph muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue further.

Splinter sighed, the weight of years in his tone. “Leonardo will walk his own path, whether you fight it or not. You may choose to be beside him… or not. But know this—time is precious, my sons. Do not waste it on anger.”

Neither of them replied. Raph stared at the counter, fists clenched. Donnie swallowed hard, guilt and frustration coiling tight in his chest.

And somewhere, deep down, both of them knew Splinter was right.

Chapter Text

Leo groaned as he slumped further into the couch cushions, the weight of his huge eight-month bump making even shifting slightly feel monumental. His arms rested on either side of the bump, pressing lightly against the taut shell, and he let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Sagi’… I can’t… reach the kitchen,” he muttered, voice muffled against the couch pillows.

Usagi, perched on the edge of the coffee table with a mischievous glint in his eye, grinned. “Of course not, Babe. That’s why I exist. What’s the craving today, Ninja?”

Leo tilted his head, rubbing at his face with one hand. “Something weird… really weird, actually. I don’t even know why, but… chocolate, strawberries, and… orange juice. All mixed in a bowl. Like cereal.”

Usagi blinked. “Uh… sure? You mean like… actually like cereal?”

“Yeah, like cereal!” Leo emphasized, voice rising with exasperation and seriousness. “Please, Sagi’, I need it. Right now.”

With a laugh, Usagi hopped off the table and vanished into the kitchen. Within minutes, he returned balancing a shallow bowl on both hands. The chocolate had melted slightly into the orange juice, strawberries floating like little crimson islands.

“Here you go, Babe,” Usagi said, carefully setting the bowl within Leo’s reach. “Try not to spill it, or I’m going to pretend you did it on purpose.”

Leo’s eyes widened. “You actually made it?”

Usagi shrugged, pressing a soft, reassuring touch to Leo’s shoulder. “Anything for you, Ninja. Now eat before it turns into… breakfast soup.”

Leo held the bowl with both hands, taking a tentative spoonful. His eyes immediately widened in delight. “Mmm… Sagi’, this is… actually amazing. I don’t even know why I needed it… but I needed it.”

Usagi smirked, gently resting a paw on Leo’s arm. “Glad I could help. You’re welcome, Babe. But I swear, next time… you’re explaining the science behind this one.”

Leo rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. He leaned back into the couch, letting the weight of Usagi’s touch and warmth ease some of the tension in his shell. For a while, they ate in comfortable silence, the soft clinking of the spoon against the bowl filling the quiet apartment.

Then Leo’s eyes flicked toward a small stack of clothes Usagi had left by the counter. His brows furrowed. “Wait… what’s this?”

Usagi glanced over, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Oh… uh… I was just… browsing, that’s all. Just looking at… some clothes.”

Leo picked up a tiny blue onesie, staring at it incredulously. “Blue? Babe… you’re seriously planning for a boy?”

Usagi laughed nervously. “Well… maybe? I mean, it’s just… cute. It would be a boy, right? That’s the obvious—”

“Obvious?” Leo’s voice rose, frustration lacing every syllable. “No! I want a girl. I’ve been picturing a little girl from the start. Pink or lavender, bows or scrunchies—everything. I don’t want a boy, Sagi’. I want a girl.”

Usagi’s ears twitched, and he leaned back, holding up his hands. “Hey now, Babe, I’m not trying to ruin anything! But… a boy would be fun too. Maybe more… adventurous? You know? A little mini-me for ninja training, or—”

“Mini you?!” Leo barked, nearly spilling the cereal bowl. “No! I want a daughter, Usagi. I want her to have… everything I imagined. I don’t want a boy, okay?!”

Usagi’s playful grin faltered slightly. “Babe, I wasn’t saying—”

“No! You don’t get it!” Leo’s voice cracked, tears forming as the weight of his exhaustion and emotions caught up. “I’ve been carrying this baby for eight months, I’ve been… enduring everything, all the aches, the cravings, the… everything! And now you’re telling me it doesn’t matter?”

