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(no subject)

Who:

semper_cogitans, though with replies coming from

herpderpetile, and

i_speak_softly. I pity anybody else who might join in advance :|;;
What: Probably the most awkward, hormone-spiked bath ever
When: March 31st, during the Unofficial Derpturtle Sleepover
Where: House 55
Summary: Robert has just the luck to be turned into a mutant red-eared slider in the middle of spring mating season, which, needless to say, is making everything a little awkward. Especially when he's been in the same house as his boyfriend (and his family) for a few days. And then, of course, he's neglecting to keep himself hydrated, so clearly Don has to get him into a bath. ~~This won't turn awkward or fail miserably at all.~~
Rating: F for Fail. No, really, it's probably going to get into NC-17 territory, though knowing how much Robert and Don suck at emotional stuff, anything along those lines will likely be awkward and abortive.

So how uncomfortable is it to be in your partner's house in the middle of a mating season while simultaneously being aware of how much the rest of his family dislikes you?

Very uncomfortable, that's how uncomfortable. And that is why Robert has completely immersed himself in work on his nanocomputer, both to ignore the subtle anxiety of the various Hamatos not named Donatello looking at him disapprovingly and to try to suppress the increasingly-urgent desire to do more than just cuddle with Donatello. It was decidedly unprofessional to feel like that... and, truth be told, Robert was more than a little nervous about the idea. Eight years of self-imposed cloistered distance from people meant that sexuality was something he hadn't really ever gotten a chance to envision as anything more than furtive, broken fantasies. Never mind that his emotional abilities were skewed enough and most of his fantasies ended up depressing him somewhat because they were about Benjamin... though, the subject of them had, admittedly, changed somewhat in three months.

Okay, changed a lot.

Clearly this mental topic deserved to be crushed down in favour of typing even more fiercely at the ergonomically-designed miniature keyboard of his nanocomputer. Never mind that only having two fingers was kind of throwing him off his typing stride. Never mind the strange lethargy and general illness he felt. I have to distract my mind from this...

Somebody more knowledgeable of turtles - for example, an actual turtle - might realize Robert's more than a little dehydrated right now. That's what happens when you isolate yourself in a house where people tend to congregate around the kitchen and steadfastly refuse to do anything but work in a desperate attempt to push the hormone-induced thoughts out of your head. (And it's funny, because Robert normally wouldn't deny thoughts like this. But there isn't anywhere private enough to indulge them...)

Anybody feel like wresting him from his engrossed state at the nanocomputer?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Neither do I," Robert murmurs, hesitantly letting one hand's fingers flutter to his wrists. It's odd, not feeling the scars there. "I... have no idea how to even function socially most of the time, and..." He pauses.

"... Well, from what I understand, there is no solid process. All relationships can be valid, as long as they are not abusive. All expressions of desire can be valid. I... don't think we need to constrain ourselves to any particular definition, both for our own sake and for anybody else's."

He shakes his head. "But I am probably even more inept than you are... my... my last relationship was... well." Strange would hardly begin to define it.

"... However, I suppose we could... attempt to come to some sort of... mutual definition on what either of us would consider... plausible. Or... perhaps even desirable."

Because clearly, a rational, scientific, logical definition of "relationship" is the only way to go.

Don nods, in a you-go-first kind of way. He has no idea what it might be appropriate to propose, but working out a shared expectation of the relationship sounds like a good idea.

"Well, we ought to determine what sort of... physical permissiveness this relationship has," Robert mumbles. He... really shouldn't be this uncomfortable... "I-I... am not certain if you are... alright with the relationship going in a more intimate direction at this point in time."

It's obvious Robert himself is horribly awkward about asking.

"B-But perhaps I should... wait to ask about this... ...j-just that it's such a pervasive topic in my mind recently, and..." Robert forces himself to inhale and exhale slowly. Really. It's just sex. He shouldn't be so anxious.

"No, it's - it's okay." Don offers an awkward and lopsided smile to the side of the bathtub. "I - like that you ask first."

There might be a vague suggestion of ask-and-you-may-receive, but asking Robert to ask for something seems too forward, somehow. If he wants to, he will.

Robert doesn't know what forwardness even is. The only way he ever communicates how he feels is in the most atrociously blunt way. And this is proven by what he says next - it's a soft voice, and stuttery as all hell, but it's an undeniably blunt statement that really cannot be misinterpreted.

"W-Well... in that case... i-if you'd perhaps be willing at some point, I would... love to be sexual with you. A-Assuming you are alright with this, of course. I-It... it's perfectly alright if you aren't..." He coils his fingers together like he wants them to snap off and stares very fiercely at the water.

Internally he is completely terrified by the prospect. Both of Don saying no - and rejecting him entirely - and Don saying yes - and opening up a whole new avenue of relationship for Robert to atrociously fail at.

