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Perseverance	By : EvaBrick Category: Comics > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 9920 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Donatello woke up the next morning in the creaky old country bed with Charlie wrapped contentedly in his arms. They’d tiptoed into the house very late the night before and snuck upstairs, wincing every time the floor squeaked. If Don had been alone, he would have come in through the window, but he found that he didn’t really mind sneaking around with Charlie; it was fun. Not that there was much point in sneaking, of course, when your brothers were all ninjas. As they’d crept down the hall, he’d listen for the familiar signs that they were asleep. He heard Leonardo’s slow, rhythmic breathing hitch for a moment as the blue turtle woke and listened to see who was in the hall. In the next room, he could hear Raphael snoring softly, and Michelangelo mumbling something in his dream.

Don pulled Charlie’s sleeping form tight against his chest and smelled her hair as he thought about last night. He had never orgasmed twice in an hour before. Anytime he’d ever gotten himself off, coming once had satisfied him and he’d moved on with his day. He felt very relaxed and happy this morning, but he also felt drained... almost empty. He smiled against his girlfriend’s neck - he probably was pretty empty.

He slowly extracted himself from the bed without waking her and silently climbed out of the open window and onto the eve of the house. He leaped down, landing in a crouch in the dewy grass, before running across the lawn to the pond. He stripped off his mask and pads and slipped into the icy water, diving down to the bottom to swim around. Don could have just taken a hot shower to clean himself up after their lovemaking the night before, but the turtle in him loved the wildness of the pond. He wished he could show Charlie how the yellow rays of early morning sunshine sliced deep into the water, lighting it right to the weeds at the bottom, but he doubted that he could ever convince her to jump into a cold pond first thing in the morning.

Don swam underwater in slow, lazy circles, flipping over onto his back so he could watch the surface of the water ripple pink and yellow in the sunrise. He counted his blessings quietly in his head; he had a family who loved him, friends who loved him, a smart girlfriend who loved him... he had food in the fridge and a roof over his head... life just didn’t get any better. Donatello sighed, and a couple of air bubbles floated up to the surface; he wished that there was something he could do to save his father, but he knew there was no cure for old age. Not that Splinter was really all that old; it was the rat’s body that was breaking down. He surfaced in the growing sunshine and swam to the edge of the pond, climbing out and grabbing his pads.

He strolled over to the house, slipping in the back door of the kitchen, where he chucked his mask and pads on the table and went to start breakfast. He dumped a whole bag of hash browns onto a cookie sheet and stuck them in the oven, then he took two frying pans out and put them on the stove, filling them with sausages. The waffle batter only took a few minutes to whip up in a big bowl and he dumped big spoonfuls into three waffle irons that he had plugged in on the counter. He was just cracking a dozen eggs into a huge pan on the stove when Leo walked in.

“It was supposed to be my turn to make breakfast,” the blue turtle said in Japanese. He took some plates out of the cupboard and started setting the table.

“Yeah, I know,” Don responded. “I just felt like cooking.”

Leo nodded and got some cutlery out of the drawer, wondering how long it would be before Mike turned up. He usually waited until he could hear the forks before he got out of bed. “Maybe this afternoon after we get back, we could work on some bo katas together,” he said. “You’re right - we should take it more seriously.”

“But if I teach you, then I won’t be able to kick your ass with it anymore,” Don teased.

Leo had started placing mugs around the table. “True, but I’d rather have you defending my ass with your bo than kicking my ass with it,” he smiled. They both laughed as Leonardo went to the fridge and got some orange juice and Don flipped the waffles out with a fork before pouring more batter in.

“Shit,” Don grumbled. “I forgot to put the coffee on.”

“I’ll do it,” Leo said, grabbing the coffee grounds from the fridge too. “So how’d last night go?” he asked. He bit his lip for a second. “Not that I’m trying to pry.”

“Don’t start being scared to talk to me, Leo,” Don said, scrambling the eggs. “We’ve never been shy with each other... me being with Charlie doesn’t change anything.” The brothers smiled at each other as the room began to fill with the strong aroma of coffee. “It was a great night,” he said simply. “I showed her the dojo and my workshop. Ernie gave her a bit of a scare in the dark, but she seemed kind of,” Don hated to brag and winced inwardly as he continued, “impressed with him.”