Usagi froze. His ears flattened, and he gently lowered himself so he could hold Leo carefully around the shell without putting any pressure on the bump. “Lee… it does matter. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, Babe. I… I just… I thought—”

Leo sniffled, voice trembling. “I don’t even know why I get so mad at you, Sagi’. I know you love me… but I… I just want her to be a girl. I imagined a little girl for so long…”

Usagi slowly scooted closer, letting his chest press lightly against Leo’s back as he wrapped his arms around him in a protective, gentle hug. “Shhh… it’s okay, Babe. I get it. I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl. I care about you. I care about us. And I’ll love this baby no matter what, okay? No arguments, promise.”

Leo let out a shaky sigh and leaned back into Usagi’s hold, tears slipping down quietly. “I’m still mad at you,” he whispered into Usagi’s shoulder.

Usagi kissed the side of Leo’s head, careful to avoid putting weight on the bump, and held him tighter. “And I’m okay with that, Babe. I’ll take it. But you can cry all you want in my arms.”

Leo curled further into him, feeling a sense of relief wash through him despite the tears. “Babe…” he whispered, voice muffled. “I’m really… really scared sometimes.”

“I know, Lee,” Usagi murmured. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not for a second. I’ve got you… and this little one. And we’re gonna be fine. You’ll see.”

Leo nodded, letting himself relax into the warmth. “Thanks, Sagi’. I… I love you.”

“I love you too, Babe,” Usagi whispered, pressing another gentle, lingering kiss on Leo’s lips. “Now… finish your weird cereal before it gets cold.”

Leo sniffled again, letting out a soft laugh, and reached for the bowl once more, feeling a little lighter than before.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Raph sat on the edge of the lair’s training mat, arms crossed, scowl fixed in place. Donnie hovered nearby, nervously pacing. The weight in the air wasn’t just the lair’s usual quiet—it was the unspoken distance that had stretched for over a year.

“Raph,” Donnie began carefully, “you’ve been avoiding him for months now. You know he’s… eight months along. He’s bigger than ever, and he… he needs you, man. He needs all of us.”

Raph growled softly, eyes flicking to the floor. “I know. I know that, Dee. But… I don’t know if I can handle it yet. Every time I think about him… about everything… it’s like my chest is full of fire. I don’t… I can’t—”

“You can,” Donnie interrupted, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding your little brother, Raph, because you’re scared. You think seeing him happy, seeing him… loved… it’ll make you feel worse. But it’s not just about your feelings. Leo needs his brother. He’s been carrying so much, Raph, and he’s… he’s still our brother. And I know you love him.”

Raph’s jaw clenched, head dropping slightly. “…I do love him,” he muttered. “But I… I don’t even know where to start. He’s… not just the same kid I left in the lair. He’s… different. He’s… someone else now. I’m scared I’ll screw it up again.”

Donnie softened, placing a hand on his elder brother’s shoulder. “Raph… you won’t. You’re not alone. We’ll all go together. Just… go. See him. Just… show up. That’s all you need to do.”

Raph let out a long breath, muscles tense. “…Fine. Fine, Dee. Let’s go.”

Donnie’s ears perked with relief. “Yes! You won’t regret this, Raph. He’s… he’s waiting for you, and he’s… he’s going to be so happy.”

Raph grunted, but there was the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth—a small concession. “Alright. Let’s move.”

At Usagi’s apartment, the sunlight streamed softly through the blinds. Leo was sprawled across the couch, belly pressed against the cushions, eight-month bump making it impossible for him to get up. Skin-to-skin, Usagi’s arm curled around him, holding him gently against his chest. Their breathing was slow and calm, fingers entwined as the world outside the walls faded.

Leo was finally dozing when a sharp, hesitant knock rang through the apartment. His eyes fluttered open. “Sagi’…?”

Usagi’s ears twitched. “Shh, Babe, someone’s at the door. Stay here. Don’t move.”

Leo groaned softly. “I can… barely get up anyway…”

Usagi leaned down, kissing the side of his shell. “I got you, Ninja. Just… trust me.”

