for the first movie in Dons temperature gadge and heart monitor in his head gear, Raphs heart beat for april was the hightest (upsets me) but its true. And then in the second movie.. He finds out about the mutagen. That can make him human for april but sooo pissed off Leo is adverting his dreams to come true.
"its not what im willing to accept but what they're willing to accept."
"true acceptance comes from within"
"Dont give me that fortune cookie muck!"
He'll make em true all on his own With april, vern, Mikey and caseys help. failing the mission hes so pissed off!! after awhile during the movie he shows off that when he held the canister.. in his hand he had some serious thought process.. And i think he realized.. April may not be with me.. cause she just doesnt like me.. Or something along those lines. He threw it to the wall. I think a few reasons as to why he did this:
Cause he thought; “well.. if she doesn’t accept me now, Would she only accept me then for only my appearance?”
“maybe she still wont love me back.”
“What if i cant turn back to help my brothers ever again??”
Written for omobolasire1 who was having a bad day. Hope this cheers you up!
Rated T - 2k14 'verse - RaphxApril - Fluff/Romance - 3,339 words
April is having a bad day made worse for lack of hot water. Expecting Donnie to come to her aid, she gets a visit from a certain hot-tempered mutant, instead. Raph wants to prove he is just as capable as Donatello. April thinks he's pretty.
Huge inspiration from and deep gratitude for dorkinhighheels whose Raphril fics you HAVE to read, like NOW!
“Just come in, I’ve got . . . I’m in the middle of . . . Errrgh!” April’s voice rang out muffled through the closed window, laced with irritation.
Raph lingered for a minute longer on the fire escape. Fidgeting. His breath ghosted in front of his face as a few snowflakes sprinkled over his nose. A bloom of his breath spread over the glass of her window. Maybe now wasn’t a good time. He glanced at the tool box held in one grip and felt ridiculously out of place, like some jerk-off handyman monster that stepped out of a B-horror flick. His face colored. Yeah, what the hell was he thinking? He turned to leave when the blinds slapped to one side and April unlatched the locks and dragged the sash open. The window springs shrieked and he gulped, backing up a step.
He stood staring, mouth hanging open like a dope as she indicated for him to come in; a short towel clutched in front of her chest, a pair of pajama pants barely clinging to the curve of her hips, dripping dangerously low beneath her navel, the bottoms gathering in folds on top of her bare feet. She raised her brows irritably and snapped her wrist through the air in a ‘hurry up’ motion. He clambered through as quickly and as smoothly as his bulky form could allow, noting the goose-bumps breaking out over her bare shoulders, counting the freckles sprinkled across her collar bone. All the while wanting to keep going through the window, across the bedroom, down the hall and back out into the alley and down into the sewers as fast as he could.
His only thought: Oh shit.
“Where’s Donnie?” she asked briskly and any warmth he’d been feeling at the exposed sight of her pale flesh cooled considerably.
“What!?”
April slammed the window shut and Raph could not help but stare wide-eyed at the expanse of her bare back. And lower, taking in the dimples, and the curve of the top of her toned bottom. Something pulled tautly between his legs and he jumped, fumbling the toolbox from one hand to the other, making a racket and thankful for the distraction. As she turned to face him, he stumbled away from her, covering his eyes with one hand in shame, peeking still through his fingers, unable to stop himself, before reluctantly turning his shell to her and crossing his arms, coughing.
“He said he’d come and fix the hot water for me,” she whined and ran a hand through her hair, pulling loose strands from her messy pony-tail. “I had a helluva day, Raph,” she said in a charged militant voice. “A helluva day and all I wanted was a hot shower and to go to bed. I get into the shower and it’s ice water. Ice water, do you understand?”
“He,” Raph shook his head, glanced sideways at her and then jumped again, forcing his gaze away. Was that towel getting smaller? It sure the hell seemed so. He choked and cleared his throat. He tried again, staring at the top of the toolbox. “He was comin’ but Master Splinter had an attack.”
