wow this is intimidating, i haven't written for this fandom since i was like twelve. it was inevitable i'd crawl back here eventually. i had abandoned my boys, and that's a criminal offense in at least 13.6 galaxies. i'm not going back to jail.

anyway, here is a lil under 2k words ficlet from a prompt list on tumblr that the ever lovely plantdonut sent me. and this is her beautiful OC, i have no claim on the lovely min-ji seong. she's from an episodic discord RP we got goin'. i hope i did her justice even in short-form, you beech.

SHORT FIC CHALLENGE
7. The meeting part of a meet cute AU
and
They jump into your car breathless and tell you to keep driving.
(an alternative take on don and min-ji's first meeting)

He was out of the lair, so… that was something.

Don huffed, crossing his forearms over the Battleshell's steering wheel and propping his chin on one wrist. Rain peppered the street just outside the alley, keeping nearby puddles alive with ripples and a consistent stream flowing into the storm drains. Something above the Battleshell must have been catching the downpour long enough that it was overflowing, because rather than the rhythmic beat of raindrops the van's roof gave off a heavier drone much more akin to a fountain or river. He hated to admit it was making him drowsy, but it seemed like every other thing managed to do that these days.

If Leo and Raph would just stop hiding the coffee somewhere new every time he felt like he was getting close to finding it… but doubt that was going to happen anytime soon. It'd taken them this long to just let him shadow them to the surface. Anything that might reduce his sleeping hours? Not happening. Not yet.

His mind drifted to the dull, phantom ache in his upper leg. The 'bug bite' had since healed… or, scabbed over, anyway. And though it may have come and gone, the 'side effects' still lingered in more ways than one. His family hovered. Exhaustion crept in where it hadn't before. And, sometimes, he had dreams that he suspected were more memory than dream. So much of him wanted to just wave it off, leave it behind… carry on into some sense of normalcy (whatever that meant for a mutant turtle). And while he knew it was all with good intentions and love in mind, it didn't seem as though his family was going to let that 'normalcy' happen anytime soon.

It was just further proof that the things they didn't know about kept that way.

...

...but he was out of the lair this evening. Even if he wasn't out on the training run, he was out. So that was something.

Don inhaled and held the breath for a long moment before releasing it in a slow, steady stream. The view of the street and across alley blurred until his attention settled to focus more on his own reflection. He watched his eyes sharpen, narrow. Let the smallest sense of irritation bubble up in his chest-

-the passenger-side door swung open.

Don straightened, hands shifting to grip the steering-wheel out of reflex. He opened his mouth, expecting to remark that they were back earlier than expected. But it wasn't one of his brothers who threw themselves into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

It was a girl. Soaked to the bone and out of breath, scrambling to scrape tendrils of her hair out of her eyes and mouth as she untangled her legs. "-please-!" She sputtered. "-Drive-just DRIVE."

"-Uh?!" Shell, Mikey, I told you to lock the door after you got out "-I really don't-"

A voice cut through the air, immediately followed by a flash of white light on his left side. Don flinched away from the driver's window and looked at the mirror, all in time to catch a glimpse of several figures sprinting toward the Battleshell. They were all packing what had to be federation or triceraton blasters. And he recognized one face immediately as the man crossed from the shadows into where the streetlights reached.

Dragonface.

"We need to GO!" The girl shouted. Don closed his hand over the keys and twisted, the Battleshell roaring to life.

"-We're going-we're going!"

Another beam of light tore past the window, this time cutting through the upper section of the door. Don squeaked and pressed his back against his seat, his heel driving into the gas pedal. The Battleshell lurched forward and tore out of the alley.

The small gaggle of dragons chased them a ways down the street before it must have dawned on them that running after a vehicle in the rain would be pointless. They had already become pretty low on the totem pole of priorities, though.

Don shot a side-ways glance toward the girl once he'd straightened the Battleshell's angle on the street. He'd honestly expected her to start screaming by now, given she would have realized she'd escaped a group of angry Dragons only to leap into a car side-by-side with a giant, talking turtle. But as she fumbled her fogged-over glasses off her face and began to try wiping them down with the end of her shirt, he realized he might still have a minute or two before that would be the situation he'd have to deal with.

"-are you hurt?" He asked, taking a sharp turn onto another road.

"N-no," she stammered. She almost dropped her glasses as he took the next turn. "I-I don't … do-don't think so."

"That's, um. Good! That's good."

She made a noise that sounded like an attempted agreement.

Don continued to take quick glances in her direction. Her shaky fingers and smudged glasses were still working in his favor, and he might be able to find another alley to duck into before she realized what it was she was sharing a car with. The last thing he wanted was for her to panic more than she already was and try springing from a moving vehicle. Not that he'd blame her.

"Those were Purple Dragons back there," Don said. "Do you know why they were chasing you?"

