Disclaimer: You know, now that I think about it, I don't think I own the TMNTs. How weird is that?
A/N: Second one-shot up in only a short period of time, thanks to Sewer Slider's hilarious fic on Master Splinter and a certain nekkid picture. Hehe. Go look it up at Stealthy Stories (use my homepage link on my profile) if ya have the time, it's a fun read. Anyway, don't forget to review this once you're done reading. Enjoy. Oh, and BTW, this is based on the movie universe.
SILKY PINKY
by
Mickis
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Rating: M
Summary:When one late night visit to April's goes unspeakably wrong… One-shot. Rated M for my dirty sense of humor.
In the abandoned darkness of this particular New York City alley, the silence was rudely penetrated by the awkward scraping sound of heavy metal against asphalt as Donatello carefully slid the manhole cover open. To make sure the noise hadn't earned anyone's attention he partly peeked his head above the surface and carefully scanned his surroundings for any unwanted witnesses. Luckily, there was nothing but the faint sound of a dog barking coming from an open window further down the block, and even that fell silent once the owner of the dog had a minor hissy fit.
Gracefully, Donnie heaved himself up with his arms and settled on his padded knees as he partly lifted the heavy manhole cover and slid it back in its place. Then, after adjusting the fedora on his head to hide himself from whatever prying eyes he couldn't detect, he rose to his feet and bent his head backwards to spot a certain lit window, six stories up.
He hoped April was still awake. She had called him earlier during the day to ask if he could come by and take a look at her computer. She suspected she'd caught some disk-eating virus and needed his help to save what was left of her files. He'd been busy fixing the residential microwave at the time, of which Mikey thought you could use for heating up a can of cat food. The can being made of aluminum, there had of course been some sparks and a minor fire, which – luckily - Michelangelo had been able to put out before it spread to the rest of their kitchen appliances. By the time he was done repairing the disaster, it was already past ten pm, but he decided to risk it and stop by anyway; April usually went to bed rather late.
He grabbed a tight hold of the rusty, wet iron rung of the fire escape and began the familiar climbing that always took place whenever they visited the news reporter's apartment. When ascending ladder after ladder, his legs already tired from the running he'd done in the sewers, Don found himself in yet another situation where he wished he was human, if only to be able to use the main entrance like everyone else. April always said they weren't missing out on anything, that the elevator often smelled like pee, but he had a feeling it wasn't all that bad, considering that he actually lived in the sewers.
After finally reaching the sixth platform, where April kept a nice collection of potted plants in her poor attempt to brighten up what she insisted to call 'the balcony,' Donatello took a moment to wipe his hands clean of rainwater against the fabric of his trench coat. Looking through the window, where he could see both living room and parts of the kitchen, he couldn't find April anywhere. Figuring she must've been in the bathroom or something, he carefully stepped over the plants and took a firm hold of the bottom edge of the slightly open window and pushed it upwards, leaving a big enough gap for him to fit through.
With the stealth and grace of a... well, ninja, he slipped one leg over the windowsill and felt the warm, dry feeling of expensive laminate floors under his foot before he repeated the process with his other leg, careful not to hit his head. When finally standing in the safety of the apartment, Donatello was able to see the rest of the kitchen, where April was standing by the open fridge, probably looking for a night snack. But when realizing those were bare, pantless legs that peeked out from underneath the refrigerator door, Don suddenly felt very out of place.
What was he to do? Naked April would be embarrassing on both parts, not to mention awkward. But before he had any time to come up with a brilliant solution, the dull whoosh of the refrigerator door slamming shut alerted his undivided attention to the nakedness.
"I'msosorry!" he instantly blurted out in red-faced hysteria. "I-it's not what it looks like..."
"WHATTAHELL!"
Realizing that deep, angry voice didn't belong to Ms. O'neil, Donnie soon noticed that the rest of the naked body didn't either. Standing right under one of the supernovish spotlights from the ceiling fan in the kitchen, a hairy, naked man stared back at him through a pair of wide and visibly pissed off eyes. Well, no, that wasn't entirely true, Donnie realized. For covering up the package of private parts – thank God – was a tiny, tight pair of silky pink woman's underwear, of which appeared to be several sizes too small... that and a jar of peanut butter in the man's right clutch.
