Author's Notes:
Terraform: So here it is! This is what happens when two FF-ers with a penchant for writing Donnie and April fics join forces without even a plan. What began as writing exercise evolved into what you see here, and after months of volleying this story back and forth (from several lines to what became several pages per switch over) we finally got to the point where it can be posted. This would not have been possible without my partner in crime (kryme?) Novus Ordo Seclorum who has not only written half of this story with his characteristic flair and gravitas and all around incomparable talent, but was also kind enough to edit it! AND title it (I won't even get into what titles were proposed). You rock, Novus, I am lucky you chained yourself to this project. And to anyone who hasn't already, go directly to his profile and read his stories and prepare to be mind-blown! Anyway, strap yourself in, things are going to get a little salacious.
Novus: It is important to note that Terraform and I have written this story in what could be considered an unorthodox manner. Back in May, she PMed me a prompt. It was a few sentences long (the first few of the story, actually) and where it led was left entirely up to me. I added my sentences and sent it back to her and so on. This continued over the course of several months until the story we are about to share was completed. Working with Terraform has been an amazing experience and one that I have thoroughly enjoyed. I am humbled and honored that she chose to write a story with me and I have grown as a writer through the experience. That being said, I hope you all enjoy the story!
Latent Heat
Chapter 1: The Catalyst
A league beneath the surface and with only two of us in the living room, there was more life going on inside my head than all the Indian Ocean. And have you ever looked at a single drop of sea water under a microscope? Crab larvae, cyanobacteria, copepods - just to name a few of the glassy critters –they infest the stuff.
"Donnie?" she says.
I turn my head to answer, as if I had only been paying attention to the TV.
"What's on your mind?"
She pulls a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smiles; I swallow the lump in my throat and try to ignore the blood rushing to my face.
"Erm…uh… nothing, nothing at all! I was just, um…" In a panic, my mind snatches words from the peripheries of my mind. "Did you know giraffes have the highest blood pressure in the animal kingdom?"
Her brow ruts in confusion. "I remember learning about that in biology…kind of a necessity with those long necks. What brought that up, Donnie?"
I feel like slapping myself across the face. This ALWAYS happens.
Then I notice the span of silence becoming way too long. How the heck do I end always up in a tangle of my own weirdness? Stupid giraffes, I'm never going to bring them up again. Think, I tell myself, think, think, think...
"I...uh..." I clutch my neck and clear my throat as I desperately try to cover for myself, "Th..thirsty?"
She buys it. But as she nods I see something a little artful in her grin—and suddenly my heart is pumping as if trying to cope with the blood pressure of a giraffe.
"Sure. What's on offer tonight?"
I make a mental note to always bring up giraffes.
With my heart in my throat, I walk to the refrigerator. How is it that I can take things apart and put them back together without a second thought but I can't get through a conversation with her without making a fool of myself? Groaning, I open the fridge and survey its contents: a box of day-old pizza takes up one shelf, another is lined with various cheeses—from gouda to mascarpone, and another holds a giant pot filled with one of Mikey's creations, sure to test the intestinal fortitude of anyone daring enough to sample it. Only when I slide open the vegetable drawer—Raph's 'hiding place'—do I find what I'm looking for: several bottles of beer hidden beneath the assorted greens.
"It doesn't look like we have much… It has been a while since we picked up supplies. All we have left is beer."
She smiles at me. "Don't fuss, Donnie. Beer's fine."
I pop the caps and sling the icy beer necks between my fingers as I walk back to her, trying not to let my nerves belie me. April and I have enjoyed many a drink together in the past—as friends, of course. From decompiling programs to writing code, even to just completing a crossword puzzle, it had become almost customary to reward ourselves, every now and then, with a tipple. Those conversations were interesting to say the least, and I often find myself wanting to permanently take residence in their memories—where we laugh and talk into the early hours of the morning, where she grabs my arm and tells me that I'm funny, that I'm smart...where I could almost believe her if not for the fool I am so often around her.
Even from the other side of the room I am enchanted by her perfume. In an instant I am transported to a field of French lavender. I trace its source and finally I approach her. Surely I must have floated. She slots one from my hand and looks down at the frosty bottle.
"Oh, the good stuff!" she remarks with a grin.
She looks back up to me, and I become aware of myself not just looking at her, but almost studying her. I drop my gaze, hoping she hasn't noticed.
"It's from the private collection of Raph." I pause before adding, "We should drink it fast."
She chuckles and I feel rewarded by it. Heck, just being in her presence makes me feel rewarded. Sometimes I think I should feel pathetic, but she never seems to evoke that in me. That, like me, she genuinely enjoys the company.
"In that case," she begins, as she traces a line in the condensation, "what shall we drink to?"
"Um… How about we drink to the Kraang?"
