Chapter Text
“Donnie…” Leonardo had said very carefully, like every single syllable was the key to defusing a bomb. “...What are you doing to the microwave?”
Leonardo hovered a few steps behind his younger brother, Donatello, who was hunched over the kitchen counter with the microwave cracked open like he was performing delicate surgery on. Wires and circuits were sprawled out on the counter in neat little sections with the exterior casting set aside. This was specifically April’s microwave. April’s new microwave. The one that she bought because—and Leo directly quotes— “Somehow you guys destroy every appliance you touch!”
Donatello didn’t even bother to look up. He didn’t even bother to pause his tinkering.
Instead, he had pulled out one of the drawers to reach and produce a pair of sleek safety goggles, extending them backwards without even turning around. Leonardo has never seen these goggles before in the drawer. When did he even put them there?!
“You probably won’t need these,” Donatello muttered, very much still distracted, and elbow-deep in the circuitry in front of him. “But y’know. Safety first.”
Leonardo just stared at the goggles like they were insulting him.
Leo snapped his fingers sharply, “Hey! Are you even listening to me?! What are you doing to the microwave?”
“Relax Leonardo,” Donatello said breezily. “I’m just giving it some much-needed upgrades.”
He was most definitely not relaxed.
Donatello finally leaned back, wiped his hands with a nearby dish rag, and pulled out a remote control— one that looked like it belonged to a RC car. It was black, beaten, and unmistakenly Raphael’s.
Leonardo’s eye began to twitch.
Donatello unplugged himself from the microwave and backed up from the counter, slow and deliberate. Leonardo mirrored his exact motions— step for step —an unease tinged up his spine. Leo’s mind ever so helpfully provided him with a montage of previous events just like this.
They usually end with explosions and sparks— paired with screaming.
Donnie caught the expression on his face and rolled his eyes. “Oh my gosh, don’t look at me like that.”
“I am one hundred percent sure this isn’t safe,” Leonardo said flatly, “I mean, do you not remember last week—”
“I remember!” Donatello cut in, waving a hand to try and dismiss it. “And we’ll find out if it’s safe, which it is! Or not. That’s what testing is for!”
Last week, Donatello had decided to “upgrade” the freezer.
It worked beautifully for exactly three hours. Then Michelangelo had to go and grab some ice for his “pesky already cold soda”— Donnie’s words. Unfortunately for him, the freezer had screamed, sealed itself completely shut, and began to launch ice cubes at him like guided missiles. If you look on the brightside, at least he got his ice. Along with a few burns, but at least he had some ice for the burns
“I slightly modified it so it heats up anything in 15 seconds flat,” Donnie continued, rambling on and on, eyes extremely bright. “Just think about it Leo—leftovers, frozen meals, time efficiency on a global scale—”
He shoved a solidly frozen slice of pizza into the microwave and slammed the door shut.
“Anyway,” Donatello grinned, raising the remote, “are you ready to see how much of a genius I am?!”
Leonardo crossed his arms, bracing himself for whatever might happen. “Sure,” he replied weakly, “Why not?”
Donatello flicked the switch on the stolen controller.
Nothing happened.
There were no lights flickering. No humming. No weird ominous whines.
He was frozen, staring at the microwave. Then the remote in his shaking hands. Then the microwave again. Then at his brother. Donatello’s mouth fell open in silent betrayal.
Leonardo let out a slow, relieved breath.
Trying to be supportive— and also because Donatello looked genuinely crushed— Leo reached out and rested a hand on his baby brother’s shoulder.
“Well,” he offered carefully, “at least it didn’t kill anyone—”
WOOSH!
Something flew past Leonardo’s head so fast that he barely could register it— cold air, a blur of plastic and metal— before it embedded itself in the wall behind them with a deafening crack.
They both whipped around.
The pizza slice—which was still frozen solid no thanks super fast heating— had launched itself out of the microwave like a projectile into the lair’s wall. Shards of the casting littered the counter and the floor.
“I’ll fix it.” Donnie blurted out immediately.
Before Leo could respond, a shrill, high-pitched, aggravating wail filled the kitchen and echoed through-out the lair.
Oh.
