Author's Note: April POV for this chapter. In this AU Irma is a human because I always have a need for April to have friends beyond the turtles and I like to think Irma would be a good one.
There is some PG-13 fluff in here as well, so you have been warned if that's not your thing.
Chapter 7
April
Finals seem horribly irrelevant compared to everything else that's going on in my life. How important can economics be when there's potential doom on the horizon. My father wouldn't agree. Or at least he wouldn't if I told him what happened in the last few weeks. He doesn't need to know. It would only make him worry or worse, forbid me from seeing the turtles. He has been hell-bent on planning my future as of late. I was able to placate him for a while by sending out my college applications, but now that finals are in full swing he's at it again.
My excuses for going to the lair are shot down and there's a tiny grimace on his face when I suggest that Donnie can help me study. I don't like that look, it makes me bristle with anger and indignation. I haven't told him about how much closer we've gotten in the last few weeks. It's none of his business and that grimace makes me think he wouldn't be too pleased with the prospect. I try not to take offense. I know he likes the turtles, likes Donnie most of all, but he's desperate to get me out of this city. He thinks I'm going to get hurt and maybe he's right. It doesn't matter. This is my home, this is where I belong. It's an argument that I'm not prepared to have and so I submit and head to the library.
It's quiet and dimly lit and every scratch of Irma's pencil across her notebook paper sets my teeth on edge. I try to focus. I try to buckle down and study. I tap my pen along the edge of my textbook and read the same sentence at least four times. I'm sliding my phone out of my pocket before I even register that my hand moved. There are no new messages and I crinkle my nose and feel my mouth fall into a pout. I'm sure he's busy or maybe hell froze over and he's getting some much needed rest. I shouldn't bother him. I can't help it. I'll never be able to focus on studying while I'm busy worrying.
Everything all right?
I send out the quick text and set the phone down beside the textbook, my eyes far more focused on the dark screen than the words in the book. I go back to my pen-tapping. Irma glances at me over the top of her glasses. I don't offer an explanation. I don't have one I can give anyway. I wish I did. I wish I could. There have been times, more often recently, that I want nothing more than to tell her everything. That's what you're supposed to do when you reach these milestones. You have hushed, giggling conversations with your friends about the kissing and touching and your girly, unrealistic expectations of the future. I want to talk about it with her so badly it hurts. My phone buzzes and I snag it off the table with lightening quick reflexes.
Working through the security system.
My stomach gives a nervous lurch. I know he can do it. I have nothing but complete faith in his intellect, in his abilities. Cold, calculated dread settles in the pit of my stomach all the same. He's only starting to heal. I'm sure he's been hunched over his computer all day; probably hasn't eaten unless Mikey managed to nag him into submission. I crinkle my nose and shake my head, sliding my thumb down the screen until I find Mikey's name.
Has he been locked in his lab all day?
Mikey's response is almost instantaneous.
Yup. Got that look in his eyes.
That just won't do. I text back, the screen smudged with the flurry of my thumbs.
I'm coming over. Try to make him eat something.
I slide my phone back into my pocket, my mind already flying with possible excuses and lies for my hasty departure. Irma is staring at me with an annoyed, pinched turn of her eyes. She folds her hands atop the table, lifting one to slowly adjust her glasses. I fumble with the corner of my textbook and lower my gaze, unable to meet her suspicious eyes.
"Let me guess," she says slowly. "You have to go."
Guilt mixes with the tremble of worry already wreaking havoc in my stomach and I squirm in my chair. "I…it's an emergency…"
"Whatever April," she interrupts me with a wave of her hand, lowering her eyes back to her notebook. "I'm done. I'm not going to beg you to tell me where you keep running off to. I hope you and your secret boyfriend have a wonderful night."
I stammer and blink and try to fight back the heat rising up from under my collar. "What?" I mumble, trying my best to sound aghast at her accusation.
"Oh, please, April," she says with a dismissive snort. "You've been walking around grinning like an idiot for days," she says, looking up from her notebook. "You're constantly texting someone and you hide the screen when you think someone is going to see it. Yesterday after school you bought takeout for two," she raises her eyebrows and looks infuriatingly smug. "Do I need to go on?"
I swallow and shake my head no, completely unaware that I had been so obvious or in fact that Irma was so observant. She continues to smirk and leans forward.