“What?!” she repeated, this time with some amount of fright and gripped him by the elbow, trying to turn him to face her, but he planted his feet firmly in the ground. He’d seen enough and didn’t need to be tormented by sights too lovely for something like him. When he remained in place, immovable and scowling, she circled around to stand in front of him. Her hand lingering.
His eyes popped and he pinched them tightly closed, tipping his chin back and speaking to the ceiling. “Nothin’ serious. Blood sugar. Or somethin’. Diabetic,” Raph explained and yanked his bicep away from her touch where it seared and continued to linger even after her hand had moved away. He felt rather than saw her shoulders slump.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“’S nothin’,” Raph said and risked a glance down at her. Yep, that towel was not doing a very good job. From this vantage point, he could make out the curvy tops of her breasts and the effect on his body was fierce. He twisted and looked for an escape path and started to inch his way towards the doorway, skirting bit by bit around her, doing his best to keep some space between them. He cleared his throat with a loud harrumph, “Donnie’ll give ‘em his shot. He’ll be fine.”
She nodded and readjusted the towel. She glanced down in a quick motion as if just remembering that she wasn’t fully and properly dressed. Her fingers splayed across the front of it, pressing it against her. A nervous smile broke over her face and an equally nervous laugh bubbled out of her.
“Sorry,” she motioned to the towel and took a step back. “I got kind of . . . pissed,” she offered, screwing up her face.
Raph huffed and cracked a half-smile, feeling better for the space between them. He waved a hand at her, dismissively. “’S okay.” Keeping his eyes to one side, looking at anything but her, grateful that she was now giving him some much needed room to maneuver, he stepped into the hallway towards the bathroom. He leaned into the room for a moment and glanced around before reemerging. He nodded his head towards a small closet door. “Hot water heater in there?” he asked.
And she nodded sheepishly.
“I got this.” He opened the door and set the toolbox down.
April cocked her brow.
He caught the expression. “What?” He motioned with his hand towards the ancient equipment. “This is the same boiler model we had for years.” He turned back to examine it. “Piece of shit,” he mumbled and checked to see if she was still standing there, relieved to find her gone. He rubbed his hand over his face and blew out a breath. Feeling some of his false confidence waver.
She’d wanted his brother. The smart one. Of course she did. His head bounced in understanding as he huffed. Yeah, he got it. He wasn’t supposed to know jack-shit about fixing stuff. As Leo put it so clearly, they didn’t break stuff. Only he did. It was part and parcel of who he was. Well, whether his brothers and April wanted to believe it or not, he could put things together just as well as Donnie. He smiled, thinking of the chopper in the garage, the gorgeous engine he’d been building from scrap parts. The way it would purr when he finished with her. Yeah, some things maybe he was better at building, even.
April dashed into her bedroom, grabbing a crop top that she usually slept in. Feeling like a complete idiot for not changing before letting him in, thinking at the time that it would be Donnie at the window and he’d just hurry past her without a second look as he’d always do when he’d come to fix something that had busted in her crappy apartment.
But it hadn’t been Donnie. The shy, gentle brother. It was Raph. And she’d been still too stunned by her ice shower to realize it until her brain caught up with reality. She pressed her hands into her stomach. Oh god. It had to be him. He had to see her looking like shit. Raphael. Her pulse fluttered against her fingertips poised at her throat, one arm still hugging herself. She snapped out of it and adjusted her hair, trying to make it neater or obey her commands to be tied back. It was a losing battle. She gave up.
When she came back, he was part-way inside the closet space, hmm’ing to himself. She realized it was a song he was humming. Not one she recognized, but she made out that he was tapping his fingers, softly beating out a rhythm. A grin split her face. She crept up behind him, and he was lost in what he was doing. She could hear the wrench at work against the bolts, the sound of metal gently grinding. As he was occupied, April considered him. It was a rare thing to catch him off-guard. Even rarer to get this close without him huffing and running away, to the dojo, or the garage. No. He was captivated by the task at hand. Her captive. A delicious feeling swept through her.
