i_speak_softly | Forty-Third Theory [Mostly Action]

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Forty-Third Theory [Mostly Action]

((General post for the next two weeks or so. Preemptive tl;dr, find him anywhere, though suggestion of day/place/activity is appreciated.))

[As May begins, and as a fairly large percentage of May goes by, Donatello can be found doing the following things:

-Jogging through the woods, tracking down any signs of life detected by the departed Mr. Scott's not-really-new-and-not-exactly-improved-either tricorder. ((New Feathers, feel free to jump in here.))

-Hauling huge loads of books to and from the library.

-Studying these books - in and around House 55, at the library itself, by the fountain, at the coffee shop, alongside the river... pretty much anywhere.

-Copying diagrams from the books into his journal.

-Working at the smithy, trying to create physical equivalents of these diagrams.

-Digging through bins at the item shop.

-Practicing wind magic or good old-fashioned ninjutsu in various open areas around the edges of the village.

And a few more specific actions:]

[Don needs a few minutes of your time. If you don't dare to approach him while he's working, he'll come looking for you.]

[Some rainy evening, Don will show up at Robert's door with a duffel bag and a goofy grin. You owe him a nanocomputer demonstration - and he brought you a gift.]

Frederic, a question, if you have a minute...

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Because you won't see it. [Part of it is your condition, he's sure, but he suspects that some of it is willful ignorance.]

Being a ninja... I've been trained to it since before I can remember. It affects my senses and my thought processes and how I sleep. Even when I'm not fighting, I'm never really normal.

[Actually, the vast majority is simply not noticing. Beyond the occasional rare sudden movements, Robert has never really picked up on Don's ninja reflexes. Any behaviour that could have been even vaguely construed as odd was either simply accepted as normal for Don, or missed entirely.

And why would Robert notice? Ninjas no longer exist in his world. Nothing like them exists. Nothing like the kind of training they have exists. He would have no idea where to even start looking.

He is definitely usually consciously ignoring the fact that Don can fight... but, he does that with his other fighter friends, too, and until now had no real idea that there was any kind of lasting psychological difference.]

What is normal, in this context?

Don, I do not mind. Your differences are part of you. They are therefore part of the person I love, inextricably. ... I'm only sorry that I didn't appreciate these differences before.

But please tell me more about them, that I might give them the respect they deserve.

[He has... somewhat come to accept the fact you have killed people, Don. Learning about your reflexes isn't going to scare him off now.]

You minded when I was wrestling with Mike.

[Robert exhales softly at that.]

Because that was violent behaviour... or, maybe "fighting". [Robert remembers that Don had made a distinction between the things, even if he doesn't get why.]

I would have minded if anybody had wrestled anybody. It was just... especially jarring, considering it was you and your brother on his birthday...

... And like I said, that seems to be normal. Typical. It is my world that is the strange one.

[Robert isn't sure why that is, and it still bothers him that that seems to be true...]

We weren't fighting. Mike likes to wrestle. It's just something siblings do. [... He's pretty sure that even non-ninja siblings wrestle with each other.]

Nobody on Terra would ever do anything like that... [Robert actually recoils a little at the idea.]

... Not that I ever had a sibling. But I know I would never do that with a sibling... what would even be the purpose...?

[The whole topic seems unsettling for Robert. He's racking his memories of the alternative universe, trying to think of times where he might've... done something like that, towards Don...

... Don did hit him that one time, didn't he? And... he didn't mind? His mind at the time called it "playful", even.

Robert suppresses a slight shudder.]

... Your idea of what siblings do is very different from what mine is.

[Terra is starting to seem like a frighteningly sterile place.]

It's fun. And good for us. [He is adamant about this. Truthfully, he's never liked wrestling all that much himself, but he recognizes that his brothers derive a variety of benefits from the practice, and he imagines that at least some of the positive effects apply to him as well.]

I do everything with my brothers. They're all I have.

[And now this conversation is reminding him how much he misses Raph.]

[Starting?]

... Fun? [Robert looks like Don just suggested something fundamentally impossible, like saying Robert could beat Raph at arm-wrestling.] I... can't see why...

[And that part makes Robert kind of bite his lip gently. He suddenly wonders if he qualifies as something "Don has", here...]

... I apologize for having difficulty understanding.

[Hey, if April could beat Silver Sentry...]

Because it feels good to do things like that with someone you... trust... [He trails off, realizing a similar description could probably be applied to certain other activities that Robert seems to think about.]

[A very similar description could, indeed, be applied to said activities. ~~Though Robert would hope sex would include less pain than wrestling would...~~

But Robert's mind doesn't automatically go to that.]

I trust you...

[Robert wonders if it's reciprocal.]

[~~Wrestling is only painful if you do it wrong.~~]

I -

[No. He can't honestly say that it is reciprocal, yet. If it was, his reflexes wouldn't have done what they did earlier.]

You shouldn't say that.

Why not? It's truthful.

[Robert trusts Don significantly more than he does almost anybody else. There are very few people that Robert would have the courage to admit those things to.