“Well she should be,” Leo said, chuckling. “You’re a clever guy, Don.”

Don poked the eggs around with the spatula. He heard the shower start upstairs in Charlie’s bathroom so the coffee smell must have reached her pretty little nose. For a moment, he pictured her all soapy and wet, washing the dried traces of him from between her legs. His dick twitched a little, but didn’t harden. It was still spent from the night before.

“There are other things about having a girlfriend that never occurred to me,” Don said, still in Japanese. “Like... it’s hard to describe, but it’s a bit like having your own cheerleader.”

Leo started pouring orange juice into glasses and he looked at Don, one eyebrow up. “Oh?” he said.

Don shook his head. “Not in the kinky porn kinda way... in an emotional way.” He dumped the eggs onto a platter, put a cover over it and set it on the table while Leo checked the hash browns. “She always encourages me and when I show her something I’ve made or something I can do, she acts thrilled and tells me how great I am and how smart she thinks I am. I know it’s a bit vain of me to like that, but I really do. It makes me feel great!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Leo smiled. He grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the hash browns from the oven, dumping them into another big platter. “Y’know, we might not express it as well as Charlie, but we do appreciate all the stuff you make and fix. Our lives would kinda suck if you hadn’t provided us with stuff like cell phones, tv, and internet.”

Don poked the sausages with the fork, turning them a little. He decided that they were done and scraped them off onto a third platter. “I know you do,” he said, “but she feels my muscles when she thanks me for something and makes me feel like a big stud.” The two burst out laughing and Leo slapped his brother on the shell as Mike stumbled sleepily into the room.

“Hi, gimmie a sausage,” Michelangelo said, grabbing the platter from Don and heading for the table. Don looked at Leo and grabbed the metal platter lid from the counter and sent it flying after his brother. It klanked into his shell and hit the floor.

“And good-fucking-morning to you too, Michelangelo,” he said, rolling his eyes, as he switched back to English.

“Watch yer language, ladies,” Raphael grumbled, appearing around the corner with Charlie. “It’s too early for me ta kick anyone’s ass, so behave yerselves.” He headed for the coffee and she giggled, tipping her head up to kiss the bottom of Don’s jaw. Don wrapped an arm around her and gave her a quick squeeze. Mike caught Raph’s eye - even after both of them had bathed, the turtles could still smell Charlie on Don and Don on Charlie. It wasn’t really a big deal, Michelangelo figured... they knew that no human would notice, and it didn’t really bother the turtles, knowing that their brother had quite obviously doodled his girlfriend the night before. Donatello had lain with his mate - it was as simple a that.

Mike sighed to himself while he stuffed some egg into his mouth. In his mind, he was a human; it was just his body that wasn’t. Sure, his table manners weren’t great, but he did eat at a table... with a fork, no less. He wasn’t in some bowl eating lettuce and bugs. Still, there was a little part of him that thought weird things sometimes when he least expected it; like the strong desire to spend all day in a pond or like using the word ‘mate.’

Yesterday evening when Charlie and Don had left, he’d sat with his brothers in the living room, watching the taped Simpsons episode and talking in Japanese about dude stuff. Girls and sex, and Charlie and Don, mostly.

Leo had been the one to actually say the word. “I really like her,” he had said. “She makes Don happy, she gets along great with us, and she understands how important our training is.”

“Yeah,” Raphael had replied. “She can bust some balls when she wants to... I kinda miss Donnie, though. We don’t see him as much anymore.”

“You’ll see him more when you start hanging out with Charlie more,” Mike had snickered, reaching for the nearly-empty bag of chips.

Leo shrugged. “Don’s spent years bumming around with us. I can’t blame him for wanting to get out more. Fuck, if I had the same opportunity, I’d spend all my free time with my mate.” Raphael and Michelangelo stared at him as he clapped a big hand over his mouth.

Raphael sighed and took Mike’s chips. “Dat thought’s popped into my head, too, Leo,” he said. “It weirds the fuck outta me, when I think like dat, but we can’t deny what we are... we ain’t a hundred percent human.”

“It weirds us all out,” Mike said, “but I guess it’s not a big deal... it doesn’t happen much... Besides, Leo, Don’s been doing some weird turtle stuff, too.”

“Oh?” the blue turtle said.

