Chapter Text
“I can’t believe you let those losers rough you up like that,” Raph half-joked half-admonished as he and Casey walked back to the lair.
“Well, you should’ve seen how they ended up,” Casey bragged back, somehow lacking both his usual cockiness and any basic sense of logic, since Raphael was there to see exactly how they ended up. Which wasn’t nearly as bad as Casey.
He wondered how that fight would’ve played out if he didn’t intervene and liked the answer even less than he liked the way Casey was nursing his arm close to his torso. It was hard to tell with the skull face paint on, but he was sure the boy’s eye was puffing up and he was bruised all over.
“You should let Donnie check up your wounds, just in case,” Despite Donnie and Casey’s stranded relationship, to put it mildly, Raph knew his brother wouldn’t turn down an injured patient.
Casey wrinkled his nose at the idea.
“Nah, don’t think so,” He made a show of standing straighter (or trying to) and let his hurt arm fall to his side with a wince. Raph didn’t seem impressed.
“Well, let me have a look at your arm at least,” He jumped over the turnstile and watched as Casey chose to pass through instead. Weird. He’d been kinda off the whole patrol.
“If you must, mother hen,” He rolled his eyes, “but seriously, dude, I’m fine.”
The lair was pretty silent now, Mikey and Donnie were out somewhere with April and Leo must have gone to see (argh) Karai. Raphael tried to shake the thought out his mind and focused on the problem at hand: a very, very stubborn teen propped on the couch.
“Alright, doc, suit yourself,” Casey had rolled his sleeve up, letting it bundle up on his upper arm alongside his t-shirt sleeve. It let Raph take a look at his forearm fine, but not much else, and completely blocked his shoulder.
His long-sleeved shirt was so thick too. Hardly warranted by the weather, if you asked Raphael, and he was cold-blooded. He never got why Casey always wore one beneath his T-shirt and put a vest over it all. He didn’t strike the turtle as the type to suffer and overheat for the sake of fashion. Maybe it was extra padding to help in the fights?
He gave Casey’s forearm a squeeze and nothing seemed broken there. Good. But he had to make sure the rest was okay too.
“Alright, strip some layers, I can’t see jack shit.”
Casey pulled his arm back so fast a yelp left his lips. Definitely pulled a muscle at least, Raph thought at the back of his mind, brow arched as he stared at the teen in bewilderment.
“Back off, man!” Casey got up in a hurry, “I told you I’m fine!” He all but shouted and sprinted towards the exit.
Raphael was stunned for a second. What in hell just happened? His anger overrode his impulse to go after Casey and he punched a wall on the way to his room. So Casey didn’t want his help? Fine! Leo didn’t listen to his warning about Karai? Fine too! Not his problem.
He pretended the eerie silence in the lair didn’t bother him.
A few days passed and Casey came back like nothing happened at all. No explanations, no apology (not that Raph felt he needed one… But it would’ve been nice after leaving him hanging on the spot for trying to see if Casey was fine), no nothing. He just walked back, greeted everyone and prepared to go on patrol like he didn’t leave him them on radio silence for days.
It grated on Raph’s nerves.
“Good to see you’re alive, Jones,” He jumped from one roof to another before Casey could see his expression.
A heavy thump signalled when the teen landed after him, all hockey gear making itself known with the clumsy clacking. It always reminded the turtle that Casey was no ninja, always loud and careless, butting his way in with sheer stubbornness and brute strength.
“What? Are you still mad over that? C’mon, dude,” Despite the hockey mask, Raphael could hear the pout in his voice, “Let’s find some Purple Dragons and beat ‘em up, it’ll sheer you up!”
He sounded normal. He looked normal. He stood loud and proud in the most Casey Jones fashion upon Raph’s inspection. Still… He wasn’t normal, the turtle squinted and bit back a growl. Whatever it was, he couldn’t find it.
“Well, if you’re going to stay there and look dumb all night, I won’t wait for you!” Casey joked and sprinted to the next building, “Bet you can’t catch up with me!”
