A/N: This story started out as more of a series of one-shots that fit together. There is no real conflict, no climax. Each "chapter" is its own story: a series of stories. But isn't that what life is?

This series is about Raphael and Donatello, most specifically, and their changing relationship from brothers to something more romantic. So...if turtlecest and homosexuality offends you, just stop now and save yourself the trouble.

Oh, and I own nothing, etc.

Feeling

Raphael hated that he felt the way he did. It tore at him. Made him feel sick and disgusting and no better than the thugs whose skulls he bashed open every night. But he couldn't help it. Not with Donnie lying so willingly in his arms.

It had started off innocently; it didn't take much to make him feel ashamed. He'd had a nightmare. Nothing fancy. Nothing new. He had nightmares all the time, especially after they all met the Shredder and his evil Foot henchmen. But something had been different—he just couldn't hope to remember what. All he knew was that he awoke in a cold sweat and couldn't stand to be alone. So he'd swallowed his pride and went into Don's room. But not right away; he'd taken time to think of which brother to turn to.

He was afraid of Mikey's room—had stepped on a toy last time he was in there and landed Don with two patients; one turtle and one train, and later a third when Raph got his hands on Mikey. Besides, Raph could only imagine what Mike might say. Raph could swallow some of his pride—not all of it.

Leo led to similar thoughts. Not only would he no doubt be attacked as soon as he walked in, but he couldn't help but see the look he thought Leo might give him. A look that could undoubtedly, piss him off or offend him to the point of an argument. Which, Raph knew from experience, did nothing but subtract from group moral and possibly land Donnie with even more work: fixing broken objects he destroyed in anger. Or, perhaps, fixing broken turtles when things really got rough. Besides, he couldn't swallow nearly as much pride as going to Leo would force him to. Showing up to the Fearless Leader's room just wasn't a good idea.

Don was safest, even if Raph wasn't quite sure how he's react. He was understanding, Raph knew. He wouldn't hold anything against him.

So that was how Raphael found himself peeking into Donnie's room. Surprisingly, the computer was off for once and their resident genius was in bed, blanket draped over his shell. Raphael hesitated for a second, thrown off by the change in Donnie's sleeping pattern, and debated going back to his own room. He didn't want to bug Donnie, after all. Be overall, he gave in to his badly repressed desires. Creeping forward, he'd grabbed Don's chair and wheeled it closer to the sleeping turtle's bed, plastron to the back of it and arms around it, head laid uncomfortably on the top. He was just lonely—didn't need his company to be awake and aware, so long as it was company—and he contented himself with the idea of watching Don sleep until he was tired enough to go back to bed.

In retrospect, Raph thought maybe that was when it started. Regardless, he'd sat there for a while, eyes closed and mind drifting…when suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and a worried face inches from his.

"Raph?" The face had whispered, and he'd jerked back until he fell from the chair, sais out just before he landed on his shell. The voice sighed in either exasperation or amusement. Possibly both. He couldn't tell.

"Don?" His brother offered him a hand.

"What were you doing, sleeping in my chair?"

"I wasn't sleepin'." Raph had allowed himself to be helped up, and had quickly placed sais back into his belt and righted the chair he'd knocked over.

"You were snoring," Don helpfully pointed out, and Raph rolled his shoulders experimentally. Yeah, he'd definitely fallen asleep. Long enough to irritate his shoulder muscles, at least.

"How long was I out?" Don shrugged in reply.

"It's 3AM." So about thirty minutes, Raph thought.

"Ah, right. Sorry 'bout that. I'll to back ta' bed now." And so he turned to head out, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"What were you doing in here, anyway?" Raph froze. What could he tell him? That he was creepily watching him sleep? With a defeated sigh that was so unlike his personality and very nature, he figured the truth would get him in the least amount of trouble.

"I had a nightmare."

Raph had thought Mikey would say something about it, and that Leo would give him a look. Perhaps they would have done just that. But Don…Don did both. Very barely laughing, he'd raised an eye ridge and smiled, as if in teasing disbelief.