She pressed her hand against her mouth and suppressed a giggle as she looked at his large feet, tucked under the folds of the back of his loin cloth, buckled by belts over his shell. Her eyes roved over his carapace; noting the scars and ridges; the missing chips and the duct tape in places. She wondered if that hurt. She wondered if he could feel anything through that bulky material. Slowly, her fingertip reached out and she traced one spiraling ridge, following the contours in a semi-circular way.
Raphael stopped humming. He froze. It took a second, but she realized that he could feel that and instantly snapped her hand back. He peered at her with one eye over his shoulder.
She said quickly and quietly, “Uh, sorry.”
He slowly eased back and sat on his haunches, blinking and staring at her with a strange, intense look on his face. He seemed almost . . . hurt. Suddenly, April wanted to drop into and through the floor. She tucked her hands under her armpits and bit her lip. Oops.
“I, uh, I shouldn’t have . . . uh,” she fumbled and he continued to stare, but then dropped his gaze and looked to one side.
“’S okay,” he said in a quiet voice, then even quieter, “I get it.” It was simple. She wanted to touch the freak’s deformity. Basic curiosity. His stomach clenched and rolled.
She cocked her head to one side, feeling like something was going on here deeper than she’d first realized. Feeling as though she’d done more than just trespassed on his personal space. Was this a turtle thing? Was touching his shell like that insulting? She wanted to ask him. Didn’t know how to frame the question without it sounding demeaning or insulting and instead, remained quiet, uncomfortable; awkward.
“Do you, ah, how about something to drink?” she offered brightly and hurried around him.
He looked up and followed her with his eyes. He considered it and climbed to stand. What he wanted was to go home, bury himself in the parts of his bike and forget that he’d ever come here. It’d all been a stupid mistake. He stepped through the hallway, pushing away the tumultuous thoughts that confused him, leaving him feeling vulnerable and bitter. Head low, he leaned on the doorframe to her kitchen.
“Thermostat needed cleanin’. It’s fixed. Should be.”
“Oh?” She emerged from the refridgerator, two beers clutched between fingers.
He eyed them as if he’d never seen alcohol before. As if worried they’d jump out of her hands and attack him. He glanced back at the hallway then to her. “I should go.”
She approached him, looking up and searching his face. “Do you have to?”
It almost sounded like she was disappointed. As if she wanted him to stay. God, he was pathetic. A smile cracked over his face despite feeling anything but happy. “Yeah.” His eyes dropped away. He wanted to add, shoulda never come in the first place, but bit his tongue. He’d made enough of a fool of himself as it was for one day.
“Hang on,” April said, just as he turned, snagging his elbow. And this time stopping him, making him turn. His expression was guarded but she was under no illusion that she’d somehow overpowered him. Unlike earlier, he allowed her to move him. There’d be no way she could if he hadn’t wanted her to. And that meant he wanted to know what else she had to say.
She squinted and pressed her mouth into a line then decided to lay it all out. The O’Neil’s were a family steeped in the traditions of their Celtic roots. They didn’t mess around. They didn’t beat around the bush. Or play head games. They hashed out their problems with drinking or heartfelt talks, or when it came to it: fists; but they never let anything go without a fight. If she’d done something wrong she wanted to know.
“Did I offend you? Somehow?”
Raphael’s face broke into genuine surprise. A smile, nervous and disbelieving erupted across his mouth, “What?” he breathed out.
“Did I offend you?” she repeated, leaning towards him and narrowing her eyes. “By touching your shell?”
He straightened up. What was she playing at? “N-Nah, no. ‘Course not.”
Still with her eyes narrowed, she considered him.
He fidgeted and shuffled his feet but remained where he was; getting more nervous and baffled by the second. Offend him? What the hell was she talking about? He knew what he looked like. He knew that humans would be . . . curious. Why would April be any different? Hell, they’ve only known her for a couple of months. He shifted from one foot to the other. He should have hidden the hurt better earlier and he cursed himself for it. Leo was always giving him a hard time for being too easy to read. Poker with Donnie and Leo was hell. At least Mikey had a worse tell than he did; breaking out into a huge grin every time he got a half-way decent hand.
