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Splinter sighed as replaced the damp towel on Michelangelo’s forehead. This last week, his youngest son had picked up some sort of illness, and now his most energetic and chaotic child was lying still in his bed, his body wracked with a fever. Splinter had done his best to mitigate it, and his son wasn’t in any real danger of becoming seriously ill, but the symptoms were annoyingly persistent.
So far, he had kept the other three away from Michelangelo, purely to keep his other sons from getting ill, but it seemed that this wasn’t going to last much longer. Raphael was standing by the door, a small toy clutched in one hand. It didn’t seem like any of his preferred ones and Splinter wondered why he had it now.
“What are you doing here my son? You will end up getting sick as well.” He told Raphael. He was unsurprised when the child stuck his head up stubbornly and marched further into the room.
“I keep tripping up on Mikey’s stupid space hero guy,” Raphael said in a voice that was clearly meant to be annoyed but just ended up sounding pouty. “He needs to keep it with him so it’s not in my way!” Raphael looked up at Splinter with determination in his eyes, his little fists clenched by his sides. Despite the struggles of the past week, Splinter found himself smiling.
“Very well, where do you suppose we keep it for him?” Splinter moved so Raphael could step closer to his ill brother.
“There.” Raphael pointed to the crook of Michelangelo’s arm where a small pillow was tucked. He stepped closer and gently placed the two with his younger brother before stepping back and nodding, seemingly satisfied with his job. Michelangelo moved slightly in his sleep, bringing the toy closer to him and a small smile appearing on his face.
“Good job,” Splinter patted Raphael gently on the head. “Now you should go and rejoin your brothers before you get ill as well.” Raphael huffed but did as he was told, leaving Splinter alone with his youngest again.
~~~~~~~~~~
The next time one of his sons entered the unofficial quarantine zone, it was Donatello. The little genius had knocked on the door unlike his twin, but he did not wait before entering the room, his steps confident as he walked up to the bed. He had a book in his hands, one that Splinter suspected was not one of his preferred tomes, based on the size and illustrated cover. Michelangelo looked up blearily at his older brother, the small action figure clutched tightly in his hand.
“Hey, Mikey.” Donatello smiled brightly as he climbed up onto the bed. “I brought your favourite book.” He held the book close to Michelangelo’s face so he could read it. The younger’s eyes trailed over the book but didn’t react more than that. If Donatello was phased by the lack of response, the 7-year-old didn’t let it show. Instead, he just settled in next to Michelangelo and put the book atop his lap. From this angle, Splinter could see that it was the worn copy of “The Twits” that he had found a year ago.
“Will you be alright without me for a few minutes my sons?” Splinter asked gently, wanting to take the opportunity for some time to himself. He should probably go check how Raphael and Leonardo are doing as well. Leonardo is usually quite responsible but it wasn’t unheard of for Raphael to draw the oldest child into various mischief.
“Mmm-hmm” Donatello answered with a smile, already opening the book to the first page. As Splinter left the room with a quick pat on the head of both his children, he heard Donatello reading the first lines of the book. “What a lot of hairy-faced men there are around nowadays.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, Leonardo was the last to visit Michelangelo when he was ill. It was surprising because Leonardo had a tendency to be very protective of his younger brothers even at his young age, however, Splinter had told the children not to spend too long around Michelangelo in case they caught his sickness and Leonardo was the one most likely to follow the rules. That, and Leonardo’s anxiety around germs and illness were the reasons Splinter wasn’t shocked it took Leonardo this long.
By now, Michelangelo’s fever had almost broken and Splinter was able to spend more time with his other sons around the lair. Currently, he was in the kitchen with his oldest son, making dinner with his help. Leonardo was sat up on the counter, stirring the pot of soup while Splinter made some sandwiches. It was a pretty simple lunch, but hopefully, Michelangelo would be able to keep at least the soup down.
When Splinter plated up the food and called in Raphael and Donatello, he took some into Michelangelo’s room, Leonardo following dutifully behind him. Leonardo was clutching his robe nervously but his face was determined. His youngest son was sitting up when they entered the room, playing quietly with the action figure Raphael had given him. The lack of his usual boundless energy was the only sign that Michelangelo was still slightly unwell.
“Dad! Leo!” Michelangelo greeted excitedly, already putting his toy aside to greet them.
“Hello my son,” Splinter returned the greeting as he set food down on the side. “How are you feeling?”
“Tonnes better! I’m barely even sick anymore!” Michelangelo told them excitedly. “That means I can play more with the others right?”
“Yes, I think tomorrow there will be little chance of your brothers ending up sick should you play with them.”
Michelangelo beamed ecstatically and bounced in the bed a few times clearly full of energy after a week of being on bed rest.
“Now, how about you try and eat your soup.” Splinter gently nudged the boy to one side so both he and Leonardo could join him on the bed. He set the bowl of soup (only halfway full to avoid spills) on his youngest’s lap and handed Leonardo his plate of sandwiches. Splinter watched his sons eat with a small pang of relief. Sure, the canned soup was probably not the most nutritional or filling but at least Michelangelo was keeping it down unlike previously.
Michelangelo finished his soup quickly, the young boy pouting down at his empty bowl before Leonardo had even started on the second half of his sandwich. The rat was just about to make another sandwich for the boy when Leonardo beat him to it. His oldest son climbed over his lap until he sat next to Michelangelo and almost shoved the food in his brother's face.
“You can have mine, Mikey.” He said with a smile.
“You do not have to give your food away my son,” Splinter tried to intervene, as nice as it was for Leonardo to offer to share, he shouldn’t be giving away half of his dinner. “I can make Michelangelo his own sandwich.”
“I know,” Leonardo said calmly, “but you used the last of the peanut butter making mine and that’s Mikey’s favourite so he should have it.” Splinter blinked, thinking back to when he had been making the food. He hadn’t paid much attention to their supply of Michelangelo’s favourite filling, just trying to make a quick dinner for his four hungry children, but what Leonardo said was true.
“Very well then,” He agreed, “I will make you another sandwich so Michelangelo can have that one.” Leonardo nodded vicariously while Michelangelo cheered, the sandwich already in his small hands and heading towards his mouth with a speed that only Michelangelo used to devour his food. Splinter smiled at the boys and stood up to head to the kitchen again.
“Are you coming with me, Leonardo? Or would you prefer to stay with your brother?” He asked, already knowing the answer.
He was not surprised when Leonardo answered with a cheery “I’ll stay here!” and the gleeful shouts of Michelangelo. He left the room filled with relief that his son was feeling so much better than before, as well as a growing pride for the caring nature all his boys have been displaying so frequently this past. They all acted so mature while their brother was bedridden and Splinter couldn’t be prouder.
A small explosion sounded from the lounge, followed by the manic giggles of Splinter’s other two children. He sighed, but his smile didn’t fade, even as he scolded Donatello for exploding the toaster and Raphael for goading him on.