Ah, I realize Raph and Donnie might be somewhat OOC, but this was my first 'cest fic. So. :] Deal.

"Yo, Brainiac. Needa patch job."

Don glanced up from his book, blinking in surprise to find Raphael standing in the doorway. He wasn't exactly awestruck by the fact that it was indeed his brother Raphael, but that he was actually standing. Usually, when Raph came to him for a 'patch job', a limb was barely attached, a gross amount of blood had been lost, something had been detached or burned or broken. But there Raph was, defying all odds, standing as proudly as he ever had.

"Earth to Donnie!"

Setting his book down he motioned towards the door, squinting his eyes a bit at the blinding light shining in.

Raph rolled his eyes and nodded, pushing the door shut with his leg since his hand was clamped over his arm. He sometimes forgot that Don was a rather rare breed of hermit turtle.

"What did you do this time?" Sighing, Don rolled his chair a few feet away, beginning to rifle through a drawer in his nightstand. He pulled out a tiny first aid kit and shut it, wheeling over to his bed, where Raph, accustomed to this almost nightly-ritual, was already waiting.

"Case got 'is hands on these bullet proof vests an we wanted to try'm out." His brows shot up as he lowered his hand, getting a good look at the wound for the first time. "Dumbass can't aim for shit."

Don nodded thoughtfully, giving the appearance of actually listening. All he had needed to hear was 'bullet proof vests' before his mind decided there was a bug in it somewhere and promptly shut down. The instant Raph finished his explanation, he asked, "Have you been drinking?"

Raph shook his head, and Donnie believed him.

"Casey was, though," he said quietly.

Leo might have questioned Raphael further, but a straight answer was all Don needed. His gut told him Raph was telling the truth.

He decided against questioning how Casey and his brother had managed to get a hold of a gun. The only explanation for situations such as this was actually a name, and that name was Casey Jones.

Don personally found it a bit unnerving what the two of them could cook up when together, even if alcohol wasn't involved. Even Mikey and Raph messing around insured for odd conversations and possibly bruises, but when Casey and Raph got together, stitches were almost always involved, sometimes even worse. He could recall countless nights patching both of them up, being sworn to secrecy by Casey who was afraid April would go berserk on him.

"Nice one," Don sighed, rolling his eyes a bit. He tried to look irritated, but was doing a poor job.

Raph grinned, almost as if he were proud.

"Hand," Don said automatically, his own already stretched out for Raph's, who, knowing the score by now, placed it in his brothers. Don was busily sorting through the first aid kid with his free hand. Raph cocked a brow and glanced down for a moment, realizing Don was actually holding his hand.

He waited to see how long it would take Don to notice, but after realizing he probably wouldn't with how caught up in muttering about medical forceps he was, he twisted his arm around so that his forearm rested in his brothers hand.

Focusing once again, Don looked the wound over carefully. He was happy to find that the bullet wasn't lodged in Raph's arm; rather it had just nicked the skin. It was pretty clean, but would require stitches. Good, he thought with a small smile. He didn't really feel up to digging a bullet out of anyone's arm tonight. He was also quite happy to find that there hadn't been much blood loss, and that the wound was just a patch of sensitive pink tissue, clashing against his brother's dark green skin.

Don plucked a tiny needle from the first aid kit and bit the top off. He released his brother's arm for a second and tapped the needle sharply but gently, and squeezed so that a bit of the translucent liquid spurted from the tip of the needle.

Raph glanced at the needle for a minute. They didn't bother him like they bothered Leo, but he really didn't think a tiny nick like this even required the area to be numbed. He'd gotten used to it, receiving many stitches in his day.

"What?" Don asked, looking from the needle to Raph.

He shrugged. "Nothin'. You're the doctor."

Nodding, Don quickly took hold of his arm and quickly administered the numbing agent, then began to gather his equipment while waiting for it to take effect.

Once Don was sure the area was numbed, he got ready. Raph didn't so much as flinch when Don neared him with the needle, beginning to sew the tough skin together one tiny stitch at a time. Usually he would just bandage the wound, but he knew Raph wouldn't take care of it, and figured stitches would be a more sensible solution.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into what seemed like hours. Not because Don was slow- no, he was actually quite fast, his hands being quite experienced. No, it seemed like hours because with every tick of Don's damn alarm clock, he felt the panic slowly surge through his limbs faster and faster. He didn't like to be touched.

"What's bothering you, Raph?"

This question must have caught Raph off guard, because he blinked several times, and then his face became dark and threatening.

"You think too much." He hissed, and for the next few minutes Don worked in silence.

