Work Text:
"Hello?" you called into the seemingly empty lair, voice echoing off the concrete. "Anybody home?"
"In here!" Donnie's voice, distant but clear, sounded from his room, and you smiled as you made your way over towards his door. Pushing it open, you found him in his usual position: hunched over his desk, typing furiously at his keyboard. You let yourself in, perching on the edge of his bed and making yourself comfortable.
It took him another minute to acknowledge your presence. His behavior would offend most people, but you found his intense focus endearing. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a grin rising at the sight of your own.
"How was school?" he asked, turning back to the screen. "Learn anything useful?"
You snorted, leaning back on your hands. "It's sad that you'd even ask that."
Snickering, he typed a final line of code and pushed back from the desk. Finally free to move, he stretched his arms over his head, groaning theatrically before slouching jelly-boned into his chair.
"I remain hopelessly optimistic." He stood, shoving his chair back under the desk. "So, what's the plan for this evening? Sparring session? Gaming tournament? Your call."
"Actually," you said, sitting up straight again, "I've got plans with April tonight."
"Oh, I see how it is." He pouted, turning his face away. "Choosing your human friends over us lowly mutants."
"Shut up," you laughed, tossing one of his pillows at his head. He caught it without having to look. "I'll stay extra late on Friday, how's that?"
Faster than you could follow, Donnie switched the pillow to his dominant hand and hurled it straight into your face. It knocked you flat out, your fall cushioned by Donnie's mattress.
Surfacing from your near-death experience, the first thing you heard was Donnie's snickering. "I'm mollified."
You shot him a half-hearted glare, tossing his pillow aside. “Good for you.”
Still smirking, he led the way back into the living room. “Where is everyone, anyway?” you asked.
He went to the fridge, frowning at its contents as you took a seat on the couch. “Leo and Mikey wanted to go dumpster diving. Raph went along to keep them out of trouble.”
“And you stayed behind.”
“Of course.” He shut the fridge, giving up on materializing a meal, and vaulted over the back of the couch to sit beside you. “So what are you and April gonna get up to?”
“Oh, the most exciting activity of them all: dress shopping.”
He made a face. “Mm, yeah, think I’ll pass.”
“Well, you weren’t invited, so…”
In response, he stuck his tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes but somehow found yourself grinning again. Donnie always managed to do that.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked, knowing that you and April weren’t exactly fashionistas in everyday life.
You settled back into the cushions, pulling your knees up to your chest. “Oh, just this little thing called Prom. You’ve probably never heard of it.”
“Mm, yeah. Ain’t ringing any bells.” He turned his body towards you, propping his elbow on the back of the couch to support his cheek. “You didn’t go last year, did you?” He would have remembered that.
You shake your head. “Nah, I would’ve had to be invited by an upperclassman. But I figured, now that I’m the upperclassman, I might as well give it a try this time.”
He smirked, having found his angle. “Ah, not very popular are we? You know, it’s really lame to go to Prom on your own.”
Although you knew he was just teasing, you felt your lips tug into a small frown. “I’m not going alone.”
“April doesn’t count.”
You scoffed, not sure whether to be offended or not. “I’m not going with April.”
“Okay, other friends also do not count.” He sighed, faking exasperation. “Honestly, I know you’re going to be with a group, but acknowledging that would have ruined the joke. And…yup!” He tipped his head forward, dejected. “It’s ruined.”
Normally, you would jump up, enthusiastically trying to atone for dropping the bit and the two of you would launch right into the next one. But not today. Something about his dismissive tone bothered you, so you didn’t think better of your next words until it was too late.
“I’m not going with a group, either.”
He must have picked up on your tone, because he picked his head back up, staring at you. When he next spoke, his voice had lost its teasing edge. “Hey, you know I don’t care if you’re going by yourself, right? I mean, I’m not exactly Mr. Popular down here in the sewers, either.” And then he smiled at you, and it was somehow even more infuriating than everything else.
“I have a date, Donnie.” The words, carrying your irritation, fell flat in the open room, and you didn’t realize until you said them that you’d been keeping it a secret.
He looked at you, lips parted, for a long moment. You felt an irrational seed of guilt spring to life in your stomach. What did you have to feel guilty for? It’s not illegal to take a boy to prom.
Then he opened his fat mouth, and the seed was crushed beneath your mental image of a steel-toed boot.
“Really?”
Your own jaw drops. “Yes, really. And before you ask: he’s a very real guy, too.”
“Who?” he asks, disbelief evident.
Gaping at him, you wondered how this conversation turned south so quickly. “Is it so hard to believe that a guy is interested in me?”
He frowned, temper rising to match your own. “I guess so, yeah.”
Okay, ouch.
Faced with your silence, he backtracked. “That came out wrong—”
You cut him off. “I don’t care. It’s not any of your business, anyway.”
“Then why tell me in the first place?”
“Maybe I was expecting you to, I don’t know, be happy for me? Like a good friend would.”
It was a bit of a low blow, but he’d really pissed you off, and in the moment it felt good. His expression hardened, his response bit out from a sharp tongue.
