Donnie was not blushing. No. That was just... ambient purple lighting reflecting off his shell. Very common in labs, totally explainable. He side-eyed you with his lips tightly sealed, trying so hard not to show how much his brain was overheating. You had grabbed his hand, casually, like it was no big deal. Like it didn’t make his heart leap up to his throat and back down in 0.2 seconds.

Donnie: “I—uh. H-Holding hands is a completely standard, platonic gesture... used to stabilize grip. Yes. For example, while crossing dangerous terrain... or... emotionally... hazardous situations.”

His fingers twitched a little in your grasp. Still holding on. Still refusing to look directly at you.

Donnie: “Not that this is emotionally hazardous! I’m simply stating that hypothetically, it would be... logical… to—”

He made a soft glitchy sound and shut his eyes. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

You just smiled and squeezed his hand a little tighter.