"You know I'm always here, right? That you can tell me anything?"

"Done?" He jerked his head towards his arm after another painful few seconds of staring into those deep, doleful eyes he could lose himself in for days. Don nodded slowly, caressing the bandage over his brother's arm before drawing back with a sigh.

Deciding to believe Don would ignore this and forget about it he turned to leave, but found he was unable to. Mainly because he felt Don wrap his soft fingers around his forearm, and also partially because he didn't want to leave. He shuddered at the touch. Don's skin was much softer than his, not exposed to the rugged weather or concrete surface of the city as often as Raph's was.

"Raph... Please." Don pleaded. There was nothing threatening about this. Raph suddenly became aware of how small Don was compared to him.

"Donnie.. Don't," he warned, bearing his teeth.

Raph, be careful, you're going to get killed someday.

Raph, we worry. Can you blame us?

Raph, you're too reckless! You need to slow down!

We care about you!

He'd heard it all before.

Don's brows knit together and he looked down towards his feet, not releasing his grip on Raph's arm, but it sure did loosen. It was as if he were afraid to let go, afraid that this time, Raph would storm out, and this time he wouldn't come back.

"...I don't want to lose you." His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

Don was taken aback when Raphael shoved him up against the wall, his eyes now tiny slits, his pupils dilated. His breathing was already coming out in long pained grunts, and Don was quivering underneath him.

This look was often reserved for Leo, when he had pushed Raph way too far, right before he would slam his fist into a wall to keep from slamming them into someone's skull. He sensed his brother's urge to injure him, and yet he sensed something he hadn't noticed before, something different. He'd seen this kind of rage directed at Leo many times, but never had Raph intentionally tried to hurt him. He refused to believe his brother was a barbaric, savage killer, a rock with no feelings. Don suspected that, out of all of them, Raph was actually probably the most emotional.

Raphael pushed Don into the wall harder and in an instant Don leaned forward, forcefully kissing his brother. That had been rather unexpected, not just the kiss, but also the forcefulness of its nature. It was awkward and a little sloppy, especially since their mouths were not designed for this. Raphael tried, but couldn't ever remember Don physically standing up to him; usually he tried to quell him with words and logic. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn't.

Don squirmed under him, attempting to break free as if he'd realized his mistake, but Raphael had already accepted the action, and was relaying it into Don, ten fold.

It was just a stupid mistake, his mind screamed at him as he again tried desperately to separate himself from his brother. His efforts were rewarded by his wrist being bent back at an unnatural angle as Raph bit into his lower lip, electing a soft gasp from Don, quickly followed by a low groan. Blood. He could taste blood. He felt Raph grind into him even harder, pulling away briefly.

"Raph, your..."

He looked down rather coldly at his younger sibling, who became much quieter than before.

"...your arm..."

After a moment Raph leaned back and looked Don square in the eye. He'd confided in those kind eyes many times during his life. He'd gazed into them many times, under many different circumstances, and each time, he found the same caring, forgiving person he'd been searching for. And even now, he could see past the confusion clouding his usually collected sibling's deep dark eyes, he could see the kindness and the love that he'd been ignoring for so long.

It felt so wrong, and yet he didn't care. He'd never felt naughtier. Dirty, horrible, despicable.

He'd never felt so complete before.

This is wrong! His mind screamed.

When is love ever wrong?
When it's incest, that's when! But who's to say you're actually related?
You were pet shop turtles, the odds of you two being related are just as likely as you not being related.
But it doesn't matter, we were raised as siblings!
It does matter.
Look at you. You're shaking.
Haven't you ever thought about it?
Did you expect April to look past the fact that you're a mutated reptile and actually date you?

This is your first and last attempt at love, Don, take it or leave it.

But why him? Why had Raph, of all people, picked him?

"Quit it," Raph grunted, lowering his head to Donnie's neck, where he bit into it and began sucking roughly.

Don gasped, but managed to stutter, "Q-q-uit w-what?"

He groaned a bit louder as his hands fumbled for Raph's shoulders, gripping them tightly.

"Quit thinkin'."

There was no thinking involved anymore, only action. Bite, suck, groan, twist, turn, moan.

If Don refused this, he would stop, he would stop and turn and walk out that door and never mention it again. But Don hadn't asked him to stop, he only grumbled lowly, "harder", to which Raph eagerly complied, biting down, letting his tongue play along the soft, olive colored skin.

There had been many awkward stares, many uncomfortable situations spent together. They suspected each one knew of the feelings hidden away, but neither one ever dreamed of actually acting on them. Until tonight, anyway.

