A/N: I've been inspired to write something surrounding 2k14 Raph and his burgeoning feelings about April mainly because of the wildly talented Princessebee's latest RaphxApril fics - like TMNT: Enthrall and TMNT: Strain - which are AWESOME! You must read them! So, I blame her for this foray into fluff and madness...a light detour from working on Donatello's amputation in Love's Causality (which will be updated soon, I promise!)
Alterations
"But why, Raph?" Mikey asks for the tenth time. "The mix tape is awesome. It's got all my favorite make-out tunes on it. Just picture it! She'll be thinkin' of me while she listens."
Raph grunts in response to that, finishing the set, swipes his hands around to the opposite side of the pull-up bar, now his biceps bunch as he starts the curls. Doing his best to blot out the image of April listening to make-out music and imaging being with Mikey. He shivers. He eyes Mikey standing beneath him, looking up at him with large eyes full of denial and the kind of innocence that makes him want to slap the kid and hug him all at once. But he's not exactly the hugging type. Instead, he drops, cutting the rep short and cuffs Mikey across the top of his head.
"Do I really have to spell it out for ya?"
He circles Mikey and reaches for the towel. Wipes his face, grimaces as he towels down the front of his throat, chest; rubbing his palms vigorously. Mikey continues to stare at him. He juts his chin out and turns away, disgusted.
"Just give it a rest. You're embarrassin' yourself." And all of us, he thinks bitterly. Because really, what the hell is his brother thinking? No matter how nice April is, he knows what she really thinks of them.
"But if she's gonna be my girl, I've gotta make things special."
He ignores the twist of emotion in his chest that strangely feels like jealousy. But spins back around, top lip curled. An insult about his little brother's looks dances along the tip of his tongue. He could cut him down and make things clear as day and end this shit with a few choice words. But the look on Michelangelo's face is wide-eyed and sincere and Raph chokes it back. It becomes a knot in his throat instead. A truth too bitter even for his caustic tongue. Sticks the toothpick into the corner of his mouth, works it around and down into the comfortable space with his tongue and lips. He waves Mikey away, dismissing him.
This is all such bullshit. Mikey's stupid crush means nothing. Because nothing is going to come of it. Raph is sure. Raph is positive. There is no way she'd fall for someone as goofy as his little brother. She'd want someone different. Someone else . . . someone like . . . He blinks and feels as though he just lost his train of thought, which he sort of did, but it's more like his brain ran a red light while a part of it stopped in time.
Mikey is staring at the tape player with a morose look before setting the cassette on a shelf. Raph huffs. Good. He moves into the living room, snatching the remote from the back of the couch cushion then immediately drops it.
"The fuck!?" His face whips around, "Mikey!"
"What?" Mikey notices the remote and understanding, shrugs, "You wanted extra butter on the popcorn last night, bro. Don't blame me."
Raph picks up a throw pillow so worn it's nearly as flat as some of the pizza delivery boxes laying scattered around the room. He wipes his greased fingers on it then flings it at Mikey who dodges easily.
"Oh, you wanna play, fool?! Don't you know who you're messin' with? I'm the Battle Master!"
Mikey retaliates by scooping one of the boxes and flicks it out like a Frisbee, aimed for Raph's face. He ducks. But Raph nearly gets clocked in the chops with a second box when he's vaulting over the back of the couch, a gleam of wicked glee in his eye. His fist snaps out and he snags the pizza box before it falls away.
"You're gonna eat this!" he shouts as Mikey screams and immediately back-pedals. His heels bunch the rug beneath his feet and he loses traction, but manages to spring out of the way just as Raph comes barreling into the spot where he was only seconds before. The box flies out of his hands and into a stack, spilling them over the floor, scattering a pyramid of empty orange soda cans in the process. Raph's foot comes down on one of the partially crushed cans and flattens it, but not before the aluminum digs into the arch of his foot. His face contracts as his mouth drops open.
"Dammit!" he shouts, bouncing on one leg sideways.
"Too slow, big boy," Mikey taunts for good measure as he kicks another box up with his heel, catching it with one hand behind his shell and spins it out towards his brother's face. Raph looks up but too late.
This one connects.
Raph's head snaps back as the cardboard smacks him in the mouth. When he rights himself, there is murder in his gaze.
"Eep! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Raph! I meant to aim it for over your head! Honest!"
Raph's on him in a blur of motion.