But if there's one thing Luceti has taught Robert, it's that he needs to try to be a little bolder...

"... I-I would... g-greatly appreciate the chance to... please you."

Don squirms uncomfortably, but makes himself give an answer. It's not a commitment, only a possibility. A possibility that he hopes the two of them can explore together.

"Someday. I think."

He squeezes the words out, and can't stop one more from following them.

"Why?"

That is more than good enough for Robert, actually. It's not a complete rejection, and it also doesn't mean he has to try to do it so soon that he doesn't have any time to try to mentally prepare - perhaps that'll reduce the chance of it failing ridiculously badly.

The question, though?

"Because you're wonderful." He's dead serious when he says this too, and he can't help but smile. "... I want to be with you, in any way you allow."

I want to show just how much you mean to me, and how your body is just as good as anybody else's, and how we don't need to be the same species to be able to fit.

That doesn't really answer the question, but Don suspects this is something he will never get a satisfactory answer to. As little as Don can understand why any human would be interested in him that way, Robert probably can't imagine that anything would categorically prevent such an attraction.

It's a problem that will probably preoccupy him for some time to come, but he senses that Robert's feelings are genuine, and for now that's enough.

"There's - not a long list of people I get in a bathtub with," he says awkwardly, just in case Robert thought there was. This may not be exactly the kind of closeness Robert had in mind, but it represents a huge trust step for Don, and he wants to be sure Robert knows that. If they're setting expectations, they should be clear not just about the goal, but about how quickly they're likely to get there.

He's definitely right about that. Robert doesn't really see Don as solely a turtle, per se - any more than he sees Don as solely a genius, or solely an inventor, or solely a person who wears purple a lot. He sees Don as this combinant self, and that self is something he rapidly finds that he would do significantly more for than he would for the average person. To him, Donatello's body is beautiful, appealing, attractive - not necessarily just because it's an aesthetically appealing body (and to Robert, that musculature is indeed aesthetically appealing...) - but because it's his body. That's really all the justification Robert needs.

"... There isn't a particularly long list of people I would get into a bathtub with either," Robert replies. Even if it wasn't the closeness he was expecting - was he even expecting any specific kind of closeness? - it's something that is symbolically powerful to him regardless. If this is what Don considers an intimate, trusting action - kind of like how Robert considered it intimate and trusting to take his lab coat off for Don - then that's amazing. It's amazing whether it's "typical" or not.

Screw "typical" things. They've never described anything about Robert before; why should they describe his relationship now?

Don smiles, from a mix of emotions, none of which may exactly be happiness. "That's probably a good thing."

Then he reaches over his shoulder, picks up a bar of soap, and offers it to Robert. "Here."

Robert smiles back, more genuinely, because he doesn't know the battle in Don's mind.

"Ah, thank you." Robert takes said offered soap, putting it aside. He'll definitely want to wash himself...

And then he takes the hand the soap was in, and holds it lovingly. Longingly. Hand-holding is something Robert does a lot - it's an action that he's come to regard as a symbolic representation of him trying to be intimate. He would've even kissed Don's hand in an archaic, pathetic but adorable gesture of love, but there's soap on it.

He offers a weak smile to go along with the hand-hold before releasing it to actually properly use the soap.

Yeah, Don, get used to awkward, stilted expressions of desire like that, if you haven't already...

That was awkward, but Don decides to take it as the romantic equivalent of a handshake. They're agreed on all that has been said so far, they're satisfied with the agreement, and now maybe they can stop talking about it for a little while.

While Robert tries to figure out how to wash a turtle body, Don takes the other bar of soap, scrubs his face and scalp, then leans forward and dunks his head underwater to wash it off.

Not talking about it is a go, yes. Not thinking about it - well, that isn't possible right now, at least not for Robert. But he can ignore the thoughts. Or at least reduce them to something similar to background noise, as he settles into the familiar-but-unfamiliar routine of washing himself as a turtle.

Even though he's had the greater part of a week to get used to this, it's still odd feeling scales instead of smooth skin. Or the entire lack of body hair, even Robert's relatively fine, downy variety. He notes, mentally, the fact that it's never been odd on Don - now that it's on him though, it feels mildly foreign. But... not bad. Never really bad.

The Malnosso would really have to do worse than this to his body to make him completely irritated with it. (Though this libido was on the annoying side of the scale, but at least it'd done something constructive now. As far as Robert could tell, anyway.)

"Hey Robert?" Don says, when he comes back up. "Can I ask you something kind of strange?"

Does he actually even need to ask at this point?

"Please feel free to. I doubt I would find anything you asked strange, to be honest." Robert smiles easily and looks up from where he was attempting to wash his plastron. (Those big dark markings on it make it hard to find actual dirt.)

Don will be very surprised if Robert doesn't find this to be strange.