There was no turning back now. Raph grabbed Don's forearms suddenly and jerked him out in front of him, shoving him backwards.

Don stumbled a bit, glancing up and searching Raph's face, wondering if he'd done something wrong. Raph pushed him once again, and his knees buckled against the bed, causing him to fall. In an instant Raph was on top of Don, straddling him.

He drew a sai and pressed it roughly against Don's face, circling his mouth with the tip carefully. The blade traveled up near his eyes for a second and Don braced himself as he felt the tip dig up under the material of his mask, and slowly draw it back. Raph continued this until he could clearly see his brother's eyes, and once he seemed satisfied, he let the blade play down the side of his face once again.

Don's heart beat wildly; this sudden burst of passion was something he would have never expected from his explosively violent brother.

After what seemed like a lifetime of circling Don's 'pretty face', as Raph had often referred to it in privacy, Don felt it travel down into the crook of his neck. One false move could prove to be catastrophic. If he just happened to jerk away, if Raph just happened to move, if Don just happened to allow himself to breathe again, he would find a nice nick right against the side of his neck.

They were both still for a moment, until, much to Don's delight, Raph began to expertly trail his sai down his brothers plastron, circling here, pressing it maybe a bit deeper than intended there, until he reached his thigh. He played the cool steel of the blade over his brother's thigh over and over again, Donnie responding to each time the blade passed over his skin. He knew later when he inspected them he'd find tiny cuts (if Raph had wanted to, he could have left Don's skin completely unblemished, but that was not what he set out to do). They didn't hurt, if anything they made his toes tingle and made an odd feeling begin to stir in his stomach. His face was on fire.

Suddenly light flooded into the tiny room. Raph felt Don wince from under him and attempt to sit up. He could clearly make out the sporadic beating of Don's heart, but, still straddling Don, only turned a murderous eye towards the doorway.

Mikey blinked once, twice, and then slammed the door shut. They waited for a moment, until they heard a soft padding of feet and then silence.

The mood came to a screeching halt, but the feeling was still there. Both of their breathing had calmed by this point. Raph was still hovering over Don, and Don was still gripping his arm (careful to avoid the stitches he'd just put in), although much softer than before. Slowly, carefully, Donatello reached up and gently placed both hands on the sides of Raph's head, who tensed, but allowed Don to remove his mask.

Dark, tired, pained eyes stared back at him. Raph looked so naked and helpless without his mask, he looked unprotected, vulnerable.

Don sighed contently and let one arm drop, fingering the material of his brother's mask while he breathily recited, "Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

"Spock?" Raph asked, obviously not serious, but Don couldn't help but laugh.

"Shakespeare."

Raph scowled a bit. He didn't really like all that poetry crap.

"Whadaya see in that junk, anyway?"

Don blinked from under Raph's large form, thinking. "Well... It's, romantic."

Raph cocked a brow. "So, you mean to tell me, all I hadda do to get ya to notice me was recite some cruddy poetry? Well, in that case," He grinned a goofy grin, leaning closer. "One fish two fish, red fish, blue fish. Y'mazed?"

"Raph, stop it. You aren't stupid, so stop talking like that. And I always noticed you," Don replied with a soft shake of his head. That seemed a bit too unsettling for Raph's taste, who had grown quiet again, so he quickly added, "How could I not? You're always yelling about something." He was thankful to see Raph smirk at that.

Why did Raph always play himself off to be so dumb? They both knew he was intelligent, Don had seen the books in his room, they were books of many words and many thoughts.

Raph seemed to accept this and he slowly climbed off of his brother, scooting back until his head found one of Don's pillows. He leaned into the bed and shut his eyes, one of his arms extended, waiting for Don to join him.

"What if Mike comes back?" Don asked.

"He won't." Raph assured him, his arm still extended, his fingers beckoning Donatello forward. Don nodded and crawled over towards Raph. He leaned into his shoulder and kissed him softly on the cheek.

Raph screwed his eye shut and huffed, "y'missed," before reaching out to take the side of Don's face in his hand. He turned him towards his face and drew him down by the cheek, mirroring the somewhat forceful kiss Don had begun earlier.

When Don pulled away, he sighed and said, "But what if he does?"

"He won't," Raph said again, a bit more forceful this time.

With a sigh, Don then sunk into his brother's arms.

Everything was quite for a while. He felt Raph's grip on him tighten a bit, and heard a sleepy, "Yer a geek, y'know that?"

Don remained silent, assuming that was as close to a heartfelt comment he was going to get, and he was okay with that.

When he was certain Raph was asleep, he heard a very deep voice logged with sleep lowly murmur, "You kiss by the book," and smiled gently.