Author's Note: Just a short little chapter, an interlude if you will. Split between Donatello and April POV. Warning for PG-13 times, nothing graphic


Chapter Nine

Donatello

It is cold. That particular damp, autumn cold that reaches down to your bones and makes old injuries ache. The sky is gunmetal gray and filled with a drizzling blanket of rain. Miserable, some might call it, but I don't care. I'm inside where it's dry and warm, nestled on the couch with April leaning back against me. The television is on, the movie flickering on the screen the pretext for my visit. I'm having trouble focusing on the plot with the way she keeps tracing her fingers idly along the muscles in my arms. She's staring straight ahead, watching the movie and I'm not entirely convinced she realizes what she's doing. All I can do is realize it. It's gentle and sweet and best of all done as a relaxed afterthought without any hesitation.

The last few days have been full of similar touches. Shy, but deliberate and unquestionably sincere. We would touch before; a scattered hug or unavoidable connections during training or a mission. These touches are different. There is meaning behind every graze of her fingers and a promise of something less wholesome on the horizon. The thought of that both excites and terrifies in equal measure. There have been a few kisses since that first night. Mostly rushed and innocent with none of the desperate heat of our first embraces. My mind tends to wander back to that night and the feel of her against me. Those wandering thoughts are not helping me to focus on the movie one bit.

"Ugh, that is so stupid," April says with a laugh, waving haphazardly at the screen. "There is no way all of those guys would just wait around and attack one at a time."

"Um, yeah, you're right," I say, clearing my throat.

You have no idea what you're talking about. You're not even watching the movie. She's going to ask you what you think and you're going to stammer like an idiot and stare at her like a creep. You're staring now. Knock it off.

I clear my throat again and shift awkwardly, not wanting to disturb her. She laughs at a particularly ridiculous fight sequence on the screen and her fingers curl against the skin just above my elbow pad. She smells like flowers and feels so warm and inviting. I want to wrap my arms around her. I want to turn the movie off and kiss her the way I did the other night. Instead I settle for the gentle touches against my arm. She wants to take things slow, so that is what we'll do. I don't want to scare her off. I don't want to ruin this. Even if we don't go beyond where we are now, this could be enough. It's still more than I ever thought I would have.

"Hey?"

I blink, surprised to see her craning her neck to look up at me with a hint of concern in her eyes.

"Where'd you go?" she asks and her hand is tracing along the edge of my jaw just outside the bruise that has faded to an unappealing yellowish-green.

"Huh?" I mumble, clearing my throat for the third time.

Smooth.

"You look…preoccupied," she says, the concern melting into a shy smile. "Just wondering where you went in there," she adds, gently tapping the side of my head.

I was thinking about kissing you and how you're skin turned pink the last time I did it.

"Sorry, I wasn't…sometimes my mind wanders," I reply, offering a smile I'm sure is nothing but goofy.

Do not look her in the eye. She'll know where your mind was wandering. She'll see right through you.

"Hmm, I see," she says and I get the sinking suspicion she is up to something.

She shifts her weight and places a palm firmly on the center of my plastron to push herself up onto her knees. My legs are on either side of her as she leans against me and I don't move. I don't know where to put my hands or my eyes for that matter. She leans over and rests her forehead against mine. She's smirking and I take in a shaky breath trying to calm the growing warmth and excitement inside me.

"Is there anything I can do to keep it from wandering?" she asks with a coy smile.

She wants you to kiss her. Just do it, coward.

I don't need my thoughts to tell me what to do. My body is already ahead of my mind. I slip one hand to cradle her head and pull her lips to mine. The kiss is anything but shy and I chance to move my other hand down her spine to rest just above the waistband of her jeans. She sighs into my mouth and moves her body to meet my touch. It's warm and wonderful and full of fire. She shifts and now the majority of her weight is pressed down against me. I struggle to keep from lifting my hips up to meet her even as it is currently the only thing I want to do. It's too soon and that's not taking it slow, although neither is the way she's drawing her nails up the bridge in my shell.

I let out a tiny moan when her fingers dip into the place beneath my arm where my shell meets skin. I can't help it. Her hands are warm and searching and finding places I've never been touched before. Not by another person anyway. I tighten the hand on her back and squirm under her inquisitive hands. Her mouth breaks from mine and I'm certain I whimper at the loss of contact. Her mouth is gone for a moment, only to return under the line of my jaw before traveling down the side of my neck to where it meets my shoulder.

