I'm finally back from vacation, and I'm pretty sure I gained at least 10 lbs. Big whoop to y'all, right? Anywho, back to the all-important story.
Summary: Raph is sure he can't take Leo's almighty attitude any longer. He channels his rage through the Nightwatcher, a mask he puts on to beat down criminals of all kinds. However, when Raph (as the Nightwatcher) is captured by desperate criminals, he begins to realize how much he really needs a leader. He also might have found love in the process. RaphxOC, M/M SLASH! Don't like, don't read.
Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT. Nor do I make moneyzzzzzz [ah, that was so Jr. High I think I might puke].
Raph didn't speak for some time. He instead opted to turn Flame's words over in his mind for a few minutes, if only to try and regain his sanity.
Obviously, Flame had been alluding to a decidedly more-than-friends relationship between them. The way he was looking at Raph, even now, caused Raph's skin to burn in a way that could never be described as platonic. Still, the situation in itself both thrilled and frightened him. This was something he had never had hope for, something Splinter had never trained them to battle. He wasn't as anal as Leo about being prepared, but he still didn't like being caught off guard.
Also, Raph didn't really get what was so special about this guy, Luke, who had lived in the 1400s. He may have been the one who started the line that led to Flame, but it seemed like Flame blew that story way out of proportion. Surely murder wasn't in his "nature," was it? He had to be kidding.
However, Flame didn't so much as chuckle when he met Raph's eyes. He didn't even crack a smile, instead just staring hollowly, like a dying man. It was jarring to see such a look of blank acceptance in those golden eyes.
Raph had to say something. He didn't know what he would say, but he couldn't let that expression linger on Flame's face any longer. "You're right. It was an interesting story."
At that, Flame seemed to let out a breath, and his shoulders slumped. "I don't think you understand-"
"I understand just fine!" Raph snarled, watching as Flame's eyes narrowed abruptly, filled with the angry fire he knew they could hold. He didn't care. He was tired of being told he didn't know enough about things to make his own damn decisions.
"Raph..." A growl, a warning.
"No, YOU don't understand! You think you can scare me away with some ghost story, Flame? You think I'm gonna run an' hide from ya?"
Flame leaned back a little in his chair, his eyes widening. Raph was having none of that. Barely noticing new blood seeping through his bandages, he used both hands to fist Flame's shirt. He stood abruptly and nearly dragged the criminal across the table to him.
"Now you listen to me, punk. I don't care what lengths you go to. You can give me a number of how many you've killed, you can show me all the money you've stolen, and you can tell me all kinds of crap, but I'm still gonna be around. Ya know why?"
Flame blinked, but Raph railed on before he could so much as get out a syllable. "Cuz I don't think a person's past defines 'em. Hell, if I truly believed my past was all that made me who I am today, I'd have no freakin' confidence. Now I know you better than to think you lack any confidence, so I don't know what kinda game you're playin' at, but you'd better wise up. Especially if you're gonna be..."
Raph's rant left him panting, even as his mind raced to try and find an appropriate noun to fit the end of that last sentence. My lover? My friend? My partner?
He didn't have to think for long. Before Raph recognized what had happened, Flame had clambered to his knees on top of the table and it was his turn to manhandle Raph. Suddenly, the red-banded turtle found himself slammed back against the kitchen wall, his mouth engulfed in a searing kiss. Without his permission, his hands twisted the fabric of Flame's shirt even more, pulling the leader forward. As their kiss deepened, Flame was rough and unyielding in his exploration of Raph's mouth, and his hands were making those same slow circles on his plastron. A well-placed nip caused Raph to moan into the criminal's mouth, and he fleetingly thought they should be talking this out more before they... Oh. Flame ground his hips down, blazing by anything Raph had ever experienced before. Heck, it was without dispute the most erotic thing he had ever done.