Oh wait.
That wasn’t the microwave.
That was Leonardo.
He was standing rigidly, clutching one half of the safety goggles with his hand. The other half had ended up on the floor.
###
“Donatello,” Splinter said quietly, hands resting firmly on his walking staff, “What did you do to the microwave?”
Leonardo was quietly standing behind him like a shadow, gripping a broom that he’d been using to sweep up the wreckage. His eye was still twitching.
Michelangelo was on his knees near what remained of the poor appliance, dramatically mourning.
“He was just a kid,” Mikey sobbed. “He had so much life left.”
“A pizza almost killed me today.” Leonardo snapped, “Do you know how insane that sounds Donatello?!”
Mikey’s distant sobbing had briefly paused. His eyes went distant, in a contemplative way. “Pretty metal…”
All that Leo could do was glare at him.
“What did I tell you about experimenting in the kitchen?” Splinter calmly continued, “Do you not remember last week?”
At that moment, Raphael wandered in with a protein shaker in one hand.
“...Woah,” he said surveying the scene of the crime, “What happened here?”
“Donnie decided that it would be a good idea to blow up our kitchen.” Leonardo said, snatching the remote out of Donatello’s hand.
“I did not blow up the kitchen,” Donnie protested, “It was just a microwave. Which I am more than happy to fix!”
Raphael squinted at the remote in Leo’s hand, then his eyes widened. “Hey! Ain’t this mine? I’ve been lookin’ fer this!”
“You’re a little too old to be playing with toys, Raph.” Donnie muttered
“And youse a lil’ too old to be makin’ messes where we eat!”
Splinter let out a slow exhale, “ Donatello… I am afraid I am going to have to ground you.”
Donnie laughed, nervous. “Haha. That’s very funny Sensei, but I don’t think that’s really nec—”
“I am completely serious.”
The room went dead silent.
“You are grounded for one month.” Splinter continued. “ That means no leaving the lair unless there is an emergency. No electronic devices. No guests. And most importantly—no experiments.”
Donatello couldn’t help but stare at him, completely stunned.
Donnie was never one to get grounded. Like ever.
He was responsible. Careful. He was the smart one.
But lately, things have been exploding. Appliances had been gaining sentience. Someone— not naming names but specifically rhymes with ‘Deonardo’— had almost died by pizza.
Everyone in the lair was exhausted by his constant antics.
And for the first time, Donatello realized that this wasn’t a joke.
###
There Donatello was.
A prisoner in his own room.
The wasn’t actually locked, but it might as well have been. Donatello was sitting cross-legged on his bed, with his shoulders tensed, watching as his brothers methodically dismantled and took away his entire world. Leonardo stood near the doorway, obviously clipboard-less, but terrifyingly thorough, while Raphael handled the confiscation with the delicacy of a wrecking crew. There were two large bins sat on the floor, already half full of blinking lights, wires, and half finished inventions.
“Ah—! Please be careful with that, Raph!” Donnie yelped as Ralphael tipped a small device into the bin with a careless clatter.
Raph didn’t even look sorry. “What do ya even do with all of these gadgets, Don?” he said, peering into the bin. “They all kinda look like junk ta me. No offense.”
Donatello shot him a withering glare. “They all have various, super important, functions.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Like the one that you just carelessly chucked away,” He continued, climbing to his feet, “it’s specially programmed to alert me at a precise time, down to the second.”
Leo and Raph exchanged a look.
“So…” Raphael said slowly, “like an alarm clock?”
“Yes,” Donatello snapped and plopped right back down on his bed. “Like an alarm clock.”
“Coulda just said dat,” Raph smirked, “We can get you another one Donnie-Boy.”
Raphael hoisted one of the bins and headed for the door. Donatello watched it go like he was witnessing a funeral procession.
“Wait,” Leonardo said suddenly.
Raph paused.
Leo turned, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Bookshelf. Third shelf. Red book.”
Donatello’s blood ran cold.
Raph raised an eyebrow, set the bin down, and pulled that book free.
Click.
The shelf, previously filled with books, had popped inwards to reveal a hidden compartment absolutely packed with electronics—tiny monitors, spare processors, stripped down communicators, and things that definitely did not belong in a grounded turtle’s bedroom.
