Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Text Messages
Donnie: Alex, are you actually going to join the game this century? Why the delay?
Alex: Coming! You wouldn’t believe the war just now between a potato, a pot, and the stove.
Donnie: Haha, sounds like the start of a fantasy quest. Did it end with a moral about friendship and kindness?
Alex: Haha, nope. Those stats aren’t unlocked in my inventory yet.
End of Messages

Donnie grinned, exited the chat, and was about to dial her number when a notification popped up: Player EmeraldByte has joined the game.

He laughed again. Her nickname always cracked him up (even if his own was BootyyyShaker9000 — not exactly subtle).

“Donnie!” a cheerful voice rang through the phone. “You’re impossible! Half an hour? That’s nothing!”

“Half an hour, Alex!” he said, mock-serious. “Alright, we’ll discuss later. Which class are you picking?”

The game menu appeared: three classes — Alchemist, Star DJ, and Beast Tamer.

“Hmm, one sec…” she tapped her nails on the table. “I’m going Alchemist! They say the devs totally peeked at real herbalists’ recipes. Maybe it’ll work in real life too? I could brew a potion for homework. And you? You’d rock as a Beast Tamer!”

Her laugh filled the line. Donnie shook his head.

“Almost, but no. I’m going DJ. Flexing talent, you know,” he said, pressing the button as the loading bar spun. “But this time — no cheating.”

A teasing giggle came from the speaker.

“Pot, meet kettle! Who cheats all the time again?”

“Me? Never!” Donnie flailed dramatically.

“Oh really?” Alex’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Who sent me the cheat codes for The Purple Game? Or used them to crush April? Who shoved your brother off his chair during the race?”

“Okay, okay! Stop!” Donnie grabbed the phone. “Using a few games of ‘Truth or Dare’ against me is low.”

“Hey, nobody pointed a blaster at your head. You spilled it yourself. Dee, you’re way too trusting.”

He went quiet. Yeah, he’d told her a lot… but not everything. Not the important stuff. Not yet.

They played well into the night, laughing and teasing each other. When they finally logged off, it was past one a.m. Alex cited school and said goodbye. Donnie was left in the quiet of the lab.

He got up and went to the kitchen — nights like this always left him with a light, happy feeling. He should thank April for dragging him into this video-call tutoring adventure (without the camera, of course). Too bad he couldn’t see Alex in person. He couldn’t imagine her reaction to a giant turtle with a shell.

Leo was already there, sipping herbal tea from his blue mug, watching Donnie with a sly smile.

Donnie grabbed a slice of pizza and sat down.

“Gaming late again?” Leo squinted over his mug.

Donnie froze mid-bite. The red-eared turtle looked like a living patience test, and annoyance was creeping into his shell corners.

“Insomnia again, Nardo?” Donnie sighed. He knew the longer Leo pressed, the harder it would be to wriggle out.

Leo shrugged, smug grin in place — the one that made Donnie’s eye twitch.

“Maybe…” Leo said briefly, standing and leaving his mug in the sink. His gaze locked on Donnie’s. “Come on, Dee. Who’s got you chirping so adorably?”

Donnie swallowed. Only April knew he’d been texting and gaming with Alex. He hadn’t told his brothers — too personal. But they’d noticed the little smiles at his phone. And it wasn’t about the gadgets.

“I… uh… with… April! Yeah!” Donnie blurted, eyes darting like a panther. Face-to-face lying never worked for him.

Leo only nodded slightly, a wider smile on his lips. He didn’t believe it, but he didn’t push. Knowing Donnie, pressing further would end with a lab disaster.

“As you say,” Leo said, heading out, still smirking. “Since when do you get all flustered about April?”

“None of your business!” Donnie threw a slice of pizza, but Leo had already disappeared behind the door.

Donnie sighed and returned to the lab, the mix of slight anxiety and the warm afterglow of gaming — and thinking about Alex — settling over him.

Chapter Text

The next day, Donnie was in his lab, elbows-deep in code, fine-tuning a new update for Sheldon — his endlessly talkative drone assistant, who hovered above his head, babbling nonstop.

“...and that’s why, statistically speaking, I am the most efficient AI companion in the la—”

“Uh-huh, sure you are,” Donnie mumbled absently, tightening a circuit connection. He nodded every now and then just to keep Sheldon’s ego intact.

Then his eyes flicked to his phone. A green dot glowed next to Alex’s name. Online.
He glanced at the clock. 12:20.

“Wait… doesn’t she have class right now?” he muttered, grabbing his phone and firing off a quick text.

Chat
Donnie: You do have class right now. Don’t tell me you’re skipping again.
Alex: Skipping? I wish. I’m in class, physically. Mentally? Long gone.
Donnie: That bad?
Alex: You have no idea. If our history teacher praises Napoleon one more time like he’s the second coming of Sun Tzu, I swear I’ll headbutt my desk.
Donnie: Sounds… educational.
Alex: Torture, you mean. At least it’s Friday, and we get shorter lessons. Otherwise I’d go feral by now.

Donnie snorted. April had told him about those legendary debates — apparently, Alex could go toe-to-toe with any teacher when it came to humanities.
Still… part of him wanted to see it himself.

Chat continues
Donnie: Just remember, you still need your sanity intact for our session later. Trig doesn’t solve itself.
Alex: Oh please, as if I could ever forget. Don’t worry, I’ve got just enough sanity left to survive you.
Alex: Crap, teacher’s heading my way. Gotta go! See you later!
Donnie: Copy that. See you.

Donnie set the phone down, realizing he was smiling like an idiot. He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and muttered,
“Focus, Donatello. Work now, mushy feelings later.”

