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obstinatejules · 6 hours ago

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Soft Spot - Chapter 24

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

I'm going ham depicting all the OCs this time around so here's everyone's favorite phone obsessed peep, Eugene! Obviously they were captured at their most flattering by the magnanimous @grumpytheunicorn

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it, Menstruation, There WILL NOT be any Miscarriages

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

NOTE: So my secular ass that was raised without religion genuinely had no idea that godparents was a religious concept. I curse the christian-centric values bred into the American zeitgeist. Like obviously, it has the word 'god' in it, but no one said this dork had a high IQ (I very much don't). I was genuinely inspired to even do a godparent story line because of the movie Life as We Know It (2010). My deepest apologies if this misstep alienated anyone. Please know that it does not come from a place of faith and instead is meant only in the non-religious terms which is a guardian who takes custody of a child should anything happen to a child's parents.

First 💜 Previous

You wanted to say you marched into the arena. In a tight, single file formation, double doors were shoved open in front of you. The leaders of your group paved the way for the opposing team’s imminent loss. Another set of doors were breached and the suction seal of sound was broken. Fanfare erupted as the first challengers were seen. Flickering lights danced around mimicking paparazzi and within a few steps, you too had entered the building. Your husband was the heavy on the end, the last force to back up your intrepid part and from the front, your general spoke.

“I am here…” Eugene threw a thumb at their person over the host stand. “… for the 100 wing death challenge.”

“Party for Eugene.” The woman double checked her notes before chirping through the illusions of grandeur. “Right this way!”

You were now simply a group of friends who had walked into a sports bar and were led to a table that accommodated your numbers. While you had been incubating a baby, your friends’ lives had continued. Eugene had picked up an interest in eating competitions after binge watching some competitive eating show. They had scoured New York City for a reasonable enough challenge and relied on their spiced upbringing to win them a particular gold. This bar had recently opened and no one had been able to achieve the goal as of yet, so Eugene marked themself down to be the first. This gave them precedent and they took a seat at the head of the table to face their cheer squad.

Kaleb was fast tracking for a promotion and hadn’t had much time for antics. He was a little all work and no play, though you bet everyone at his job still considered him the quintessential jolly man. You heard he had been driving out of the city for some curry place as his only extracurricular as of late and he manned the second seat to the head of the table.

Coral sat immediately across from him with her usual poise. If this were any other event, she might have been the one executing, but she had deferred along with her taming. Exercise had fallen off of her interest list and mimosa flights had moved in. Bubbly was her means of celebration as she and Nelson had been dating for almost three whole months.

You headed for the seat next to hers since said man was on a work trip. Besides a label, very little had changed in their dynamic. Both Coral and Nelson would have been here to cheer Eugene on, had he been available. He was probably texting the group chat asking for updates and you meant to check, but you struggled to fit into the slot she had tucked into. She had chosen a route along a wall and your little one was feeling especially not so little in your 28th week.

“Shit.” Coral noticed and clicked her tongue. “Sink, switch!”

“No way!” Kaleb slapped his belly. “You think I’m squeezing my ass in there? Bring that baby to the open side.”

He gestured to the seat next to his and how his row had space as it butted up to walkway.

“I want to sit next to Y/N!” Coral broiled.

Donnie paused at the end of the table to select whatever was leftover.

“Okay.” You caught a chair and put some weight onto it. “I can fit, I just need a second…”

Kaleb looked right at Donnie. “Colonel, let’s just move the table.”

“I can fit!” You snapped.

Donnie stayed especially still.

Kaleb blinked.

Eugene grinned pre-gamed shit.

Coral’s frown lined her cheeks.

You took a single breath to keep the next line out of your mouth at bay. You sympathized heavily with a particular woman who had just wanted ice cream. Now far removed from easily concealed bump days, your supposed helplessness was on the rise. There was always someone trying to make way or, worse yet, trying to touch you, and your mate often picked up the slack. An irrational part of your brain said your friends should know all this, but you had been just about as scarce as they were in life updates.

You were glad when Eugene had asked you to come.

They had made sure to ask specifically you.

They said they wanted you there.

They said they wanted to catch up while they suffered.

A gauntlet, they had joked, referring to yet another program.

It meant something.

It all meant something.

Coral’s care.

Kaleb’s assumption.

Donnie’s patience.

It was all equally irritating.

Your feet ached.

Your lower back was incessantly sore.

Your calves would throb from this short pause.

You were in a never ending battle between sitting down and your bladder.