Swiftly, Usagi slipped into the bedroom to grab some clothes, returning with a simple loose dress. He gently helped Leo sit upright, coaxing him carefully into the garment. “Alright… now you’re covered. I’ll open the door.”

The knock came again.

“Babe… they sound… big,” Leo murmured, concern lacing his words.

Usagi gave him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. We’ve got this. Just… stay close.”

He opened the door, and standing there were Raph and Donnie. For a moment, time froze. Leo’s eyes widened, and then he shrieked, tears welling in his eyes.

“RAPHIE! Oh my gosh! You came!”

Raph stiffened, mouth opening to speak, but Donnie nudged him gently. “See? He doesn’t hate you, Raphala.”

Leo’s legs, burdened by the bump, wouldn’t cooperate. He tried to crawl forward, arms outstretched, but it was useless.

Raph blinked, then without hesitation, scooped Leo into his arms, careful and firm. “I got you, little man,” he murmured, voice rough but full of emotion. He twirled slightly, spinning the youngest brother safely in his arms.

Leo buried his face against Raph’s chest, tears spilling freely. “You… you’re here! You’re really here, Raph!”

Raph’s eyes softened. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

Usagi hovered nearby, smiling softly and brushing his fingers across Leo’s back. “See? All’s well, Ninja. You’re safe.”

Leo hugged Raph tighter, warmth radiating from the snapping turtle, and the slider whispered between sobs, “I… I missed you… so much…”

Raph’s grip tightened slightly, voice low and almost broken. “I missed you too, Leo. More than I… I can even say, and I’m so sorry, more than words, I’m sorry for kicking you out. I’m sorry for everything little man.”

And Leo smiled and whispered. “I forgive you big guy and goddamn I missed your bear hugs!”

Raph and Usagi looked shocked and Donnie stepped forward, a broad smile breaking across his face, tears shining in his own eyes. “Look at you two. Finally.”

Raph set Leo down gently on the couch, careful of the bump, and just stared at him for a long moment, swallowing hard. “I… I’ll… I’ll be better, little brother. I promise. No more avoiding. No more walls.”

Leo sniffled, still holding onto Usagi’s arm. “I… I’m still mad at you,” he admitted softly.

Usagi chuckled lightly, brushing a huge hand along Leo’s shoulder. “And that’s okay, Babe. You have every right.”

Raph let out a shaky laugh, chest rising and falling. “Good. I deserve that.”

For the first time in over a year, the lair’s shadowed tension seemed worlds away. Leo, the youngest, sat cushioned between his two older brothers’ presence and Usagi’s gentle warmth. Finally, a feeling of belonging settled over him—soft, steady, and real.

Chapter Text

The apartment felt quieter once Donnie and Raph left, their laughter and voices fading down the hall. Leo leaned back on the couch, one hand instinctively sliding over the swell of his stomach. His plastron stretched tight around the curve of his bump, and he let out a sharp breath as something nudged against his palm.

“Oh—” Leo’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open in surprise before softening into a laugh. “Babe… Sagi’, they’re kicking again. Like, a lot.”

Usagi, who was currently making a terrible mess in the kitchen trying to roll dumpling wrappers the way Leo always did, froze mid-fold and perked up. “Kicking?” he repeated, ears flicking. In an instant, he abandoned the half-torn dumpling skin in his hands and hurried over, kneeling beside the couch. His paws pressed gently where Leo guided them.

Leo winced when another strong kick came, his face scrunching. “See? I think our little ninja’s already practicing martial arts in there.” He let out a tired but amused chuckle. “Pretty sure I just got kicked in the ribs…”

Usagi’s eyes softened as he felt it — the unmistakable thump beneath his palm. His ears drooped and a grin spread across his face, one so unguarded it nearly made Leo tear up. “They’re strong. Just like their papa,” Usagi whispered, leaning down to brush a kiss across the top of Leo’s snout.

Leo huffed, embarrassed, though his hand never left his bump. “Papa’s exhausted, actually. Papa just walked across the apartment earlier and it nearly knocked him out.”