“Did you ever think that I’ve got more important things on my mind? I don’t care about stupid teenager shit.” His voice switched to a falsetto, a mocking imitation. “Congratulations on asking out your crush of the month! I’m so excited for you!” He rolled his eyes, returning to his normal pitch. “Sorry I don’t get worked up over a relationship that won’t last three weeks.”
Lurching to your feet, you found yourself suddenly on the brink of tears. You’d heard him say things like that to his brothers, his father, even April on occasion, but he’d never used such scathing words against you. They hurt more than you expected, cutting deep, and you were only saved from having to cry in front of him by April’s timely appearance.
“Hey guys!” she greeted, cheeriness at odds with the palpable tension in the room. Her face fell as she looked between the two of you. “What’s…up?”
“Fuck you, Donnie,” you spat, turning on your heel. He let out a derisive snort, unimpressed with your lackluster comeback, but it was all you could think of. It was the truest expression of what you felt, a one to one ratio of pain.
“Let’s go, April,” you murmured, grabbing her wrist on your way past her.
“O-okay…”
Just before you left the room, you spun around, facing Donnie one last time. He pointedly ignored you.
“And for the record,” you said, “ he asked me.”
Then you were gone, unshed tears drying before you’d even reached the surface.
Donnie didn’t speak to you for an entire week.
It was also, completely coincidentally, one of the worst weeks of his life.
More often than not, he was sulking in his room, avoiding April and his brothers like they’d contracted the plague. They left him alone for the most part, sensing that this wasn’t something they needed to stick their noses into. Even April–who he was sure you’d told everything to by now–didn’t try to talk to him about it.
You hadn’t been to the base since the fight, clearly avoiding him. He was grateful, for the most part. He had no idea what to say to you, how to fix things. It was for the best that you stayed away.
But he missed you so much.
Several times a day, he’d catch himself grabbing his phone to shoot you a text and suddenly remember that you were no longer on casual speaking terms. He’d scowl, tossing his phone across the room only to dive after it when it inevitably chimed with a notification. They were never from you.
He’d thought a lot about what you’d told him and the things he’d said in return. Like, incessantly. It kept him up late into the night and clouded his mood first thing in the morning.
Truth was, he knew he was in the wrong. The shit that had come out of his mouth was entirely unwarranted, even if it hadn’t felt that way at the time. He felt terrible about it. But he honestly didn’t understand where his anger had come from in the first place. He’d dealt with your frustration plenty of times before without stooping to this level, but for some reason, this time was different. He’d been unable to control himself, helpless to stop his harsh words being flung at you like daggers.
When you told him that you were going with someone–going with a date –it’d genuinely shocked him. It’s not that he was surprised someone was interested in you–far from it. He’d always thought you were pretty, and with a brain like yours, what’s not to like? Honestly, in hindsight, it’s odd that this situation hadn’t arisen sooner. You were smart and witty and had the most adorable snorting laugh…the total package. Speaking from a purely objective standpoint, of course.
So no, it wasn’t that he didn’t believe in your ability to attract a date. It was that you hadn’t told him about it.
This guy, whoever he was, had clearly asked you out a while ago, long enough for you and April to make dress-shopping plans. And Donnie’s not trying to sound like the center of the universe or anything, but if this dude were important, Donnie would know about him. You told him stuff. You told him everything, really, from what you had for breakfast to the pop quizzes you cheated on to the meaningless relationship drama of faceless acquaintances from your school day. Seriously, he’s not sure a second of your life goes by that he isn’t made aware of. It was how your friendship worked; you told each other stuff, even when it didn’t matter. Especially when it didn’t matter.
So the fact that you’d waited so long to tell him this, and had only let it slip due to frustration with his stupid jokes, meant that it mattered a lot.
See, he’d known April for ages. She’d been around so long that it was impossible to imagine her not being there. She was like family to Donnie, and to all of his brothers. But you were different. You came around later, and while you got along well with everyone, it was still clear that at the end of the day, you were Donnie’s. Donnie’s best friend, Donnie’s partner in crime, Donnie’s person. You were his closest confidant, even more so than his siblings, and he liked it that way. Despite your differences, you were an effortless pair.
Until now.
The fact that you’d kept this from him for who knows how long bothered him, but that wasn’t the end of it. The thought of you going to prom with some guy he’d never heard of, let alone met? He didn’t like it. At all. In fact, he’d go so far as to say he hated it, and thinking about it made him want to punch something, or eat an entire pint of ice cream in one sitting. Maybe even both.
So yeah, he’d let his temper get a bit out of hand. The news had been such a shock to his system that he’d immediately assumed the worst, had pictured you going out of your way to ask this mystery dude out. Hand-written poster, heart-shaped donuts, string quartet playing in the background–the whole nine yards. His imagination had effortlessly conjured weeks of planning and building up the courage, all of which he’d been unaware of, and all of which had (Shocker!) never actually happened. He’d gotten worked up over literally nothing.
‘And for the record, he asked me.’