You breathed in and out again before you tried to meaningfully look over your options. Kaleb’s mind for engineering argued his course was best and it would be nice to be able to easily get in and out of your seat when you inevitably had to hit the restroom next.

“Move the table.” You admitted trying not to be too sad about it.

The hoist took less than a few seconds and no one made further notes.

Donnie eventually sat across from you and beside Kaleb. Waters were passed out and other, more paltry orders were taken. Eugene’s serious air kept the table from falling into much catch up and eventually a team of employees approached the table.

“Welcome!” The first spoke as the hostess from the front. “I have a whole spiel, are you ready?”

“Born ready.” Eugene looked up with a fiery gazed they hoped matched the wings.

“Alright.” The woman bowed slightly. “Welcome to The Vertigo Venue, home of the 100 wing death challenge, where you won’t leave without your head spinning. As the reaper implies, you need to finish 100 of the world’s hottest wings in under 45 minutes. They will be brought to you in groups of 10 with the last 5 beings made with some of the hottest peppers in the world. Do you think you can stand up to the heat or will you be running from our kitchen?”

A man beside her who looked like he had come from the cook staff nodded appropriately.

“I’m here to win.” Eugene stared straight on.

“We’ll see. We’ll need you to sign a standard liability waiver.” The perky woman took an offered piece of paper from the third member of their trio and passed it along with a pen.

Kaleb and Donnie both tried to eye it as Eugene signed it without reading.

“Perfect. The rest of your food will be out soon. Our server, Monica, here will monitor you. You’re not allowed to drink water, use dip, or get into anything else that might cleanse your palate between wing sets. Still sound good?”

“Let’s get it going!” Eugene hollered.

The rest of the table minus Donnie cheered alongside.

The two others bowed out and Monica took the far seat opposite Eugene.

“Monica.” Kaleb immediately leaned forward to see her. “Scare the pants off Eugene. Tell us all about the losers.”

Monica jumped a little. “Uh… I only just started last week…”

“Aw!” Kaleb sank back in his chair.

“Pathetic.” Eugene sneered.

“Though… I heard the first guy who tried it fainted and was taken away in an ambulance…” Monica continued on.

Eugene hiccupped.

“The second and third didn’t make it past 50 and the last one…” Monica thought hard. “I think I heard they threw up or burned their sinuses or something. That also might have been a lie for the newbie…”

The rest of the table was now staring at her.

“I mean think about it!” She squeaked.

“Can I get a copy of that waiver?” Coral oozed malevolence. “I want to hang it over Eugene’s hospital bed.”

“Shut up!” Eugene swatted at her.

Conversation opened up and broke apart. From the table to smaller parties, you chatted with Coral about how she thought the celery and carrots were a waste of time. Eugene went on to speak about their utility which went on until Monica stood. It was a signal and you all quieted as a server came around your table. Food was dispersed to everyone else in a way that made Eugene stand out.

They were center stage when that cook from earlier walked out to personally deliver the first ten hot wings.

He spoke of some insane number of Scoville units, which measured the spice.

Eugene seemed unimpressed and the man departed.

Monica pulled a digital clock out from somewhere and readied it. “I’ll start it when you take your first bite.”

Eugene nodded once.

Kaleb was already through a few of his own wings as he watched.

Everyone else waited.

Eugene picked up a flat and leveled their gaze at Monica.

She found some courage and returned it with a hand over the button.

A few wild west seconds ticked by before they took a bite and she pressed the clock.

“Oh!” Eugene immediately perked up. “That’s pretty good.”

They ate at a steady pace with a relatively impressed expression.

“What’s the math on that?” Kaleb tipped his head to Donnie.

“For 45 minutes, 2.2 wings a minute.” Donnie answered, having yet to eat anything.

“The point two wings part is the real challenge.” Kaleb spoke like a joking sage.

Your spouse nodded without further mention.

Kaleb examined him with a creased brow.

The cook came out with the next basket.

You sort of heard the new Scoville number, but really you smelled the spice.

You salivated.

Your own wings were something basic.

Your gastrointestinal system had been particularly active.

It didn’t help that your child was kicking.

Dr. Kuro had you doing what she called a ‘kick count.’ While she admitted the egg shell made it a bit odd, she cautioned that the larger the baby grew, the more active they would become. You figured they got Donnie’s smarts because soon after that they seemed to realize they could get a reaction out of you only if they kicked the malleable placenta. You would find yourself struck at odd hours and heaving when your organs were attacked.