“You seem . . . off,” she said slowly. “After I touched your shell.” She nodded as though convincing herself. “Is that an off-limits thing to do? Just tell me straight.”
“Wh-What? N-No. It ain’t. I mean, there’s not any . . . off limits? What do ya mean?” He huffed a nervous laugh and ran his hand over the top of his head. Wanting nothing more than to end this strange conversation. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want her to touch him. Under the right circumstances. And not as if she were touchin’ something disgusting. Only . . . her face didn’t look disgusted when he’d looked at her earlier, now that he really thought about it. His heart stumbled. What the hell did that mean? What the hell was going on here? He was regretting coming out here more and more by the second.
Seeming to be mollified by his response, stumbling and stuttering though it came out, she nodded again. “So, if I want to touch it again, I can.”
He started. “What? T-Touch what?” He looked around, now feeling more cornered than ever before. Panicked. Oh shit. She wants to touch your shell, you dumbass. She likes it. But why the hell would she like it?
“Your shell.”
“My shell.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” he asked exasperated. “I mean, I’m . . . I’m a freak, I get it. I mean, I get that you’d be curious and shit, but . . .”
She was shaking her head. He found himself mimicking her.
“Could I touch it now?”
He froze. A nervous chuckle bubbled out of him. “Now? I guess . . . uh, but why? What do you . . .?”
Before he could go on, she skirted around him and shoved the beer into his hand, which he immediately guzzled for all he was worth. Adam’s Apple bobbing. He jumped, unable to help himself as her palm laid against him, sending off the tingling sensation that he’d felt earlier when she’d touched him in the hallway. Tightening things that he’d learn to neglect and ignore over the years, igniting a fire within him that boiled his blood. The image of her bare flesh rose up in his mind. The goose-bumps and the freckles, the dimples in her lower back.
“So, you can feel that, huh?” Her voice sounded husky but that had to be his imagination. He nodded, unable to speak, and drank some more. Better. He rolled his eyes as she continued to rub and trace and caress. His body warmed and his groin throbbed. His knees quivered. He felt a rumble beginning in the back of his throat. A building need to release the growling purr that signaled his arousal. The embarrassing sound they so desperately tried to hide when in the shower and things could no longer be neglected or ignored. He stiffened. That’s it. He jumped to one side.
“Enough, okay, enough,” he said gruffly but then laughed at her shocked expression. He finished the beer and set it on the table, clearing his throat and ready to leave, folding his arms across the wide expanse of his chest. Things had spiraled way out of his comfort zone. And April had no clue.
Nonplussed by his discomfort and jumpiness, she said, “So you can really feel through your shell?”
“Yeah,” he croaked.
They stared at each other. Then both spoke at once, “I gotta go.” “I like it.” He froze. She smiled. He blinked. They both spoke at the same time again, “Did you just say . . .” “It’s pretty.”
At that, Raph ducked his head and laughed, unable to stop the spreading grin. He covered his face with one hand. This was getting better and better. Oh my fucking god.
“What? It is!” she insisted and took her first sip with a half-smile on her lips.
His shoulders bounced. “That’s, uh, that’s great, I guess,” he said with a shake of his head and squinting his eyes. He prayed to god that she never mentioned in front of Leo that she thought his shell was pretty. He’d never live it down. “Ya know . . . I had a feelin’ you were kinda nuts when you showed up on the roof after Donnie’s message that first night, but now I know.”
She raised her brows. “Now you know.” A quirk of a smile danced across her lips.
“Yeah. ‘S right. Now I know you’re completely bonkers.”
They laughed in unison, warm and open, like friends, until it dissolved into chuckling and giggles.
“I should go.”
“Okay.”
