Michelangelo slumps down and rests his head back on the couch, pointing the remote control straight out in front of him. He stretches his arm as far as possible without lifting off his comfy spot, clicking through the channels, his eyes are barely open.
His arm relaxes to his side and in one languid blink, his thoughts return to her.
"Wait, Mikey." Time slows as her hand lingers upon his shoulder, their gazes meet. Standing in front of him April pushes him back down to stay on her couch. She doesn't need to tell him twice.
His eyes pop open and he breathes aloud, "C'mon, dude…"
But he cannot banish the memory. Michelangelo feels a tightness inside of him returning, he sits up and shakes his head blowing out his frustration. He can't stop thinking about her, about that night at her apartment.
In one hand he juggles the remote control a few times; he is still thinking about her…
Her fingers slip away from his skin as she straightens her posture, the warmth in her eyes matches his own as she tells him, "You look thirsty." April puts her hands on her hips and bows slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Wanna drink before you go?" As if he would say no.
Remembering how her lashes had lowered and her eyes had questioned his lips, he drops the remote, he should have made her his girl right then. He had been a fool wasting time...
He acts flip and relaxes back on her couch, placing his hands behind his head. April smirks at his lack of words and turns her back, sauntering to the kitchen. His head follows every beckoning sway of her hips.
How could he not want comfort? Looking down he puts his elbows on his knees and places his palms together in front of his face, like in prayer. That booty was making him a Believer.
April opens her fridge. "Let's see Diet Coke…juice, water...milk..."
In listing the various beverages she bends into the refrigerator more and more. Her behind presents itself and he is listening no longer. He can only hear his pulse - pounding his eardrums. He quietly clears his throat and adjusts in his seat. He is thirsty.
After retrieving the remote control Michelangelo pushes his mask up and over his head. It's late, the only light in the lair flickers and bounces over his body from a television he is not watching.
April cranes her neck to look at him, she straightens and laughs softly. Turning completely towards him and casually resting one arm on the open fridge door, she plays more games with his heart. "Well, Mikey, sure you're not hungry, too?"
Michelangelo's stomach skips a beat and he can take it no more, he rises off the couch slow and deliberate. Growing serious at his new resolve, her eyes are like green crystal, April is waiting for him.
But he never got that drink.
Raphael boldly opens April's window from the fire escape, his bulk only allows him to peek inside, yelling, "It's go-time, Mikey! Yo, April!" Taking in the scene, Raphael shifts his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other. "Ya havin' a hot flash or somethin'?"
April guffaws, sidesteps and closes the fridge door with her foot. She leans back on her appliance crossing her arms and looks at the two brothers, offering the slightest of shrugs.
Michelangelo groans and falls sideways to half recline on the couch. His face turns from the cushion to notice the infomercial playing on TV.
And he is still thirsty.
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A/N Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D