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You had no idea what time it was. It was late as hell and your body was begging you for sleep, but as usual, it was not begging hard enough to drown out your dissenting brain. Your only consolation was that you were in the company of a fellow insomniac.
You lay on your back on the staircase in Donatello’s lab, listening to calming music through one earbud, closing your eyes and trying to rest a bit. The tall purple turtle worked on the other wall with his back to you, staring at one of his many huge computer screens, typing furiously at who knows what. The darkness of the lab coupled with the nearness of a familiar face was comforting--only the deep purple LED strip lights around the perimeter of the ceiling were on, which set a sleepy mood that almost coerced you into snoozing. Then a cramp seized across your stomach and you clutched at it, groaning involuntarily. Snoozing would not occur tonight.
Donatello broke his focus long enough to ask, “What’s wrong?” You shrugged. “The new medicine I’m on is screwing with my stomach,” you muttered. Your voice was deeper than usual due to tiredness, the speaking slow; your weariness was apparent with each word. Still looking at the screen, Donnie asked, “Want some water? I’ve got Saltines.” You considered. “Eh, sure,” you said.
The purple turtle temporarily paused his project and walked over to the minifridge in his lab. You knew by his shuffling steps that he was tired, too, but from previous conversations you were confident that sleep eluded the terrapin like it eluded you. He came over to where you lay and handed you the water and the packet of crackers. “Thanks,” you said. He muttered “mm-hm” in response.
You expected him to go back to his work, but he remained at the staircase next to you. You sat up to eat and drink, and as you did, you brought yourself eye-level with him. “Whatcha listening to?” he asked, gesturing to the earbuds. Knowing your verbal response would’ve been muddled and inarticulate, you handed him the other earbud, and let him listen for himself.
“I can make wireless ones of these for you, ya know,” he said, almost to himself. Then, “Oh! I love this artist.” Instantly, you loved that artist, too. Truth be told, you had no idea who the artist was, and it was the first time you’d listened to that song--you’d simply stumbled across it on YouTube and it vibed nicely--but you loved the artist if Donnie loved the artist, and that was that.
“I can also make you some medicine to help counteract the symptoms of the other medicine, too, probably,” he said. “If you want me to.” You had to laugh a bit. “Thanks, Don, but I’ll be okay,” you replied. “In fact, I feel better already. Maybe that cramp was just in passing.”
“Let’s hope.”
Okay, now you were a bit flustered. He still hadn’t gone back to his work, even though it was still up on the screen. You made eye contact once, awkwardly, as he listened to the rest of the song, his body and face brought close to yours by the wire of the earbuds. There was no doubt that you were closer friends with him than you were with the other turtles--you vibed in the lab with him like this at least twice a week--and you were very comfortable with him, but he usually didn’t stand so...close like this. From the corner of your eye, you gazed at his face, bathed in purple from the LEDs, eyelids drooping wearily, smiling ever so slightly as the music played. Then he glanced at you and you looked away, embarrassed. You could feel the heat coming from his warm, sleepy body, and you wondered if he could feel the heat from your cheeks.
As the song finished and another one started, you attempted to make conversation: “It’s late, you know, D. You oughta sleep a little more.”
“Nah, you know I don’t sleep. I’m most productive when exhaustion disinhibits me. What time ‘sit?”
You held up your phone so you could both see. It read 3:17 AM. “Oh, damn!” you exclaimed simultaneously. Naturally, you looked at one another and laughed, muttering something about “jinx.” You felt your breath catch as your eyes met--he was close.
One second passed, then two. Three. You knew it was the social norm to break eye contact now--most people wouldn’t hold it this long--but Donnie wasn’t breaking and you felt a strange curiosity about what might happen if you didn’t, either.
Maybe it was the weariness, or maybe it was the music, or the LEDs, or the medicine, or a combination of them all, but you got an idea and could not stop yourself from acting on it. Slowly, you leaned forward, falling deeper into his eyes. Your forehead pressed against his, then your nose to his. You watched his expression change, and though you couldn’t quite read it, you saw those eyes lock on yours like magnets, and you felt his face flush with warmth. He didn’t object or pull away. Gently, almost imperceptibly, you pressed your lips to his. It was a modest kiss, not aggressive or sexual, at least any more than a light kiss is. You pulled away to see that his eyes hadn’t even closed all the way.
Ashamed of yourself for inadvertently admitting your feelings so brashly, you looked away. You listened to him breathe for a minute--in, out, in, out, a bit out of rhythm--then he lamely said, “That was...unexpected…” You looked at your hands sheepishly. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “Guess I should’ve asked first.” But he smiled. “It’s okay.” You raised your head to meet his gaze.
Now surprising you, he placed a hand behind your head and pulled you in for another kiss, his eyes closing all the way this time. He was ginger, but more committed now; with the awkward uncertainty of the first kiss out of the way, he was bolder, and so were you. You leaned into it more, relishing the way he tasted and smelled, observing the contrasting textures of your mouths as your soft flesh rested against the tiny scales that made up his rough skin. Your combined weariness made the kiss languorous. You reached up a hand, still shy, and placed it on his cheek, smiling at the way the two fit. The turtle was encouraged by this movement and put his other hand on your knee. Your mouths rested together for a long time, and when you finally broke it, Donnie’s expression was unreadable, his mouth still open as though still kissing you.
You placed a hand in his. “Go to bed,” you whispered. “It’s way too late for emotions like this.” He grinned tiredly. “I’m not gonna sleep any after that,” he muttered. You laughed quietly. “Maybe not,” you agreed. He joined you on the staircase. “Maybe we can listen to some more of that music?” he inquired. You grinned. “No objections here,” you said. So that’s exactly what you did.