When Donatello woke in the morning, he took a quick trip into the bathroom, washed his face, and started toward the kitchen. Just as he was putting the coffee on, he remembered.
Raph was hurt. Raph had been on the couch all night. Was he still there?
Letting the coffee start brewing, he moved into the living room. Right away, he noticed that the TV was still on, even though the DVD player had shut off automatically at some point. Maybe he should rig up a timer for the TV, too…
“Raph?” he whispered as he rounded the end of the couch.
Fast asleep. He groaned a little in pain, but at least he had apparently been able to rest. That was good news.
“Sorry,” he half-breathed, half-whispered as he moved the remote from next to his head onto the coffee table, flipping the power button for the TV as he did so. It had been a real pain mapping all the functions to the universal remote, and he had to do it over again every time Raph or Mikey got irritated enough to throw it across the room. Which was usually a few times every month.
Then he tiptoed back into the kitchen to get started on breakfast.
The next time Raphael woke, it was because the TV was off. And he hurt. A lot. Headache still ready to punch out his skull and bladder ready to explode, the painkillers had obviously worn off completely.
His stomach also growled the moment he registered the smell of food coming from the kitchen. He pushed himself up forcing any noises of discomfort to stay in. He was not a baby. He was going to get up and take a piss by himself, and then he was going to walk hobble and sit at the table.
He had torture sessions that hurt less, but he made the loop and arrived in the kitchen, freshened up and never so happy to see a damn chair.
He was also surprised to see Donnie up and the source of the good smells.
“Well, I never expected Alton Brown to be in charge of the bacon and eggs. Where’s the home made smoker?” Raph’s chuckle, much to his dismay, came out as a wheeze.
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