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“Alright, three, two… one!” Donnie shouted, (though more whisper-shouted, really), blowing a large burst of air through his bubble wand.
Mikey giggled and clapped, rocking back and forth - watching as a long trail of bubbles reached him - and then flew into the air. The way they floated in the air amazed the mind of the regressed mutant, going so far as to say it was “magic.” Donnie would have explained it to him, explained that, due to the idea of buoyancy, the air trapped inside of the bubble is less dense than the air outside and–
Well, he didn’t want to dampen Mikey’s enjoyment.
“More!” Mikey cheered, “more!”
Donnie nodded, dipping the wand back in the compartment a few times.
“Mmm! Da! Dee… Dee-Dee!”
Donnie’s head shot up, “Hm?”
“Me…” Mikey began, muttering, “me, wanna try!”
Donnie hummed to himself, contemplating the choices, if he let Mikey have a crack at it - he would be happy - and that was vital right now, but, on the same token, if he were to give up his wand, the two boys would be here all day.
In the end, Donnie handed over his wand with a smile, Mikey beamed.
Focusing on MIkey’s face, Donnie began to zone out - though not due to stress, but due to the serine amount of happiness and peace radiating from his brother.
“Dee-Dee! Look! Watch?”
Donnie was quickly snapped out of his little spell, shuffling around, “Yeah, bud.”
And like clockwork, Mikey was back to trying to impress Donnie 24/7, and though he usually did this through art, he didn’t exactly have his supplies right now.
Mikey’s smile only grew wider as he played with the bubbles, popping them.
Donnie always hated popping them himself - as it usually left an odd, sticky residue on his hands, though, Mikey seemed to enjoy it.
He liked that.
Donnie knew how these nights would usually play out, though, Mikey would eventually get tired, his sleepy eyes not being able to meet the eyes of the other, causing Donnie to let out a fake yawn, then pick him up and carry him to bed, Mikey falling asleep first, laying across his chest.
But tonight, something was different.
Donnie yawned first - a real yawn.
“Don! Stop playing!” The younger pouted, rolling his eyes.
Donnie opened his mouth to speak - to reply - to rebuttle in some way, but he had nothing.
That’s what he got for always tricking Mikey, anyway.
He did wish Mikey believed him, however, and with eyes growing heavier by the minute, he eventually grew silent.
Mikey continued playing, sticking his tounge out in concentration.
Donnie was snapped out of his trance-like state by a familiar voice, “Don? Don… not play?”
“Wh—What? I’m okay buddy! I’m sorry, just a bit… sleepy.”
Mikey sniffled, leaping into Donnie’s lap.
“Ooh… hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, we can play tomorrow!”
“No!” Mikey shouted, “I let you get tired! Now you feel bad!”
“Shhh… hey, it’s okay, I understand why you think I was playing, I usually play but—I am pretty tired right now, is it okay if we go back in?”
Mikey looked up with a quivering lip, nodding silently.
“Alright, up!”
And - like most nights, Mikey was carried to bed, well, Donnie’s bed, really, and like most nights - Mikey laid on Donnie’s chest, settling in the older’s arms.
But - unlike most nights, Donnie fell asleep first.