"So why are you keeping him secret?" she asks, lowering her voice. "Oh, my God. Is he married?"
"What? No, of course not," I say, not having to fake sounding aghast this time. "No, he's…he's not married, he's just…"
"Older?" she offers.
I blush and fiddle with the edge of my textbook. "Yeah," I say, hoping some vague, not-quite lies will sate her curiosity and my own dying need to gossip and brag. "He's in college," I add quickly. "My Dad will flip if he finds out."
Irma looks positively elated to have cracked through my veil of secrets. She pushes away from the table and slides into the chair beside mine.
"Tell me everything," she demands. "What's his name? Where did you guys meet? What's he like? Do you have a picture?"
I regret this decision. I'll have to stick as close to the truth as lies will allow. Leo's harsh warnings about keeping secrets ring in my ears and I have to push them aside. I squiggle again in my chair.
"His name is Donnie," I murmur. "We met at Murakami's."
Saying his name out loud to someone new is strange and sets my worry wriggling again. My life is split into two very separate worlds and dragging one into the other makes me feel like I'm tearing apart inside. I need to get away. I try to play to her curiosity. I need to make her think she's in on some grand secret so she won't keep me from leaving. It's sneaky and underhanded and I feel slimy for doing it. I'm a horrible friend.
"I…I need your help, Irma," I say quickly before she can ask any more questions. "I'm supposed to meet him tonight, but my Dad is really on my case about finals. Can I tell him I'm spending the night at your house?"
Irma purses her lips for a few seconds. "Fine, but on one condition," she says, always a fan of calling in favors.
"All right, name it," I reply with more than a little trepidation.
"Promise to be careful," she says and my guilt curls into a painful ball. "Text me when you get there and later to let me know you're all right."
"He wouldn't…"
"I'm sure he's the perfect gentleman," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Just humor me, all right?"
I nod. "Thank you, Irma," I say with a smile before sliding into my coat.
"Yeah, yeah, go on," she says with a roll of her eyes that ends in a smirk. "And don't think you're off the hook. You still owe me details. I want to hear everything."
"You got it," I reply, unable to keep a small blush from warming my skin.
I hurriedly pack away my books and papers, offering another promise of future secret telling before heading to the lobby. Once outside and beyond the watchful eye of the librarian behind the front desk I call my Dad. I'm not entirely sure he'll buy the lie. I feel horrible for having to tell it and I'm sure he'll see right through me. To my surprise he doesn't question a word of it. He insists that I call when I reach Irma's and before I head home in the morning. I promise and say my goodnights, feeling sick with guilt. I hate having to lie. I shouldn't have to lie. When this is all over I'll come clean. I'll tell him everything, well, maybe not everything, but the things he needs to know.
The snow has finally let up, but the cold is stubborn and persistent. I wrap my scarf around my face and shuffle through the snow and slush towards the deli a few blocks down. I order sandwiches and enough cookies for everyone. Donnie will be more likely to accept food if some of it is sweets. I duck back out into the cold and walk on anxious feet towards the closest sewer entrance. It takes me the better part of a half an hour to reach the lair and the warm, dry main living space is a welcomed sight.
"Hey, Mikey," I call out, catching sight of the top of his head over the back of the couch.
"April," he greets me with a grin, rolling off the couch and onto his feet. "I tried to get him to eat something, but he only took coffee," he says with a sigh. "And Raph is in there like a guard dog, bites my head off when I try."
"Let me deal with Raphael," I mutter, slipping out of my coat before putting on my game face and walking up the stairs to the lab.
I heave the door open with a squeal. Donnie doesn't look up from his computer. He doesn't even blink. He's leaning ridiculously close to the screen with hunched shoulders and his tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth. Raphael however is instantly on his feet. I'm not who he expected to see and the instant anger on his face falters into something else…something I can't quite place. The awkward shift of his feet and darting movement of his eyes makes my suspicion flare. He's up to something.
"Hey guys," I say, crossing the room to stand beside Donnie's chair. "I brought dinner."
He doesn't look away from the screen and I'm not convinced he heard a word of what I just said. I rest my hand on his shoulder and he jumps in surprise, proving my theory correct. He swivels his neck to look up at me, wincing at the movement.
"April," he says, obviously torn between a proper greeting and continuing his work.
"It's time for a break," I say gently. "Can you save your work? I brought dinner."