With that, he turned back to Sheldon’s update — though the grin still tugged faintly at the corners of his mouth.

***

Donnie had just finished installing the updates and ran one last systems check. Sheldon spun happily above his head, letting out a satisfied little “bzzz!” Donnie watched him over the rim of his glasses, lounging back in his chair.

“Alright, Sheldon. Upgrade’s done. But if any glitches show up, report immediately. Not like last time.”

The memory of last time made him grimace. He hadn’t accounted for the processor’s parameters, the code went off the rails, and Sheldon—deciding not to “bother the boss”—had turned the lair into a disaster zone and almost blown himself up. Donnie had sworn never to let that kind of sloppiness happen again.

“Copy that, dude. I’ll keep you posted,” Sheldon said with the gravity of a “battle-hardened toaster veteran” before zipping out of the lab.

Donnie nodded and glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until his tutoring session with Alex. He grabbed his notebook, logged into the video call, and—as usual—kept his camera off. A faint flicker of nerves stirred in his chest.

He hadn’t exactly been thrilled about this tutoring thing at first, but… yeah, Donnie had to admit he actually liked their lessons. Talking to Alex was easy. She was sharp, witty, sarcastic—and most importantly, she didn’t judge him. Not for being secretive, not for keeping his camera off, not for being the definition of “intense.”

A few minutes later, the call connected. Alex’s calm face appeared on the screen, bathed in the warm glow of a desk lamp. A short neon-green bob peeked out from under her beanie—April had once mentioned it actually glowed in the dark. Her gray eyes looked straight into the camera, and Donnie silently thanked himself for keeping his own camera off. He cleared his throat.

“Good evening, Miss EmeraldByte. How was your epic history class?”

Alex smiled and matched his tone perfectly.
“And a good evening to you, Sir BootyyyShaker. The class was… average. Keeping a straight face was harder than expected, but I survived. What about you?”

“Also average,” Donnie shrugged. “But don’t think that’s getting you out of trigonometry.”

“Donnie, you’re a tyrant!” Alex threw her hands up dramatically, then broke into laughter. “A mysterious tyrant, sure—but a helpful one.”

Donnie allowed himself a small smile and they got to work. Everything went as usual: they solved problems, Donnie explained with patience, and Alex muttered that it all sounded like “mathematical gibberish.” The hour slipped by faster than either of them realized.

“That’s all for today,” Donnie said, closing his notebook. “Same time tomorrow?”

“D, I’d love to…” Alex propped her chin on her hand, a hint of frustration crossing her face. “But my mom’s sister is coming over tomorrow. And her only day off is officially my personal nightmare.”

“Not a fan, I take it?”

“You don’t know my aunt,” Alex sighed. “Let’s just say tact and verbal filters belong to a different universe for her. It’s gonna be a long day. But I’ll text you if I need rescuing from the madhouse, deal?”

“Deal. Just try not to lose your mind. Night, Alex.”

“Night, Donnie.”

The screen went dark. Donnie stared at the blank monitor for a few moments, then powered down the computer. The lab fell silent again—only the steady hum of machines filled the air. He took a deep breath and buried himself back in work… though her voice still lingered somewhere in his thoughts.

***

“Ohhh, Mister ‘I’m-busy-working’,” drawled a familiar voice. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a secret math date going on today?”

Donnie jerked so hard he nearly dropped his soldering iron.

“Leo!” He turned around, glaring daggers. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“Of course I’ve heard of it,” Leo said casually, strolling in and hopping onto the edge of the table like he owned the place. “I just don’t use it.”

Donnie rolled his eyes and turned back to his monitor, hoping his twin would get bored and leave. Naturally, Leo didn’t.

“Okay, let me guess…” Leo lifted a finger, pretending to investigate. “You’re sitting here alone, smiling at a blank screen, talking with your camera off… sounds like the next big hit — ‘The Nerd and the Mystery Girl.’”

“It’s called tutoring,” Donnie hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m helping someone with trigonometry.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you are.” Leo nodded, looking far too smug. “Is ‘trigonometry’ what we’re calling it these days?”

“Leonardo!” Donnie slammed his palm on the table. “It is NOT a date!”

“Of course, of course, bro,” Leo said, jumping down and heading for the door. But he tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Funny, though… I’ve never seen you this happy about plain old math before.”

Donnie grabbed the nearest wrench and hurled it at him. The door slammed shut, followed by Leo’s triumphant laughter echoing down the hall.

“Stupid red-eared showoff,” Donnie muttered, turning back to his screen. But despite himself, a faint smile lingered on his face.

Chapter Text

The next day, Donnie was hunched over the lab bench, buried in yet another experiment. Sheldon zipped around the ceiling, humming a looping electronic melody, while Donnie tried to focus on his formulas — though his gaze kept sneaking to the phone lying nearby.

Don’t even look, he told himself. She’s busy with her aunt.

Of course, the universe didn’t listen. A few minutes later, the screen blinked with a notification. Donnie’s resolve crumbled. He reached for the phone.

Messages
Alex: Dee, I’m officially drowning.
Donnie: Not a figure of speech, I take it?
Alex: Sadly, no. Auntie’s been here since morning. She doesn’t stop. Three hours in, she’s still going on about “how different things were in her youth.”
Donnie: Classic. I can offer noise-cancelling headphones… or maybe a portal to another dimension.
Alex: Portal sounds tempting. As long as there’s no return ticket.
Alex: She just told me how she met Uncle “through a shared love of borscht.” Dee, I’m not joking. She literally said: “I knew he was the one when he sliced the beets just right.”