Counting out your abuse was a given.

Donnie, who apparently could hear the movement, was always nearby for a hand to squeeze. You guessed you considered that a forewarning of birth, though that was still a tossup. Dr. Kuro said she was waiting to see something specific before she made a final determination on whether you’d be up for natural birth or not. You quaked at the thought of passing the plastron, but your doctor seemed confident it was soft enough. You found that hard to believe when she seemed to only be able to tell that by sonogram, but you had no choice but to defer to her centuries of knowledge.

If the knocks to your insides weren’t bad enough, your heartburn picked up the slack.

You had never particularly noticed any cravings. If anything you developed aversions, but they always seemed to make sense. Eating a constant diet geared toward your health often put you in food ruts. There were only so many ways vegetables, fruits, and lean proteins could be prepared for maximum benefit and you hit those walls fast. You did your best to rotate the crops. An attempt was made so you didn’t deplete your reserves in each food group, but it had been a neverending balance act.

Acid reflux hit you hard in week 27.

Without obvious cause or culprit you were burping up boiling oil. For the first time in your pregnancy, you felt the ache of nausea. Churning guts had you reaching for antacids. You had to check which were safe when all you wanted was to stop the burn. You tried to hastily switch your diet in an attempt to offset it, but there seemed to be no rhyme or reason for the burn.

You ate a banana one day with no problem.

The next it caught in your throat a second time after swallowing.

You moved swiftly through your meal plans and it all culminated in a little pregnancy oddity. There were tons of these as far as Dr. Kuro was concerned and she likened them to the babies themselves. She said cravings and the like were all the baby deciding what they liked best, even if there was no evidence to support it.

You were sick enough to agree, but your mate had been hung up on the lack of science.

He had researched what he could, but abandoned it with relative swiftness. Pools of data were riddled with error and emotion. He likened it to the source of his ninpo as if he hadn’t taken to his new power like a moth to a flame. After his display of grandeur in the living room, his constructs were soon things he made without second thought. You figured it was an extension of those holograms that were linked to his brain. Ninpo bypassed some microscopic lag that supposedly came from his chip and had far greater application.

With a touch, he had a mug warmer keeping your tea the right temperature while you agonized over getting the minty aid down. With a tip of his head, a prop would appear if you needed to rest. He had even whipped up a neck pillow, though it was unusable. Tests found that while he understood organic compounds, he couldn’t recreate them with his power. The polyester he tried to manifest had been itchy and coarse. Though he was annoyed he couldn’t help you, knowing that mysticism had its limits seemed to soothe your mate.

They were caps on the intangible and he saw the rules as physical concepts. For moving mass, they were the calculations for friction and he loved parameters. He moved within them and wove throughout. You saw him create new battle shell prototypes in blinks just so he could see the components. He would turn the manifestations with flourishes and burst them into pieced blueprints so he could walk amongst the parts.

If you hadn’t been so sick as of late, you could have seen him revel more.

As it was, those glimpses had been few and far between. You wanted to encourage him because you loved to watch, but as of now Donnie barely spared time to practice. He only seemed to work with his ninpo to make sure his handle on it was a safe one. You and your child were his greater focus. He cared little for some great power as he deemed it unnecessary with the current state of his life. He had other things he wanted to do and, even if his ninpo could have helped, his plans were to do things with his own two hands, so he did.

The lumber for the crib had arrived a few days ago.

He was still reworking the perfect blueprint.

Tending to your tender stomach had kept him from long stretches of design.

The closing in of all you needed to do further upset your stomach.

So much of the time you thought should have gone to preparing for the baby had been used to instead see what shape the baby would take. It was difficult to think about buying clothes when you weren’t sure how sharp the carapace would be. You didn’t know how to account for diapers if there was a tail or not. Bottle types were a stalwart until one considered if formula was even necessary.

As far as you noticed, you hadn’t even produced milk or whatever precursor concoction it was called.

It was head-spinning.

You were already neglecting your friends as it were. Falling behind in regards to your kid which was the one thing you were supposedly putting all your energy toward felt like the ultimate failing. The thoughts might have consumed you had you not heard but opposition.

From Dr. Kuro, who had immediately picked up on the faintest hint of your anxiety, to Donnie, who was the king of over-preparations, neither party allowed for your doubts. Contingencies were always possible, but, as most of these things went, it didn’t matter how prepared or unprepared you were; a baby was coming. You would be ready because you had to be. Whatever you needed would be acquired and, if it had to be something different, then you would get that instead. Without the economic bars, that should have been settled for you, but the admonishment for thinking with such privilege in the first place came as a countercurrent.