They’d simultaneously been the best and worst words he’d ever heard. Best because it meant the ridiculous scenario he’d created in his head was entirely bogus, and worst because it meant that the justification for his actions was flushed down a metaphorical toilet. His anger had dissipated immediately, swirling round and round his toilet bowl heart until it’d drowned itself in burgeoning guilt. You hadn’t betrayed his friendship. You hadn’t kept it from him (well, maybe you had, but it was still a lot better than what he’d initially believed) and you’d gotten around to telling him about it eventually. As your best friend, he should have been happy for you, overjoyed even. This was a big deal, apparently, for people your age. Having a date to the biggest party of the year was a very good thing.
So why did Donnie still feel sick just thinking about it?
It was impossible to piece together. His… feelings… made no sense and the first person he’d normally ask about these things was also the only person he wasn’t speaking to. He was, to put it plainly, stumped.
Which is why, for perhaps the first time ever, he was ever so slightly grateful when someone barged into his lab unannounced.
“Alright, enough,” April yelled, storming in with all the grace of a rampaging bull. She stopped in the middle of the room, glaring at him with her arms crossed over her chest. “This is getting ridiculous.”
Donnie turned to face her, leaning back against his workbench. “Whatever do you mean?”
She jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t play stupid with me. I am sick of coming in here every day having to act like everything’s fine. It. Is not. Fine.”
He sighed. “Look, April–”
“Quiet! I know this isn’t any of my business, but you two need to get your crap together and start talking again before I go insane. Do you know how hard it is to deal with your brothers on my own?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits, and Donnie thought he could smell his skin starting to smoke. He tossed his head back, groaning to the ceiling. “What am I even supposed to say?”
This response seemed to appease her. She calmed, hands dropping to her hips. “You could try ‘I’m sorry’.”
“Ugh, you know I hate that.”
“You made your bed. Now it’s time to lie in it.”
It was his turn to glare. “Okay, for the record, I don’t think I’m completely to blame here. She—”
April waved his explanation away. “She told me everything. You both lost your temper, whatever, it happens. I would go so far as to say it’s normal. But you can’t pout about it forever!”
He pouted anyway. “She didn’t even want to tell me about it!” he whined, knowing exactly how pathetic it sounded.
April had the decency not to roll her eyes. Actually, she was looking at him a little strangely, her eyebrows turned up. She didn’t acknowledge his statement, instead asking, “Can’t you just be happy for her?”
“I am, I guess,” he said, glancing away. “I don’t know. Like, who even is this guy?”
“His name’s Jack,” she supplied.
Ugh. What a pretentious name. “Well, I’ve never heard of him. What if he’s a creep?”
“He’s not. He’s actually really nice. And he’s a senior.”
He threw his hands in the air. “Whatever! It’s still weird.”
“Weird.”
“Yes, that is what I said. It’s weird and I don’t like it.”
Her expression shifted, the slightest smirk playing at her lips. “You know, Donnie, you kinda sound jealous.”
“Jealous!” he scoffed. “ Moi? I don’t think so. Jealous of what? I would—”
‘Is it so hard to believe that a guy is interested in me?’
“—never…”
He trailed off, all sense of rational thought abandoning him. Holy Archimedes. He was totally jealous.
“Oh no,” he gasped, scandalized, and April grinned like the cat who caught the canary.
It seemed so obvious. All those late nights spent together because neither of you wanted to leave; every time you stepped into the lair and his day immediately got 100 times better; that one fight where you’d had to use his staff out of desperation, smacking it straight across some thug’s face and it’d been the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
He was always looking at you, always hanging on your every word. Donnie thought of how often he’d had to keep himself from staring when you wore something a little more revealing than sweats and a t-shirt, and of how uncomfortable he’d gotten when Leo would come home after portaling to your place for one reason or another. He thought of how often he let you lean against his shoulder, or hold his hand, or even give him the occasional hug–things he hated from everyone else, but when instigated by you, he found he didn’t much mind. All that time, in all those little moments, he’d wanted you. And for the most part, he’d had you. You weren’t dating, but you were still so clearly a pair set apart from the others that he’d never had to question whether he might want something more. He hadn’t even considered that you might one day fall for someone else. And now that you had, he had no idea what to do.
“I knew it!” April shouted, starting her trademarked victory dance. “You are totally in lo—urgmn!”
He slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes frantic. “Shut up! Do you want the whole city to hear you?!”
She pulled his hand away, still gleaming with triumph. “Maybe. This is great news. Donatello Hamato has a crush.”
He gaped at her, the word ‘crush’ offending him deeply. “How is this great? I just found out that my–my friend who I maybe possibly have a slight fondness for is dating someone else. This is the opposite of great!”
“They’re not dating, just going to a dance. There’s a difference.”
Somehow, that didn’t make him feel better. “Are they going as friends?”
At that, April faltered. Her smile fell, and she was suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “Well, no…”
Groaning, he slid down the workbench until his butt met the floor. He buried his head in his hands, his voice muffled around them. “I hate this. Why couldn’t you just let me live in blissful ignorance for the rest of my life.”