Donnie smirked, pressing a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Donnie: Clearly… the pinnacle of romance.
Alex: Yep. And then came a lecture on how “modern youth doesn’t appreciate true values.”
Donnie: I assume she didn’t mean integrals or neural networks?
Alex: Sadly, no.
Alex: She went through my closet. Said “black and gray are the colors of loneliness,” and tried to make me wear a pink cardigan “so someone would finally notice.”
Donnie: Hope you fought her off?
Alex: Physically, yes. Morally… I lost.
Alex: And now she’s sitting across from me saying I “should find a good boyfriend and think about my future.” Quote: “A woman’s main goal is to get married before time runs out.”
Donnie: …
Donnie: Fascinating. Here I thought the main goals were growth, knowledge, and scientific achievement.
Alex:Try telling her that — she’ll call you a “cold, emotionless bot.”
Donnie: Been there. Already called that.
Alex: Lucky for you, we’re in the same boat. “Too smart, too weird, and too lonely.”

Donnie’s fingers hovered over the keyboard for a beat. Then he typed:

Donnie: Maybe that’s not such a bad combination of traits.

A few seconds passed. Then her reply came, short but warm:

Alex: You know… yeah. Especially if there’s someone nearby who actually gets it.

For a moment, the lab felt a little warmer, even though the thermometer hadn’t budged. Donnie set the phone down and allowed himself a quiet, almost shy smile.

Sheldon hovered over his shoulder, scanning every inch of his face.

“Hey, Donnie, did your microchips melt? You’ve got… a smile!”
“No, Sheldon. Just… stable system operation,” Donnie replied, though his eyes immediately flicked back to the phone, where Alex’s name still glowed online.

And for a few seconds, he let himself enjoy it — the quiet, the glow, the tiny warmth that had nothing to do with the lab’s heaters.

***

That same evening, around eleven, Donnie was sitting at his computer when a video call notification from Alex popped up.

So, she had survived the visit with her aunt after all.

He accepted the call (camera off, as usual). Alex appeared on the screen—and Donnie couldn’t help but snort.

Her face—or rather, her sour expression—was lit by the same desk lamp. Colored strands of hair fell over her eyes, and perched on her shoulder was a tiny three-month-old kitten named Midnight, quietly and ominously purring. Somehow, the whole scene looked less like talking to a person and more like conversing with a miniature gremlin, exhausted from hating the world.

“You look genuinely villainous, Alex,” Donnie said, pressing a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh. “So… did you actually commit a crime against your own aunt?”

“Keep your pockets open, Donnie,” she sighed. “Though if I were alone with her… who knows.”

“Judging by what you texted earlier, I might’ve even helped hide the evidence,” Donnie squinted, recalling their chat about “a woman’s main goal.” “But you survived bravely. Congratulations on your victory over chaos.”

“Thanks,” Alex tapped her fingers on the desk. “But now I urgently need a sip of common sense. You got an hour or two?”

“Absolutely,” Donnie nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Okay, focus. Don’t stare too long… but wow, she looks hilarious.

“Perfect,” Alex smirked. “Brace yourself. This is going to be a long podcast.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Yes… and no. You already know about the closet inspection and the lectures. But, alas… that’s far from all of it.”

Donnie leaned back in his chair, trying to act casual, though a little thrill ran through him. Here we go… Alex exhaled deeply and started:

“After that, she told Mom I read too much! Too much! And that my green hair is a sin, and I, quote, ‘ruined my own fate.’ FATE, Donnie!”

“I don’t see the connection between green hair and fate,” he snorted. Seriously, green hair… fate… huh.

“Exactly!” Alex threw her hands up, making Midnight nearly topple off her shoulder. “Sorry, sweetie,” she murmured, gently resettling the kitten on her lap.

“So… that’s it?” Donnie propped his chin on his hand, curiosity written all over his face.

“If only, my friend… don’t fall off your chair,” Alex said, locking eyes with the camera. “She tried to set me up on a date.”

“What… excuse me?” Donnie’s eyes widened. No way…

“You heard me right. But I’ll start with the backstory—for full immersion.”

“I’m all ears,” Donnie replied, leaning closer.

“Ugh…” Alex rubbed her face tiredly. “My aunt recently visited a fortune teller. And she asked about my love life!”

Donnie snorted. Of course she did… shameless marketing scams with a crystal ball.

“And this fortune teller,” Alex continued, “said that soon a guy would appear in my life. My age, strong, brave, all that. True love, destined by fate.”

“Hm. Intriguing,” Donnie raised an eyebrow, suppressing a grin.

“Don’t even,” Alex muttered. “Naturally, my aunt decided it must be her friend’s son. A sporty, handsome guy, just ‘like the fortune teller said.’ And she already started setting up a date!”

“Fantastic…” Donnie exhaled slowly, feeling a wave of irritation he couldn’t explain. Why does this annoy me so much? “And you?”

“I froze. I know this guy. Athlete—yes. But if he puts two and two together, it’ll snow in July. Luckily, Mom intervened and stopped it all.”

Donnie paused, tapping the desk, trying to process the chaos.

“Yeah… looks like you had quite the evening. Your aunt really knows how to surprise.”

“You can say that again,” Alex smirked. “She always finds new ways to show the depths of human stupidity. Though I’m not mad, honestly. She doesn’t mean harm… she’s just… not very bright.”

“Impressive that you stayed calm,” Donnie murmured. Meanwhile, I’m just grinning like a goof in the lab.

“Yeah,” Alex smiled faintly. “Thanks for listening. And sorry if I distracted you. I tried reaching April, but she’s probably off somewhere God-knows-where again.”

Donnie rubbed the back of his neck. Yeah, she’s at the lair, probably sleeping over… no wonder she’s unreachable.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I always have a minute for friends. Good night, Alex.”