"Mercy! Mer-er-cy!" Mikey hollers prematurely. "I'm too young to die!"
His cries go unheeded as Raph tumbles into him. More garbage spills as they kick over a trash bin next to the sofa. The two roll in a tangled heap, yelling and cursing, as the gears creak and moan in the front entranceway. The secret door slides open.
"I really need to attend to those before the bearings wear out," Donatello's voice comes floating through the lair. "I should have some spray lubricant here some-" He stops mid-sentence at the scene before him. "What the heck? Uh, guys?"
Raph looks up from where he's kneeling, straddling Mikey, who is laying on his side, neck bound in a head lock as Raph rubs his knuckles into the top of his head. Mikey's hand is jabbed against his chin, pushing it up at an awkward angle. The triumphant grin melts instantly as Donatello steps aside to reveal that he is not alone. April smiles weakly; waves with two fingers, her hands holding the straps of several grocery bags.
Raph remembers as he jumps off of Mikey, she'd called to see if they needed anything that morning and Donnie had gone to meet her. He clears his throat and then takes a step to help relieve her of the burden forgetting that Mikey is directly beneath him. He stumbles forward, nearly toppling over his brother. Mikey hollers and makes more of a fuss because April is watching and it rankles Raph. His little brother is painfully obvious. And for some reason it only seems to make April smile at the little imp.
Maybe it's pity. He hopes it is and at the same time, doesn't. For a moment he wonders why the hell does everything get so jumbled whenever she comes around? He hurriedly reaches down to grab Mikey's outstretched hand to help him up.
"Ohho, my shoulder, I think it's broken. Your immense ass dislocated it when you jumped on me!"
Raph's hand holding Mikey's wrist opens and Mikey immediately falls back onto the floor with a squawk. This time Raph leaps over the splayed body of his little brother in a smooth bound and comes up on April, stopping just in time before knocking into her in his haste. The smell of her shampoo invades his senses and his mind blanks. His mouth opens and closes, gaping like a drowning fish, before Donatello nudges Raph in his shell with his elbow as he passes by.
If April catches the knowing look on Donnie's face or the half-smile like the genius figured out a puzzle and isn't giving away how he'd done it, she does a good job of hiding her reaction. Raph, on the other hand, shoots a murderous glare in Donatello's direction before smoothing his features out to look, hopefully, less frightening. What does he think he knows, anyway? Just that thought alone is confusing enough to have Raphael rambling and stuttering like an idiot. He needs to remember to pound Donnie later.
"C-Can I, uh, um, h-here lemme get that," he offers, nearly biting off his tongue in the process of tripping over it, but before she answers, Leo has decided to join the party. Raph feels the scowl on his face before he even sees it.
"Raph!"
He flinches. Turns slowly. Leo looks like he's about to shit bricks. "What?" Raph barks. Then again, more defensively, because he does not have a clue as to why Leo is giving him such a hostile look, "WHAT!"
"Didn't I tell you to pick these up? That April was coming over later. The living room is a mess!"
Raph frowns in disbelief. Now? Leo has to scold him about cleaning now? His face burns along with the back of his neck. He feels April watching him, so he says nothing, but shoots daggers in Leo's general direction. But Leo is immune to his dark looks and sweeps past him to assist April with her bags, ever playing the knight in shining shell. To save further embarrassment, Raph decides not to argue. He quickly stoops to gather some of the empty boxes he knocked over when he tackled Mikey, making a stop to pop Mikey on the head with his elbow just as the goof starts to stand up.
"Yow! Keep your hands to yourself!" Mikey yells and skips back in time to dodge a kick. Mikey sticks his tongue out and dashes out of reach into the kitchen where Raph can hear Leo and Donnie talking to April and thanking her for the supplies. He thinks he hears Donnie getting worked up about more pop-tarts and coffee but isn't sure. The guys needs to tone down the sugar and caffeine, big time. Raph heaves a sigh. He waddles over, boxes propped up to his chin, and stacks the boxes next to the television, kicking a few of the cans along with his feet. He'll get rid of all of it later. As he turns the pile teeters and topples behind him. With a groan, he slides the side of his foot against them until they are more or less in a neat pile.
"Good enough," he mumbles and hurries towards the kitchen when Master Splinter is suddenly in his path.
He freezes in his tracks.