Her eyes go wide and she looks at me as though I've just sprouted a second head. "To the Kraang…? Why in the world would you, me, or anyone else want to drink to those slimy brain-squids?"
"I know it sounds… weird… Crazy, even… And I know they've caused us a lot of grief. But without them… well, we might not have met." I clear my throat and, to calm my nerves, grin. "And I can't imagine what life would be like without you…"
She stares blankly at me and worry eels through me. What did I just do? I meant what I said, of course, but that doesn't make it any less forward of me or awkward for her. After all, what if she doesn't feel the same? Ugh. It's official. I'm hopeless. I bite the inside of my cheek as my entire world teeters precariously, waiting on her word.
The next I know though, her arms are wrapped around me and her lips are pressed to mine.
I'm often accused by my family of being a nerd, an egg-head—a genius, even. But how much I don't know could fill the Grand Canyon. I didn't know, for example, just how absolutely incredible a kiss could be. Or how our eyes would drift shut unprompted. Or how my heart would catch and stumble, a hostage to pure joy. All I know is that I want her. I want her with every fiber of my being.
With a soft sigh she pulls away, and I am left in a state of perpetual bliss.
"To the Kraang," She whispers as she reaches down and cradles my fingers, "who strangely made it all worthwhile."
I try to answer. I honestly do try to form the words, but nothing leaves. How could it? I don't want to let go of a single thing. Somehow, I regain the ability to talk:
"April...?"
"Yes, Donnie?"
"Can I...?"
"Yes, Donnie."
And this time I lean forward and claim her mouth to mine.
An airy moan escapes her; my body catches fire, swept away by longing. I want to kiss every inch of her, to explore the divine mysteries of her body, to hold her in my arms and listen to the thrumming of her heart. Mostly though, I want to make her happy; to shield her from sorrow and protect her from harm.
She peels her lips away and brushes my cheek with her fingertips. "Donnie, how long have you…?"
"Since the night we met."
She giggles. "Even when I screamed and tried to get away?"
I lean my forehead into hers. All I can see are her eyes, as blue as the ocean and doubly deep. And for an instant, I'm drowning. "Well, I dropped you… So, we'll call it even."
She throws her opposite arm—still clutching her beer—around my shoulders and presses her body against mine. "Deal…"
As we gravitate closer her expression changes.
"Wait!" she looks at the bottle in her hand, "It's bad luck not to drink to a toast."
I blink in implicit understanding.
"You're right," I say, "We should..."
I complete my train of thought by lifting my drink and together we take a miniscule swig of the crisp brew before setting the bottles down on the coffee table. The glass bases clink against the wood. Her attention shifts back to me.
"That's better." she says with a grin, both arms now snaking around my neck.
"Much better." I agree.
I cannot describe the rush of contentment and love I feel as we cling to each other, like we've always belonged together. With a soft chuckle she closes the distance between us. I savor everything she does to me and burn every moment into my hazy mind. Eventually I shift from her lips to the corner of her mouth, dropping soft quick kisses there. I want to do so many things...touch her, kiss her, feel her beneath me. But my unyielding curiosity kicks in first:
"April... how...how long...for me?"
It wasn't exactly graceful, but she knows exactly what I mean.
Her eyes dance across my face, and I feel her fingertips stroke my skin, "Maybe I've always known, too, but just didn't do such a great job of acknowledging it. You're so wonderful, Donnie. I hope you know that. You make me feel like every trial has been for a reason. And you've cared for me even when I didn't make it easy. I trust you more than I could ever explain. You make me smile. And think. And laugh. And just..." She pauses and takes a deep breath, "and just so very glad we met."
I exhale a quivering sigh:
"Oh." is all I can manage.
I still cannot believe this is happening... I'm waiting for Mikey to jump out from behind the sofa and proclaim it all a joke. I'm waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me. I'm waiting way too long to answer the stunning revelation she has bestowed upon me.
Then: "You should definitely acknowledge it."
She bites her lip and nods and draws herself back in. I am swarmed with love beneath her kiss. It transfers with her taste, her sweetness, her warmth. And as I fumble with every new sensation and movement, she guides me.
"You're a good kisser," she murmurs against my cheek. Amidst the rush of endorphins, my heart is almost beating too hard to hear her.
"You make it easy..." I breathe back.
"A-hem."
We flinch in shock at the voice that could only belong to one brother.
I crane my neck to see Raph in the kitchen leaning against the table, his lips curled in a self-satisfied smirk.
"Well, well, well," He crows. "Look wha' we have here…"
Under his gaze, my cheeks burn. My eyes drag over to April, who sits silent and unmoving, her expression blank. I know I should say something—a retort to wound or an acknowledgement of our actions to wrest the situation from his clutches—but nothing coherent comes to mind. It takes everything I have to maintain eye contact; to silently plead with him to show mercy.
"Y'know, it's a helluva thing. Whoda thought I'd come in here for a beer and find somethin' even better?!"