It felt like a resurgence of the inadequacies you had long overcome. Years had gone by since you berated yourself in that way and the feelings had crept in to poison your heart and mind before you knew it. You decided that they were the leak of acid upsetting your stomach to absolve you and your baby of blame. It was the bad thoughts making you sick and not any infantile kicks. A change of mindset wasn’t something that happened immediately, but you had seen a turn as soon as you started to dismantle that train of thought.

Except now you were heavily debating on sucking the clean bones Eugene left behind.

Two more baskets had cycled through in that time and people were talking. Coral had left you behind to debate something with Kaleb that seemed to relate to Eugene. Said person sat at the center of a storm and seemed to be faring well. There was the faintest flush to their cheeks, but they continued eating at an even pace.

The smell of spice was in the air and tucking back into your nostrils. Waves of it wafting into a manifesting cloud that beckoned you forward. You moved by your nose alone as you leaned against the table. Your baby held onto the metaphorical edge to peak themselves at the treat unknown to them because you wanted one of those wings.

A level four spice couldn’t have been that bad.

You were turning toward Monica before you realized it. “When does the waiver kick in?”

Monica was schooled enough that she didn’t look away from Eugene. “It’s for overall consumption and the last fifteen.”

“Are the other sauces…” You glanced at one of the discarded baskets that had yet to be picked up and felt that drive hit you. “… on the menu normally?”

“Y/N…?” Coral caught wind of what you were doing.

“Huh?” You couldn’t pull your gaze away.

“You gonna do the challenge? You think eating for two gives you an edge?”

“What? No.” You finally blinked away.

“You’re eye fucking the bones.” Coral’s smile quirked.

“I don’t-!” You shook your head.

“Craving!” Eugene gulped out a fiery breath. “Mom did that with me! I was a spice baby!”

“You are good with spice.” Kaleb was inclined to agree.

“How’d that work out?” You felt a little guilty asking since it took Eugene’s attention away.

Eugene thought while they chewed.

You could feel Donnie eyeing you.

“Ever had heartburn so bad you couldn’t move?” Eugene finally animated and pointed a set of bones at you.

You sort of wanted to lean forward and bite the sinew on the joint.

“Haven’t you been dying with heartburn already?” Coral leaned suspiciously into your person.

“What’s another?” You found yourself saying.

Eugene laughed right into a choke.

Kaleb and Monica both shot to attention.

“Spice! Throat!” Eugene coughed out. “M’okay!”

Coral whacked their back and was cursed out for it.

Another set of wings for level five arrived.

You watched with a dropped jaw as your coveted bones were removed.

The new set scorched your nostrils from two seats away and your baby kicked with demands.

“C-can I-?!” You tried to call out to the cook, but his back turned and he was gone.

Donnie fluidly stood from his seat and chased him down.

“Ah…” You sounded your displeasure.

“There’s something!” Eugene took his first bite of wing 50. “Thought they were going easy on me!”

Coral glanced at the clock. “Might do it… Huh!”

“Non-believer!” Eugene shared spittle.

“I’m siding with the winning team.” Kaleb cheered.

“Fair-weather fan!” Coral cursed.

Donnie returned.

“You know what a fair-weather fan is, Dee?” Kaleb went to share the joke.

You sort of saw your husband shake his head, but you were staring at some napkins.

An insane part of you wanted to snort their red blotches.

Not only was that patently gross, it also would have been bad for your skin.

Craving or not, the thought of hot sauce swallowed your rationale.

You wanted it.

Your own food was completely unappetizing.

You only wanted something of that spice caliber.

Nothing else would suffice.

Heat.

Tongue burning.

Gasping for water.

You wanted to choke on it.

It would be all you could taste.

You sucked back up literal drool to wash your mouth out.

“Excuse me.” There was a tap to your shoulder.

You jumped as far as your belly allowed.

Everyone paused at your yelp.

You turned to find a server equally shocked, but still holding onto a small basket of 6 wings. “I-I’m so sorry. Are you alright? You couldn’t hear me, I just thought-!”

You meant to apologize.

Take blame.

Anything.

Except right at eye level was oozing lines of heat.

You could see the steam warping the air.

It came with a scent.

That spice that had been dropping down Eugene’s gullet at a dangerous pace.