"No," her voice sharpened, but only for that singular word. "I don't know. -I don't know-this is-" the words caught in her throat, half-way between a choke and a sob, "-th-the third time this week! They've just-. Just." She let her glasses drop into her lap, scrubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes. "UGH!"

"Okay… uh… -hang on. I'm… gonna get you to a more populated area, okay?"

She nodded.

Don chewed the inside of his cheek, and he shot another glance toward the driver-side mirror. It didn't look like they were being followed-on foot or in any kind of vehicle. The Dragons weren't exactly nimble on their feet; it was likely safe to assume they'd lost them for the time being.

...which, of course. Meant it was also safe to assume that at least one of them had recognized the vehicle she'd sprang into. Which meant word of that would get back to Hun. This wasn't great news for either of them. If Hun already had a target on her back, it was going to get bigger by association with him and his brothers. Whether she had any idea whose car she'd hitched a ride in or not.

Don shook his head and flexed his fingers around the wheel. He'd just begun mulling over which sections of the security grid would need updating when a sharp intake of air on the passenger's side cut his thoughts short. He turned his head, and his shoulders jolted when his eyes locked with hers. And the glasses now settled onto the bridge of her nose. Her face had gone pale as bone.

… ah… shell…

"...are…" she started, her voice now hoarse and cautious. "...are ..y...you… cosplaying?"

Don opened his mouth. "Um." Don't overthink, you always overthink-just-gut instinct. "... No?"

Slowly, she began to lean into the passenger side door. One of her hands groped for the door handle and gripped it but, thankfully, didn't turn it. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod."

Instincts bad.

Frantic English dissolved into… -frantic Korean, if he had to take a guess-and she angled herself to wedge as much of herself as she could into the corner between the passenger-door and the seat. But she hadn't thrown herself out of the Battleshell, so. We'll take whatever wins we can.

He stayed quiet, picking the nearest recognizable street and all but swerving into the next open alley. The light of the street lamps gradually faded behind them, and he slowed the Battleshell to a stop once they'd reached a point he was positive they wouldn't be spotted from the street. It was only after that, that he dared take his eyes off the area ahead of him and turn back toward her. She'd gone quiet, but she hadn't moved. Her face was still washed of any traces of color. Her eyes were still wide as saucers. She wasn't screaming.

Again. We'll take whatever wins we can.

"Um," Don breathed, his eyes darting from her, to the alley ahead of them and back. "The… uh. -Central Park is another block from here. Y-you should be able to find it easy once you get back to the sidewalk."

She continued to stare at him. For a long enough time that he started to worry she might not answer him. "I… I can just… go…?"

"Yeah! Y-yeah, of course-um-" he reached blindly to the side until his thumb found the door lock tab. The auto-locks snapped out of place. They both jumped at the sound. "-there! It's unlocked."

She remained still as stone. Then, in an impressively fast motion, shoved the car door open and snaked through the gap. Her legs gave a bit when she hit the cement, but she just as soon righted herself and started a sprint down the nearest direction to the alley's opening. He expected her to keep running without so much as a glance over her shoulder. So it surprised him, when she suddenly skidded to a stop only a few feet away and caught herself on the alley wall, whirling around to look back at him. Again, they fell into a charged silence that felt like it stretched on far, far longer than it did in real time.

"... thank you," she finally said. "...I ...I-I really thought I was going to die back there…"

Don hesitated, then nodded once. She gave her head a short nod in return. Then she whirled on her heel and tore down the alley, vanishing around the corner in an instant.

He stared after her long after she'd left his sights before a heavy sigh escaped him, and he let himself drop forward so his forehead hit the rim of the steering wheel. His hands tightened around the sides, gripping as hard as he could before he finally released the wheel and moved his palms to rest on the back of his neck.

It was a while before he became aware of the faint vibrating coming from the side pouch of his belt. He dropped one hand from his neck and fumbled through it, tugging his shell cell out and clicking it open to press to his ear.

"Hello?"

"-Donnie!" Raph's voice. The relief in it was more than evident. "Where the shell are you?! Are you okay?!"

"-yeah," Don said, sitting up. He kicked himself internally for not having called them as soon as she'd left. Of course they would have freaked out when they found the Battleshell gone. "-Yeah, sorry, um. I, uh. I had to move."

Raph let out a breath Don assumed he'd been holding for the past minute. "...okay, good. Just… -cripes, Donnie, did something happen?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"... Love it when you're vague, Don. You know how that thrills me."

"-just… I'll come back and pick you up."

"Nah. We'll come to you."

"Really, I can just-"

"-we'll come to you."

There was no use in arguing with him. He wasn't going to change his mind. "I'm in that wide alley a block south of the Central Park Zoo."

"Got it. Sit tight."

The shell cell clicked, and Don sighed as he dropped his hand back into his lap. He looked in the direction the girl had ran again. Why had the Dragons been after her? This is the third time this week.

...hopefully, she'd get home okay.