Raphael huffed and ran after the teen. Casey was fine, he repeated mentally, he was just overthinking it.
Yeah, that was all.
“In your dreams, Jones!” He shouted, quickly covering the distance between them.
Casey was not fine.
All the signs were there: the way he stood a bit awkward; the hand on his lower belly when he thought Raph couldn’t see; the flat jokes and false bravado; the too slow fighting moves.
Why did Raphael just let it happen? The question nagged at him again and again as he hurried to the lair with Casey on his arms.
How did he let it happen? He wanted so badly to believe Casey was fine (as he claimed to be). He should’ve pointed a finger at Casey’s face and yelled that they would go back unless he spilled what was wrong!
Accusations and blaming would get him nowhere. Too bad his brain didn’t get the memo. Raphael felt the anger simmering inside him with no way out.
(Beating up the bastards who did it did help though)
He took a deep, steering breath and made another turn in the sewers. They were almost there. It would be fine. Casey groaned and stirred on his arms and it was a relief, because at least he was moving.
Raph tried not to think of the sickening thump as Casey hit the wall headfirst. Or the blow to the stomach he received before that that had him gawking and spluttering. Or how he commanded Raph not to help, because he could handle that.
He didn’t think he could get that image out of his mind anytime soon. How still Casey got after landing on the hard concrete, how he’d called Casey’s name and got no reaction.
How scared he felt.
Anger boiled his blood and crawled up his throat in a guttural noise, he saw red and suddenly wished he hadn’t beaten up those guys only so he could beat them again now. Never mind how irrational it sounded.
“Oh, you guys are back early, how was the patrol—“ Leo cut himself short when he saw Casey on Raph’s arms.
“Bad,” Raph growled in answer, ignoring the worried “what happened?” (Leo) and “is Casey okay?” (Mikey) and any other question they might have.
He was halfway to the tiny section in Donnie’s lab that they dubbed their “med bay” when said turtle stopped him in his tracks.
“I can take a look at him. Run a check-up,” Donnie offered, face serious as he analysed Casey’s state. And it would’ve been the logical thing to do. The thing that makes sense. Because Donnie was smart and capable and always knew what to do when someone was injured.
Still, Raphael cradled Casey closer to his plastron and shook his head.
“I can manage, leave it to me,” He muttered between his teeth and closed the door after him.
He was not Donnie, but he knew his way around medical supplies, Raph thought as he laid Casey down and gathered some alcohol and gauze to clean his wounds. Preventing infections seemed like a good start.
He could hear his brothers pacing outside the door, but couldn’t bring himself to care. It was something that he had to do, he and him alone. It was his fault to begin with.
Also… Raphael thought back to when Casey fled when he tried to check him for injuries. He had the distinct impression the boy would hate to have them all tending to him while he was out cold.
He sighed and decided to start by Casey’s head. He had a nasty bump and most likely a concussion. Raphael grabbed an ice pack (that Donnie always kept handy in the cooler) and let it sit on the bump, frowning even more when Casey didn’t react.
Then he started to clean Casey’s face with the alcohol and gauze, paint and blood wiped out alike to reveal soft, way too pale features. The scrapes weren’t that bad once he could see them and Raph vaguely recalled Donnie commenting that face injuries tend to bleed more even from tiny cuts.
Good. He took a deep breath, one less thing to worry about…
Now, he had to see if Casey’s bones were all in one piece. It wouldn’t surprise him if Casey cracked a rib or two after the collision with the wall.
(That sickening sound wouldn’t leave his mind anytime soon either)
“Sorry, Casey,” He felt the need to say something, even if said teen was unconscious, and made quick work of his vest and loose T-shirt, minding his movements so he wouldn’t jostle Casey’s head as he took them off.
He paused at the boy’s sweatshirt though. Now that he saw it without the other layers, something seemed… Weird. The thick fabric didn’t fit quite like he’d expect. Maybe it was the size?
Whatever. Raphael took it off too, deciding that checking Casey over was more important than whatever fashion concerns he might have.