She knelt in front of him, gently drawing his hands down. “And let you die cold and alone? Never.” Her smile was light, encouraging, and Donnie felt himself succumbing to it against his will.
“Well, now I’ll die cold, alone, and pining after my best friend. How lovely.”
Leaning back on her arms, April studied him. Apparently disappointed by what she found, she shook her head. “You’re an idiot.” He began to reply, but she cut him off, changing the subject. “So about that apology.”
His head smacked against the bench with an echoing thunk. “I really hate you sometimes.”
She ignored him. “Prom is this Saturday, so you should probably do it before then.”
Lifting his head, he squinted at her in confusion. “Saturday? She cut it pretty close with the dress shopping, didn’t she?” He wasn’t an expert on these things (not that he’d ever admit it out loud), but he was pretty sure girls usually bought their dresses weeks, if not months, in advance.
April rose to her feet, stretching her arms out with a yawn. “Yeah, but she waited a while to tell him yes.”
Now that piqued Donnie’s interest. “What do you mean?”
Nonchalant, April started to make her way towards the exit. She turned her head as she went, tossing this highly valuable information over her shoulder like it was yesterday's news. “Jack asked her out in January, but she only answered him a couple weeks ago.” She snickered. “You should have seen it. He was so excited I thought he was gonna jump straight out of his shoes.”
Donnie’s mood soured at the image. “Yeah?”
“Can’t blame him, though. He asked her out last year too, but she turned him down.”
She took another step towards the tunnels, but he jumped up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to a stop. She glanced back at him curiously.
“She turned him down?” Donnie asked. “Did she say why?”
April shrugged, and Donnie let her wrist slip free. “Never asked. Now come on, I need some coffee and you need to see the sun. Or, moon. Whatever.” Then she left, marching out with complete confidence that Donnie would follow.
Donnie waited another moment, mulling over what she’d told him. He never knew that Jack tried to ask you out last year, and he definitely didn’t know that you’d rejected him. It would be enough to make him sing with joy if Jack’s second attempt hadn’t been successful. But why would you have delayed your answer so long? What were you waiting for?
He couldn’t puzzle it out. Only you could answer his questions, which meant he had to do exactly as April said. He had to apologize.
Sighing, he followed his friend out into the sewers, praying that a steaming cup of joe would give him some much needed clarity.
Clarity, it turned out, was hard to come by these days.
Saturday rolled around before he knew it, and he was no closer to working up the nerve to talk to you than he’d been a week ago. You still hadn’t stopped by the lair, but each of his brothers had found time to drop by your apartment. As far as he could tell, none of them had been made privy to yours and Donnie’s radio silence, but they were slowly sniffing him out. Earlier today, Raph and Mikey had cornered him in the bathroom while he was brushing his teeth, oh-so-casually bringing you up.
“So you haven’t been to Y/N’s in a while. What’s up?” Mikey asked, and Raph had discreetly slapped him in the back of the head. “ Ow!”
“What he meant to say,” Raph enunciated, “is that we were, ya know, wonderin’ if maybe somethin’ had happened between you two?”
Donnie glowered at them in the mirror. He spit, slamming his toothbrush back into its holder. “No.”
His brothers blinked. “Are you sure?” Mikey asked.
“Yes, everything is completely fine,” Donnie snipped, shoving past them and heading straight for his lab. They got the hint and left him alone, allowing him to calm down somewhat. He was just grateful Leo hadn’t noticed anything amiss; he didn’t think he could handle that after the week he’s had.
Donnie pointedly refused to check the time, keeping his nose buried in projects until his stomach growled so loud he swore it made the table shake. Giving in, he made his way into the living room which was, unfortunately, already occupied.
April and Leo sat on the couch, Raph in a chair nearby. One of the Jupiter Jim movies was playing on the projector.
“Ah, Donathan, come join us!” Leo drawled.
“Yeah,” April chimed in. “Movie just started.”
“Wait for me, wait for me!” Mikey came running from the kitchen, several bowls of popcorn stacked precariously in his arms. He plopped down in front of the couch, handing out the bowls. Donnie used their distraction to step into the kitchen himself, half-heartedly searching through the fridge. He settled on half a sub sandwich leftover from last night’s dinner and reluctantly returned to the living room.
They’d turned off the lights since he left, and somehow, it made him feel a bit better about being there. He sat beside Mikey and ate his sandwich in silence. Everyone was so focused on the movie that for once, they weren’t studying him or questioning him or reminding him of the thing he’s been trying very hard not to think about.
Well, great. Now he'd made himself think about it.
As discreetly as he could manage, he checked his phone. 7:02.
“Oh hey, Prom’s started,” Mikey blurted, leaning over Donnie’s shoulder. Donnie swatted him away, but something occurred to the youngest ninja, and he spun around to look up at April. “Why aren’t you going?”
She waved her hand in the air. “The last school dance I went to ended with all of my classmates being hypnotized, so I think I’ll pass on this one.”
Leo smirked. “Couldn’t find a date, huh?”
