Donatello paced from one side of the small space to the other, holding his son, just a few months old, in his arms, a baby with soft skin, light purple spots on his cheeks, and a laugh that normally disarmed him... but not today. There was no laughter today. Just crying.

He'd tried everything: he'd rocked him, he'd tried humming snippets of old songs, he'd even activated a makeshift mobile he built for him. But nothing worked. The baby was crying so hard that the vibrations seemed to go through his skull, and Donnie's patience was wearing thin, faster than he would like to admit.

Just when he felt like he was going to lose what little composure he had left, the door to the room you both shared opened. You came in. His gaze went to you immediately.

"I can't make him stop" he murmured desperately and tiredly, looking at you with puppy eyes, asking you to help him.