"Do you mind if I peel off one of your scutes?" he asks, then hurriedly explains: "It doesn't hurt, and on the off chance that it doesn't disappear when you change back, I'd like to keep it..."

... Oh, that's an interesting request. But Robert is more fascinated than weirded out.

"I don't mind... it's not as if I have any particular attachment to any of them. In fact, were I to have more time, I'd like to take samples of all my biological properties right now, for later study..." Robert looks thoughtful a moment. "But I certainly don't mind if you want to do that. How do I facilitate the process?

... And why exactly would you want to keep a scute?" It seems kind of like how keeping cut locks of someone's hair might be... a purely sentimental gesture, perhaps. Even if Robert's questioning it, his expression makes it seem like he thinks it's almost a romantic or sweet gesture.

Odd, but sweet. It's not like Robert doesn't do strange things himself.

Don beams and grabs a washcloth from a hook under the showerhead. "Turn around." By way of answering Robert's other question, he adds: "Well, Master Splinter keeps all of ours."

And he means all almost literally - Splinter's collection of shed scutes is way more extensive than would seem necessary.

Robert does so, putting his shell within easy reach of Don's grasp, as well as anything else that would be generally more accessible from behind, such as the scutes in question. Possibly.

"Ah, is that so? Do they serve as an indication of your age, or health, or does he simply keep them in the same manner a parent might keep an article of clothing or something from a child's early life?" Robert's parents had occasionally done things like that. Not often... but Robert could remember them keeping his first pair of glasses, at least. Mostly at his own behest.

... Though it seemed more logical to recycle them...

Don studiously does not notice anything other than Robert's carapace, which is at any rate quite diverting in its own right. The pattern is different from Don's and his brothers', as tends to be the case with turtle shells, and he wants to look at it, memorize it, while he can.

"They're an interesting record of our growth," Don says, as he sets about scrubbing the accumulated dirt from between the ridges of Robert's shell. "And I guess there isn't a whole lot else of ours that he could save." He pauses thoughtfully. "On the other hand, it could just be rat habits."

Robert knows the feeling of wanting to memorize every detail of something. Even if this form is only temporary, ideally he'd want to spend time detailing every last square centimetre of it. He's been using his nanocomputer to record holovideo of himself as a turtle, so at least he has that much... and he has a few readings on his temperature and the like as well. Nothing like what he would have wanted to do, but there simply wasn't enough time to do all of that, not with everything that had happened. Well, that and the supreme lack of technology to accomplish the feat with...

The scrubbing is soothing, and gentle, and honestly Robert has trouble reaching his own shell to clean it anyway, so he's definitely enjoying this. He sighs a little from the pleasant sensations of it and arches back into Don's caring hands. "That would make sense... It would be fascinating to look back at them, I suppose. See how your patterns have changed over time, or whether or not your brothers' scutes are significantly different..."

He smiles over his shoulder at Don. "The Malnosso seem to have enjoyed making me emulate your subspecies, at the least. And, to be honest, outside of the... awkward parts, this isn't particularly problematic. I could ostensibly get used to this...

I suspect you were less comfortable with being a human, though."

There, good as new. (Better than new, in a sense - Robert's shell is free of scars, and its thickness and healthy condition reflect a lifetime of easy access to sunlight, good food, and clean water for its owner. Don has never seen a shell like it. It seems almost a shame to remove a piece, but then again, it will all be gone in a few days anyway.)

Don wets the washcloth again, runs it lightly over the freshly-cleaned carapace, and begins hunting for a loose edge of scute.

"The patterns don't change, they just get bigger. I can tell right away which piece belongs to who." He responds to Robert's last statement briefly and bluntly. "I hated it."

Robert's shell betrays something about his life that his human body didn't, necessarily - that he had an easy life of it, and that he pretty much had access to anything he's ever needed or even wanted. It's a beautiful shell. Even Robert would think of it that way.

He squirms slightly at the search for the loose scute, probably subconsciously expecting pain - but also liking the pressure there.

"I apologize that being a human was so uncomfortable for you," Robert says, genuinely.

Don shakes his head, even though Robert can't see him. "Nothing against humans. I'm sure it's fine if you really are one." Ah, there. A tiny scrape from where Robert crashed against the side of the bathtub while trying to get in. "Also, I was a woman at the time, so it wasn't really a fair trial."

"Ah, so the Malnosso made you transgendered as well?" Robert hasn't yet connected the statement from earlier about Donatello being his friend with this, and even then he wouldn't see this as 'being a woman', merely 'being female-bodied'. One of the many discrepancies in thinking that arise from their different worlds and perspectives... "They apparently also did so to Helios, from what I understand about what Mr. Chopin told me. Or... perhaps temporarily cisgendered? That would have been awkward, attempting to address Helios with the proper pronouns for her situation, but..." Robert pauses a moment.

"But I can certainly understand why that must be... odd. And uncomfortable. That would be odd even if you were already used to being a human."