“And to you, Donnie.”

He watched the screen go dark, a quiet warmth lingering in the lab. Somehow, despite the chaos, the green glow of her hair and the little gremlin-kitten made the world feel… just a bit lighter.

Donnie got up from his chair and stretched, feeling his muscles respond with a gentle fatigue.

In the kitchen, a dim lamp cast a soft glow. April was sitting at the table, phone in hand, wearing a thoughtful expression. When she saw him, she lifted her eyes and gave a tired but friendly smile.

“Hey, Dee. Why so gloomy?” she asked, squinting slightly.

Donnie poured himself a glass of water and leaned back against the kitchen cabinet.

“Alex just called,” he said after a short pause.

“And?” April raised an eyebrow. “Usually after her calls, you look like your ‘system update completed successfully.’”

Donnie sighed, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

“She told me about her aunt’s visit. Honestly? I get it. I feel for her. That aunt… she’s quite the character.”

April snorted. She had long noticed that Donnie changed slightly when Alex came up—softer, more human, as if his “systems” switched to a different mode.

“Intriguing start,” she said, setting her phone aside. “Come on, tell me—what impressed you so much?”

“Indeed intriguing,” Donnie smirked, setting the glass down on the cabinet. “But I’ll leave the details for when you hear them from the source. By the way, that source complained she couldn’t reach you.”

April made an apologetic face.

“Yeah, I know. The signal here is terrible, and the phone keeps catching it somewhere between the sewers and a parallel dimension.”

“Convenient excuse,” Donnie remarked with a hint of sarcasm.

“Realistic,” she corrected him, standing up from the table. “Alright, I’m off to bed. See you tomorrow, Dee.”

“See you tomorrow, April,” he replied, watching her leave.

Once the door closed behind her, Donnie stood in the quiet kitchen for a few seconds. Then he exhaled softly, finished his water, and returned to the lab—the place where it was always easier to think than to feel.

Chapter Text

"…Damn, looks like your aunt isn’t going to let you have a peaceful life," April said, taking a bite of her apple. "She actually almost set you up on a date?"

"Yep," Alex muttered, poking her salad with a fork.

The cafeteria buzzed around them: chatter, the clatter of trays, the clinking of spoons against plates. April let out a soft giggle as she listened to her friend recount the “grand aunt visit.” Alex, for her part, was calmer than she had been that evening when she had told Donnie everything, but her irritation still surfaced in short, sharp sighs whenever the memory of the “date” came up.

"By the way," Alex glanced over the rim of her cup at April. "Where were you back then? I tried calling, but you vanished like into a black hole."

April hesitated for a brief moment. Here were the questions she had been expecting — perfectly logical, considering she disappeared all the time without explanation. How could she explain spending her evenings in the sewers, in the company of four mutant ninja turtles, fighting ancient clans and various monsters? She couldn’t. Not really. Fortunately, improvisation was one of her strengths (unlike some of her brothers).

"I was held up at work," April said calmly. "You know how the signal is there."

"The signal at the aquarium is bad?" Alex raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

"I was in the basement!" April exclaimed, mock outrage in her voice.

Alex snorted quietly but didn’t argue. She had long suspected that April was hiding something. April was a little… unusual, but Alex liked that — normal people bored her. Besides, Alex herself didn’t exactly fit the mold of a typical fifteen-year-old girl.

"Fair enough, Curly," Alex said, grabbing her tray and standing. "What’s your next class?"

April frowned slightly. The nickname “Curly” had stuck ever since that sleepover, when she had first let her buns down and Alex had immediately exclaimed, “Oh, you’re Curly!” Since then, it had stuck. While it annoyed April a little, she had mostly come to accept it.

"Wait, let me check," she said, glancing at her schedule. "Chemistry. And you?"

"Same," Alex replied, swinging her backpack onto her shoulder. "Want to sit together?"

April nodded, finishing her apple and standing from the table.

"Sure. But fair warning: if I fall asleep during this class, feel free to throw something sharp at me."

"With pleasure," Alex smirked.

The two of them started walking toward their classroom, weaving through the bustling hallways. Students were rushing to their next classes, backpacks swinging and papers flying, but neither of them seemed in a hurry. They moved at a comfortable pace, talking quietly about nothing in particular, laughing at small jokes, and enjoying the fleeting moments of calm between the chaos of the school day. By the time they reached the classroom door, the bell hadn’t even rung yet, and they slipped inside with a sense of unspoken camaraderie, ready to tackle the lesson together.

***

The classroom hummed softly with quiet chatter and the faint scratching of pens as the teacher wrote formulas on the board.
April sat slouched at her desk, chin resting in one hand, her other lazily scribbling in her notebook:

H₂O + … boredom = eternity.

The teacher’s voice droned in the background, a steady, hypnotic monotone. He was deep into yet another lecture about “the ionic bond of love between sodium and chlorine,” a metaphor that made even the most diligent students silently groan. The air felt heavy with fluorescent light and the faint scent of dry-erase markers.

Beside her, Alex didn’t look any more engaged. She stared into space, eyes unfocused, as if her mind had wandered far beyond the confines of the classroom — perhaps out the window, past the schoolyard, into some quiet galaxy where chemistry and homework didn’t exist.

"Hey," April whispered, nudging her with an elbow. "Earth to Alex. Do you copy?"

"Huh?" Alex blinked, startled, turning toward her. "Sorry. I was just… thinking."

"Judging by that face, thinking about something deep and existential," April teased, arching an eyebrow.

