Work Text:
Let’s set one thing straight– Donatello did not steal Casey Jones’s bandanna.
Yes, it had gone missing, and yes, Donnie was a tad bit appreciative of that (for completely normal and platonic reasons, of course), but he had absolutely nothing to do with the disappearance.
Casey had just appeared in the lair one day without it, and Raph had teased him about “finally letting that ugly old thing die like it deserved” or something equally stupid. Casey had just shrugged nonchalantly, saying that he must have misplaced the bandanna and they’d left it at that.
Except… Donnie couldn’t really leave it at that.
He had tried, that’s for damn sure– but he just couldn’t stop looking at the so-called “vigilante.” Casey’s hair was constantly down now, dark locks sweeping across his face in a way that was ridiculously flattering on him.
Based on what Donnie knew about human beauty standards, of course!
NOT his personal opinion, because his personal opinion was that Casey Jones was an arrogant asshole, and most definitely NOT pretty or handsome or attractive or any of the other words that come to mind.
Because Donnie had ABSOLUTELY ZERO ROMANTIC FEELINGS OR INCLINATIONS TOWARDS CASEY JONES.
No matter how many times he caught himself staring or daydreaming or on the receiving end of one of Leo’s knowing glances– Seriously, how had Leo picked up on it? Donnie was pretty good at hiding his…
His, uh…
His…
Donnie couldn’t think of a phrase beside “interests” at the moment, and that definitely wasn’t the right word. He was an indisputable genius, for god’s sake! Why could he not think about this normally and come up with normal words to describe Casey Jones?
Goddamn Casey Jones, the bastard himself. The guy who was, somehow, simultaneously the bane of Donnie’s existence and the only thing he could think about.
Beautiful, batshit crazy Casey fucking Jones with his stupid missing teeth and his luscious hair and his freckles and his eyes– which Donnie had taken the time to observe since that fateful night– shining in all their glory, the dark brown iris mixing with the solid black of the pupil until Donnie couldn’t tell where one stopped and the other started. Inky brown pools filled with the tiniest flecks of gold that made them look like the night sky in the countryside. Eyes deeper than the vastness of the universe itself, their irresistible allure pulling Donnie in every time he could see them–
Fuck!
What was happening to him?
He had never felt anything like that before, not even when he was absolutely smitten with April– Which he still was, by the way. Interested in APRIL, NOT CASEY.
Donatello Hamato was in love with APRIL O’NEIL and HER eyes!
Eyes that were…
Well…
Um, blue?
Donnie thought they were blue, at least. They could be gray, or like a really cyan-leaning green, but they were probably blue.
Blue eyes were great! They’re… like the sky, sort of. Shiny, maybe? Definitely, uh, blue. Like a bluebird. Or blueberries…
Or the color of Leo’s mask whenever he looks at Donnie with that horrible, all knowing stare, because Leo knows. Somehow, Leo knows about Donnie’s love for inclinations towards Casey, because Leo always knows, he ALWAYS knows, and–
Yeah, Donnie needed to lie down for a bit.
He started up a mental checklist:
- STOP THINKING ABOUT CASEY.
- Take a nap. Preferably for at least a half-hour.
- Tell Leo to mind his own business.
- STOP THINKING ABOUT CASEY.
- Finish that equation he was working on.
- Fix whatever Mikey has broken this time.
- STOP FUCKING THINKING ABOUT CASEY.
- Fix whatever Raph has broken this time.
- Fix whatever Leo has broken this time.
- RUN CASEY OVER WITH THE SHELLRAISER IN ORDER TO STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM.
- Fix the Shellraiser after it is inevitably broken due to the sheer force of hitting Casey’s rock solid cranium.
- Fix Casey. Preferably using a method that allows for physical contact such as touching his hair. If that isn't possible, then a method that involves looking at his eyes and/or freckles.
- FUCK
Donnie frowned. This was going to be more difficult than he initially thought.