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You met April in college, despite being in totally different departments.
The both of you found yourselves waiting in line at the library. She was in front of you and had meant to return a small assortment of books, which seemed to be various writings on biochemistry, while you were about to return artsy books, mostly about light, color and image composition, meant to give you some more insight for a personal project of yours.
“Excuse me,” you beckoned the girl in front of you, tapping her shoulder lightly, “are you in the bioengineering course?”
“Huh?” as she turned around, you noticed her bright and bold red glasses she was rocking like nobody’s business, “who, me?”
Her eyes widened, realizing you must’ve noticed the books she was carrying.
“Oh, no!” she chuckled, “I just got these for my friend, he can’t really attend so I borrow books for him every now and then,” when her gaze dropped down to address the items on her hands, she noticed what you were holding on to, “are you in the graphic arts course?”
Nodding, you lifted the readings you’d spent a little over a month studying, “yeah, but these were a guilty pleasure sort of read, mostly” you giggled.
Mikey would like them, April thought as she eyed the bound pages you had, missing the way your curious gaze glided over the ones she had.
“Would it be okay if I borrowed those from you?” the both of you asked at the same time, gesturing for the issues.
That same afternoon, you two bonded over some overpriced caffeinated drinks with unnecessary long-ass names.
April was amazed at the way in which you could talk about both arts and sciences, subjects that seemed to be at the opposite ends of the spectrum, full of enthusiasm and lacking little to no knowledge about either of them.
“You know,” she trailed off, “I feel like you could really get along with my friends, especially Mikey and Donnie.”
That’s how you found yourself on a rooftop in the late evening a little over a week later; April had called her secretive group of friends over. You’d been working on a project, having lost track of time, so you arrived with a few paint stains on your hands and cheeks, wrapped in pastel colored oversized lounge-wear and hair tied up in a cute bow you’d recently got.
Her phone buzzed and after checking the text message she’d gotten, her face fought a huge smile, her dimples meaning to push the corners of her mouth upwards. April was so excited, but she felt like she needed to warn you at least once more:
“You won’t meet anyone as cool as them, but they are different, okay? Promise you won’t freak out?”
Giggling, you reassured her for what you believed was the hundredth time, “I promise, but seriously how bad could it be?”
Almost as if on cue, four shadows landed on either side of your friend. Up to this day, you still cannot wrap your head around how come they stayed hidden despite April being perfectly visible.
“Guys! This is (Y/n), the friend I told you about!” she beamed gesturing to you as she looked at either side.
“Uhm… Hi!”
Your eyes widened as a giant turtle wearing an orange mask, along with bright gear and stickers on his plastron stepped into the light, a huge grin pulling at his round cheeks.
“I’m Mikey! I love your bow!”
For a second, your brain froze at the sudden cheery introduction this guy had dropped on you, but your amusement at his giddy attitude took over.
“I love your stickers, Mikey!”
“Really? I designed them myself!”
“You did? That’s so cool!”
Needless to say, you and Mikey clicked almost instantly. But then, you noticed the rest of his brothers.
Raph was big, tall, burly and sharp, he looked like he could do some serious damage. Much to your surprise, he was a huge teddy bear. When he introduced himself to you, he acted sheepish, but definitely happy to have met you.
Leo, their leader, had a playful air to him despite his role, which was a breath of fresh air, to be honest. He made all sorts of puns, some landed, some didn’t, but you could tell he was a fun guy to be around.
Then, there was Donnie. He wore a scowl that he didn’t bother to hide, regarding you cautiously through his aloof gaze. Never mind whatever he’d tried to pull, you smiled at him, then exclaimed:
“Something tells me the bioengineering books April borrowed were meant for you.”
“Yes, they were.”
“I’m really enjoying them so far, plus I got some of my own, I could lend them to you.”
“What.”
His smug expression fell upon realizing that this cutesy and tiny human girl, who had unwashed paint stains, pastel joggers and a goddamned bow on her hair, enjoyed such reads.
You didn’t look the type, apparently.
“Wait–” Leo jumped in, “you’re into science?” he’d said the last word as if it would leave a bad taste in his mouth.
Shrugging, you nodded, “yeah, it’s entertaining, plus, it’s good to learn stuff like that!”
Donnie was a scientist, pragmatic and reasonable. He didn’t believe in cupid, he didn’t believe in the putti, but he sure as hell felt something pierce his chest upon listening to your words.
He spoke before he’d had a chance to stop himself.
“If you’re really that much into science, I could show you my lab if you’d like?”
You beamed at him, April had already told you about how much of a morally-ambiguous genius he was and being offered to be shown his lab was an absolute honor.
“I would love to!”
*
For the next few months, you would spend most of your free time with Donnie.
You genuinely loved the whole aesthetic he’d used for his work, plus you had to praise his commitment to the neon purple-pink color scheme, mostly because if someone asked what your favorite color was you’d ask whether ‘rainbow’ was an option.
