Author's Note: Why not some smutty Apriltello?

Rating: Pushing a hard T, maybe M? Smut without explicit sex.

Some things never change.

Donatello forgetting to keep track of the time while in his lab was an example of this. Sometimes he set alarms, particularly during the school year (he had assignments, he had gloated gleefully to his brothers) but the winter holidays had just begun and even Donnie's online classes were on break.

Which meant, of course, more time in the lab.

Currently, his project revolved around a new amphibious vehicle. It was too much work using the turtle-sub, and besides that, he had no desire to take any more joyrides in a vehicle that might solicit the unwanted advances of a lonely sea creature. Poor thing, Donnie thought.

So lost in this thought was Donatello that it took several seconds for his brain to register a pair of hands on his shoulders, even as they slowly moved over to the front of his plastron and continued to slide downwards.

"Hey there," April's voice said quietly from behind his chair.

Donnie blinked and glanced up, carefully moving his head back to spot the face of his beautiful fiancee. The feeling of her warm hands making twin paths down the front of his scarred plastron was more than a little distracting. "Hi," he managed, every bit as awkward as he'd been the day they'd met. He couldn't help it. She made him goofy.

Rounding the chair, April laughed at his dreamy expression. "Think you can spare me a few minutes?"

Donnie smiled, his large hands curling at her elbows once she was in front of him. "Yes," he said immediately. "Most certainly. Affirmative..." His voice dropped away as April slipped one knee between his leg and the side of his chair and the other mirrored it on the opposite side, drawing her up on to his lap until she straddled him. Her arms settled behind his head, fingers brushing the back of his neck just as Donnie's own hands rose and found purchase on her lower back.

The motion drew them closer, their hips pressed firmly together as April leaned in and closed the distance between their mouths. Fifteen-year-old Donatello would have been in absolute heaven. Twenty-year old Donatello had been there for years.

April's hands relaxed against his plastron, brushing over the X-shaped scar that was most prominent among his markings. It was something Donnie really only noticed when he was alone, and fortunately he had a lot of people around him to keep him from feeling that way. Including April O'Neil.

Donnie slipped his hands down lower and dragged them along the length of April's thighs, gripping her firmly there even as she squirmed pleasantly against him. Her head tilted and her mouth slanted against his, warm and familiar and intoxicating. Heat prickled at his limbs in the form of tiny bursts, concentrated where ever April's sneaky hands roamed. When her small fingers reached the sensitive skin between his plastron and his shell, Donnie broke their kiss and bucked lightly against her, his lips finding her neck instead. April exhaled and dropped her head back, her eyes closing even as Donnie worked his way down to her collarbone and nipped at her freckled skin.

April rolled her hips in response and the scent of her arousal filled the air, causing Donnie to groan and seek out her mouth with his again. "April," he murmured, their bodies pressed firmly, tightly together even as the kiss turned frantic and April reached down, pulling away just long enough to tug off her shirt.

Well, any hope of returning to his work was shot to hell.

Donnie growled softly and, in one fluid motion, stood with April tight in his arms and settled her on his work table. He shoved aside anything that might get in their way and tugged her hips until she was flush against him again, pleased when he felt April's mouth grin against his.

Pulling away, Donnie dropped his lips to her chest and kissed down her cleavage, skilled hands moving to her bra. He pulled himself up for one last quick kiss on her lips just as his fingers unsnapped the bra, ready to move on to her shorts.

Until.

"Donatello, where -"

April shrieked and scrambled to cover herself, Donnie stumbled back and nearly fell over his office chair and Master Splinter stood at the door, cane in hand, staring blankly.

He snorted and turned, his movements a bit twitcher than usual.

"And that's why we're on dojo cleaning duty," finished April dully, handing the millionth freaking shuriken to Donatello, who shined it begrudgingly.

The laughter of the others lasted for days and days and days.