As soon as he did, his brain halted, all worry about cracked ribs slipping from his mind. Raph stared at Casey’s torso trying to make sense of what he saw.
Casey was… Wearing a sports bra? Several sports bras, in fact.
Suddenly, Raphael felt like he shouldn’t be staring. He averted his gaze quickly, feeling his face hot (can reptiles even blush? Sounded like something Donnie would know).
He had watched enough ads on TV to know what a bra was, thank you very much. But… Why was Casey wearing them? And the, uh, volume there showed exactly why he needed them too.
Casey was… A girl? Raph huffed and shook his head, it was ridiculous. The kind of stupid idea he expected from Mikey, not from his own thoughts.
Focus on the task, he bit the inside of his cheek and forced his eyes back on Casey’s exposed torso, making a point to avoid the piled-up bras. There was a pretty nasty bruise on the side, painting fair skin in all shades of purple and blue. It would need some ice too.
He poked and prodded a little (receiving nothing but weak whimpers and hisses from Casey), but nothing seemed broken. Good. Still, it would hurt like hell when Casey woke up.
Green fingers wandered up and up on the ribs and brushed lightly on tight black fabric. Raph decided to stop pretending it didn’t bother him and let his eyes study the sports bras on Casey.
His first impression was that they were too tight. He got uncomfortable just by looking at it. Did Casey seriously fight in those? How could he move his arms up with those straps all but biting his shoulders? Counting the straps, he realised Casey wore three at once, and they must be at least two sizes too small for him.
How did he breathe?
His eyes locked on the red, upset marks on the boy’s shoulders alongside the straps, skin rubbed raw. And it was probably worse underneath all that fabric.
The turtle felt that familiar, burning protectiveness rising on his throat, because Casey was stupid and hurt and that thing was hurting him too.
But taking them off was out of question. And it wasn’t even for some dumb reason like boundaries or shame, Raphael couldn’t care less if Casey was naked on the improvised med bed, so long as he was comfortable and safe.
Those things were different from the loose shirts and oversized vest. They were so tight he wasn’t even sure how Casey got them on, like they wanted to fuse with his ribs. He’d have to… Cut them off.
Not a bad idea. Raphael looked at his sais, but they were meant for stabbing at best, not cutting.
…Donnie should keep a pair of scissors around here somewhere.
He really hoped Casey wouldn’t hate him for it.
“Hey, bro!” Mikey was on his face as soon as he opened the door, and Raph made a point to close it behind him before anyone could even peek inside, “So, how’s Casey? And who got you guys? Are you okay?” Baby blue eyes stared at him way too close and Raphael supressed the urge to push him back.
“I’m fine,” He stood between Mikey and the door for a while, eyes scanning the room for the others, “Casey’s… Fine too. Just needs some rest,” Then, as he glanced around, “Where are Leo and Donnie?”
“Oh, they’re in the kitchen. It’s dinnertime, you two were there for a while,” Michelangelo looked a bit concerned at that, “You sure you’re fine? You look…” He trailed off.
“I told you it’s fine!” He shouted, which oddly seemed to appease Mikey, “I’ll just… Wait for Casey to wake up, so I’ll eat something later, ‘kay?”
“Sure, I’ll just let the guys know you’re alright—“
“NO!” Raph bit his tongue, he said that without thinking. It’s just… No one could enter the lab now, “I mean, I’ll just grab something in my room real quick and go back there. I’ll tell them myself when Casey’s up.”
Mikey narrowed his eyes, which was an odd look on him, and Raphael thought he’d ask more about Casey and why he’d closed the lab’s door.
Luckily, it was Mikey.
“And what will you get from your room, uh?”
“None of your business,” He sighed, secretly relieved, and headed to his room.
It was the wrong thing to say, because Michelangelo followed him all the way, eager to sneak on this “secret item” of his.
Or maybe it was the right thing to say, because it meant Mikey wouldn’t snoop around the laboratory.