All too soon, Flame pulled away, forcing Raph to release his death grip on Flame's shirt as the criminal leaned back on his haunches on the table. To Raph's further displeasure, a tiny whine escaped his throat at the loss of contact. Flame flashed Raph his trademark smirk, though it didn't have quite the same effect due to the redhead's mussed up hair and slightly bruised lips.
"W-What was that for?" Raph breathed, still struggling to get his breathing under control. Flame's smirk only grew.
"It's weird, really. Most of the time, you don't talk enough, but when you do finally get around to it..." Flame drew closer again, then gently caressed Raph's cheek, running a thumb over it. "You talk far too much."
Flame leaned down to place a chaste kiss on Raph's forehead, then backed away again before Raph could stop him. Then, as if nothing of consequence had just happened, the former king hopped off the table and walked to the kitchen exit. He only looked back once, teetering over the threshold, and used that pause to throw Raph a somewhat arrogant wink.
"Sleep well, Nightwatcher," he purred, and Raph felt an involuntary shiver go through him. He had never heard his vigilante alias pronounced quite like that, and most definitely not in that tone. He raised one hand to wave, but Flame had already gone. Raph let his hand drop, blushing furiously.
He was pretty glad Leo hadn't seen that.
XXX
The next day after their morning spar, Flame surprised Raph by diplomatically refusing every offer his brothers made to go and participate in some activity or other. He even turned down Mike when he suggested the two play his newest video game, Call of Duty. Even though Mike whimpered and pouted and put on his best "baby" face, Flame never so much as flinched. In Raph's opinion, only two types of people could have resisted Mike's appeals: the heartless and the extraordinarily determined.
He wondered for a minute which category Flame fit into, and then laughed aloud at himself for even posing the question. He got a few strange looks for that one.
Still, the day passed slowly, as Flame seemed as intent on avoiding Raph as he was for everyone else. Raph and Donny were lounging at the table, as the redhead had temporarily holed himself up in his makeshift bedroom in the lab. Don sipped his coffee leisurely while Raph worried.
He hadn't pegged Flame for the fickle type, but he had to wonder whether last night's incident, as Raph had started referring to it in his head, had anything to do with Flame's sudden aloofness. Best case scenario, the guy had just woken up to remember that he had made out with some mutant freak with anger issues the night before. Worst case, he was currently calling the cops, and their family would have to move again.
Raph furiously clenched and unclenched his fists under the table. Maybe trusting Flame had been a mistake. He ought to barge right into that lab and...
And what? Demand to know if they were going steady now? He didn't have a clue as to how to handle situations like this.
Across from him, Raph could feel Donny scrutinizing him. He sat perfectly still. He would NOT give anything away; his brothers could never know what a giant slip-up he'd just made.
Leo would figure it out, but he wouldn't tell. Raph could always count on Leo to cover for his mistakes, despite everything, and he usually responded by treating his older brother like shit. It was disheartening to think about.
"Raph, you look like someone just ran over your puppy and you don't know whether you should punch them out or cry," Donny observed, lowering his coffee mug.
Raph shot him a half-hearted glare. "I never cry."
"Well, that can't be good for your eyes. Crying helps clean them, ya know? But seriously. What's eating you?"
"Nothing."
Donny scoffed. "I know very well it's not nothing, and you'd better tell me what's going on."
"No."
"Don't make me get Leo-"
"Hey, guys, is this a bad time?" Both Donny and Raph jumped about three feet in the air, and Raph whirled to see Flame stride into the kitchen like he owned the place. A quick once-over baffled Raph, as nothing appeared out of Flame's normal way of things. The only tangible difference wasn't really that noticeable to anyone who didn't stop to really look.
Instead of his usual sneakers, Flame had donned a pair of standard black leather boots, like the kind a guy might wear to go riding.
Donny was the first to recover his composure, while Raph simply drank in Flame's appearance for a little while longer. "Not at all."
"Cool," Flame replied as he reached over to smoothly tug Raph to his feet. "How many motorcycles do you have?"
Four eyeridges rose at that. Once again, Donny was the one to speak. "I made two, one in case Raph ever lost his..."