It was too close to what Donnie had said. As Leo and April started swinging pillows at each other, he tuned them out, trying with all his might to focus on Jupiter Jim’s spectacular journey through the stars. But for once, even Jupiter Jim couldn’t distract him completely. For the next hour, he kept stealing glances at his phone, wondering where you were and what you were doing and if, just maybe, you were missing him half as much as he missed you.
In the middle of Jupiter Jim’s steamy kiss with an alien princess, Leo barked out a laugh. “God, you know what would be funny? If we tracked down Y/N and Jack’s car after the dance and scared the shit out of ‘em, like in those old horror movies.”
April looked unimpressed. “And interrupt their post-prom shenanigans? I think I’ll pass.”
“ Shenanigans? Sorry, didn’t realize I was talking to my grandmother.”
Raph shivered. “I’m with April. There are some things I just don’t need to see.”
“Does Jack even have a car?” Mikey wondered, and then they were all talking over each other, joking and insinuating all kinds of things that Donnie wished he could burn from his mind. He stood abruptly, knocking over Mikey’s mostly empty popcorn bowl, and spit out the first excuse he could think of.
“I need some air.”
He didn’t listen to their protests, all but running to the nearest ladder and climbing out onto the street above. He scaled one of the buildings nearby, and after that, he just kept moving. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, he traversed the city, paying no mind to where he was headed. It was only when he spotted a very familiar fire escape that he came to a stop, sighing in defeat.
Of course he’d come to your apartment, his subconscious playing tricks once again. All the lights were off, your parents away as usual, and you…otherwise occupied. Beaten, he sank down onto the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the side. He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering how he’d made such a huge mess in such a short time, and he was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice when the lights in your apartment switched on, or when a curious head stuck itself out the window beneath his feet.
“Donnie?”
You tried your best. You really did.
Jack was nice. And not in the “nice guy” way like you’d feared. He was kind and obliging and even a little funny. He complimented your dress and split the bill for dinner and introduced you to his friends so that there was zero awkwardness all night. There was nothing wrong with him.
Nothing, except that he wasn’t Donnie.
You kept thoughts of your best friend to a minimum throughout the night. You’d been thinking about him all week, feeling guilty and angry and resigned all at once, so you wanted just a few hours of fun to take your mind off things. For the most part, you succeeded. Dinner went by smoothly, as did the train ride to the venue. You were fine as you mingled and comforted crying girls in the bathroom, and even through the first hour of dancing when the songs were loud and the bass low. But then the slow songs started, and that wall you’d build in your mind began to crumble.
Seeing all of the couples together made your chest ache. You had been in love with Donnie for forever, your feelings of friendship transforming into something more so slowly that you hadn’t realized anything was different until it was too late. You wished it was him here spinning you around the dance floor, his arms wrapped around your waist, his face smiling down at you.
After so long waiting for a sign that he felt the same, you had decided to take matters into your own hands. For as long as you’d known him, you had avoided dating anyone, both before you realized the extent of your affection for him and after the knowledge had sunk in. If he held an inkling of interest for you as something more than a friend, you were sure he would have shown it by now, so you chose his friendship over the possibility of having more. You weren’t willing to ruin what you two had on the off chance that he wanted you the way you wanted him.
If friendship was all he could give you, you would accept it gladly. So you tried—god had you tried—to move on, to nurture interest in anyone else. You went on a few first dates that all led to nothing. You gave out your number to guys at school, but their texts were dull compared to Donnie’s never ending stream of memes. All of it happened without Donnie’s knowledge. You didn’t know why, but it felt like telling him about your awful dating attempts would be admitting defeat, and some small part of you still held onto hope that it would be you and him in the end.
“Is it so hard to believe that a guy is interested in me?”
“I guess so, yeah . ”
It didn’t ever occur to him that you might have a date. You were so deep in the friend zone that Donnie couldn’t even fathom someone else wanting you as a partner.
It hurt. Like, a lot. Your soft spot for him had never been turned against you like this, so you had no idea how to go about mending the damage. After days of no contact, your anger had subsided, leaving the dull pang of regret in its wake. You knew you would have to make amends eventually. After all, he hadn’t done anything worth getting this worked up over. You’d gotten upset first—all he did was respond in kind. His worst offense was being entirely ignorant of your monumental crush on him, and for that you had only yourself to blame.
Jack was perfectly amiable all night, no less so when you told him you weren’t in a dancing mood. He sat with you at your table, bringing you punch and a sampling of appetizers from the buffet and never once complaining about how terrible a date you turned out to be. Somehow, it made you feel even worse.
When the party drew to a close, he even walked you all the way back to your doorstep, an easy smile on his face.
“I had fun tonight,” he said, meaning it.
You smiled weakly. “I’m glad. I know I wasn’t exactly the best date.”
“You were great. I loved spending time with you.”
Some part of you thawed at his words, and you felt your expression loosening. “I did too,” you said, and realized it was the truth.
He watched you for a moment, glancing between your eyes like he was searching for something. Coming up empty handed, he sighed, his smile turning rueful.