Alex smirked faintly, but her gaze soon drifted away again. There was a distracted, almost restless look in her eyes — something that caught April’s attention. She tilted her head, quietly studying her friend.

After a few minutes of silence, Alex finally sighed and leaned a little closer.
"Hey, Curly… can I ask you something? Something kind of personal?"

April paused mid-doodle, glancing up with mild suspicion.
"Depends on how “kind of personal” we’re talking here."

"Um…" Alex hesitated, biting her lip. "How long have you known Donnie?"

April blinked. That was not the question she’d expected.
"Donnie? Since forever, basically. Why?"

"Oh, nothing!" Alex said quickly, maybe too quickly. Her tone was casual, but her expression betrayed her. There was definitely something behind that question — a flicker of curiosity she couldn’t quite hide. "It’s just… you two seem close. And… you’ve seen him, right? I mean, in person?"

April fought the urge to laugh.
"Of course I have. More times than I can count."

Alex looked down at her notebook, then back up again, hesitating.
"And what’s he like? I mean… off-screen."

April tilted her head, a sly smile creeping across her face.
"Oh, he’s a little crazy. The good kind, though. A genius with a flair for drama. And caffeine. Seriously, if coffee had a temple, Donnie would be the high priest."

Alex stifled a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand.
"So he’s like that in real life too…"

"Totally. Always sarcastic, always glued to his gadgets. But, honestly…" April’s voice softened slightly, her teasing tone fading. "He’s not a bad guy. Just… too smart for his own peace of mind. And, well, a bit self-conscious."

"Self-conscious? " Alex raised an eyebrow. "You mean, like, “I won’t turn on my camera because the universe will collapse”?"

Both girls snickered, ducking their heads as the teacher shot them a suspicious glare from the front of the room.

"Pretty much," April said, grinning. "He’s got his quirks… and, let’s just say, not the best self-esteem when it comes to looks."

Alex went quiet for a moment, her eyes thoughtful. Then she shook her head lightly, as if brushing away an unspoken thought.
"You know, I get that. I’m not mad about it or anything. I just… want to understand. I guess I’m curious about who he really is."

April gave her a knowing look.
"Curiosity’s a dangerous thing," she said playfully, but her smile was gentle. "Just remember: behind that camera, he’s a real person. Not some mythical brain on legs."

"A brain on legs," Alex repeated under her breath, giggling softly. "Got it. I’ll keep that in mind."

The bell rang before they could say more, snapping the class out of its collective daze. The teacher mumbled something about homework, but no one seemed to be listening. Chairs scraped, conversations resumed, and students flooded toward the door like a tide of freedom.

Alex gathered her notebook and backpack, moving with the flow of students, but her expression lingered — a faint, pensive smile playing at her lips.

April caught it, slinging her bag over one shoulder. Yep, she thought, suppressing a knowing grin. That’s exactly how it starts — with curiosity.

As they stepped out into the hallway, the noise of the school day washed over them — the chatter, the echoes of footsteps, the distant sound of lockers slamming. But Alex barely noticed. Her thoughts were still somewhere else — caught between formulas, laughter, and a boy she had never met in person but couldn’t quite stop thinking about.

***

The familiar scent of solder, coffee, and something faintly burnt filled the lab — a combination that had long since become part of its atmosphere. The hum of machinery, the soft whirr of cooling fans, and the occasional crackle of a short circuit gave the place a kind of chaotic rhythm.

Donnie sat hunched over his workstation, surrounded by half-finished gadgets, wires snaking across the table like restless serpents. Several screens flickered around him, bathing the room in a pale glow. Steam rose from a nearby cup of coffee, curling lazily toward the ceiling — though judging by the acrid smell, it had long crossed the line between “fresh” and “flammable.”

On one of the monitors flashed a message in glaring red:
“Critical system error: again.”

April’s voice broke the silence from the doorway.
"Ever think that message might be trying to tell you something? Like, I don’t know — take a break?"

Without looking up, Donnie replied dryly, fingers still flying across the console.
"I prefer to interpret it as a challenge. Besides, my caffeine reserves haven’t run out yet."

April sniffed the air and made a face.
"Judging by the smell, your coffee burned out about the same time your patience did."

Donnie sighed, pushing his goggles up to his forehead. The purple lighting reflected off his glasses as he turned toward her.
"Hello to you too, April. Glad someone still finds time to criticize my genius instead of appreciating it."

She smirked, walking farther into the lab and perching on a tall stool near his desk.
"Oh, I appreciate it plenty. I just don’t want to walk in here one day and find you’ve accidentally blown yourself up along with your genius."

Donnie raised an eyebrow.
"“Genius”? Plural? I see — I’ve evolved into a collective intellect now?"

April chuckled.
"With your ego? You might as well be."
She paused for effect, then added casually,
"By the way, Alex was asking about you today."

Donnie froze, the microchip in his hand halfway to the soldering iron.
"…About me?"

April leaned her chin on her hand, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Yep. Said she was curious what you’re like “in real life.”"

He blinked, clearly trying to process whether this was a trap.
"And what, exactly, did you tell her?"

"The truth, obviously. That you’re a caffeine-fueled genius with a mild superiority complex and a firm belief that no one will truly appreciate your brilliance unless it involves lasers."

Donnie groaned and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
"Perfect. The PR campaign of my dreams."

April grinned, leaning closer.
"Well, excuse me for not mentioning that you’re also kind of sweet when you’re not pretending to be a walking calculator."

"I don’t pretend" he began defensively, then caught the teasing look on her face and gave up with a quiet sigh. "Okay, maybe sometimes."

"There we go," she said with satisfaction.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the steady buzz of machinery and the faint ticking of a cooling fan. The fluorescent lights reflected softly in the lenses of Donnie’s goggles.

