A/N: So this drabble was a prompt given to me on Tumblr. Characters used: Donnie and Casey, Key phrase: "I didn't know you could sing."

Disclaimer I do not own TMNT or the song "In the Pocket" by Andy Grammar.

Casey walks his bike into the lab. He busted its taser and blow torch the night before while bashing some Purple Dragon scum. Donnie said he would help him fix it and soup it up with more juice. That was all the incentive the hockey player needed to enlist in the purple-band turtle's help.

"Yo, D, you in here man?" he shouts when he doesn't see Donatello at his usual spot behind his computer. It smells like smoke and there's a crackling sound coming from the other side of the lab, near the garage. Wheeling his bike toward the garage area, Casey finally sees Donnie and realizes his previous greeting was unheard. With his back facing Casey, Donnie's welding helmet is down over his face as he welds some sort of gadget onto the side of the Shellraiser. In silent awe, Casey watches him work. His precision is impressive, but Casey's pretty sure he could do a better job at MIG welding in his shop class at school…or at least in his mind he does. When Donnie finally turns off the welding torch, Casey is about to shout the first insulting greeting he can think of, but stops short when he hears a muffled rhythm coming from Donnie's shielded face. As Donnie lifts his welding helmet, Casey stares wide-eyed at the mutant turtle before him.

"What the heck?" He mouths the words silently as he hears a mellow tone flow from the lips of the genius turtle.

"I want a teacher who's eager to speak her mind
Delicate features, sweet with her tongue so kind
I am looking for the markers that say "permanent" so we can share
I am looking for a love that's still alive and well in rocking chairs"

He can hardly believe his ears. Is this really the same nasally brainiac that drones on about nerd stuff, now serenading the Shellraiser?

A dreamy smile ghosts over Donatello's lips as he uses a hand-held grinder to smooth out some rough patches on the Shellraiser's newest add-on. Casey had to admit, the dude had a nice voice: a buttery tenor voice that would definitely be a heartthrob at his high school. Donnie loses himself into the song as he smoothly belts out the next few lines:

"I am looking for a shining light that likes to fight and persevere
I am looking for a lady that wants to make me part of her atmosphere
And oh, just one more thing
Oh, just one more Tha...AAAAAAHH! What're you doing here, Jones?! How long have you been standing there?!" Donnie squawks, gripping his upper plastron trying to keep his heart from jumping out his chest.

It just so happened, Donatello turned around to pick up a polishing cloth when he saw Casey smirking behind him.

"Long enough to hear you caterwauling to the Shellraiser." Casey nudges out the kickstand on his bike with his foot before rubbing the hood of the Shellraiser in mocking sympathy. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think she's your type."

"Whatever, Jones." For once the intelligent turtle had no sassy remark and simply scowled at Casey's teasing. "Do you want me to fix your bike or not?"

"Dude, chill. I'm just messin' with ya." Casey holds up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "But, seriously, I didn't know you could sing."

Donnie eyes Casey suspiciously, waiting to be the butt of a punchline, but when the joke never comes he relaxes his features from a defensive scowl to a more reserved posture, embarrassed his voice was heard, especially by the likes of Casey Jones. "It's not exactly something I broadcast to the general public…."

Donatello never considered himself an artsy person; that role was fully claimed by his youngest brother. However, outside of his more scientific and structured way of expressing himself, somehow, a fragment of artistic creativity found its way to his vocal cords contently settling there over the years. Surprisingly, he had the ability to carry a tune that was actually musically pleasing to the ears. It was a fluke, an erroneous gift, oddly out of place in the logical soul of one such as Donatello. His brothers rarely hear his suave singing. He doesn't do it often. When he is certain no one will hear him—while he is welding, grinding, drilling, or using other loud equipment—only then will he belt out the latest song captivating his mind.

"Well, ya didn't sound too bad." Casey says nonchalantly with a shrug. "Kinda like the sappy guys with guitars you hear on the radio." He leans against the shellraiser and gives Donnie a toothy smirk.

"….Thanks?..." Donnie arches his brow questioningly, unsure if the puckhead is insulting him or genuinely attempting a compliment. He looks away from Casey as he clears his throat and quickly changes the subject. "So, uh, I was thinking I could amp the voltage on your bike's taser."

"Yeah, man, that'd be freakin' sweet! I could totally fry those Purple Dragons to a crisp! Do you think you could—"

"Casey!...There you are! ...Oh, hey, Donnie!" April rounds the corner with a bright smile that spread across her countenance, making her cerulean eyes shine.

"Huh-hey, April." Donnie's face grows warm with an approaching blush. He rubs the back of his head timidly.

"Are you coming? Zombie Death Match 3000 starts in a few minutes," April asks Casey as she looks at her cell phone, checking the time.

Casey slaps his forehead with a sigh. "Aw, Red, I almost forgot…. Donnie, dude, can we work on my bike another time? Date night, ya know?"

Donnie looks from Casey to April and back to Casey again. "Oh, uh, yeah sure… another time…. you know what? Just leave it here and I'll have it amped up in two shakes of a turtle's tail!" Donnie smiles, but the gesture is so forced it hurts his face. He hates when he does that, mechanically being extra nice when in fact he was actually flustered and bothered by something. He was ninety-eight percent sure it was an ingrained defense mechanism.

"Thanks, D, you're the man…er turtle! Catch ya later!"

"See you later, Donnie!"

"Bye," he chokes out a weak farewell, his eyes never leaving April's beautiful form, but the couple has already turned their backs to him chatting animatedly. Casey must have said something funny, because April giggles as she playfully swats him on the arm. With wistful eyes, Donatello watches Casey slip his hand into the back pocket of April's blue jeans as she leans into his side. As they walk out the lab, harmonious lyrics of irony play through the earplugs of his t-pod, swelling his heart with wishful thinking and unrequited love:

Do we fit in the pocket? Can we fit, sit back in the pocket?

When the dreams and the drums start rocking,

Can we dance with our knees not knocking, knocking?

See I, I want a lady I can put stock in

I want the a bass and backbeat to lock in

I want to know real love's not forgotten, not forgotten.

FIN

A/N: Okay, so this was written in a thirty minute period, nothing fancy, just exactly what it says it is...a drabble, lol. I might write more if I get requests.

Until next time,

Poetique