Why choose one?
Right?
Donnie had the silliest, most honest crush on you. Even if you didn’t possess half as much knowledge as he did, you sure as hell could talk about any topic. Furthermore, you wanted to learn and he was glad to have someone pay attention to his rants for real, poking your head over his shoulder whenever he worked on something.
Even if he’d previously told his brothers not to bother him, you could come and go as you pleased, you basically had a VIP pass to his lab. As well as his heart.
Little did he know, you didn’t fall behind on such feelings. The very same day he toured you around his lab, your own heart started throbbing painfully for him. The way in which he would shamelessly announce his smarts only to backtrack bashfully at the way in which you would genuinely agree and compliment him further, how could someone look so handsome and cute when embarrassed?
The both of you spent entire afternoons and weekends inside his lab, working in silence, simply enjoying eachother’s company.
You would sometimes ask for his opinion on your pieces, or find any other way in which you could involve him in your projects, while he would ask for your help for tasks he could easily have his robot limbs do for him.
With more precise movements.
And faster.
But Donnie loved the way your eyes would sparkle whenever he started a sentence with “would you mind giving me a hand with–?”
Before he had a chance to explain what he wanted your assistance with, you’d already hurry towards him, your frilly skirt bouncing in anticipation and rolling your sleeves up before tying your hair up in one of your bows, wearing the most adorable grin. The soft-shelled turtle couldn’t help but give you his rare smiles.
He wouldn’t pour an ounce of sarcasm or arrogance in his gestures, he would genuinely smile around you, especially if you were in private. His eyes would regard you half-lidded and his eyebrows would rise in wonder at what a curious and delightful creature you were.
Like sunshine in a perfume-sized bottle.
*
Apparently, the genius and the leader argued over one of their latest missions, which had come extremely close to failing. Neither had been in the mood for criticism and it had been Mikey’s wellbeing that got endangered, so the twins were all worked up, snapping at eachother.
Mikey told you he’d speak to Leo, mostly because he knew you were their best chance at calming Donnie’s nerves.
So when you invited yourself inside his room after barely announcing your arrival, he was laying on his incubator bed, a deep scowl in his flawless brows.
“You wanna talk?”
He shook his head, glaring daggers into empty space.
Walking around the space, you finally sat next to him and started to talk about your day. There really hadn’t been anything special to mention, but the sound of your voice was more than enough to soothe him, at least for a little while.
After a long silence, you blurted out, “want me to brush your shell?” which earned you a look as if you’d confessed to committing some heinous crime, but you insisted.
“It’ll feel great, look! Hold out your palm for me.”
He finally sat up next to you and indulged your last request, not entirely convinced.
You always carried a small watercolor brush set along with a sketchbook, which had recently been filled with sneaky sketches of him focused on his desk, for whenever inspiration kicked in. Picking your favorite brush, you held it closer to the edge, so as to show Donnie you would not touch him directly and tested the pressure on your own palm first, then cupped his open fist on your smaller one and proceeded to show him how you’d run the material over his shell.
Despite twitching at first from the odd feeling, Donnie eventually relaxed, taking in the way your face settled on a focused expression, making sure you ran the tip of the brush gently over the creases on his calloused palm.
If he was to be perfectly honest to himself, it felt rather nice, if a little strange. The best part of it rested on the fact that he had your full attention.
The both of you settled on his incubator bed. He’d discarded his battle-shell and goggles, sitting between your parted legs with his bare back to you, legs crossed and palms firmly planted over his knees.
“If I make you uncomfortable in any way, do let me know, okay Donnie?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he mumbled, cursing himself for feeling so nervous.
You knew this whole situation was a huge deal for him, the leap of trust he’d just taken was incredible. If you were to brag to his brothers about it, they probably wouldn’t believe you, even if they already knew about you two crushing on eachother.
Giggling, you told him to lean forward a little just so that neither of you would injure your backs.
The moment your brush made contact with his shell, you heard him suck in air and watched his shoulders tense up.
Slowly, you ran it along the edge, from the top down to the right, circling it a few times, startling him in the process.
When you reached the same height as his waist, you noticed the way his body twitched a little, to which you pulled away just in case.
“That’s okay, you just tickled me…” you’d never heard him rasp in such a brooding tone before.
“Are you sure? You don’t need to–”
“No, I– I really like it…”
So you kept smoothing over the surface of his sensitive shell, twirling it inside the grooves and edges, as if you were trying to coat it in paint. That’s when you started to notice the irregular and spotted patterns, along with the soft spikes that poked over the middle. It looked velvety, you had half a mind to substitute your painting tool with your own fingers.
He’d gathered a few scars over the years, probably from roughhousing with his brothers at home. When you ran over a particularly long one close to the bottom edge, he spoke softly.