Then, as if he were merely asking out of curiosity, he said:
"So… does she, uh, ask about me often?"

April kept her tone casual.
"First time, actually." A pause, then a knowing smirk. "But judging by her face, probably not the last."

Donnie turned sharply back to his monitor, feigning focus.
"Well, you know, people get curious about… technology. Maybe she’s just interested in my work."

"Oh, totally," April said, stretching. "Especially the kind of technology that drinks coffee and argues with her over video chat."

Donnie gave her a deadpan look.
"April, I’m a scientist, not gossip material."

"Sure, sure. Tell that to your drones," she shot back, heading toward the door. "They literally liked your own post on your blog last night."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, realizing she had him there. April, triumphant, reached the door but lingered for a moment, one hand on the frame.

"You know, if you ever decide to stop being so tightly wound, Alex doesn’t bite."
Then, with a sly grin:
"Unless you provoke her."

"I’ll… keep that in mind," Donnie murmured, pretending to be absorbed in his screen. But the slight pink tinge creeping across his cheeks gave him away.

When she finally left, the lab seemed quieter than before. Donnie tapped his fingers lightly against the table, pretending to think about circuit voltage — though his mind was clearly elsewhere. The red error message on the screen blinked again, but this time, he barely noticed.

For once, his expression softened. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth — one that lingered long after the steam from his coffee had faded into the air.

Chapter Text

Donnie sank heavily into his chair, leaning back against the worn cushion. The faint smile that had lingered on his face moments ago vanished without a trace. The screen in front of him kept flashing red, its warning light reflecting in the glass of his goggles like a restless heartbeat. The lab was filled with the soft hum of machinery — the steady rhythm of fans, circuits, and somewhere nearby, the low whirring of Sheldon, who hovered uncertainly in the air, as if unsure whether it was safe to disturb the silence.

He tried to focus on his work — on formulas, code, schematics — but his thoughts stubbornly circled back to April’s words.

“She asked about you. And it definitely won’t be the last time.”

That phrase stuck in his head like a glitch in his programming.
So what? She was just curious.
Just normal human curiosity.

Except… what if she started asking more often?
What if she started digging deeper — until she uncovered the truth?

“Okay, stop,” he muttered, leaning forward, falling into his usual “question mark” posture. “Analyze this rationally, Donatello.”

But logic wasn’t helping this time.

What was he even hoping for? Sure, Alex was… a bit odd — that much was obvious — but not that odd. Not the kind of person who would just accept all this: a mutant, a hidden lair, brothers trained as ninjas, battles in the shadows of the city.

He drew a slow, steady breath, his fingers tightening on the armrests.
Part of him wanted to be honest. To just tell her everything. Maybe — just maybe — things would turn out fine. Then they could stop being “online friends,” and maybe… actually see each other face to face. That thought felt strangely comforting.

But then again — what happened to his legendary caution?
He was the one who wiped digital traces, encrypted every message, hid every hint of their existence.
And now — he was ready to risk it all?

He shook his head slowly.

“Variables have changed,” he said under his breath, staring at the screen. “Initiator — not a random user. But… a friend.”

His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. He ran a tired hand over his face, feeling the confusion twisting somewhere deep inside.

Yes, Alex was his friend.
And that was exactly why he needed to keep his distance. Stay professional. Just her tutor — nothing more. No attachments. No unnecessary expectations.

He looked back at the blinking screen, then at his reflection in the dark glass.

The monitor flickered, and for a split second, the reflection seemed to shift — showing a version of himself he barely recognized. The old Donnie: tense, guarded, hiding insecurity behind a crooked, sarcastic smile.

He closed his eyes.

The monitors dimmed one by one, their light fading into the shadows as if responding to his mood.
The lab sank into half-light.
And memory — quietly — switched on.

***
A few months earlier.

The school hallway buzzed like a beehive.
Voices, footsteps, laughter — everything melted into one noisy stream. Somewhere down the corridor, someone from the basketball team was dribbling a ball; someone else loudly complained about homework. April wove her way through the crowd, careful not to bump into lockers or distracted students. In her hands were a few printed test papers — hers and someone else’s.

Spotting a familiar figure with short green hair by the lockers, she quickened her pace.

“There you are, Alex,” April said, leaning against the locker door with a tired grin. “I thought you’d ditched me.”

Alex turned, smiling faintly, though her tone carried a hint of teasing sarcasm.
“If you’d been another minute late, I would have. What happened, saving the world again?”

“Not exactly,” April chuckled. “Just checking the physics test results.”

That made Alex tense immediately.
The physics test — the one that decided their final grade. April handed over the paper, and they both leaned in to look.

“I got an A-minus!” April let out a breath of relief and excitement. “What about you?”

Alex stared at her own sheet for a moment. Her face darkened slightly.
“C,” she muttered, stuffing the paper into her bag. “I’ll try to fix it next time.”

April opened her mouth to say something encouraging, but bit her lip instead. She knew Alex had really tried.

They left the building and walked side by side in silence. Alex kept her eyes on the ground, occasionally kicking a pebble, while April glanced at her helplessly, trying to think of something — anything — to lighten the mood.

New York went on buzzing around them: cars honked, sunlight warmed the sidewalks, and from across the street came the smell of coffee and fresh pastries. April inhaled deeply, then turned to her friend.

“Hey, how about we stop by the café? My treat — hot chocolate. You love that stuff.”

Alex hesitated for a moment before sighing softly.
“Maybe later, Curly,” she said with a tired smile. “Thanks, but I’m not really in the mood today.”