The server was still talking and you only looked up at them. “Those are mine?”

“U-Uh! Y-yes!” They offered you the basket.

You smacked the untouched set you had ordered before away.

You heard Coral clear her throat from behind her hand.

You felt Eugene stare.

You didn’t care.

You yanked the wings down and let the smell wash over you.

Your eyes watered.

“Uh…” Kaleb drawled out concern.

“Shh!” Coral hissed.

You selected your first wing and everything else fell away.

There was clearly more than one flavor in the basket, but you didn’t care. Whatever wing was closest was your first choice. If you had been a better friend, you might have paid attention to spice level explanation. You were sure you had an excuse.

Tender flesh reached your lips and you tore into it indelicately.

A moan escaped you.

The lapping heat licked your tongue right back.

You took another bite.

You skirted bone.

The sauce scorched your lips.

It felt divine.

Hellfire washed you clean from inside out.

Each bite siphoned more of that spit down your throat. It burned your esophagus and went further down. Through winding tubes and whatever transformed that mash into something your baby could use. It sucked up the residuals in a form palatable for their development and satisfied that kick count for whatever high reaches it met today.

The basket was empty before your eyes rolled back from their journey to find your brain.

You must have put on quite the display from the state of your tablemates.

Coral was visibly shaking from withheld laughter. The only part of her facing you was her phone and it was clearly taking video. Eugene had fully stopped their challenge to outright gape with a full mouth. You skirted the wad to find Kaleb wearing a frown that was levied by how high his brows were. Even your mate, who had surely seen you at your absolute worst, was staring with uncharacteristically wide eyes per his public persona.

You meant to excuse yourself, but a small burp came out.

It was a feather light topping that offset the scales.

Everyone laughed.

Even Monica, who you had almost forgotten was privy to the party.

“A t-true g-glowing vi-vision!” Coral cackled as her phone shook.

“Give me a break!” You tried to take it.

She snatched it away. “Gross hands! No!”

“I’m not a dog!”

“Don’t eat like one then!”

You went to touch her shirt.

She shrieked.

“The time!” Kaleb suddenly shouted.

Eugene squeaked and dove back into his basket.

“18 minutes left.” Donnie remarked.

“What’re they at?” Kaleb turned back and forth.

“67.” Monica spoke, ready.

“Is that-!?” Kaleb continued to whip back and forth.

“Ahead of schedule.” Donnie said.

“Oh! Fweh!” Kaleb sank into his chair, dropping all concern. “False alarm.”

With a full mouth, Eugene grunted out unintelligible complaints.

Your mouth was on fire.

You wouldn’t have it any other way, but breathing was becoming a bit of a curse.

Each bout of life-sustaining oxygen fanned the embers on your tongue.

It hurt, but you loved the burn.

You thought about asking for another basket.

“Ugh.”

You could barely register what was happening before a napkin smashed into your mouth.

It was your turn to grunt into it.

“You’re drooling!” Coral wiped your chin.

“What the fuck!? I’m not a baby!?”

“Stop acting like one then!”

“Is this some ploy for godparentdom?!”

Coral buckled with guilt.

“Coral, you’re joking.”

“Ha! Ha! Yeah!” She curled away with your used napkin.

“It’s wasn’t a thing!”

“You put me with the hippo!!” She snapped.

“A mutant!” You swatted at her.

This time you made contact.

“This is not me being prejudiced! Don’t you hold that against me!”

“I am and I told you: it wasn’t that serious! Yes, we want godparents, but it was a spur of the moment decision! Mikey asked and I said the first people that came to mind!”

“You don’t just pick based on feeling! I want you to pick me because it should be!”

“If you think it should be you, why are you mad?!”

“I want to earn it!”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

“Yes! It does! It means something!”

“I know it does! Donnie and I have been discussing it!”

“So you already decided!?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Oscar the Grouch doesn’t discuss. He debates! I know what he thinks of me! He argued against me, I know it!”

“World revolves around you, huh!? That wasn’t even on his mind!”

“So now I’m not even worth considering!?”

“Coral, I swear-!!!”

“Final five!” Kaleb whooped, seemingly unaware.

You and Coral had hands on each other, but both turned in time to see Eugene take their first bite of the spiciest wings in the challenge.

You watched in slow motion.

Their lips hit the meat.

You had to lick your own vestiges.

Eugene tore away and chewed a single time before they appeared to light up.

In something out of a cartoon, you swore you watched the heat travel straight through their face where it bled steam out their ears.

