Chapter Text
Donnie’s lips were often a focal point between your conversations together.
He’d picked up on it one night at 4am. The buzz of his fourth cup of coffee vibrating within him. The conversation was light and soft spoken on the couch of the makeshift living room in the lair. You were wearing an oversized shirt, hands cupping a mug of hot chocolate. He smells the combination of the chocolate and a scent that’s so very you.
He watches your eyes slide from your mug and land on his mouth. Your pupils dilate and the softest sigh escapes your mouth.
Donnie picks up on everything, any breathing pattern, every slump of shoulders, hands fisting. You name it, he sees it. Does he know the technical aspects of why? Most certainly.
Does he fully understand the emotional possibilities? He’s still working on it.
Social cues and all. The gist of it he gets but sometimes he could be ignorant to it.
Donnie expresses worry over new threats attacking New York. You reach and hand out to his knee and soothe as best as you can. It’s in the little details that he suspects something he’s often wondered about. Often and quietly wished for.
To be liked by the likes of you.
To be desired like any normal man wishes to be.
Key word: Normal.
You stay up with him that night and he pushes the thoughts away.
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His suspicions grow more one rainy night standing on your fire escape.
Donatello’s soaked to the bone as you usher him in, scolding him about chest colds. He chuckles as you grab his glasses to dry the moisture.
“It’s alright, honestly. I was close by, rain just caught me by surprise” His hands reach out to yours to take his glasses. You can’t help but lift your gaze and he’s there dripping wet, eyes squinting ever so slightly.
Your first instinct is to chuckle.
He always did look precious without his glasses. An openness and vulnerability to him. He laughs with you knowing he must look ridiculous as he accumulates a puddle on your living room floor.
“Duck down, dork” You manage between fits of giggles and he does, much like any request you could ask him, he complies wordlessly. You slide his glasses on, cheeks soar from smiling so much.
It’s there again, Donnie can’t help but feel it stab him in the chest. Your eyes on his lips, the orbs shake before they meet his gaze and he’s so close.
God he’s so close.
A needle could drop and the sound would be deafening. Donnie sees it in slow motion, your hands cupping his cheeks, a tentative thumb swiping at a droplet of water running down his chin. He can’t breath, he can’t breath, he can’t breath.
Your thumb runs across his bottom lip and the gentleness of it guts Donnie. Why would you treat him as if he was a fragile gem, one of a kind and too precious. His breath catches in his throat and for a second he curses his anxiety thinking you might take it as fear.
Fear pushes Donnie.
It pushes him forward though.
His forehead resting against yours and your thumb explores the outline of his full lips. He can feel the slight anxious shake with each stroke. Your eyes close and Donnie wants to do the same but fuck this is beautiful to him.
No project, no victory, no nothing has been this beautiful than the energy leaving your body as you blindly take in every detail of his lips.
Your breath is warm, fingers soft.
The ringing of his phone shatters it all and reality comes to the forefront.
“I-I’m sorry, I gotta-“ He sees Leo’s name blinking in tune to the music, he wants to hurl the device against the wall. “Duty calls” You say, face red and arms crossed. You’re suddenly preoccupied by the puddle.
When Donnie climbs out to the fired escape he looks back and sees you. Hands resting against your flushed cheeks. The very same thumb that had mapped out every line on his mouth presses against your lips.
Donnie doesn’t remember the last time his heart wanted to hammer out of his chest this badly.
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Your touch ghost over his lips every day. Like being zapped by a taser at random moments. Every project he starts and or finishes isn’t distracting enough.
Donnie walks by the kitchen where he sees you sitting with Mikey playing cards and laughing. The sound nest in his veins, the way your face breaks out into a smile, your excessive need to push back your locks. All of it maddening and infuriating to him.
He makes his way to the garage figuring he could work on the truck and try submerging his body and soul into repairs. Get this sensation on his lips to die down.
Push away how you smell so close to him, how ablaze your skin was, how sure he was...
He grabs a wrench and a few more tools and kneels next to a tire.
It’s a couple of hours before you walk in bare feet, two bottles of water in hand and a soft smile.
Donnie’s messing with a tablet he’s thinking of hooking up to the truck when he hears he light steps. Will his heart ever stop what it does when it sees you?
The large hoodie comes down to the middle of your thighs but Donnie catches a peak at some frilly shorts you keep down here for sleep overs.
His mind wants to wander, your thighs, your spread thighs. Would you want him there? Lips so intimately pressed, the softness as they press against his face, your taste-
“Donnie? I asked if you were thirsty?” You’re holding out a bottle and he feels his throat go dryer. If only you knew what his minds eye could bring to him at the most inappropriate of times.
“Yes, sorry, I’m a little scatter brained tonight” He reaches for the water, taking a big enough gulp to drink half of it.
“What’s cooking in that big brain of yours? Trucks looking good by the way” Your hand runs across a panel he had been fixing, crouching to get a better look. “6 course meals worth of rewiring, soldering, upgrades- frankly it’s still a work in progress. Gotta get her perfect” Donnie discards the bottle and kneels next to you.
“I’m sure she is, you’re just being critical as per usual” She looks over to you, hair messy and eyes smudged slightly In black from taking off her makeup no guess. You’re staying over, he thinks absentmindedly. “I’m only critical when I know I can do better” He says matter of fact, his forefinger runs across your cheek. “Are you out of makeup wipes?” Your brows furrow but he sees the crimson appear across your cheeks and he secretly delights in it.
“Did I miss a spot?” You ask playfully. Donnie smiles, softly wiping the black smudge away. He’s aware how his hand fits against your cheek, massive digits prominent. Your were so small compared to him. The height difference something that often made your own skin flush when thoughts, more of , arose.
Donnie isn’t aware he’s been caressing your cheek for a solid two minutes until he feels you lean into it. He swallows but can’t stop. “It’s late... you should sleep soon” Your words are low and affectionate. Donnie wants to yank you forward, claim your mouth, show you what he’s fantasized every night in bed.
He’s stuck there, frozen and he can’t help but chant in his head, loser loser loser. Your eyes scan his mouth and it’s painful at this point.
Then you lean into his wrist and kiss the pulse point there. His body feels so warm, he’s never had a part of his kissed by a girl.
A girl he can’t stop thinking about.
You linger before stealing a glance at him.
“Goodnight, Don” it’s whispered and he can sense your nerves making your knees weak as you stand.
He isn’t suspicious anymore.