“There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
You stuttered, mouth falling open. Your first instinct was to deny it, deny everything, but the longer he looked at you with those doe eyes, the more your resistance chipped away.
He asked it so simply. Not as a demand or an accusation, but merely an observation. As though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Yes.” The word slipped out without your consent, without any heed for this boy’s feelings, and you immediately attempted to salvage the situation. “I’m sorry. I really did enjoy spending time with you today. It’s just…”
He stopped you. “I understand. Friends, then?”
Slowly, you nodded. “I’d like that.”
Leaning in, he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you on Monday.” Sending you one last grin, he turned and descended the steps, tucking his hands into his pockets and making his way down the street without a care in the world. Some of the guilt you harbored began to loosen its death grip on your chest. You only wished you could take rejection as gracefully as Jack.
Sighing, you unlocked your front door and slipped inside. All the lights were off, which meant that your mother must still be at work. You used to be grateful that she so often worked the night shift, but right now, you’d give just about anything to have her here.
You turned on the living room lamp on your way to the window, sliding it open so that you could get some fresh air. When you were a child, it had been almost impossible to get open, but since Donnie got his hands on it, it glides as easy as butter on a hot pan. It was yet another reminder of your best friend, telling you to get over yourself already and apologize. Or maybe that was just the remnants of your last conversation with April. The girl was sick of you and Donnie avoiding each other and had told you as much, quite loudly.
She was right. This whole thing was stupid. All you wanted was to call Donnie over for pizza and a movie like you’d done a thousand times before. The only thing stopping you was your pride.
Just as you turned to grab your phone, you heard a faint noise from outside, like something had slid against the stone roof. Normally, you would have written it off as a pigeon or an overly ambitious rat, but you’d heard that sound enough times to recognise it instantly. Abandoning your phone, you stuck your head out the window and glanced upwards, an all-too-familiar pair of green legs dangling above you.
“Donnie?”
He jerked in surprise, managing not to topple backwards through force of will alone. Leaning forward, he peered down between his knees to see you staring up at him, clearly confused.
“Uh…hi.”
“What are you doing up there?” you asked.
“Oh, ya know, just. Stuff.” Nailed it.
“…right.” You rubbed your palm up and down your opposite arm, a nervous gesture he recognized. He hadn’t seen it in ages, and the fact that you were doing it now left a sour taste in his mouth.
Meanwhile, you were trying and failing to start the conversation the two of you needed to have. The words seemed to slip away as fast as you could think of them, and Donnie certainly wasn’t making things any easier. He remained silent throughout your internal battle, so much so that you began to believe that he’d slipped away while you weren’t looking, unable to face the awkwardness between you.
You glanced up, expecting an empty rooftop only to find him in the same position as before, staring back at you. His expression was strange, conflicted about something you couldn’t guess at. Before you could ask, he hopped onto his feet, still crouched low over the roof’s edge, and lowered a hand to you.
It was as close to a peace offering as you’d ever seen. You took his hand, letting him lift and deposit you next to him like it was the easiest thing in the world. He kept your hand clasped in his own for a moment longer to give you a chance to steady yourself. That’s all it was. Even so, you couldn’t deny how right it felt, how natural and easy it was, and the realization made your stomach turn.
You couldn’t think of him—of your best friend —this way. You had to stop before you slipped up and ruined everything for good.
Rising to your feet, you made your way further onto the roof, the streets and sidewalks now hidden from view. There was a light breeze blowing, one you tried to block by crossing your arms. Without the benefit of sunshine or central heating, the flaws of your dress were becoming apparent.
Nevertheless, you had bigger fish to fry than a nighttime chill. You kept your back to Donnie, biting your lip as you steeled yourself for what was bound to be the most awkward conversation the two of you had ever had.
Whatever. You were a big girl. You could swallow your pride for five minutes.
Squaring your shoulders, you lifted your chin and spun on you heel, mouth already opening to—
—let out a startled squeak upon seeing Donnie stood mere feet from you. He did that sometimes, moved so quickly and silently that it caught you entirely off guard. But the true surprise came from his next words.
“Did you have fun?”
You blinked, your brain blue-screening at this derailment of your plans. “What?”
He scratched at his neck, staring off to the side, and repeated the question. You managed to register it this time.
“Yeah,” you said automatically. “It was…” It was what? Fine? That was the highest praise you could give, and you knew he’d see through it in an instant.
Thankfully, he didn’t wait for you to continue. “Good. I’m happy for you,” he chimed, sounding like he either meant it, or really wished he did. Another minute of silence stretched between you, seeming longer now that you could watch his expression fall with every second.
You realized then that he was hurting too. Maybe not as much as you were, but he hadn’t had an easy week. Exhaustion had made itself at home in the bags under his eyes, and you felt your remaining anger rush out of you in an instant.
What a ridiculous fight. How stupid you’d both been.
“Donnie,” you whispered. “I wanted to apologize for how I–”
“No.”
You stuttered to a stop, surprised by the vehemence in his tone.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he continued. “I…reacted poorly. I was a bad friend, and I’m sorry.” His mouth twisted, clearly uncomfortable, but it meant the world to you that he was trying. “I don’t think this stuff is stupid or unimportant. I just…” He frowned again, fighting with himself to say more.