He moved down the hallway and gathered his tools. April made a metal note to pick up a new toolbox for him the next time she passed a hardware store. His was dented and rusted. Maybe she’d bedazzle his name in little sparkly rhinestones for good measure. Now, that sounded like a plan. She decided she’d surprise him the next time she went down to visit them and smiled secretly, behind her knuckles, pleased with her covert idea and teasing.
“Hot water should be fine, now.”
“Thanks, Raph.”
“Don’ mention it,” he headed back towards her bedroom, casting a furtive glance at her bed, noting the dark satiny coverlet, the thick pillows; picturing her sleeping, snuggled in the soft depths and swallowed.
Her hand on his shell had him jumping. His heart was in his throat as he glanced back before slipping through the window into the frigid night air. Her eyes gleamed and the smile she gave him had him bumbling over the fire escape; heart racing, wondering still. Suddenly thinking he didn’t understand anything. Not one thing. Nothing at all.
Why’d she want to touch my shell in the first place? A notion slipped between the cracks of his denial and disbelief. And though he wanted to push it away, he lingered on the impossible idea that maybe she meant it, when she told him that she liked it. She said it’s pretty, he thought and smiled wryly as he ducked into the storm drain, pulling the large cover back in place.
“Yeah,” he fished the toothpick out from a pocket in his belt and stuck it in his mouth, working it down and around with his tongue and lips. “I’m a pretty boy,” he said with a smirk, voice echoing in the tunnel as he sauntered home.
um, could you please write a fluffy 2014 raphril fanfiction? i would do it myself but Im not that good at writing, and i love your work so much. you dont have to, I just wantde to ask
Okay, how about this!? Thanks to hotmilkytea not only inspiring me, but uh, educating me on what exactly a drabble is...I decided to challenge myself to write a little piece with your requested theme and keep it 100 words or less. Lemme tell ya - it was HARD! I always knew I was long winded but jfc. I think soon I'm going to offer myself up to drabble requests officially, because I think it may be a great way to practice limiting myself and keeping the writing (hopefully) sharp! What do you think, followers?
Thick fingers worried the corners of the gift, flattening and wrinkling; sweat stains marred the newsprint with grey smudges. It’d been originally wrapped in tissue paper, but Raphael’s fumbling tore through the delicate material, much to Michelangelo’s delight. He flushed deeply as Mikey’s taunt about certain feminine parts being just as fragile and likely to bruise under his ‘fat freak fingers’ surfaced.
He sighed, glaring at it just as her headlights illuminated the alley, bathing him in light. Eyes wide, his arm whipped behind him. The package dropped from his sweating palm, kicked behind a can.
Alright, so for those of you who stayed up to watch the livestream, or just saw the recording like me, of the Kraang Conspiracy episode, I have this kind of shipping theory, and I hope I'm not the only one to have this theory. Please, if this is an old theory and I'm just now picking up on this, I implore you; laugh at my slowness and let me know I didn't just make this myself.
Most of us are aware that Raph was originally intended to have this huge crush on April, but for fan reasons, they went with Donnie, right? And if you didn't know, well... now ya do.
And now, we have this scene where Raph tries to rescue April from the Kraang instead of Donnie, and their brilliantly written exchange has gotten me to thinking... ya know, after I was done squealing inside...
What if they're building up this huge "duel for April's heart" thing, and then the twist is, if she doesn't stay single, she winds up falling for Raph instead, and like originally intended, Raph eventually falls for her very naturally. |D Like, what if they did the whole Donnie vs Casey thing just to tease the shippers, and then Raph inadvertently trumps both of them because he doesn't treat her like a special little snowflake; he treats her the same as everyone else.
What if it's kinda to teach the fans a lesson? Like, "April is not a plot device to be used in a shipping war; she's her own person and she won't be fought over." And neither side wins because of their love-sick silliness and April winds up ironically falling for Raph and vice versa.
And then there's this whole drama about Raph accidentally breaking the Bro Code; ya know, "don't pine for thy brother's crush", kinda thing.