Either way, Raph found he didn’t really mind when Mikey saw him getting his (semi-secret, no one talk about it ever or I’ll break your kneecaps) sewing kit out of a drawer.
“What?!” He dared his brother to say something, kit tucked between his arm and his body, “You got a problem with it?”
Mikey shook his head fast.
“No, no! Just… Why?”
“…Casey tore some clothes in the fight, thought I’d patch them up while I wait,” He averted his gaze. It wasn’t a lie per se.
Mikey nodded and Raph started to walk back to the lab, thinking they were done there.
He made it to three steps before Mikey opened his mouth again.
“Raph,” He called, fiddling with his fingers as he spoke, “Do you, you know, liiike Casey?” He looked at him expectantly, tone both teasing and sincere at once somehow.
“What? Shut up, Mikey!” Raph felt his face hot again and stomped off.
It wasn’t a “no”…
Casey woke up to something cold on his head and a sore pain all over his body. It felt like he’d lost a hockey match to a giant or something… Memories of the day slowly flowed back to his mind as he blinked hard, blurry vision getting clear enough to recognise the turtles’ lab.
There was a blanket over him, he noticed dumbly. And his side was cold too. Most likely an ice pack, he was very, very familiar with this sensation. He groaned and started to get up, pausing mid-movement as his brain caught up with something important.
Something very, very wrong.
His hands instinctively went to his belly, finding it exposed. No shirts, no vest. With dread pitching on his stomach, he dared to move them further up.
Nothing there too.
Casey dry swallowed, heart racing, and hugged the blanket tighter, wrapping it around his body securely before sitting up. He got knocked out. He got knocked out and was brought back to the lair.
He got knocked out, brought back to the lair, and undressed.
Casey shuddered and silently hoped it wasn’t Donnie.
His eyes fell to the small table besides the makeshift bed, his clothes neatly folded on it awaiting him.
He stared at them, trying to make sense of this wrong, wrong reality. Everything was fine earlier, he was ready to fight alongside Raph and knock some sense into Purple Dragons or chase a petty criminal or two. Good old fun. Now… This.
His eyes wandered up and he noticed said turtle on a chair, eyes trained on him, pupils seeming white and a hard look that sent shivers down his spine.
“Casey,” Raph greeted, each syllable barely containing the anger seething underneath.
“Raph,” Casey tried to look defiant, but the effect was lost in-between his crouched stance and the way he secured the blanket tighter around him almost like a second skin.
(Or a shield)
The ice pack fell to the ground with a wet thud, but neither of them seemed to care, eyes never leaving one another until Casey’s wandered down. Raph had something on his lap, he noticed dumbly. And a needle (?) on hand.
Before he had the time to process it, Raph was already up and pointing a finger at his face.
“What the hell, Jones?” He shouted, “You— You-” The word caught on his throat. Just what could he say? You scared the hell outta me? You got your head slammed on a concrete wall? You went out to fight crime when I’m not even sure you could breathe? “You are a bigger idiot than I thought!”
“What?!” Casey rose his voice too, “I just got unlucky today, dude. No biggie.”
“No biggie? I thought you’d cracked your damn skull! You were out cold for hours, Casey!”
“I’m fine!” He shouted even if it made his head hurt more. His whole body ached anyway, “And I didn’t ask you to help me!”
“Yeah, because you were unconscious. On the floor. Bleeding.” Raph deadpanned, “You’re welcome.”
“Yeah, thank you SO MUCH for dragging me here and taking my fucking clothes off,” Casey just registered the words after they left his lips, cringing at them. Well… That was a way to address the elephant in the room. Raphael seemed to deflate at that, anger leaving place to something else.
“I wanted to check your stupid ribs,” He explained, looking away, “I didn’t mean to… See anything,” It was the closest to apologetic that Raph ever sounded.
“Who else saw?”
“Just me.”
Casey nodded. It was… Not the worst-case scenario ever. He risked a glance at Raph.
“Don’t tell anyone,” It was somewhere between a plea and a demand.