But he’d already said more than enough. “I overreacted,” you insisted. “I know you didn’t mean to say anything hurtful, but I was so mad…” You swallowed around the lump in your throat, but your next words still came out quiet. “I really missed you.”
Something like relief rushed over him. He relaxed, and a small smile lit his face. “Me too.”
For the first time in days, your own smile grew easily. Without thinking, you reached out your hand, and Donnie was quick to grab it with his own. He squeezed your fingers lightly, and before you realized what was happening, he had pulled you into a hug.
Now, Donatello Hamato was many things, but a hugger was not one of them. You could count the number of times this had happened on one hand, and you had initiated almost all of them. Needless to say, you were surprised. That didn’t mean you didn’t love it.
You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your face against his shoulder. To his credit, he didn’t pull away, but you could feel a slight stiffness to his form. You breathed out a laugh.
“Don’t,” he pleaded. “I’m trying.”
“I know.” You squeezed him. “I’m enjoying it.”
He huffed, his arms settling more naturally around your shoulders. He began to sway, rocking you side to side.
“What are you doing?” you laughed.
“What does it look like?” The two of you turned in a slow circle. “We’re dancing.”
You rolled your eyes. “Okay, genius. Why are we dancing?”
“Because this is as good as I can do right now.” Fair enough. “And besides, you’ve already got your dancing shoes on.”
You snorted. Said shoes had been squeezing your feet to the point of numbness for the past hour. “You like them? If I ever manage to pry them off, you can give ‘em a spin.”
“I think they look better on you,” he deflected. He shifted his hold so that his hands rested at your waist, your own rising to link behind his neck. He led you in a wider arc, following the rhythm of a song only he could hear. His steps were light and sure, and you knew from previous experience that he was holding back so that you could keep up.
One of his hands drifted down to the edge of your skirt, rubbing the material through his fingers. He brushed against your outer thigh, shooting sparks up your spine.
“I like this,” he said, voice low. It made your stomach flip.
“I guess you don’t see me in dresses much.”
He shook his head. His hand returned to your waist, but his eyes were focused on your face, studying the makeup you so rarely wore. “You look beautiful.”
You couldn’t help it–you blushed, heat flooding into your cheeks so fast it was embarrassing. You buried your face in his neck, hiding from the compliments, and he laughed at you in a way that set off the butterflies in your stomach.
Thankfully, he didn’t press the point. For a while, neither of you spoke, just breathed each other in. Your blush faded, replaced by full-bodied contentment. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be here in his arms, like this was where you were always supposed to be. You never wanted to leave.
“I lied,” you murmured. When he made a questioning sound, you elaborated, “I had a pretty bad time tonight.”
His arms tightened ever so slightly. “Did something happen?”
“No,” you assured him, pulling back so you could see his face. “I just kept thinking about our fight.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding miserable. “I never wanted to ruin your night.”
“You didn’t,” you assured him. You could have stopped there. You could have stepped back and continued on as you always had, best friends and nothing more. But tonight, you felt brave, and you knew that no matter what, you wouldn’t regret telling him the truth. Your reconciliation had made one thing very clear: Donnie was your friend, and nothing could ever change that.
“It wasn’t just the fight, either,” you continued, steeling yourself. “I kept wishing you were there.”
He relaxed. “I don’t think Jack would have liked me stealing your attention,” he joked, not understanding.
“I wouldn’t have minded.”
Smiling, he said, “Yeah, but boyfriend trumps best friend in this situation.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you told him, and his face went blank.
“Oh.” Then, a second later, “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Your lips twitched. “A good thing.”
“Oh,” he said again, happy despite himself. “Well. I’m sure there are plenty of other guys–”
“Donnie,” you blurted, almost amused at how slow he was being. You looked him in the eye, making sure he understood you. “I don’t want another guy.”
That got his attention. He nodded slowly, like he still didn’t quite understand, but was beginning to uncover the hidden meaning behind your words.
Well. Now or never.
You slowed the two of you to a stop. His eyes were wide, and you could see him slowly connecting the dots. Might as well make it easy for him.
“I like you,” you said, plain and unadorned and still the most vulnerable words you’d ever uttered. You didn’t give him time to respond. You wanted to get your piece out in full before he gave a response. He would reject you, but he needed to know how much you adored him, and that nothing–no rejection or years-long crush–would ever mess that up.
“I have for a long time. That's why I never dated or had crushes or any of the other teenager things.” You swallowed, a little bit of fear making itself known. “You’re my best friend. Nothing will ever change that. I love you so much, and I hated keeping it a secret from you.”
Donnie appeared to have stopped breathing. He was staring at you in disbelief, mouth open but no sound coming out. Your own lips pressed together as you braced yourself for the rejection to come.
“I know you don’t feel the same way,” you rushed out, gaze finally falling to the floor. “This doesn’t have to change anything. I just needed you to know.”