"Casey?"
The Brooklyn beast did his best to look macho in his skimpy, pink outfit, crossing arms over his hairy chest while still holding the plastic jar in one of his hands. "Donnie," he said, in the most casual tone he'd ever heard from Casey. "What 're you doin' ere?"
I could ask you the same thing, Donatello thought to himself, using every concentration trick in the ninjitsu book to suppress the urge to laugh. Instead, he gave into the screaming desire to get the hell out of there and turned back to exit the very same window through which he'd climbed in a few, life altering moments ago. "Just tell April I stopped by," he called over his shoulder as he fled the apartment and into the safety of the city night.
Ten minutes earlier...
Enjoying the sweet sensation of fabric softener, Casey snuggled deeper into the covers. Staying over at April's was always so much better than the two of them spending the night at his place - for so many obvious reasons. One of them being the milky smell of honey he always left with after using her soap.
When taking a shower at his place, one was lucky to come out clean.
Of course, his uncharacteristic fetish for girly scents was something he wouldn't tell the guys about, especially not Raph. Some things were just better left unsaid, he decided as he turned over in the bed.
Just when he thought he was ready to fall asleep, he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He had this mad craving for a peanut butter sandwich. Hell, skip the sandwich. But if he didn't have a spoon of peanut butter in his hands within ten minutes, he would surely die from hunger.
"Ape?" he said, carefully nudging the petite woman next to him. "Babe, you awake?"
"Mmph…" came the slurred reply.
Casey quickly sat up in bed and turned to inspect his brown-haired girlfriend, only now realizing she was already half asleep. He placed his hand on her pale, bare back and shook her – gently, not to piss her off, of course. "You have any peanut butter?"
He didn't get a reaction so he asked her again, this time a bit louder, "April? You know if ya have any peanut butter?"
"…What?" she asked after a moment of silence, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"Peanut butter," he repeated. "I'm hungry."
Releasing a deep breath, April answered with her eyes still closed, "Check the fridge."
Sliding his legs off the bed, Casey reached for his pants on the floor. But when unable to find them in the darkness, he quickly turned back to his girlfriend.
"D'ya seen my pants?"
"Your what?" she asked, turning over to be able to look at him where he crawled around on the floor, her tired eyes barely open.
"My pants," he explained, blindly moving his hands over the floor in search for them. "I can't find my clothes."
"Oh, honey, I put 'em in the washer a few minutes ago."
"You what?" he exclaimed, sitting up in surprise. "Why?"
"Oh, c'mon," April smiled from the bed. "You positively reeked of beer. I could smell you before you even entered the apartment."
"Whatever," he muttered as he got up from the floor. "There's no way I coulda known Raph'd dropped the can when I opened it," he mumbled in annoyance as he grabbed a hold of the covers and pulled them off his girlfriend.
"Hey!" April complained, grabbing a firm hold of the sheets to keep him from stealing them. "What do you think you're doing?"
Casey looked at her in irritation. "Well, I sure as hell won't give yer nosy neighbors the full frontal pleasure!" he said, gesturing to his own naked body.
"I seriously don't think they'd care, and no you don't," April said, taking back the covers and lying back down on the pillow.
Casey stared at her in disbelief, feeling rather cold all of the sudden. "I'm not goin' out there naked," he finally declared.
"So put on my pants, then," April mumbled into the pillow. "I don't care."
"Yer pants?" he repeated. "Babe, I couldn't even get one leg inside iffit was covered in butter."
April immediately turned to look at him in irritation. "They're not that tight."
"Maybe not on you," Casey replied. "I'm tellin' ya, they're too small."
"Fine," April decided and buried herself underneath the covers. "Then just put on my underwear."
"What?" Casey asked, not quite sure he'd heard her right; that last sentence of hers just didn't make any rational sense.
"They're stretchy," April lazily spoke into the pillow. "If you're so shy around my neighbors, just hide in those."
"Yer panties?"
"What's the big deal?" April wondered, sitting up in bed to look at him. "It's either them or full frontal. You decide."
Casey bit the inside of his cheek as he pondered on his options. He really didn't want any horny old neighbor lady to spot him in all his glory. Besides, at such distance, who would be able to tell the difference between a pair of tight underpants and stretchy panties?