“WHAT THE FUC-!?!” Eugene snorted and the lava must have gone elsewhere because their eyes went wild.

They scoured the table.

“No water!” Monica announced.

Eugene looked up with tears running down their face.

“I m-mean-!” Monica tittered nervously. “Of course, you can, but it would violate the rules of the-!”

“No water!” Kaleb slapped a hand down to the table. “You got this!”

Eugene turned the weepiness toward their captain.

“3 minutes.” Donnie added.

Eugene swallowed and it apparently went down like glass because they wheezed.

“Eu-gene! Eu-gene!” Kaleb started up a chant and stared expectantly across the table.

You and Coral unwove from one another to pump your fists and join the encouragement.

Donnie only joined in only after Monica participated.

Eugene wobbled through their 95 wing.

They sobbed through 96.

By 97 they were dry heaving.

98 came with another choking fit.

Their hands were quaking around 99.

Splatters of the sauce shot out threateningly from the shake.

You swore you could see them burn holes in the table.

Time moved slow and fast.

Eugene was out of pace.

The clock sped by while they lagged.

“10 seconds!” Monica suddenly yelled.

All of Eugene’s speed caught up with them and they deep-throated 99.

The ensuing wretch was heard around the restaurant.

They disappeared from their seat and the only marker of where they had gone was a sauce print on the wall.

The alarm clock beeped out the final time.

Instead of looking after Eugene, everyone looked down at the one untouched wing left in their basket.

The plea bargains came immediately.

“Throwing up is a caveat!”

“Where’s choking on your waiver?!”

“You cannot hold this against them!”

“It’s one wing!!”

As Monica’s hands lifted, the hostess who had set this in motion appeared.

“I’m sorry, everyone. Rules are rules…” She spoke law.

There were grumbles shared.

Eventually Monica departed.

Kaleb eventually coaxed Donnie up to go find Eugene.

Your husband shot you a look and you nodded for him to go.

There was a moment of silence for the failure.

Coral spoke as soon as the quiet set in.

“Wanna eat it?” Coral pointed to the final wing that had been Eugene’s demise.

“You eat it.”

“You were horfing these down a minute ago.”

“Like one through six, not the waiver ones.”

“I’m surprised the restaurant left it here.”

“Isn’t it a liability for the rest of us?”

“Totally must be.”

“Godparent duties if you eat it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fine, don’t be godmother.”

“Fuck you.”

You laughed.

“I do not care that you’re pregnant. That’s bullshit.”

“You never care.”

“I care about this and you’re being mean about it.”

“Yeah, I don’t really get why.”

“You don’t.” Coral leveled with you.

Her look took your words.

“You don’t.” She repeated with a different inflection.

“You make me want to apologize.” You squirmed in your seat.

“It should be obvious.”

“Coral-”

“Yeah. I get it. It’s not.” She sighed. “Maybe I haven’t tried to talk to you enough. After we stopped doing the pilates together…”

“You got a boyfriend…”

She relented a little. “It’s not like I stopped caring.”

“Of course.”

“I want it. I’m not huge on kids, but this’ll be your kid. I’m in your corner, always have been. They’re gonna be a little extension of you. If anything happened to you…”

You looked her over.

“I’d do it right.” She decided. “Raising them how you’d want.”

You gave her an earnest smile.

She gave her usual awkward air at sincerity.

You gave the moment time to breathe before ruining it for her sake. “Wiping my mouth and trying to get me a booster seat is not a great way to show it.”

“I did not!” She lit up at the shift.

“You did!”

“There’s no booster seat for the current size of your ass.”

“FUCK YOU!”

Coral laughed maniacally.

You elbowed her.

She sent one right back.

Two calm seconds panned out before you were bumping each other’s chairs.

The scraping summoned a server who was clearly too scared to interrupt and ask if everything was alright.

They also spied the wing.

They turned tail for the kitchen.

“Last chance!” You pointed and almost got her eye.

She swatted you away at the last second. “Not on your unborn spawn!”

“Rules are rules!” You mocked.

“Who else besides Hypno!? I know you aren’t giving it to him with that husband of his!”

“Don’t worry about it!”

“I will because I’ll be stuck with them!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh huh!”

The kitchen doors opened in a telling way.

You both went rigid as the cook came out and headed in your direction.

“Lick it and it’s yours!”

She sat out a beat and the man disappeared behind a pillar on the way.

You kept lookout.

“One lick!”

You watched her reach out.

