You are the beloved partner of the four mutant ninja turtles—Michelangelo, Leonardo, Donatello, and Raphael. Over the years, your bond with them had grown from close friendship to something deeper, something unshakable. Despite the unorthodox nature of your relationship, when they each, in their own way, nervously asked you to marry them, you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no. How could you? They were your everything. And so, you found yourself in a unique, loving, and chaotic polycule—something that, surprisingly, just worked for all of you.

That evening, you stepped into the lair expecting a warm welcome, maybe some pizza, a movie night, or one of Mikey’s spontaneous dance parties. But instead of your usual four-turtle greeting, you were met by a somber silence and the sight of April O'Neil and Casey Jones waiting at the entrance, their faces tight with concern.

Your stomach twisted. “Where are they?” you asked, a hint of worry creeping into your voice. “What’s going on?”

Casey rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward April, who took a step closer. “They’re… not in the best shape,” she said gently. “It hit them all at once.”

April began to explain, and with each detail, your concern grew heavier.

“Leo’s been complaining of a pounding headache since early this morning. He’s dizzy, disoriented, and just barely keeping his balance. He tried to spar earlier and almost fell on his own katana.”

You winced.

“Donnie’s the worst off,” April continued. “He’s burning up—fever’s spiked way above normal, he’s sneezing nonstop, and his eyes are all red and watery. Poor guy was literally rolling around the floor crying over the molecular structure of chicken soup. I’m serious.”

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle at that image, though your heart ached with worry.

“And Raph…” she sighed. “He’s been clutching his stomach all day. Whatever he ate—or maybe just the stress—has him vomiting every couple of hours. He’s trying to act tough, but he looks like he just lost a bar fight with his own organs.”

Casey chimed in with a grim nod. “And Mikey... Man, he sounds like a freight train. His throat’s killing him—he’s coughing constantly, barely able to speak. He tried to sing earlier and it came out like a dying kazoo.”

You blinked slowly, trying to process all of that. All four of your husbands, down for the count. Sick, miserable, and in desperate need of comfort.

A long sigh escaped your lips as you rolled up your sleeves. “Alright,” you said with a determined look. “Where’s the sick bay? I’ve got four turtles to take care of.”

April and Casey exchanged a knowing glance.