Think of math. Think of snow and ice and cold. Think of something, because if she keeps doing that you're going to embarrass yourself pretty soon.

Her hand is pressed against my plastron and she sits back on her feet, never losing contact. Her lips are parted slightly and there's a slight pant to her breaths. She has never looked more beautiful. Her hands are back and tracing every groove and dip along my plastron. I swallow back a moan, but can't stop a blush from tearing across my face when I lift up in anticipation of her touch.

"Is this…okay?" she asks and that shy smile is back.

"Y-yeah," I stammer as nothing has ever been more okay in the history of all things.


April

I did not intend for things to go this way when I woke up this morning. I had a plan. It was the same plan that was cut short only a few days before. A nice, lazy afternoon spent curled on the couch with Donatello watching bad movies. Maybe there would be a few stolen kisses and less than innocent cuddles, but we were going to take things slow. I was going to take things slow. That was before.

Before I couldn't stop touching the cool, smooth skin of his arms; delighting in the way his muscles twitched under my fingers. That was before I leaned over him and he kissed me. Before his kiss that made me forget any intentions of taking things slow. I want to touch him. Partly because it feels good and more importantly because it makes his breath catch and drags a tiny moan from his throat. It's a thing of wonder to see Donatello relax even in the slightest, like catching sight of a rare bird in the wild.

His hand is firm and cool against the small of my back and I arch up towards it while we kiss. I want that hand to move elsewhere, anywhere, everywhere. He won't if I don't encourage him or flat out ask. He's nervous and tentative and probably assuming I'm going to pull away in disgust at any moment. I move my hands lower, tracing the grooves and dips along his plastron with increased pressure. He's squirming beneath my touch and lifts slightly towards it.

"Is this…okay?" I ask with a smile, even though I know it is. I want to hear him say it.

"Y-yeah," he replies through a heavy breath and closed eyes.

I keep my hands above the belt. Despite already having gone further and faster than I intended that's not a line I'm quite ready to cross and I don't think he is either. I let out a little startled yelp when he shifts beneath me and takes hold of my arms to guide me back on the opposite end of the couch. His mouth is on mine once more and I open to him, moaning when our tongues touch. I'm finding it hard to believe that someone with so little experience is such a good kisser. He probably did his research. He hovers over me and only rests a portion of his weight on my body. I sigh and tremble when I feel one of his hands rest in the dip of his waist.

"S'all right," I murmur between kisses, angling my body against his hand in encouragement.

I chance a look up at him through my eyelashes and can't help but blush. His pupils are dilated and his breath is short and ragged to match my own. He keeps his eyes on my face as he slowly moves his hand up along my ribs. His hand catches the bottom of my shirt and unintentionally exposes a portion of my midriff. The edge of his cool thumb glances across my skin and I let out a sigh that starts in my toes and echoes throughout my chest. He catches the sigh with a kiss and I reach up to pull him closer. I can't think of anything that would pull me out of this moment. Until the shrill sound of his T-Phone buzzing and clattering across the coffee table shatters the mood.

"Don't…don't answer it," I plead, pulling him back to me when he turns at the sound.

He grimaces and with obvious effort breaks our embrace. "I have to," he grumbles and sits up, leaving me disheveled and cold in his absence.

"What?" he snaps into the receiver after sliding his thumb across the screen to answer the call.

He winces and instantly looks contrite obviously getting an earful from whoever is on the other end. I sit up and try to make myself presentable, pulling down my shirt and smoothing out my hair. My breathing is starting to even out but my heart is still thudding in my chest and my lips tingle. Donatello has his eyes closed and he's pressing a knuckle between them as he nods and mumbles the occasional 'uh huh,' into his phone.

"Right…yes…I understand that, Leo, but…no, I didn't, that's not…yes, fine…all right. I said all right, didn't I?" he struggles to get a word in before slamming his finger against the screen, ending the call.

"So? Good news?" I say, hoping my teasing will lighten the mood.

He lets out a tiny snort of a laugh and rubs his eyes. "Yeah, something like that," he says with I sigh. "I'm sorry, April, I…"

"Have to go," I finish for him and he nods, looking quite miserable.

I crawl towards him and drape my arms over his shoulders, leaning in to rest my forehead against his. "It's all right, I'm sure the fate of the world is in the balance," I give him a quick kiss, afraid that if I linger for too long we'll soon be wrapped up in one another. "Call me, let me know you're all right."

He nods and a smile settles on his face. I feel a similar expression grace my features because I know I'm responsible for it and it's how I like to see him best; happy.