Donatello made a noise somewhere in between a screech and a gasp. “How’d you know about that?!”
Leonardo didn’t even look smug. He just sighed, exhausted and fond. “You’re my little brother, Donnie. I know how you are.”
Metaphorically, he rolled up his sleeves and began to bark orders— what he does best— at Raph. “Check under the floorboards. I’ve got the walls.”
“No—wait—Leo—!”
It was already too late.
In less than 10 minutes, it was over.
The bins were full. His shelves were bare. His desk—his beautiful, organized, perfect desk—was nothing but wood and dust.
“I really think that’s it guys…” Donatello said quietly, shoulders slumping. “You’ve… you’ve cleaned me out.”
Raphael adjusted his grip on the bins. “‘Member, Donnie. You get ‘em back in four weeks. You’ll live.”
Leonardo lingered at the door just a second longer, his gaze softening. “This is for your own good,” he said gently. Then, he adds firmly, “No experiments.”
The door shuts.
The sound echoes in the room.
Donnie sat there for a long moment, surrounded by silence.
His room felt weird. It felt wrong.
It was too quiet. Too still. There was no hum of machinery, no blinking lights, no comforting whirrs of his systems thinking alongside him. It was just him… alone with his thoughts.
He laid back down on his bed, hands clasped over his plastron.
Four weeks.
Four weeks without tech. Without building. Without thinking out loud the only way he knew how. Maybe he can manage. It’s only four weeks.
His gaze slowly drifted to his pillow.
…Huh.
It looked slightly misshapen.
Donatello frowned.
Slowly, suspiciously, he picked it up and squeezed.
He felt something hard and plasticy.
His eyes widened.
“No way,” he whispered.
He ripped open the pillowcase and, sure enough, tucked deep inside the stuffing was a small beat-up flip phone. In all its amazing glory. Scratched up and utterly unremarkable.
Absolutely perfect.
Donatello laughed under his breath, giddy and relieved. Thanking whoever above that he wouldn’t really have to go four weeks without technology. He flipped open the flip phone with careful precision like it was contraband gold—which technically it was.
He didn’t even hesitate.
Donatello flipped the phone open, the soft click sounding impossibly loud in the quiet of his room. He navigated the menu by muscle memory alone, his thumb moving fast, urgent. The screen glowed faintly against his hands as he typed in a number that he knew better than most equations.
Donnie:
im grounded.
like actually grounded.
no tech. no leaving. no experiment. no you.
leo took everything.
The response came quickly.
???:
who dis?
Donatello let out a quiet laugh through his nose.
Donnie:
your boyfriend, case.
A beat.
Casey:
ohhh
whch 1
lol jk
hi babe
what hpn?
Donatello smiled despite himself, shoulders loosening for the first time since the microwave incident this morning. The tight knot that was deep in his chest eased just a little. Even through that tiny screen, Casey had that amazing effect on him.
Donnie:
ok
so i sorta blew up a microwave
now i cant do anything for a month
raph doesnt know abt this phone
leo def doesnt
He stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the poorly designed keyboard, then added—
dont tell raph.
or leo.
or even mikey
matter of fact dont tell anyone.
Casey:
wht do u take me 4
id nvr rat out my bf
esp not to leo
he hates me
wht do u need me 2 do
Donnie:
im gonna go insane.
i need advice.
we were supposed to go on a date
This message lingered. Longer than the others. Donatello was left to stare at the ceiling while he waited for a response, counting the cracks in the stone.
Then—
Casey:
dnt worry babe
ill figure smth out
jst dont let leo find that
ill be dead and ull be grounded 2x.
Donatello glanced at the door, his heart skipping a beat. It was skipping hard enough it almost hurt. He lowered the phone to listen.
Donnie:
itll be worth it still
i love you
There was no delay this time.
Casey:
luv you 2 <3
Donatello closed the phone gently, like it was made out of delicate porcelain. Like it was something precious. He tucked the phone back into the pillow, carefully fluffing it into place, and lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.
He was grounded.
But that doesn’t mean he was completely alone.