Flame flashed Donny a startling grin. "Perfect. I just really need some air. You wouldn't mind if Raph and I went for a late ride, would you?"
Donny's mouth pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. Something strange sparked in his eyes, like an idea had just taken root. Raph watched all this happen right in front of him, helpless to do anything but feel the warmth of Flame's arm around his shoulders as he was ushered out to the garage.
Flame stopped directing him just within the threshold. On instinct, Raph reached for a coat to hide his shell, but he couldn't keep the questions from bursting from his mouth.
"Why do you want to go out all of a sudden? What happened to.. Why were you avoiding everyone? If this has to do about what happened last night, I'm sorry."
Raph pulled on the coat, feeling the heavier weight settle over his shoulders. He turned his head to see Flame leaning with one shoulder against the wall, lips turned up at the corners in a barely-there smile.
"Why would you apologize for something I initiated?" came the cool reply, and Raph froze in the middle of his search for a normal enough looking helmet.
"I don't know," Raph mumbled, and it was true. With Flame in such close proximity, he could hardly think logically. His pulse raced and his mind went into panic-mode. He also couldn't help a slight hitch in his breathing when calloused fingers traced patterns into his shell through the fabric of his coat.
A voice came from directly behind him, and Raph shivered involuntarily as a warm puff of air hit the back of his neck. "The word 'sorry' is hardly one of the sounds I would hear from you."
Flame's voice was low, dangerous, but then he seemed to abruptly back off. Raph had to bite back a sigh of discontent as the hand left its' musings on his shell, and Flame seemed cheery, if a little daunting, once more. Raph turned toward him, offering a helmet, and the criminal waggled his eyebrows at him.
"Do you race?"
Raph couldn't help but allow a small measure of his enormous relief to seep into his expression. Finally, something he could talk about! "Yeah, and I've never lost."
Flame inclined his head to the side, and when he next spoke, there was a challenge in his voice. "You must not have raced enough, then. Allow me to show you what it feels like."
XXX
The scout kept his head low as he held vigil over the manhole discovered some days ago. His orders were to report back if he caught sight of Flame, but so far, none of their king's scouting parties had been able to detect him. This was the place, however, where they had seen the mutant creatures enter and exit from time to time.
What the scout found odd was that the turtles seemed to keep a tight schedule. He supposed dumb animals might instinctively creep out at around the same time every night, but apparently the things had enough brain faculties to time themselves. Every night at 9:00 sharp, they appeared. This time, it had been the blue and the orange.
The blue was classified as highly dangerous, per their king's records.
It was almost 10:00 when he saw something-movement, below. A rusty garage door creaked open next to the manhole, and two riders on motorcycles streaked out into the streets. They were fast; if he'd blinked they would have been gone. But he had seen them, and what he saw was unmistakable.
How many times had he watched that lithe body from afar, giving speeches and lectures to a crowd, among which the scout himself had been just a face? How many times had those hands redirected his own, displaying the perfect block?
Flame had finally decided to show his face. The scout immediately took off, leaping from building to building, careful to keep away from the path of the blue and the orange. His king would be pleased to hear this news.
Soon, the time would come to act. Without Flame to protect them, the turtles would be surprised, defenseless...
Caught.
The scout chuckled to himself as his feet found the roof of yet another apartment complex. His reward would be great, of that he was sure. To think, all he'd had to do was take a new oath of loyalty.
He was above such political machinations, he knew, but that didn't mean he couldn't use them to his own advantage. No, that wasn't even the right phrasing: he was just a clever man. Kings would come and go, but the race would go on. Who knew? Maybe the next monarch would spring from his own son in the form of golden eyes!
With hopeful thoughts, the scout ran deeper into the night, bearing the information that would shape the rest of his life.
What do you think of the story so far? Any predictions for what is gonna happen next? I'm just sayin'... First one to guess correctly gets the cyber-chocolate. Only 100 calories!
R&R, por favor!
-DauntlessAdrenaline