He winces and looks back at the screen. "I…I don't know. I think I've almost got through another layer, I just…"
"That's going to take hours, right?" I ask quietly. "You don't have to do this all at once. It will keep. Come have dinner. I bought cookies."
"Did you say cookies?" Mikey asks.
He slides into the lab when he's convinced Raph won't instantly chase him out.
"Come on, D. Let's go eat. I'll let you pick what we watch on TV," he says, taking the box of cookies from my hands before I even pull them out of my bag.
Donnie looks like he might argue. His hands still hover over the keyboard and his eyes move back to the screen. I reach forward and take hold of his left hand, finding the way our fingers line up just right. His fingers curl in around mine and he sighs.
"I guess I could take a small break," he says, even though he sounds pained to admit it. "Let me just…I have to finish this bit up first."
I take the opportunity to text Irma and my Dad like I promised. I've done enough lying tonight to back out on my word as well. A few minutes later and with a little help from Michelangelo we're sitting on the couch with sandwiches and cookies and the television humming in the background. Away from his computer and his work Donnie looks undeniably tired. By the slow way he moves and how he guards his right hand I know he's in pain. I'm happy at least that he's eating. Getting him to sleep will be my next project.
"Where are Master Splinter and Leo?" I ask, taking a bite of my sandwich.
"Dojo," Raph grumbles in reply, shoving a cookie in his mouth with one bite.
He's keeping his distance, lingering at the edge of the couch. His jerky, awkward movements are making me nervous. Angry, irrational Raphael I can handle. Anxiety doesn't suit him and it is unsettling.
"Working on a plan," Donnie adds, the words cut off by a yawn. "We need to…check out the new warehouse," he mumbles, setting down his half-eaten sandwich to rub his eyes.
"I'm sure they'll figure something out," I reply with a smile I hope is encouraging.
He nods and his head lulls slightly against his chest before he shakes it like he's clearing water from his ears.
"All right, time for bed," I say, setting his food aside. "You need to sleep."
"M'fine," he grumbles, of course not willing to make this easy.
"I'm sure you are. You're also struggling to stay awake, so it's time for bed," I say as though I'm talking to a rather petulant toddler. "Mikey?"
He nods and shoves another cookie in his mouth before sliding under his brother's arm. "All right, D. On your feet," he says, the words garbled by the food in his mouth.
Mikey helps him up the stairs and into the bathroom so he can get ready for bed. I linger in the hallway, rolling my eyes at the muffled bickering I hear inside. The creeping, sharp sense that I'm not alone pricks at the base of my skull and I resist the urge to reach for my weapon. Raphael slinks out of the shadow and I let out a tiny sigh.
"What?" I ask, shifting under the weight of his gaze.
He shakes his head as though he just realized he was staring. "Nothing," he says, looking down at his feet. "Uh, thanks for the food."
"You're welcome," I reply cautiously, not entirely convinced this isn't a trick of some sort.
"I can walk on my own, Mikey," Donnie says, pushing open the bathroom door while swatting away his brother's fretting hands.
Raphael is already gone, halfway down the steps towards the television.
"All right, but if you fall that's on you, man," Mikey says, holding his hands up in defeat. "I'll put the rest of your sandwich in the fridge, all right?"
"Yeah…thanks," Donnie replies, failing to hold back a yawn.
Mikey flashes me a grin before leaping down the steps with one giant hop. I take hold of Donnie's hand and our fingers interlock. I can't help but think what those fingers were doing only a few days ago and the memory starts a warmth in my belly that instantly travels elsewhere. His room is neat and orderly, with a bookshelf full to overflowing and a few stray bits of tech scattered about the floor. This isn't his true space. It's only where he sleeps. The lab is his. The lab is Donnie.
"Do you want something for the pain?" I ask, helping him to sit on the bed.
He shakes his head no. "S'just sore," he mumbles.
I reach up to untie his mask, glad that he doesn't stop me. I place a gentle kiss on his temple before removing his elbow pads. He's not wearing his belt and after his knee pads are gone there's nothing left to remove. My hand lingers near his shoulder, the muscle a tight knot beneath my fingers. I press and knead until he leans back into my touch and a tiny sigh escapes his lips.
"You're one big knot," I say, scooting over on the mattress to sit behind him to get more leverage. "How long were you at your computer?"