"The Great Raphael?" Raph sighed, his expectations crushed, and shrugged, once again moving as if to leave.

"Pretty stupid, right?" The arm on his shoulder stopped him again.

"No. It's not." It tugged, and Don sat down on his unmade bed. "It's more comfortable than my chair," he elaborated, and moved his arm away. So Raphael lay with Donatello and couldn't help but notice that Donnie seemed to be really awake for 3AM, and that as hard as he clutched his brother to him, Don managed to cling even tighter. Raph could have asked if he had nightmares, too. He could have wondered aloud why Don was being so touchy-feely when he usually was not. But he hadn't thought he needed to. For a genius, Donnie could be easy to read.

And so, it had started.

Raphael hadn't gone back to Donatello's room—not for a while, at least. He wasn't exactly nightmare free, but the ones he got were normal and safe, and he didn't feel so alone in the darkness. Donnie hadn't said anything about that night—he'd awoken in bed without Raphael and hadn't even bothered to share a secret smile or anything the next morning. But maybe that was because Raphael had hidden his face in his cereal.

Whatever the case, things went back to the relative normal the four mutant teenagers and their mutant father had gratefully accumulated. Leo bossed things around, Donnie fixed things, Mikey broke things, Splinter gave lectures and meditated, Casey and April stopped by to bring the lair into chaos, and Raph got angry at things and left to kick gang shell. The only difference being what he got angry over.

He was noticing things. Fairly innocent things. Like the way Don would rub his eyes when tired. Or the way he'd beam when he finished a project. Normal things. Brotherly things. He was just giving Don more attention—that was all. And that wasn't why he was angry. It was the fact that he wanted to fall asleep again with arms wrapped around him. But he didn't dare go back to Don's room. Swallowing his pride didn't happen often, and he'd done his share for the month, after all.

Luckily, or unluckily, for him, he hadn't needed to. About three weeks after the first night, Donnie appeared at Raph's door, cautiously toeing his way inside. Raph was awake, but Don didn't seem to notice as he stared at the hammock that doubled as a bed in Raph's world, as if figuring out how, exactly, he was going to get in. Judging by the tiny sigh and the way he shuffled back, he'd decided he couldn't. But Raph stopped him with a curious call of his name. A call that had Donnie freeze and look back sheepishly.

"Nightmare," was all he said. All he needed to say, really. Raph patted the hammock and moved over as much as he dared. And thus started The Great Hammock Battle. Raph and Don lost, after a valiant effort, and lay sprawled out on the floor below their fierce enemy.

"My room?" Don had croaked, and Raph nodded with a muffled curse.

And so Raphael found himself lying, once again, in Donnie's room, with Donnie's arms around him. He could, and would, have stopped there, but every night after that; Don somehow managed to wander into Raph's room. So Raph would sleep in Don's. It stopped being about the nightmares. Raph hadn't had one in weeks. But he eventually stopped waiting for Don to call him into his room, and would just wait until Leo, Mikey, and Splinter went to bed before heading to Donnie's room.

That was when he started noticing the other things. The less innocent things. Things like how Don would bite his lip, or his pencil when concentrating. Like how he would stretch after spending a few hours in his lab. Like how he'd look when he'd rub sweat and oil off his face after working in the garage. Things like the way his face would twist when Mike annoyed him or Leo told him something he didn't want to hear. The way he'd say Raph's name when he needed help. He noticed it all, and it killed him.

Raphael knew things were changing between him and Don. Maybe Donnie didn't notice—in fact, Raph was pretty sure he didn't—but he knew they were. He knew for a fact that the ache in his heart was unnatural. He could just tell that the ninjas doing back flips in his stomach were only supposed to act up around a girl with huge breasts and a skirt just big enough to fit over her ass. He thought it only common sense that he wasn't allowed to smile as dorkily and shyly as he did at his brother. Nothing about his behavior was normal, and he knew it.

But with Donnie lying so willingly in his arms, it was easy to forget that it was a problem.