You tried to step away, to give him space, but his hands turned to steel at your waist, keeping you firmly in place. You glanced up in confusion, and your breath caught at the look on his face.
It was more intense than you’d ever seen before, every inch of him focused entirely on you. His eyes seemed to burn with it, staring straight through you to the little place you’d concealed from him for so long, taking it in greedily.
“You like me?” he asked, voice gruff and demanding.
“Yes,” you whispered. “So much.”
He closed his eyes.
A moment passed. “Don?”
When he opened them again, the fire was still there. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said, and before your brain could make sense of his words, he did just that.
From his lips down to his fingertips, Donnie was fraught with tension. His drawn-on brows were scrunched together in determination, and it was only when he felt you relaxing into him, kissing him back, that he let himself soften in kind.
He had no idea what he was doing, but it didn’t matter. Your hands slid up to his neck, pulling him down while you rose onto your tiptoes. His own hands lingered at your waist, unsure where to touch when he wanted to touch you everywhere, wanting to feel every part of you pressed against him. But there would be time for that later. For now, it was just this: the way you sighed into his mouth, fingers dragging against his skin, and the way he shuddered in response.
Donnie caught on quickly. You were trying to keep things slow and under control, not wanting to overwhelm him, but the effort evaporated when he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he got his first taste of you. The sound lit you up, and suddenly you couldn’t get close enough. His lips moved hungrily against you, one of his hands rising, finally, to push against your upper back, gathering you closer still. His other hand clutched at the dip of your waist, allowing himself to appreciate the softness as he’d never been able to before.
Your chest rose and fell against the unyielding lines of his plastron, heart thudding so hard that you were certain he could hear it. The kiss was messy and uncoordinated and utterly perfect. It was Donnie, his sides you’d always known and the sides you were only beginning to learn. You kissed him until your lungs burned and your head was spinning, and you knew that if you didn’t stop now, you wouldn’t stop at all.
Finally, you pulled back to breathe, pressing your foreheads together so you shared the same air. He ran his hand up and down your back, soothing now, and after you managed to calm your racing heart, you leant against his shoulder, lips barely brushing his neck.
“What the fuck,” you panted, “was that.”
He laughed, still a little breathless himself. “I think they call that kissing.”
“Have you done that before?”
He shook his head, suddenly looking a little sheepish.
Unbelievable. Your first kiss had been a disaster. Why did he get to skip awkward and go straight to amazing?
You asked him as much, intentionally feeding his ego. Your plan worked, and he relaxed again with a soft smile.
“Because it’s you,” he murmured, cheek resting atop your head, and you swear you almost cried right then and there.
“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
A minute passed. You broke the comfortable silence with a sigh, leaning back to frown at him.
“What?” he asked. “Are your feet hurting?”
Well, now that he mentioned it… “Yes, but no.” He raised a brow, and you made another annoyed sound. “I can’t believe I never said anything. We could have had this, like, years ago!”
“Years?” he asked, a smirk growing. “You were pining after me for that long?”
You gaped at him. “I was not pining,” you said, even though you totally had been. He merely laughed at you. You shoved him away playfully, crossing your arms and turning away from him. “I take it back. I don’t love you anymore.”
He fake gasped. “You can’t take it back!”
“Just did.” You stuck your tongue out at him over your shoulder for good measure.
He let out a breath, shoulders drooping. “I guess I’ll have to do all the pining myself. I suppose it’s only fair.”
You considered for a second. “That sounds right to me.”
Approaching from behind, he hugged you gently, pulling you back into his chest. His voice was still light with humor. “And next year, I’ll wear the pretty dress while you sit forlornly on the roof.”
Chuckling, you relaxed your stance, linking your fingers with his. You stared at your clutched hands, smile slowly fading. “Maybe next year…we could go together.”
“I’d like that,” he said, voice low and warm. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I like you too. By the way.”
“Oh, good. Otherwise this was going to be really embarrassing tomorrow morning.”
“Hey, the night’s still young.” Disentangling himself, he stepped towards the edge of the roof. “Now come on. I’ve got a week’s worth of experiments to update you on.”
You rolled your eyes for show, but secretly, you’d missed hearing about his various projects. Truth be told, you were surprised he’d managed to last this long without bringing them up. You followed him, taking the hand he offered and letting him lower you onto your fire escape.
“As long as I can take these shoes off, you can talk as much as you want.”
He dropped down as you were crawling back through the window. “Wanna order a pizza? I’m starving.”
“Sure,” you called back, already heading to your room with heels in hand. When you returned, in sweats and one of his old hoodies, he was on the phone, reciting your preferred order from memory. You sat down on the couch beside him, and without thinking about it, he threw an arm over your shoulders.
He made a face at something the pizza guy said. “No, no thank you,” he griped, hanging up a moment later.
Before you could ask, he blurted, “He asked me if I wanted to try their Hawaiian Special. Can you believe that?”
You shook your head. “Disgusting.”
Without missing a beat, he launched into an animated description of all the engineering successes and failures you’d missed. You settled in, curled up against his side, and let him entertain you until the pizza arrived.