"Few hours," he mumbles, which I'm sure is a vast understatement.
I press down on the tense spot between his shoulder blades. He grimaces for a moment until the knot starts to release under my fingers and a small moan peppers the air.
"You need to take breaks," I chastise, moving my hands down to his bicep.
"I know," he says. The words hold the sharp, annoyed tone of someone sick of hearing the same thing over and over again.
"Don't get mad at me," I say, putting a hand on my hip. "If you know then why did you work all day without stopping?"
He tenses and lowers his chin to his chest. "I'm sorry," he says, instantly contrite. "I just…I lose track of time. I was making real progress and it…it has been so long since I've been able to work and…and she's planning something, April; something awful. We have to stop her…"
"And we will," I say, moving forward to sit across his lap. "That's what you do, right? You and your brothers. You stop the bad guys," I lean my head forward to rest against his with a tiny smile. "We'll stop her together," I say, tilting his chin up so I can kiss him properly. "But that won't happen in a day."
He nods and his hands move to wrap around my waist, even exhausted his grip strong enough to hold me still. "I didn't expect you here tonight," he says quietly. "I thought you had to study."
The guilt is back and I try to clear my throat around it. "Well, I did…I mean, I do, but…"
He leans back and his eyes are full of concern. "April?"
"My Dad thinks I'm spending the night at Irma's," I say, rushing on when his face falls into a wavy grimace. "It's all right. Irma will cover for me…"
"You, you told her about us?" he asks his voice a disbelieving whisper.
"What? No, not really. I kinda," I bite my lip and look down at my hands. "I kinda told her you were a college student I met," I offer a sheepish smile when his face refuses to give any hint at what he's thinking. "She knew, I mean, she didn't know, but she knew I was…with someone. She cornered me about my 'secret boyfriend,' and I had to tell her something because she never would have let it rest, and…and, stop looking at me that way," I stammer and pout and cross my arms over my chest.
His mouth gives a tiny pull at the corner and his eyes round out into perfect circles. "Boyfriend?" he mumbles and my heart squeezes in my chest at the hopefulness clinging to that one, quiet word.
The warm flush returns to my body and I lean forward into a kiss. It's long and languid and leaves us both struggling to draw breath when it's done. I curl my fingers gently over the top of plastron and lean in against him.
"Yeah," I say with a smile. "Is that all right?"
His eyes close and his hands move up to rest on my hips. "I was…I worried," he murmurs, pinching his eyes shut tighter. "After, after that night," he swallows and I watch his Adam's apple move beneath the skin of his throat. "I thought maybe you wouldn't…that after you saw, saw how different I am you wouldn't want…to be with me like that."
"I do," I say and I look away embarrassed when he stares at me with an expression of utter wonderment. It's too much to live up to and I don't want to disappoint him.
He kisses me and I forget my embarrassment. I forget the lingering pang of guilt clinging to my thoughts. There's only him and there's only us. His mouth finds its way to my throat and I shudder and moan when his tongue passes over my skin. He's bold and steady and his hands press and knead along my ribs before settling on my breasts. The touch makes me whimper in the best possible way and I want to return the favor. I snake a hand down his carapace, dragging my nails as I go. I search out his tail with nimble fingers and delight in the groan it pulls from deep in his chest.
There's a sharp knock at the door and the sound is like a bucket of cold water dumped over my head. I'm about to tell whoever it is to go away when Master Splinter's voice pierces the air.
"Donatello?"
His eyes are huge and he doesn't move an inch, maybe thinking his father will go away if he doesn't reply. No such luck.
"Donatello," he says again without question this time.
"Yes?" he calls back, the word catching and cracking on the tail end of it.
"You will keep your door open when you have…company," he insists.
Donnie swallows and looks positively mortified. "Hai, Sensei," he croaks.
There's a throaty noise of agreement from the other side of the door, before Master Splinter adds with the tiniest hint of amusement. "Good evening, April."
"Good evening, Master Splinter," I reply.
I lean my forehead against Donnie's and giggle at his painful look of embarrassment. "To be continued," I whisper, sliding off his lap with more than a little regret for having to do so. I lean over and kiss the top of his head. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
He reaches out a hand, catching my wrist before I reach the door. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. I understand and it isn't necessary. He has nothing to thank me for. This goes both ways. I need him too. I'm just as thankful for having him.
