Chapter Text
RAPHAEL KNOWS IT'S WRONG—
—he knows, okay?
He knows it's wrong to feel a burst of warmth travel through his veins under your every touch. He knows it's wrong to let his breath hitch each time you so much as look his way. He knows it's wrong to have his heart pound and his face flush and his pupils dilate every. single. instance in which you enter the same damn room as him.
He knows.
But fuck if he can't help it.
It's just not fair.
Leo has it all.
He's dad's favourite. He's the leader of the group. He's mastered meditation and self-control. And now, to top it all off, as if the world truly wants to put a cherry on top of the giant 'fuck you' ice cream it gives to Raphael, Leo's got you.
You, the only girl who can make Raph stumble over himself and stutter like an absolute idiot simply by flashing a smile his way.
Idiot, huh? What an amazingly fitting word for how he feels right now, sitting here with a wound on his leg that is practically begging for your attention despite his desperate need for you to stay away. Truly, in every sense of the word, an idiot.
"—Raph? Raphael?"
He blinks, eyes widening and head reeling back at the proximity of your face, doe-eyed and staring up at him inquisitively.
He clears his throat. "Uh, yeah?"
Instantly, your eyes grow lidded, stare heavy and accusing as you claim, "You weren't listening to me, were you?"
The ninja averts his eyes, cheeks warm. "...Nah."
Though his aversion doesn't last long, for soon, the sound of your sigh enters his ears, and it coaxes his gaze straight back to you (or maybe it's the fact that he can't keep his eyes off of you for long that really coaxes his gaze back).
You're sitting there, on your knees, fingers threading through your temples to unwind the knots he's no doubt given you from his usual reckless behaviour on patrol, knots which he might as well have hand-tied for your utter inconvenience.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. How stupid of him to worry you like that.
"I asked how you got the wound on your leg."
Raphael blinks, vision flooded with the sight of your crossed arms and furrowed brows, bunched together in that familiar stern little look he recognises you give to anyone that gets hurt. The one that screams every ounce of concern and care you hold for them in your golden heart.
"Just..." he starts after a beat of just staring at you like an idiot, "a run-in with foot soldiers. It's fine. Doesn't hurt much."
"It's not fine, Raph," you respond, jerking a brow up and uncrossing one arm to extend it out as you speak, "It's never fine. You're too reckless. You keep getting yourself hurt! How is that, at all, 'fine'?"
The ninja grits his teeth, the action itself stiff and tense and looking just about ready to shatter his jaw with how much he holds back a scathing remark. It's weird, really. If any other person came at him with that tone, his jaw wouldn't be at such risk of shattering from restraint.
But you're not just any other person.
He shuts his eyes, lets out a sigh, and waits for a beat to pass before opening them again.
You're still looking at him—though your gaze is different, softer—and once you see that he's willing to (somewhat) make eye contact once more, your form slumps, another sigh drawing from your lips; one hot and heavy and just about tickling the surface of his skin enough to send a shudder through his whole body.
"Just... let me take a look at it."
Your fingers stretch out, time slowing down and everything, everywhere, all but halting in place to leave him suspended in space; in a stupid cloud of pink fluffiness that's not at all appropriate for the current situation.
But fuck, it's not like he can help it. Not when his heart is beating a million times a minute, not when the damn thing is screeching in his ear so loud, he's sure he'll grow deaf before your hand even has a chance of touching him.
And you know what the funny thing is? He's not sure he'll even mind that much.
Raphael jerks, thoughts burnt through like logs in a fireplace when flames flicker over his leg, spreading through the limb and travelling through his veins until it shoots right into the beating organ at the centre of his chest.
He sees you frown, retracting your hand and undoubtedly mistaking his flinch to be one of pain.
"See how it's not fine?"
Raph huffs in response.
With a sigh, you push yourself up onto your feet, jumping over the couch and heading straight towards Donnie's lab with the brute's eyes trailing your back like a hawk, never once leaving your form until it completely disappears behind the large, metallic doors.
The room bathes in silence.
A beat passes before the ninja breathes in, closing his eyes and taking this moment to really gather himself so he can, at least, not appear like an utter fool in your presence—
—but of course, as soon as you return with the supplies to patch him up in your hands, he instantly falls back apart.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Raphael?
A clank sounds by his feet.
He blinks, the muscles around his eyes loosening up as they flicker to the side, spotting a metal tray next to your outstretched fingers.