Or, an even more bizarre twist: April stays single until the series finale, or... never gets with ANYONE.
I know; shocking thought, right? It would ALMOST imply April's her own person and doesn't need a boyfriend of any kind to be a worthwhile character, right?
She froze as the door creaked behind her. Jutting her chin, she continued down the hallway, ignoring the soft breathy sound followed by the exasperated sigh. She stepped into the kitchen and immediately started to unload the dishwasher, slamming cabinet doors open and closed and clanking plates and silverware together. Raph winced at the loud sounds. His head was pounding and spinning. He should have never drank as much as he did. Hell, he should have just ignored that call he’d gotten hours ago from his supposed friend. He limped forward, bracing the wet towel against his oozing thigh.
“I hope you’re all cleaned up already. Because I’m not mopping up your blood.”
He staggered to a halt and glanced at the ragged line of cuts and scrapes dripping and dribbling down the frayed fabric of what was left of his favorite pair of leather pants. He grimaced for the loss more than the pain. He shuffled around, heading back to the bathroom and stopped. His shoulders slumped.
“Could use some help.”
“What was that?”
Of course she wasn’t going to make this easy. Raph felt his temper flare. He wouldn’t even be here if she didn’t nearly plow him over with the van. His fingers tightened around the rag in his hand. He’d had just about enough of women to last him for a lifetime. His sharp retort caught in his throat and died a swift death as he turned his face to meet her standing just behind him.
“Uh,” he started, then stopped, grinding his heels into the carpet. The force of the abrupt halt had her stumbling into his shell. They lurched forward a little.
“Little warning next time,” she laughed and adjusted her blouse as she moved in front of him. She backed up into the room and he remained glued to the spot. “Raph, you’re dripping on my hallway carpeting.”
He jumped as if receiving a small electric jolt and hurried into the room. She motioned for him to sit on a computer chair that she had wheeled away from a small desk tucked into the corner of her room. The space was small and cramped. Hardly enough room for the queen sized bed besides a desk and dresser. He limped and turned to sit, but she caught him under his arms. Inadvertently tickling him. He jerked and shrugged away from her.
“Stop,” he barked.
She cocked a brow, ignoring how he ducked his head and kept his gaze down, fiddling with the rag in his hands. April came up to him. Close. Very, very close. He raised his eyes. She slowly moved her hands to slip beneath the rag to the button of his pants. He stiffened. Eyes bouncing between hers with a deep frown. Her fingers undid the button and his breath hitched as she unzipped his fly. His hands dropped the rag and he gripped her wrists, hard. It was her turn to catch her breath. She swallowed and licked her lips. He watched the movement of her tongue sweeping over them with an intense gaze that had her heart thumping.
“They have to come off,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
He blinked several times, coming back from whatever had just gripped him. He relented, released her wrists and nodded. He braced himself as she drove her thumbs under his waist band and carefully but firmly slid the pants over his hips, crouching as she continued down, mindful of his torn up leg. His stomach tightened and his eyes were locked on the ceiling as her face came within an inch of his groin. His earlier unsatisfied arousal reignited with a ferocity that physically hurt. A tremor went through him as her breath ghosted across his thigh. It took all of his strength to remain hidden; he drew on his earlier humiliation for composure. And while that was enough, a small strangled sound still erupted out of him. He hastily cleared his throat, trying to cover the sound. At the same time his knees gave out, causing him to land heavily into the chair behind him.
April, seemingly ignorant of what her proximity was doing to him, pulled the pants free from his legs. They never really wore clothes around the lair, usually donning the items for disguise or for protection from the elements. He was almost always free of any garments when April was around but there was something erotic about her undressing him like this. He felt oddly exposed and his legs twitched and pulled together. His hands fidgeted on his lap, fingers yanking and toying with the ends of the rag, pulling it free from where he'd sat on it. He jumped as she ran her hand up from the top of his foot to his knee and gently turned his leg to examine the scrapes and cuts.
