[It takes Robert awhile to notice that note - he was probably awake when Don was there but, you know, Donatello's a ninja. He's good at sneaking around silently slipping notes under the doors of unsuspecting scientists without their knowledge.
But when he does notice it - in the handwriting he recognizes as none other than purple-mask-wearing-turtle's - he practically vacuums it off the floor and hugs it to his chest. He's alone, so he lets himself indulge in that little unprofessional display. He's back. He's back and he wants to celebrate White Day with m - ... Wait, what is White Day?
... That actually doesn't matter at the moment. Donatello is back; that is all that matters.
After the initial few seconds of processing the enormity of this - fifteen days, he had been gone fifteen days and it felt like an eon and now he is back - Robert snatches up his journal immediately and sends a message to Donatello. Hopefully. Full of so many emotions he can't possibly quantify all of them.]
... Donatello, you're back... I've missed you
( ... )
[Robert had been sitting, waiting. Staring at the journal incessantly, as though him tracking it would somehow mystically cause Donatello to respond more quickly. Robert knew realistically it wouldn't, that he was probably busy, that he had his family to get back to and perhaps it was just awkward to see him after two weeks and -
... Then of course there's that urgent little message that cuts into Robert's nearly-catatonic-staring-at-journal state. Don sounds like he's practically sprinting there already.
So Robert gets up and starts... pacing. And looking at the door like he's trying to analyze the material with his retinas. And pacing some more. And generally looking like, if he had any idea where Don actually was, he would be running there at that moment, bad health be damned.
There is so much he wants to say. So much he needs to say. "I love you" being the most prominent one.
[He is sprinting there already. With one detour, which he makes as quickly as possible.]
[In twenty minutes a lovestruck turtle will be banging on your door. He has a covered plate in one hand and an enormous box of chocolates in the other, so it's anyone's guess how he managed to knock.]
[Robert is less than an inch away from the door when this happens. He opens it with a fervour not usually applied to the opening of doors.
He is here and he is okay and standing right in front of me and what the hell is he holding - oh never mind it doesn't matter -]
... D-Donatello...! [Robert would just embrace the turtle - in fact, he makes a motion that looks suspiciously like the least professional full-body hug ever - but he truncates it abruptly when he realizes a. Donatello would drop the stuff he's holding and b. he looks and sounds like a complete moron.
Problem a. is solved by Robert taking the box and whisking it inside, putting it down on the nearest hard surface, and heading back to Donatello to suction himself to the turtle's plastron. He might even be a little teary-eyed.] Gods how I've missed you.
[Robert barely even registers Donatello's words at first because there's been something he's been meaning to say - needing to say - aloud since he wrote out that report-of-a-note to Donatello nine days ago. His voice is soft but full of genuine emotion - mostly adoration but also resolute firmness. Even if Robert didn't go up to the mountains to do it, he's spent a lot of time thinking - and while this situation still makes his stomach clench with anxiety, he needs to take hold of it and do something instead of letting it slip away.]
I love you, Donatello. [His voice doesn't waver, or stutter. Raphael would be proud. Wait, no he wouldn't.]
[Robert shifts - carefully, so he doesn't knock that mysterious plate out of Don's grip - and kisses him again right on that smooth beak. It's not the same kind of clumsy kiss - it's a smaller, soft one that's significantly more brief - but it's no less meaningful.]
Unconditionally.
... It might be better for us to go inside, though. [Even if Robert lives completely alone on his floor. Mostly he just wants the turtle with him, though. Just... being there. That's all Robert wants right now.] But... I don't mind. [He leans into that plastron and clings like it's some sort of lifeline.]
[Those words ignite a spark in Robert that he can't remember feeling for a long time. Genuine... giddiness, almost. He can't help but smile, almost in a ridiculous fashion. It's a dorky, dweeby, nerdy, geeky smile that pretty much lights up his whole face.
He moves into the apartment, barely willing to detach himself enough from Don to close the door.]
... So much has happened in fifteen days, but... but I hope everything went well for you. While you were up at the mountains. [Robert's gaze flickers upward.] I... I thought about you quite often while you were there. [More like "couldn't stop thinking about you" but...]
...
But... [And now Robert's smile turns sheepish, strongly so.] ... White Day... that is a day of observance I do not recognize. But I presume it has something to do with what you've brought...
It was amazing up there. [His face brightens, just momentarily.] I missed you, though.
This is, um... [He doesn't know how to describe it in English. He picks up the box of chocolates and offers it to Robert.] Sanbai gaeshi. Such as it is here.
You will need to tell me about it... I haven't been there before, though I would certainly consider the idea if I was... less encumbered.
[Robert doesn't know Japanese, but the words sound beautiful, especially when spoken by Donatello.]
