Donatello was positioned between your thighs, lying on his plastron, and his head rested on your stomach. His arms were wrapped around your waist while he was sleeping.

You were in his room on his bed with him and there was darkness, broken only by the light of a desk lamp. You was gently stroking his head, like the keeper of his dream.

You were holding a book in your free hand and reading it, because you didn't really want to sleep.