The first time they outvote him, Leonardo hates himself enough to scream.

He's screaming anyway, because Raphael shoved him off the rooftop, ensuring he'd go sailing into the canal at a safe two stories below. He hears Donatello shouting before the water breaks under him like glass, and everything is lost in a haze of bubbles and freezing darkness. Leonardo fights against the momentum of his fall, kicking wildly towards the direction he thinks is up.

When he breaks the surface, flames billow on the rooftop like a massive, sweeping curtain of oil and fire. Leo swallows back bile and a drop in his stomach that nearly sinks him back down to the bottom.

No. God, no.

How could he fail?

Then a bo smacks firmly against his crown, and he jerks away from it to the amused look of Donatello, reaching it out towards him. Somehow Don manages to make amusement look equally like annoyance, but Leo is too overcome to do anything but try not to drown from relief.

"Like I was saying," Don coughs, spitting soot. "Could have. Most likely would not have."

—

That night, Raph comes home with a broken hand and Michelangelo has three more scrapes to mar the patterns in his shell. Don's breathing is a little wheezy, but he waves it off and drops a blanket that smells like grease and coffee around Leo's shoulders.

"You shouldn't have done that," Leo growls almost immediately once everyone is settled in.

All three of them send him a look that chills him colder than any autumn midnight swim ever could. Mikey pulls up close, practically snuggling into him, and Don is silent as he passes Leo a mug of tea.

"Yeah," Raph says, balancing a sai on his good finger. "Maybe."

Seething with quiet rage, Leonardo vows that this will never happen again.

In three pairs of eyes, he sees the vow that it will.