April rolled her eyes at the nickname. Curly — it had stuck ever since their first sleepover, when Alex saw her without her usual buns. From that day on, the name had taken on a life of its own — much to April’s annoyance.

“Suit yourself,” April sighed dramatically.

They walked in silence for another minute or two before April suddenly straightened, as if a lightbulb had flickered on in her head.

“Hey, Alex,” she began cautiously. “You’re only struggling with physics, right?”

“Physics, chemistry, algebra, and geometry,” Alex listed, ticking the subjects off on her fingers. “Why?”

“Well… I might know someone,” April said slowly, watching Alex’s reaction. “Really smart guy. Like, genius smart.”

“Coming from you, that sounds suspicious,” Alex said, narrowing her eyes playfully.

“Hey, I’m serious!” April protested. “If you want, I can ask him to help you out. As a tutor. Free of charge. Well, mostly free.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A tutor didn’t sound like a bad idea, actually.
“Hmm… sure, why not?” She smiled a little. “Thanks, Curly.”

“Anytime,” April grinned back. “Just… don’t be too shocked if this ‘genius’ turns out to be a little eccentric.”

“Eccentric?” Alex repeated.

“Well,” April said, lowering her voice as though sharing a secret, “let’s just say he has a complicated relationship with coffee, sleep, and common sense.”

***

A few hours later.
Donnie’s Lab.

The lab glowed with the cold, steady blue light of countless monitors.
Fans hummed softly, relays clicked, and in the corner Sheldon spun lazily in the air, muttering something to himself about “code perfection and suboptimal design choices.”

Donnie sat hunched over his main console, typing rapidly — the rhythmic clatter of keys blending into the mechanical music of the lab. Everything was as usual… until the door hissed open.

“Donnie! I’ve got a proposal for you!” April’s voice practically exploded into the room.

Donnie flinched and slowly swiveled in his chair. The brightness in her tone was… concerning.
And when April sounded this cheerful, it usually meant one thing — trouble.

“If this is another one of your canoe races in the sewer tunnels,” he said dryly, “then the answer is the same as last time: no. I already have three projects and two crises in progress.”

“Relax,” April grinned, hopping onto a nearby stool with suspiciously calm confidence. “No races today. I’m here on business.”

“Oh, business, you say,” Donnie muttered, glancing at her from behind his goggles. “And what kind of business are we talking about? Please tell me it doesn’t involve jet-powered skateboards again.”

“Nope,” April said, stretching the word. “This time, I need your brilliant brain.”

That made him pause. He raised an eyebrow — curiosity sparked immediately. Scientific curiosity was his Achilles’ heel.

“Go on,” he said, folding his hands dramatically. “What task could possibly require my level of genius?”

“You,” April said with a mischievous grin, “are going to be a tutor.”

For a moment, even the lab seemed to fall silent. The monitors buzzed quietly. Sheldon stopped spinning.

“…Excuse me, what?” Donnie blinked.

“A tutor,” April repeated with mock seriousness. “My friend’s struggling with physics and chemistry. You’re going to help her catch up.”

“April, have you lost your mind?!” Donnie shot up from his chair, waving his hands in disbelief. “I’m not playing teacher for some random stranger! I’m not a tutor — I’m a scientist! An inventor! A genius!”

“And a drama queen,” April added sweetly. “Come on, say it — ‘I’m way too busy.’”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed, gesturing at his monitors. “Do you see this code? It’s not going to optimize itself!”

April rolled her eyes, leaning over his desk.
“Donnie, please. The girl really needs help. You’re not fighting an alien invasion — you’re just explaining a few formulas. Even you can manage that, Mr. ‘I-Know-Everything.’”

“Hilarious,” he muttered, turning back to the screen. “The answer is still no.”

April squinted at him, clearly shifting tactics.
“What if I told you you’d be saving an innocent soul from eternal suffering… with algebra?”

“That’s called blackmail,” Donnie said without turning around.

“It’s called persuasion,” she countered smoothly.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He knew there was no winning this — arguing with April was like arguing with gravity. You could protest all you wanted, but it wasn’t going to stop pulling you down.

“…Fine,” he said finally, slumping back in his chair. “But only through video call. And only with my camera off.”

“Deal!” April grinned victoriously. “Thanks, Dee. Trust me, you’re going to like her.”

“I highly doubt that,” he muttered, turning back to his console. “And when this all goes wrong, I’m putting your name in the report as the initiator.”

“Of course, Professor,” April said over her shoulder, heading for the door. “Oh, and don’t forget your ‘teacher’s robe’!”

Donnie snorted.
“Teacher’s robe—ha! As if I would ever—”

He didn’t finish, because Sheldon suddenly beeped from the corner.
“Activating Protocol: Teacher Donnie?”

“Don’t you dare!” Donnie snapped, glaring at the drone.

Sheldon paused.
“...Protocol aborted. For now.”

***

Later that evening.

The lab was bathed in the soft blue glow of the monitors.
The quiet hum of the fans and the faint crackle from the soldering station filled the air — familiar, almost comforting. Almost.

Donnie sat at his desk, tapping a pencil against his notebook and muttering under his breath:
“Why did I even agree to this…”

But it was too late to back out now — April wouldn’t forgive him if he did.
The video call icon blinked on his screen. The camera, of course, stayed off. Donnie still held onto the faint hope that this mysterious “friend” might be late… or change her mind… or simply forget.

On the desk lay a perfectly aligned notebook — just in case this turned into a second lesson. (He’d already sworn to himself it wouldn’t.)

A few minutes later, the call connected. The screen flickered to life, and a girl appeared.

Donnie raised an eyebrow.