“Uh, uhum, ahem,” he cleared his throat again and shifted.
She made a hissing sound and he felt a sharp jab as she brushed some embedded gravel free. He stared at the top of her head, stomach tight and roiling, heart slamming against his ribs and head swimming. She gave him a pat, stood up and left the room. He released his held breath and ran a shaking hand over his grimy face.
What a night. If he made it to the morning in one piece he was gonna dismember Casey Jones and scatter his charred remains over the Hudson River. More gruesome and much more violent thoughts of what he was going to enact against his imbecile of a friend were interrupted as April returned. She had a first aid kit tucked under her arm, a fresh wash cloth and a bottle of what looked like something that would sting. She gave him a reassuring smile and knelt, rolling his knee to one side once more to start cleaning out his burning wounds.
“You should be grateful, you know. You’re really lucky you didn’t break anything.”
He huffed, “Yeah. It’s been a charmed night.” He hissed a little between gritted teeth as she pressed the antiseptic doused rag up against one of his deeper cuts.
She looked up at him, green eyes gleaming in the dim light, “Sorry, big guy.”
“It’s nothin’,” he said thickly and turned his face to lean his mouth against one fist, elbow propped on the armrest of the chair.
“What were you doing out there?” she asked and gingerly cleaned more of his injuries.
He shrugged.
“Leo said Casey called you out there. Why? Didn’t he know it was your birthday today?” she asked. She had been at the lair earlier for cake and had given him a wicked switch blade with a black Pakkawood handle. In it was engraved the words 'fierce tiger' in Kanji. It was gorgeous. He had decided he’d never be parted from it. It was laying in one of the hidden pockets of his jacket in the living room.
“Uh, yeah. He, uh, um, wanted to give me a gift,” he said with a rough chuckle, meaning to be sarcastic but unfortunately, he didn’t anticipate the questions and all the trouble that the simple statement would raise.
“Oh? What did he get you?” she asked, brow raised and her eyes raked over his face, landing on the side of his neck to see the smears of what was too pink to be blood. He squirmed as her eyes widened then narrowed. He felt something shift in the air between them then. “I see,” she sighed and dug the rag roughly over a series of scraps hard enough to have his back arch and his toes curl.
“Unf! What the hell was that for?”
“Oh, did that hurt? I’m sorry.”
Her voice was flat and anything except apologetic. He shot her a baffled look. She continued cleaning and wrapping bandaids onto some of his smaller cuts, still with a rough edge to her handling. He moved his leg and pushed the chair back a little. Maybe this was a bad idea. She snatched the front of the chair between his legs and jerked it back towards herself and went back to what she was doing. He opened his mouth to say he could take it from there, but she cut him off.
“So, did you enjoy your gift?” she said and her voice was dripping with something acidic.
“Uh, um, n-not especially,” he muttered and rubbed his face. “Can we talk about something else?”
“I guess I know why you were drinking so much. Oh, that Jones.” She shook her head and clenched her jaw.
“Can you drop it?”
“Hopefully you didn’t catch anything.”
“What?”
“Oh, you’re right. She probably came prepared.” She tied the gauze, pulling the ends with a sharp yank. He gritted his teeth against the pain. April seemed pissed about something. Really pissed. But his drunk mind could not make the connection. But the next thing she said locked everything into place with an almost painful clarity. “So, tell me. Was she pretty?”
His mouth hung open. He snapped it closed. “Wh-What?”
“Nevermind,” she gathered up the supplies with jerking motions. She stood up, “I don’t want to know. I don't ever, ever want to know.”
“April.”
She took two steps and stopped. Speaking to the room, back to him she said, “No, seriously. It’s fine.” Now her voice was full of genuine apology. Her shoulders slumped. “I mean, you’re a grown man, now. I shouldn’t . . . judge. I’m sorry.”