“You’re still strong,” Usagi murmured with stubborn tenderness. His hand lingered against Leo’s plastron, thumb stroking absentmindedly. Then, in typical Usagi fashion, he added with a cheeky grin: “Although if they kick much harder, I’ll start charging them rent.”

Leo snorted. “Hilarious, Samurai. Real original.”

Usagi pretended to look wounded. “I was cooking for you, you know. Trying to master dumplings like you. Nearly sacrificed the kitchen in the process.”

Leo raised a brow. “Nearly?” He craned his neck just enough to peek toward the counter, where flour dust coated the surface and a few mangled dumpling skins clung to each other like bad origami. He groaned, half amused, half horrified. “Sagi’… that’s a crime scene.”

Usagi chuckled nervously. “A noble attempt at least. But you’ll be happy to know I didn’t set anything on fire.”

“Yet,” Leo muttered, closing his eyes and sinking deeper into the cushions. His hand rubbed over his bump again when another kick jolted through him, and he gritted his teeth before relaxing. “This kid… I swear, they’re trying to escape early.”

Usagi’s ears drooped a little in concern, and he shifted closer, sitting down beside Leo this time. His arm wrapped carefully around his boyfriend’s shoulders, the other hand staying firm against the moving bump. “Hey,” he said softly, “you don’t have to do anything right now, okay? Let me take care of dinner tonight. Even if it’s… not edible.”

Leo cracked a smile, even through the heaviness in his body. “As long as you don’t make me eat your dumplings, Samurai. I don’t think my stomach — or the baby — could forgive you.”

Usagi leaned in and kissed him gently, slow enough that Leo could melt into it without needing to move. When they broke apart, Usagi rested his forehead against Leo’s, his voice low and certain. “Then it’s settled. You rest, Ninja. I’ll feed you something safe.”

Leo chuckled weakly, letting his eyes flutter shut as another faint kick thumped beneath Usagi’s palm. “Fine… but only because the baby voted against your dumplings too.”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Usagi eventually surrendered the dumpling massacre and decided to cook something simpler — miso soup with rice and some vegetables. It wasn’t fancy, but it filled the apartment with a warm, comforting smell. Leo, meanwhile, stayed stretched out on the couch, dozing in and out, one hand constantly rubbing circles over his bump as if it soothed both him and the baby.

When Usagi returned balancing two bowls, he found Leo wide awake again, his face scrunched. “They’re at it again,” Leo muttered, grabbing Usagi’s wrist and pulling his hand to his stomach. Sure enough, a flurry of smaller kicks rippled against Usagi’s palm.

Usagi’s ears perked, his heart melting all over again. “They’re… so alive,” he whispered, awe coloring his voice. He set the bowls down quickly on the coffee table, both hands coming to rest on Leo’s belly now.

Leo groaned, though his smile betrayed how secretly soft he was. “Alive and dramatic. Just like me, huh?”

Usagi grinned and kissed his temple. “Or stubborn. Just like me.”

That made Leo laugh, head tipping back against the couch. “Great. So we’re raising a dramatic, stubborn little ninja. Perfect combo.”

“Perfect,” Usagi echoed, his voice low and full of love.

After dinner — which Leo swore actually tasted good despite teasing Usagi relentlessly — the two ended up curled together on the couch. Leo was tucked against Usagi’s chest, blanket pulled over both of them, his bump pressed warm between them. Usagi’s hands rested over it protectively, and every time the baby kicked, Leo would make some snarky comment while Usagi answered softly, almost reverently, as if already speaking to their child.

“Kick all you want,” Usagi murmured against Leo’s head, “we’ll be here waiting for you.”

Leo let out a shaky exhale, overwhelmed but safe. “You know,” he admitted, voice quiet, “it doesn’t feel as scary when you’re here.”

Usagi tightened his arms, brushing a kiss against Leo’s forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”

The baby gave one last strong kick as if to underline the promise, and both of them burst into quiet laughter before settling into the comfort of each other’s warmth, the future suddenly feeling so close, so real, and not nearly as frightening.