“Yeah, remember him telling us about the growling? We knew about the churl thing, but I’ve never growled in my life! I didn’t even know we could! And then there’s the nuzzling, too.”

“I’ve seen dat,” Raph said, rubbing his eyes. “I know why he does it, too. She thinks he’s just being affectionate, an’ I guess he is, but some... animals,” he struggled to say the word, “have scent glands in their faces. Dat’s why cats rub their cheeks on things. Don’s instinctually marking her. I don’t think dat he even knows.”

“How the fuck do you know what?” Leo asked, reaching a hand out for the chip bag.

“Nature channel. I wish they‘d do more episodes with Moe,” he said, looking back to the tv. “I like Moe.”

“I was wondering if you cooked like your brothers,” Charlie was saying to Don, as Mike snapped out of his reverie. He grinned at her and pulled out the chair next to him. She was Don’s mate alright, but she was also still his best pal. He passed her a glass of orange juice as she sat down next to him.

“What?” Leo said, “We’re great cooks.”

“Yes, you are,” Charlie laughed, “but you’re also the only people I know who view cooking as a contact sport.”

After breakfast, Charlie and Mike washed the dishes while Don and Raph went around the farm, closing things up and putting things away. Leo put the leftover food in a box and carried it out to the van. Charlie noticed that the turtles all seemed to be a little sad that they were leaving and she couldn’t blame them. It would probably be a while before they’d see daylight again. Charlie felt reluctant to leave, too, and it surprised her. She had thought that she’d be busting to get back to the store. It seemed a shame to end it when they were all so happy.

“So whatcha gonna do about your folks?” Mike asked, nudging her with his elbow as he dried the plates she’d finished washing. The question took her a bit off-guard; she and Don had talked about it, but she’d been trying to avoid thinking about it much.

“Well,” she sighed, passing him a plate, “I guess my dad’s easy... I think he and I are done for good.”

“You sure that’s what you want?” Mike asked softly, bumping her again. She bumped him back and he smiled.

“Yeah,” she said, sadly. “I mean... if I was dating a guy who hurt me like my dad does, what would you tell me to do?”

“Leave him,” Mike said, without hesitation. “Leave him and come and tell Dr. Mikey, so I could surgically remove his wang.”

Charlie laughed quietly and passed him another plate. “Exactly, and this is no different. Why should I stick around to let him hurt me like he’s been doing for... geez, I can hardly remember life without him hitting me.”

Mike’s heart pinched. Poor Charlie...

“Did he ever hit your mom?” he asked carefully, not sure how willing she was to talk about it.

“I dunno,” she shrugged. “She was never home much, and when she was, he never seemed to be around much. I don’t know why they ever got married. Grandpa said to me one time that if he didn’t know better, he’d swear my father was adopted. Grandpa was very ashamed of him.”

“Yeah, I would be too,” Mike said. They worked in silence and then he asked, “Are you gonna keep seeing your mom?”

Charlie shrugged again. She didn‘t mind talking about this stuff to Mike. He was easy to talk to - he knew when to joke and when to be serious. Charlie felt like she could probably tell him anything and he’d be cool with it. “I guess... I don’t see her much anyway - not even at Christmas or on my birthday. She just calls once in a while to complain about Dad. After Grandpa died, I used to go to some of her book signings when she was in town - I never asked her to come and do one at the store... I didn’t want her there. It was my special place that I shared with Grandpa... my parents and their cruelty don’t belong there.” She laughed a little and passed Mike another mug. He frowned a little; he didn’t see what was so funny.

“This one time,” she said, “I waited in line for half an hour to get Mom to sign a book. I got up to the table and she never even looked up. She asked who she should make it out to and I said, ‘Charlotte’ and she still never looked up. She didn’t recognize my name or voice. I let her sign it, then I took the book and left. I chucked it in a dumpster on my way home.” She laughed again.

“That’s totally not funny, babe,” he said, shaking his head. He grabbed a fresh dishcloth and snapped it out angrily. Her parents were one-hundred percent, grade A, all-natural assholes. How the fuck did those two ungrateful losers ever conceive someone as sweet, kind, smart, and beautiful as Charlie? Fuckers.

“I know, Mikey,” she said, her voice sounding thick, “But if I cried every time they broke my heart, I would have drowned in my own tears years ago.
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Perseverance