But he notices the fact that the response isn't reciprocal and that kind of hurts.]

... Have I done something to be untrustworthy...?

[It's ignorance, but Don won't say that.]

[He puts a light hand on Robert's arm.]

It's not you. What happened earlier... I trust you enough to forget you're there, which is more than I can say for almost anyone else. But you still can't touch me when I'm not paying attention, which means part of me doesn't trust you yet. [He watches Robert carefully.] Do you understand?

[Robert literally hadn't considered that gesture as anything particularly abnormal until Don brings it up, so he finds himself suddenly mulling it over.

"I trust you enough to forget that you're there" seems... paradoxical, in a way, but... Robert tries to draw parallels.

After a moment, his expression twists into something resembling a eureka moment.]

... It's like my social phobia. Almost. Not quite, but... I trust certain people here because they have repeatedly proved to be so, but... there is still trepidation... [Even a minor amount, still, with Don, which discolours his actions and makes it so that Robert seems awkward and withdrawn at times. It's part of Robert's psychology, something he can't help.]

... I don't want it to be there with people I deem trustworthy, but it is, entirely without my ability to help it. Is that... similar? Somewhat?

[And Robert files away the "don't touch me when I'm not paying attention" part.

... That will pretty much mean that Robert is going to ask for permission to touch Don in any way, now.]

[He nods.] The logical part of you says someone is trustworthy, but another part of you doesn't listen to logic and isn't convinced. [He smiles wryly.] Not that the second part is always wrong... [He shifts, making their relative positions less a serious conversation and more a relaxed being-together.] ... but in this case I think they're just on the wrong step.

[And that not-touching-without-permission thing? Is exactly the opposite of what he was tring to get at.]

How would one go about convincing that part of your mind...? [Thoughtfully, Robert wonders how he could convince his own social phobia not to be... socially phobic.] Essentially, one would have to... teach it to not automatically be fearful...

... Is there a reason that being a ninja is associated with it?

[Pfft. Don is going to have to explain that to Robert better, then. ~~And Robert is a wimp and doesn't want to bother people.~~]

Training. Bypass the brain and teach the body. That's how you learn most of ninjutsu.

[He hesitates, then says:] I need you to train me.

You need me to train you...?

[Strangest. Sentence. Ever. Except maybe the time when Robert wondered aloud how a universe could function without magic during the AU.]

How would I even do that? I mean, I wouldn't wish to... be a bother...

It's not a bother. I need to learn to let you touch me. The best way to do that is - by letting you touch me.

[Even if it's uncomfortable at first. Training is like that.]

[He shifts again, facing Robert more fully.]

Please?

[Whelp, mixed feelings get. It feels... bad to do something that somebody doesn't explicitly want. But Don is explicitly asking Robert to do something that he doesn't want. So doesn't that mean he explicitly wants it? Except he doesn't.

Robert just focuses on the fact it's consensual.]

... If you're certain...

I-I mean, it's not that I don't want to. On the contrary. [He is still very interested in touching Don, however "touching" applies.] Just... I'd rather not make you uncomfortable...

... B-but, if you still want me to, regardless, then...

[Yeah, Robert's just going to nervously run his fingers over Don's plastron again, slowly. He maintains some uncomfortable eye contact - he can actually do so, with Don - as he does this, carefully, seeing what the turtle is comfortable with. Or, uh, not so uncomfortable that he hates it utterly, anyway.]

[Don keeps quiet as Robert touches him. Those feelings again, liking and hating at the same time, but he pushes them away, goes to a meditative place, starts counting slowly. When he reaches 100 he'll allow himself to move away.]

[In the meantime, his expression will betray very little, even to a more skilled observer. He trusts you enough to let you follow your own judgment.]

[Robert's quiet too, actually, just tracing small, gentle, careful patterns over Don, wondering how this feels for him and why it bothers him... wondering what it means that it bothers him. Wondering a million things, really.

His hands don't stray anywhere else from the upper half of Don's plastron, though they meander there. Don'd probably have to be more specific if he wanted Robert to touch anywhere else.

The moment Don pulls away, Robert snatches his hands back almost in a chastised manner and holds them, meerkat-like, against his own thin chest.]

I... I-I hope that was alright...

[Don makes it to 112 - almost two minutes - before the urge to get away becomes overwhelming. He pulls back, moving to the end of the couch, and takes a moment to calm himself before looking at Robert again.]

That was ... good. [He means the way you did it, not how it felt. That will come later.] Will you do it again?

[The panicked pulling-away makes Robert immediately regretful, and he internally curses himself a bit before Don responds.

... It was good? Something that made Don look downright afraid was good?]

... In the same manner...? [Robert looks anxious, not sure whether he should scoot closer or wait for Don to return.] I, I c-could touch somewhere else if you'd p-prefer, or...

[A tiny part of him wonders if this is how sex between them is going to be like.]

[Oops, miscommunication.]

Another time, I mean.

[Ninja foreplay is a long-term project.]

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