“Leo and I were fighting over a toy we’d found in a junkyard on the surface, when I let go I fell on my shell and scraped it pretty bad.”
Taking in how your movements had slowed down, he figured you were listening.
“It wasn’t all that painful, but I remember how wrong it felt, crying out of fear for how vulnerable I felt.”
You hummed, meaning for him to go on with his story.
“Leo felt so bad,” he chuckled, fond of the memory.
You wished you could have seen his face.
“He kept apologizing for days until he eventually came to me with the toy that had caused that little squabble, he washed it, then gave it to me.”
His head gestured towards his desk.
“I keep it in a drawer, he probably thinks I threw it away, though.”
“Donnie that’s–” he gasped softly, despite his shoulders rising sharply upon contact.
Your hand had reached for his shell on its own, right behind his left shoulder, an automatic supportive gesture you couldn’t have helped at all.
“I’m sorry–”
His right hand shot to hold yours in place, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Don’t be,” he sighed before letting go of you.
Discarding the brush, you started ghosting your fingers in a similar manner in which you had been doing previously with your tool, feeling as he relaxed under your touch.
“You’ll eventually have to talk to him and work everything out, Donnie.”
“I know.”
“Leo’s probably upset too.”
“I know.”
“Mikey is talking to him.”
“I know.”
“I like you.”
“I know– I like you, too.”
You felt as butterflies fluttered in your stomach, you had meant to test whether he was still listening to you.
Running your pastel fingernails over his shell in a manner that reminded you of a sorcerer casting a spell, considering what your effect was on Donnie, you could’ve pretty much have been doing so.
A surprisingly comfortable silence befell between you two.
The three words you had spoken, which he had then reciprocated, hung and lingered in your minds, not really knowing how to proceed from there.
Until you, as usual, grew curious.
“How long have you known?”
He decided to reply through another question of his own, “about you or about myself?”
“Huh– I guess both,” you whispered.
“I suppose I knew about you since the day I caught glimpse of your sketches of me–”
“You know about those!?” you shrieked, face heating up so quickly you almost grew dizzy, hands retracting to hide your cheeks.
Twisting his torso so that he was halfway facing you, his cheeks had grown darker as well, nearly matching your own. He was almost pouting, avoiding eye contact even, but you knew that was his usual reaction whenever he felt vulnerable.
“I knew I was smitten with you when I made a breakthrough and my first thought was to share it with you, instead of celebrating my own wit,” he’d ignored your reaction, deciding to bare his heart to you, just like he’d done with his shell.
“I–” you had to collect your thoughts.
You’d been the first thing in his mind.
“I think I liked you before meeting you, if that makes any sense–”
“It doesn’t.” His expression had dropped, thinking you were pulling his leg.
“But it’s true!” you retaliated quickly. “April would always tell me about you guys, but I found myself wanting to know more about you,” leaning towards him a little, one of your hands supported your weight while the other rested over his shoulder, urging him to twist further in your direction.
Which he did, sitting sideways so as to have his entire body facing you.
Trapping you inside his incubator bed in the process too, but you weren’t about to complain.
“When I finally met you, I think it just sealed the deal for me.”
His lips pressed into a thin line.
He believed you.
“Can I kiss you, Donnie?–”
“I really want to kiss you right now–”
He grunted embarrassed while you giggled, amused by the entire situation.
Seeing as how he’d sat cross legged in front of you but still loomed over your shorter frame, you knelt up, pressing your hands over his shoulders. Instinctively, his palms circled your waist as his chin rose to meet you halfway in a gentle peck.
When you parted slightly, his expression had gone back to that unbothered scowl he often put on, but his lips twitched from a smile that threatened to pull at its corners.
You chuckled, he still held on to the tough guy act.
Dipping down for a second go, his hands reached to cup your jawline and the back of your neck, pressing his lips harder against yours. You sighed against the kiss, tilting your face enough to deepen it tentatively as your nails brushed over his shoulders.
Then, an odd noise rumbled from him.
Like a deep and slow chirping sound.
Donne had begun churring.
You couldn’t help but chuckle, which he took as a challenge.
“C’mere you…” he rasped as his right arm hooked behind and under your knees, bringing your legs to straddle his lap before your pout was taken by his again, pulling more giggles out of you.
Falling into a comfortable rhythm, you felt as the tip of his tongue poked out to lick alongside the corners of your lips. Just as you parted yours, meaning to tangle your own tongue with his, the bedroom’s door burst open.
You don’t know how you didn’t bite your own tongue.
Or his.
“Donnie I’m here to apologize and– OHMIGOSH!!!”
You were quickly pressed against your friend– boyfriend?
Partner?
Lover?
You were quickly pressed against Donnie’s body as an attempt to hide you and save you some embarrassment.
“Leo get the fuck out right now!”