“Tell them what? That you’re an idiot?” The turtle raised his voice again, “Your skin was red, it left marks when I cut it off! I’m not even sure it let you breathe and you went wearing three to a damn patrol! No wonders you suck at them lately.”
“You cut them off?!” Casey yelled back, because Raph had no right and they were the only ones he had and he was not walking into a store and buying fucking bras in public, “And they have nothing to do with patrol!”
“Yeah, because having them strangling you sure has nothing to do with you getting beating after beating lately,” It was more venomous than he anticipated, “Good thing you were knocked out today, or I would never know you’re such a masochist!”
“I need them, okay?!” Casey shouted indignant, “And I always wore them, it’s not a problem!”
“Say that to all the bruises you got this week!”
“It’s not the point!”
“What is then?” Raphael huffed, heart beating fast. Why couldn’t Casey just not be an idiot who puts himself in danger all the time?
Not your damn business, Casey thought, but the words didn’t leave his mouth. Raphael was so stubborn they would just feed the fire anyway, and it kinda was his business, what with Casey going fainting like a dumbass and making him carry his dead weight all the way back to the lair.
He slumped down on the bed.
“…I’ve got cramps, okay?” His eyes were glued to the floor. Raph better have heard that, because he was not repeating, “I should be fine in a couple more days.”
Raphael deflated at that, mouth open in a heated argument that never came, brain still processing the words.
Casey felt the fight leaving his body too. Being bundled up in a blanket in nothing but his underwear was so ridiculous it should be funny. But he didn’t feel like laughing. He didn’t feel like doing anything.
“…Here, I fixed them up for you,” Raph tossed two (way too small) bras on Casey’s lap, straps stitched together firmly. It was as good as any peace offering.
Not that he liked the idea of Casey still wearing them.
“…There’s one missing,” The boy pointed out, this whole thing was so awkward.
“Oh, yeah,” Raph plopped back in the chair, “I’m still finishing this one,” He resumed his work as if to make a point (or avoid the situation altogether. Any would be fine by Casey).
Casey’s eyes followed the needle as he put the thread in and weaved it through the fabric.
He was pretty good at it, the boy noticed. The needle looked so small in Raph’s fingers, but he still managed to stitch everything up so neatly. Quick too. Mesmerizing. He was halfway through his work when he stopped and scowled at Casey.
“Lost anything here, Jones?” There was some bite on his tone.
“You’re good at it,” Casey blurted out, which seemed to throw Raph off guard.
“…Thanks,” He finished the last stitches and made some extra knots for good measure. They’d have to endure quite a bit of stretching after all, if Casey really planned on squeezing into them (which the idiot absolutely did), “My brothers like to tease me about it sometimes,” He offered, holding the needle between his teeth as he cut the thread off. Casey nodded.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t expect it from you either,” Then, as Raphael glared at him, “But it’s a cool hobby! Really. Just, I dunno, surprising?”
“Yeah, whatever,” Raph shrugged and threw the last bra on top the clothes pile, “But seriously, dude, you really need three?”
“I do,” Casey’s face was dead serious. An odd look on him, really.
“…Yeah, whatever,” Raphael repeated, even though it didn’t sit right with him. But he didn’t know what didn’t sit right with him, and for the first time ever he didn’t feel like lashing out on incoherent feelings with half-cooked words.
He’d have to (urgh) think it through.
“I’ll head out so you can change,” He offered, “But don’t think we’re done here, Jones. I’m not saving your ass again, so stop being dumb!” Please, please, please be more careful.
“Oh, please, they just got a lucky shot,” And Casey almost sounded like himself again, all bravado and overconfidence.
Raph pretended not to notice when Casey all but fled from the lair as soon as he stepped out of the lab, barely greeting his siblings and sprouting some nonsense about Casey Jones can’t be stopped by just a few bruises and a wall and but I gotta go, g’night y’all.
He especially pretended not to notice Casey’s slouched posture, that suddenly felt a lot less casual. He muttered an I’m gonna sleep early and didn’t wait for a response, mood sour.