You're quiet as you pick up a bottle and a cloth, lips slightly sticking out and brows furrowed hard and nose scrunched up all cute-like in that stupidly adorable concentrated face you make that just makes him want to—
No. Stop it. She's Leo's girl, dumbass. Not yours.
The turtle hisses.
You curse, breath once again fanning over his limb. "Sorry, do you need something to—?"
"Nah. Didn't I say it was fine? Keep going."
Your lips pull down, and he knows why, but you don't say anything, so neither does he.
Or well, at least, you don't say anything until swiping over his wound again and hearing him let out another hiss.
"Sorry..."
"Ya don't have to apologise every time ya do it, y'know."
"No..." you trail off, pausing, and you're almost right up against his leg—so close, he's sure you won't have to worry about wiping up too much of his blood because of how all of it shoots straight up to his face, "I meant: for yelling earlier."
Raphael blinks.
"I know I can be a bit much," you continue, ignoring his silence, "but I do it because I care about you"—his breath hitches—"because I care about all of you"—his shoulders fall—"and I just... I guess I just don't like seeing you hurt all the time."
"Then I guess I'll just have'ta get better at coming out unscathed, huh?"
You blink, eyes flickering up to his as he smirks down at you.
Then you laugh.
And his chest flutters.
"Yeah, sure."
Silences swims over you two again, but it's much more comfortable now—or well... as comfortable as it can get with the beating of his heart still swallowing up his ears.
You're just way too close, and your breath is hitting him way too often, and just—fuck, one would think having scales would at least provide some sort of barrier between the air and skin, but nooo, it just makes it feel all the more intimate when your breath leaks in between the cracks.
Leo's girl. Leo's girl. Leo's girl.
"Shit."
"Bear with me, Raph. Just a bit longer."
His eyes shoot open.
Must've said that out loud.
You pull away, and Raphael watches as you set down the now red-soaked cloth on the tray you brought in, some of the liquid dripping off the material and staining the grey surface after you do so.
His eyes then flicker back to your face, partly obscured by the angle, but still somehow vivid in his mind's eye, ingrained like writing on the walls of Egyptian architecture, except even that can wear down after enough time has passed, and Raphael's sure no matter how long passes, your image will never be anything if not amazingly clear whenever he closes his eyes—
—and that's the problem.
"Alright. You know the drill."
The ninja wastes no time, adjusting his seat and jutting his leg out just a bit more as he steels himself and takes in a large breath.
Your fingers are gentle against him, kind and loving. Sweet. Just like you.
You tend to him like glass, like he'll shatter under your touch. How do you do it? How do you be so careful, yet also wrap him up so tight, his blood can barely leak through?
Fuck, and the way you get even closer when you're wrapping him up too. Do you even notice it? Do you even notice how your lips are a breath away from touching his skin? Do you even notice how your chest is pressed right up against his leg, and how you're almost practically sitting on his foot when you reach around?
Do you?
'Cause he sure does.
"That should do it."
Raphael registers a pat on his lower leg before you pull away, the roll of gauze in your hand slowly placed upon that same tray, though a notable distance away from the used cloth in the corner.
"All good to go, doc?"
Your eyes find his as you get up, the tray resting on your hip in a way that makes him stare. "Yup!"
Then you take a step away, and an alarm goes off in his head.
He gulps, a voice inside screaming at him to do something—say something—just to get you to stick around for that tad bit longer.
But turns out, he doesn't even need to do anything for that to happen.
"Oh yeah, uh, Raph?"
The turtle blinks, cheeks warming up as he takes in your form.
You've stopped in the middle of the room, tray still resting on your hip and fingers constantly curling and un-curling around the edge as your gaze stays trained to the floor, your foot twisting over it like it's trying to dig a hole.
"Yeah?"
Your head tilts up, and you look at him with those pinched brows again—that clouded gaze and that worried frown. Though, unlike last time, your eyes are rounded at the edges, and your mouth opens to release words that hold no bite.
"Stay safe for me, okay?"
Something warm blooms from the centre of his chest, and his lips curl up softly.
"Sure thing, princess."
You continue to stare at him for a second longer, and something scarily close to... hope ignites in his soul... before ultimately being extinguished when your gaze clears up and you nod, lips twitching up to match his.
You walk away after that, with him awaiting the click of the door behind you in order to finally let himself go, to finally release a breath and throw back his head and just... stare.
And as he sits there—the sight of the grey pipes hanging above barely registering to his eyes—only one thought echoes in his mind:
Ahhh, shit.