His low, rumbling laugh fills the space between us and sets me on edge. A cavalcade of emotions tangle in my guts and the urge to wipe the smug expression off of his face overwhelms. I scramble to my feet but before I make it around the arm of the couch, April grabs my wrist and turns to face him.
"Dammit, Raph." She says quietly, but I can detect a note of fury in her tone, "Do you mind?"
Her fingers weave through mine and I feel tempered by her touch. We have been caught out, no two ways about it. I can only imagine the kind of stress this roller coaster of emotions is causing our endocrine systems. I want to both shout out in anger and cry out in joy. Instead I wait. Raphael's gaze flickers down to where her hand sits nestled in mine, and then and back up to my eyes.
"Mind? Maybe yer askin' the wrong person?"
If ever there was an accusation in a question, that was it.
"Leave Casey out of this."
At his name, my stomach forms a tight knot. Casey and April were an item years ago, but the malingering remnants have always hovered around. I guess it was one of the pitfalls of being a close-knit group.
"We were kind of having a moment here." I add between gritted teeth.
"An' helpin' yerself to m' beer-"
"Take them!" I yelp, "Just take them!"
I can hear April exhale proudly. She always tells me she's impressed with my zero bullshit tolerance for Raphael's erratic moods. In truth I just want him to disappear, I just want to pick up where we left off before being so unceremoniously interrupted. My body still sings from it.
"Tell ya what," He says, the humor in his voice rapidly dissipating, "this round's on me."
Muttering under his breath, he turns to leave. Every step he takes toward the livingroom is liberating. The anxiety and tension coiled within me slackens and I feel as though I can breathe again. Just as he gets to the doorway, though, he stops in his tracks and whips back around.
"You two really deserve each other, y'know that?"
April and I exchange quizzical glances, unsure of his meaning. He, on the other hand, saunters toward us, propelled by an aura of superiority.
"I mean, have either of ya given any thought t' how this is gonna shake things up?"
"Raph, calm down." April says evenly. "You're blowing this way out of proportion. Nothing bad has happened. Quite the opposite, really." She clasps her hand more tightly around mine and smiles at me. "And besides, Casey and I… well, we've been through for a while now. He's gone his way and I've gone mine. And I don't owe him an explanation for the things I do just as I don't owe you an explanation, either."
He huffs and narrows his eyes on her. "What if I told ya that he's wanted t' get back with ya fer a while now? What if I told ya he still cares aboutcha?"
"He has a funny way of showing it, doesn't he? Look—and believe me when I say this—no one wanted things to work out more than I did. I kept hoping he'd get his act together and start taking our relationship more seriously, but he didn't. And I didn't want to waste my life waiting for him to grow up."
"Great." He spits. "Just fuckin' great. He's gonna blow his lid and take off when he finds outta 'bout this." His gaze settles on me. "Hope yer fuckin' happy."
I look to April and smile. It would have been easy for her to cave under the pressure, but she held firm. She stood her ground and defended herself—and by extension, me—valiantly. I don't think I could love her more than I do at this moment.
"I am…"
Her eyes light up, and I have never been so sure of anything before.
"And so am I." April says, leveling with Raphael, "And why isn't that enough?"
Her words snag on the both of us.
There is a flicker of—something—registering on Raphael's face. I don't know why it's suddenly so important that he accepts this mind-shattering turn of events, but it is. Maybe it's because he's my brother. Maybe it's because he's the first one to know, and his reaction something I will gauge the remainder of my family's from. But then I realize that even if he hates me, even if he despises every decision I make henceforth, he can't take away what April has given me or what we mean to each other. I feel her hand, warm in mine, and I feel...untouchable.
He gives a soft snort, the edges of his mouth creeping upwards. Whether it's a typical Raph 'fuck that', or a typical Raph 'what-fuckin'-ever', for once, I can't be certain. But he says nothing else.
I grip her tighter as he leaves, red tails whipping behind him, then swing my head back to face her. Only we remain in the dimly lit living room. The TV is flickering a dated nature documentary. David Attenborough's delightful and inquisitive cadence frames the silence, and suddenly I feel out of my body, watching us from afar. I snap back into myself.
"Are you okay?" I ask softly.
April shakes her head in disbelief, "He's a real short-fused rocket, isn't he?"
"My brother has been known to have a bit of an explosive personality. That's why I've loaded the lair with five types of fire extinguishers."
Her forehead drops to my shoulder as she chuckles into my body, "You're not even joking, are you?"
"No. Not really." I answer with a duplicitous grin.
She laughs harder. Finally she lifts her head.
"Walk me back?"
There is something secretive in her eyes at the offer. I've known her long enough now to know that much. All the tells of April O'Neil. And for reasons beyond pure scientific inquiry, I want to find out.
I nod.
"I'd love that."
...