His mouth opened and closed but he had no idea what to say. He stood up and limped towards her, completely confused and unsure but something in the back of his mind was scratching at the door of comprehension. He touched her arm and she shrugged away from him. She marched out of the room and he sat down on her bed, lost. When she came back into the room, she had a smile plastered on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Okay. You’re all set.” She glanced around and said to the floor. “I think I’m going to go to bed now.”
Raph shook his head, still trying to understand what was going on, but she just stood there, saying nothing more. The silence stretched out and became uneasy and more uncomfortable with each passing second. Slowly, he came to his feet, looking around, mouth open slightly. Completely lost.
“Uh, okay. Um, Let me get out of your way.”
As he moved past her, she murmured, “Happy birthday, Raphael. Hope it was worth it.”
He froze and tilted his head. “April.” He sighed and forced out what he needed to say, “If there’s somethin’ ya need to say to me, then just spit it out. ‘Cuz I can tell you’re pissed but I have no idea what I did ta make ya so mad at me.”
“I-I’m not mad.”
“Oh.”
“I’m just . . .”
He waited, holding his breath.
“Surprised.”
He frowned. She hugged herself. Shook her head. A nervous laugh erupted out of her. She was going to brush it off but something was screaming at him to hold onto this moment of honesty. He grabbed her arm and turned her to him. Her chuckling cut off immediately and she gazed into his eyes with a serious and sad expression.
“What do ya mean? Surprised at what?”
She gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “I just . . . I dunno. I guess I thought maybe you . . . you didn’t find human women attractive.”
Raphael’s face dropped into a frown. “What?” He had no idea where this was coming from. “Wait a minute, what gave you that idea?”
“Actually, you know what? It’s none of my business.” Her voice was rising and the tone got harsher, even as a smile spread across her mouth and it wasn’t pretty. It was savage. “I mean, if you want to have sex with some-some skanky, scummy prostitute. . .”
His eyes turned into circles. His breath sucked in. “You’re right,” he snapped, letting go of her arm, cheeks blazing. The humiliation and regret wrapped long fingers around his throat. She stumbled back a step. “That’s none of your god damn business.”
“That’s why I’m surprised, Raph,” she went on and he stared at her in disbelief. “I just thought Splinter instilled some kind of morality . . .”
He came up on her then, fast and imposing, cutting off whatever else she was about to say. He couldn’t deal with this bullshit. Not tonight. Not after the humiliation he’d endured. The shame still burning bright in his gut. The self-loathing churning and churning into something thick and cloying. He stared hard into her eyes and she met his fierce gaze coolly. Then she pushed him. He barely moved but he was stunned. She pushed him again, then punching him against his plastron with the base of her fists.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he growled and caught her wrists. He could snap her in two, not that he'd ever lay a finger on her. But he was nobody's punching bag.
She turned her head to the side and laughed, then swore. His eyes widened at her outburst.
“April, are you . . . are you drunk?” he asked with a shake of his head.
“I wish I was.” She bit her bottom lip. “Oh god. Let me go, Raph. Please.”
He shook his head. “No way. Hell no. You gotta explain this to me. What the fuck is goin’ on with you?”
She turned her face to his. Her glassy eyes bounced between his. “I just . . . why would you waste that?”
He shook his head, his face a mask of complete confusion. What was she talking about? He really wished he understood. But she had him baffled. At one moment she seemed concerned about him, then pissed, then all weird and then apologetic and then pissed as hell at him again, trying to fight with him like a nut job, and then back to that sad sort of regretful tone in her voice. What the hell was happening? He opened his mouth as his fingers loosened their grip on her arms, intending to tell her he would just call it a night and to forget about the bizarre conversation. But he never got the chance.
The world came crashing down all around him as she moved swiftly forward; crushing her mouth to his. He stumbled backwards, the strength in his legs fled, knees going out from under him. His arms pin-wheeled around and he knocked over the bottles of perfume, the stack of books and papers from her dresser. She fell on top of him and his body was rocked by lust and desire so strong it dragged him under where he thought he’d never surface again.
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A/N: FINALLY we shall get to the sex. hahah, I'm so sorry it took so long to get to it.