... Thank you very much - though, you didn't need to, but I certainly appreciate the sentiment. [He hugs the box to him in much the same way as he hugged the note earlier - like it was something precious... And in a way, it is.]
Is this because of... the note I wrote to you? [Robert's staring a little at the box now because he's nervous, but he's really hoping Donatello actually read it. Mike is officially doomed.]
[Oh hi, blushing mess face, is that you?] A-ah, yes. Certainly. [Robert knits his fingers together a little, but manages a shy smile. Yes, he wants Donatello to see it in all its massively-tl;dr glory.]
I, er, hadn't looked at it again since the fifth - though... [He's babbling a little now.] I-I was rather distracted then, and... wasn't really focusing on it as much as I should have, most likely, so I apologize if it is incoherent...
But when he does notice it - in the handwriting he recognizes as none other than purple-mask-wearing-turtle's - he practically vacuums it off the floor and hugs it to his chest. He's alone, so he lets himself indulge in that little unprofessional display. He's back. He's back and he wants to celebrate White Day with m - ... Wait, what is White Day?
... That actually doesn't matter at the moment. Donatello is back; that is all that matters.
After the initial few seconds of processing the enormity of this - fifteen days, he had been gone fifteen days and it felt like an eon and now he is back - Robert snatches up his journal immediately and sends a message to Donatello. Hopefully. Full of so many emotions he can't possibly quantify all of them.]
... Donatello, you're back... I've missed you ( ... )
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... Then of course there's that urgent little message that cuts into Robert's nearly-catatonic-staring-at-journal state. Don sounds like he's practically sprinting there already.
So Robert gets up and starts... pacing. And looking at the door like he's trying to analyze the material with his retinas. And pacing some more. And generally looking like, if he had any idea where Don actually was, he would be running there at that moment, bad health be damned.
There is so much he wants to say. So much he needs to say. "I love you" being the most prominent one.
Gods he wants this to work out. For everybody.]
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[In twenty minutes a lovestruck turtle will be banging on your door. He has a covered plate in one hand and an enormous box of chocolates in the other, so it's anyone's guess how he managed to knock.]
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He is here and he is okay and standing right in front of me and what the hell is he holding - oh never mind it doesn't matter -]
... D-Donatello...! [Robert would just embrace the turtle - in fact, he makes a motion that looks suspiciously like the least professional full-body hug ever - but he truncates it abruptly when he realizes a. Donatello would drop the stuff he's holding and b. he looks and sounds like a complete moron.
Problem a. is solved by Robert taking the box and whisking it inside, putting it down on the nearest hard surface, and heading back to Donatello to suction himself to the turtle's plastron. He might even be a little teary-eyed.] Gods how I've missed you.
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[When Robert comes back, Don closes his arms around him as tightly as seems safe, and buries his snout in the man's hair.]
Happy White Day, Robert.
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I love you, Donatello. [His voice doesn't waver, or stutter. Raphael would be proud. Wait, no he wouldn't.]
... I should have said that fifteen days ago.
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Unconditionally.
... It might be better for us to go inside, though. [Even if Robert lives completely alone on his floor. Mostly he just wants the turtle with him, though. Just... being there. That's all Robert wants right now.] But... I don't mind. [He leans into that plastron and clings like it's some sort of lifeline.]
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[And he shifts just enough that they can shuffle into the apartment.]
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He moves into the apartment, barely willing to detach himself enough from Don to close the door.]
... So much has happened in fifteen days, but... but I hope everything went well for you. While you were up at the mountains. [Robert's gaze flickers upward.] I... I thought about you quite often while you were there. [More like "couldn't stop thinking about you" but...]
...
But... [And now Robert's smile turns sheepish, strongly so.] ... White Day... that is a day of observance I do not recognize. But I presume it has something to do with what you've brought...
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This is, um... [He doesn't know how to describe it in English. He picks up the box of chocolates and offers it to Robert.] Sanbai gaeshi. Such as it is here.
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[Robert doesn't know Japanese, but the words sound beautiful, especially when spoken by Donatello.]
... Thank you very much - though, you didn't need to, but I certainly appreciate the sentiment. [He hugs the box to him in much the same way as he hugged the note earlier - like it was something precious... And in a way, it is.]
Is this because of... the note I wrote to you? [Robert's staring a little at the box now because he's nervous, but he's really hoping Donatello actually read it. Mike is officially doomed.]
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[A strange expression crosses his face.] I - didn't look. Is it okay if I read it now?
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I, er, hadn't looked at it again since the fifth - though... [He's babbling a little now.] I-I was rather distracted then, and... wasn't really focusing on it as much as I should have, most likely, so I apologize if it is incoherent...
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I don't have to...
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