A single digit emerged from the rest.

You waited for the bluff.

It never came.

She made contact and hid the sauce laden finger back on her person, just as the cook arrived.

“Apologies! Let me get this for you!” The man took only the one basket.

You both watched him go with the intent of prey animals before looking at where Coral had cradled her hand to her chest.

You heard her gulp.

You saw her shudder.

She inhaled deep to steady herself before bringing her hand up.

You caught her wrist before it got too close to her extended tongue. “I was joking!”

“You were?!”

“Yeah! I didn’t think you would-! That sent someone to the hospital!”

“It’s pretty hard to tell!”

“I would not make you eat some death wing to make you my kid’s back-up plan!”

She pointed the poison at you.

You caught a napkin and wiped it away. “Careful!”

She frowned for a moment before it turned into a pout.

“You can ask.” You wadded up the napkin and safely tucked it away so no one might accidentally use it. “Officially.”

“Does that mean-?”

“Of course, you’re the godmother.”

“Thank fuck!” She threw her arms up and lolled into her chair with a clanging of its legs.

“There’s two positions anyway!. Hypno was up for the other, you realized that, right?”

She made a face.

“What is with you?! I thought you liked him!”

“I do! I just-!” She made a disgruntled noise. “Like I don’t want it to be Nelson. He’s not cut out for it and also I feel like that’s us going too fast, but I guess I thought it would be… I don’t know…! That… your stupid hubby got his pick too. You too are always so gross with your shared grossness. He’s been branching out. Making friends and being almost a person, so…” Her mouth went as small as it could. “I know he’s not picking Hypno and he’s like… inspiring or… something… I guess…”

You blinked.

“It’s whatever! Goals! Ugh! Is that what you want to hear?!” She folded her arms.

“Goals… as in…?”

“You two! I don’t know!”

“Like…?”

“Like relationship. Through all the shit. It’s crazy how you two are. Parent goals. I wish my parents were one tenth of the Grinch.”

“The Grinch being Donnie.”

“Hell, I’ll take the cartoon guy. He treated that dog pretty well.”

“Coral…” You moved to hug her.

“Gross! Don’t!” She gave no actual resistance.

You had to twist your body to reach.

Gas moved.

You felt the bubble.

A harmless burp.

Until the bile chased it.

The noise you made was gaseous and made Coral actually flinch away.

“Oh shit, are you gonna throw up too?!”

“N-no!” You covered your mouth and could smell the spice.

It burned straight up as it mixed with the battery acid of your stomach.

“Ugh… Heartburn…” You choked it down and went for water.

“They have to have milk.” Coral looked around. “Or ice cream?”

“Yeah…” The acid retreated without the threat of coming out, though sometimes you wished it would.

Instead, you would be burping like this for the next few hours.

Or days based on the level of heat on those wings.

You didn’t curse your baby, but a small part of you groaned at its insistence on pain.

You burped again on your own terms to try to circumvent the next one and groaned.

“They’re avoiding us, I swear.” She looked around.

You sank back into your chair and felt the usual pressure of your bladder.

Getting up was going to exacerbate things.

There was no fighting it.

“I’ll be right back.” You told your companion.

“To throw up?” She checked earnestly.

“Nah, gonna pee. Get me ice cream though.”

“As soon as someone comes!” She huffed. “What flavor?”

“Vanilla’s fine.”

“I’ll see if they have better.”

You smiled and left. You sort of registered the others hadn’t returned, but focused more on the trip. You had to weave through tables and groups to get across the bar. There weren't any sports events that you knew were playing and the TVs seemed to confirm that. They sat on and useless, showing replays with sportscasters talking over smaller images. You paid them little mind as you found the break in the wall that clearly led to the restrooms.

Down the hallway leading to them, you saw the family stall was propped open and the sound of a tap running full steam leaked out.

“You okay, man?”

It was Kaleb’s voice and you slowed.

No one responded and the soft rush from the sink continued.

“I can’t be sure, but you’ve been weird since I mentioned the big guy…”

You didn’t chance peeking and only crept closer.

“Raph can crack bones with his jaw pressure right? I thought he’d be a beast with wings.” Kaleb went on.

Even with the static, you heard the exhale of your husband.

“Something happened…” Kaleb spoke his realization. “I’m sorry, dude. I didn’t realize things had gone south again.”

“No… That’s not-” Donnie tried.

Something beeped. “Switch eyes.”

You heard a babble of Eugene and the water pitch shifted as something was moved under it.