"Raphael," Master Splinter begins and Raph glances from the kitchen doorway where he can hear her laughing - who's making her laugh? Probably Mikey, the show-off - and smell . . . is that ice cream? His mouth waters and he has to stop himself from dancing side to side in anticipation of his father finishing his sentence. Splinter isn't known for hurrying to get to a point. Which is great for a martial arts master, patience and all that, but for Raph, it feels as though ants are crawling up and down the back of his shell.
"I believe," he starts again and drags at his whiskers, glancing around, "that a fresh coat . . ." Raph is now leaning forward, nodding his understanding, edging towards the kitchen, hands out.
"Yeah, yeah. Paint. I got it, Master Splinter. Whatever you want. Me an' Leo will paint the dojo this weekend."
"Paint? No, my son."
Raph pauses. Drops his hands to his sides.
"I do not mean paint. Not that the lair couldn't use a bit of freshening up," he rambles. "A fresh coat of paint can do wonders for opening up a space."
Raph gives the kitchen another long look as his shoulders drop.
"What I was referring to was a fresh coat for your brother. Winter is coming early I think this year and Michelangelo has outgrown his from last year. I've been watching the pigeons, and their feathers are not molting on schedule as they have in past years . . ."
At some point, Raphael gives up even trying to hear what is going on in the kitchen. Dimly he understands that it is equal to a party of epic proportions, because he even hears the hearty bellows of Leonardo's laughter ringing through the haze of listening to Master Splinter predicting weather patterns like some over-sized ground hog. Minutes drag by and things in the other room settle down. At long last, his father seems to be either wrapping up his monologue or about to remember something else he needed to expound on, but Raph takes the pause for an exit and leaps to one side, hurrying through the plastic strips that separates one room from the next.
Smiling widely, he looks around to see Donatello stacking empty bowls into the sink. A bowl of partially melted ice cream sits, collecting condensation in his usual spot. His face drops. What the hell? He just catches the sounds of goodbyes as he crosses the room.
No, dammit, no! She just got here. Why? Why is she leaving?
His distress over her exit is unsettling, but he decides to push it away with all the other confusing thoughts he typically has whenever she's around. He'll sort through the bullshit later. Or never. Probably never. Easier to clear the cobwebs with a few rounds on the punching bag and call it a night. Donatello and Leo could be the experts at thinking. He just wants some peace.
Mikey is blowing kisses with both hands and Leo waves as April disappears around the bend. Raph stops, watching in disbelief. He raises his hands and drops them in defeat. Leo turns around then and his smile falters.
"Something wrong, Raph?"
"Nah. It's good. It's . . . good."
Leo is giving him a look that he doesn't care for. Like he's one of Don's specimen that may or may not be able to escape the lab dishes.
"What?" Raph asks and turns away from the sight of Mikey still throwing kisses to the empty air. He feels Leo's eyes following him. He slaps his thighs. "What?" he laughs. "I'm glad she's gone." He shudders, makes a big show of it. Then slumps onto the sofa, picking up the slick remote and rubbing it off on the bottom of the couch before pointing it at the television set.
"You're glad," Leo echoes, sounding unconvinced.
Raph crosses his arms as he settles on a channel playing racing. "Yes. I'm glad." He glances at Leo who is staring at him with a smirk. He frowns and shifts deeper into the couch. "What. It's better when it's just us."
Leo sits back and stares at the television set. Master Splinter joins them after a bit. Mikey comes in and lays in front of the television. He finds an errant piece of popcorn on the rug and pops it into his mouth. Donatello, wiping his hands on a dish towel, comes into the room and glances around. Mikey rolls onto his shell, hands propped behind his head.
"April's such a babe. She is totally hot."
With that Leo stands up and crosses the room, "I'm going to mop the mats in the dojo."
Donatello throws the towel over his shoulder, "I've got some samples to test. As well as some spray lubricant to locate."
Raph runs his hand over his face. He jumps up and heads for the punching bag. Anything to blot out Mikey's insistent chatter about April's good looks. Not that he's wrong, she is hot, it's just . . . GAH! He doesn't want to think! Not about April. Not about anything right now!
And Master Splinter blinks at the flurry of activity around him. Mikey is smiling, laying on the floor still muttering about Miss O'Neil's attractiveness. Master Splinter considers the changes happening in his sons, in their lives, and wonders. Then he sits back.
"My son," he asks slowly, "could you please hand me the remote. I believe my soap is on. I would like to see if Brenda ends up with Tristan or if he's her long-lost brother as I suspect."
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it.