You really wished you could see.

“All good, we’ll get it all out. Just hang in there.” Kaleb ushered.

Eugene gurgled a response.

Your friend must have had their head in the sink.

“But, yeah. Sorry. I won’t bring him up again.” Kaleb continued.

“We… No…” Donnie struggled. “It was… me. I was excessively cruel.”

“I mean-”

“I was.” Donnie pressed.

Kaleb relented with a popped vowel.

“I don’t know what to do.” There was a thump against a wall.

“Yeah?”

“How do I…? How can I… apologize?”

“It’s not like they apologized to you.” Kaleb spoke knowingly.

“Raphael did.” Donnie said simply. “Raph…”

There was some quiet.

“He did.”

You heard a clap like a hand on a shoulder.

“Our acquaintance was fragile. No fixing disrepair.”

“From engineer to scientist, we both know that’s not true.”

You didn’t hear a response.

“It’s all about creative solutions in our line of work. So what are we thinking?”

“Kaleb…” Donnie sounded exhausted.

“I know you’ve thought of something.”

“It’s unreasonable. You understand unusable theory. Hypothesis best kept-”

“Donatello.”

Your mate went silent.

“Just hit me. Safe space. It’s a bathroom. The safest of spaces. Holiest of tiles!”

Eugene made an affirmative noise.

You could almost see Donnie taking in the definition and adding it to his notes on behavior.

You didn’t disagree, but you might amend that one.

“I would need a gesture. Something meaningful.”

“Mhm…”

“The godfather position…”

Only the water droned on.

“But that entails my child, mine, falling in with the Hamato! That can’t possibly-!”

“Raph… he’s… good with kids, right?”

Donnie said nothing.

“He runs those dojos. He, like, exclusively works with kids. We went to that one city-wide match. It was crazy. The kids loved him. The parents loved him.”

Eugene’s hair would have been soaked through.

“Didn’t he quit the family? I mean obviously he didn’t, but like he put his foot down. He’s had enough of it. I don’t know him like you, but I don’t know… I can see him… If something happened to you… giving up everything. Dropping it all to take on that new duty. I’m not vouching for it, you can do whatever, but it’s not that bad of an idea. It’s a big gesture. He goes soft at the slightest thing. You offer him this and he’s definitely going to cry. ”

There was quiet again and the rushing water was getting to you.

Your bladder ached.

You shifted stance to try to alleviate pressure.

It did little.

It rarely did these days.

Your limit was your limit.

“I admit I’ve… considered such…” Donnie murmured.

You pulled the closest bathroom door and ducked inside.

You checked and saw that there was a mechanism to close it quietly and did your business.

You emerged in time to see a soaked wet cat of Eugene send you a blood red glance.

“What happened?!” You quaked to fuss over them.

“Vomit in my eyes. I do not want to talk about it.” They glared as much as their swollen eyes could before continuing along and leaving drips behind.

“We got most of it.” Kaleb was next in line.

Donnie nodded and looked worn.

You smiled at him and he came to join you.

“You good? The wings get you?” Kaleb wondered, not put out by third-wheeling.

You slipped your arms through Donnie’s. “Nah, classic gotta pee business.”

“Truth.” Kaleb’s head bobbed and you headed back to the table.

Eugene was there with their face in a bowl of ice cream.

Each place setting had a specific scoop set and Coral smirked over her dominion.

“Nice!” You dropped down hard in your seat and grabbed a spoon.

Eugene sighed dreamily.

“They… good…? They look like shit.” Coral asked with a thrown thumb before she got eyes on Kaleb and Donnie. “Are you guys good? You look like shit too.”

Kaleb popped the wet prints on his shirt with pride before taking his ice cream bowl. “It’s called friendship. This is mine. Wiping drool is yours.”

“Like you were in the running! Shoe weirdo!” She teased.

“Do not besmirch cutie baby booties in front of my ice cream!” Kaleb pretended to cover his dish’s ears. “Don’t worry. Mean old Cor’ didn’t mean it.”

Coral rolled her eyes.

Donnie reviewed his ice cream like a child given some kind of consolation prize for being good at the dentist.

His metaphorical drilled tooth hurt too much to enjoy the treat.

You took your bite while toeing for him under the table.

His long legs weren’t too hard to find.

He looked up at you tepidly.

You sent him a smile that held all your thoughts on the matter you had both discussed already. He reviewed you with a steadying breath before moving to take a bite of his own.

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