She looked… unusual.
Neon-green hair tied into a messy ponytail, with shorter strands falling over her face. Her gray eyes darted nervously across the screen, as if unsure where to look. A fluffy paw briefly appeared from below the frame — apparently, her cat had decided to join the session.

“Um… hi?” she said hesitantly. “April said you could help me with my schoolwork.”

“Greetings,” Donnie replied evenly, trying to sound at least somewhat human. “Yes, I can. But first — specify what exactly you need help with.”

“Everything,” she said flatly, without a hint of exaggeration. “Physics, algebra, geometry, chemistry — the full disaster package.”

“Wonderful,” Donnie drawled. “So, everything. Let’s start with physics — at least it follows logic.”

“I don’t,” the girl said with a small, crooked smile. “My name’s Alex. Alex North. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Donatello,” he replied automatically — then quickly added, “Or just Donnie.”

She nodded, and their first lesson began.

Donnie spoke clearly, methodically, explaining the first law of thermodynamics with perfect phrasing and precision. Alex listened intently, taking notes, sometimes asking questions — not silly ones, but the kind that made Donnie’s brow rise slightly in surprise.

The longer the session went on, the more he realized she wasn’t hopeless at all. She just needed someone to explain things from a different angle — a human one, not the one found in sterile textbooks.

“So,” he said after about an hour, closing his notebook. “For a first lesson — not bad at all. You catch on fast, provided you’re taught properly.”

“Thanks,” Alex said softly, her voice carrying a hint of shy pride. “I’ll try not to mess up during the next one.”

Donnie froze.
Next one?

He had fully intended to make this a one-time thing. But judging by her tone, Alex clearly had other plans.

“Well… we’ll see,” he said after a pause. “I assume April gave you my number. We can figure out a schedule later.”

“She did,” Alex smiled faintly. “Then see you next time, Donnie.”

He nodded.
“See you next time.”

The screen went dark, leaving behind a faint trace of… something new. Something he couldn’t quite name.

And then he realized — he’d been smiling the whole time.

Quickly, he straightened up, cleared his throat, and tried to restore his usual mask of professional indifference.

Sheldon floated by and chirped quietly:
“Observation: serotonin levels elevated.”

“Silence, Sheldon.”

***

Present Day

Donnie opened his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the tension slowly start to fade.

So this was how he got himself into this mess.

All because of April.
Well — to be fair — not just because of her. He could have said no. He could’ve refused to keep up those “study hangouts” after the first few lessons, could’ve stopped laughing at her jokes, could’ve avoided sharing things he normally kept locked away.

But he didn’t want to.
Even if he’d never admit it — not even to himself.

He wanted to keep talking to someone who actually listened.
Someone who didn’t flinch at his long explanations or weird theories.
Someone he could talk to not just about formulas… but about anything.

He leaned back in his chair.
A dull ache pulled at his chest — whether from worry or something else, Donnie couldn’t tell.

“Brilliant, Donatello,” he muttered under his breath. “Genius, inventor, savior of New York… and a total disaster at social interaction.”

The thought of Alex finding out the truth — who he really was, where he lived — sent a chill down his shell.

She wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t accept it.
People never did.

He let out a heavy sigh and shut down the computer. The lab dimmed, swallowed by shadows. Only the quiet hum of servers and the faint clicks of relays reminded him that this place never truly slept.

Donnie rose from his chair and stretched.
“That’s enough brain activity for one day,” he said wearily.

With a snap of his fingers, Sheldon powered down the lights, leaving only the soft glow of the neon panels.

Fatigue finally caught up with him.
And the softshell genius headed off to rest — until he once again convinced himself that logic could silence feelings.

Chapter Text

The lab was filled with its familiar symphony — the steady hum of machines, the rhythmic clacking of keys, and Sheldon’s soft whirring as he floated between shelves, tidying tools that didn’t really need tidying. It was peaceful in a way — mechanical, predictable, perfectly calibrated for productivity.

The tutoring session with Alex had been running smoothly so far. Donnie explained the principle of Archimedes’ law, outlining equations and drawing diagrams on his screen with calm precision. His tone was measured, methodical, and detached — exactly as it always was. And, as always, his camera was off.

“Donnie,” Alex’s voice came through the speakers, interrupting his steady train of thought. It was casual, almost playful. “You like sci-fi, right?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Depends on the kind,” he replied cautiously. “Why?”

“Just curious,” she said, her tone light but with a trace of hesitation, as if testing the waters. “There’s a new movie out. I thought… maybe we could go see it tonight?”

Donnie froze.

For a brief second, the world around him seemed to stop — the screens, the hum, even Sheldon hovering midair, as if the little robot, too, was waiting for his reaction. Inside his chest, something fluttered — light, unexpected, and terrifying.

She just invited me to the movies.

He opened his mouth, the beginnings of a “yes” already forming — but then his gaze dropped to his own hands. The green skin. The three-fingered digits gripping a pen too small for them. Reality came crashing back in.

No. Impossible.

Even with a disguise, the risk was enormous. Alex was sharp, observant — she’d notice the details he couldn’t hide. His height, the way he moved. It wouldn’t take her long to realize something was wrong. And once she did…

It would all be over.

He swallowed, trying to steady his breathing, to sound normal again.

“That does sound… tempting,” he said finally, forcing a note of easy calm into his voice. “But tonight’s not great for me. I’ve got, uh… family stuff.”

A small pause followed.

On the screen, Alex tilted her head, her brow arching in mild suspicion. “Family stuff? Like… a family dinner kind of thing?”

“Something like that,” he said quickly, scrambling for something plausible. “You know — the classic ‘dad suddenly decides to make up for lost time’ situation.”

Technically, it wasn’t even a lie. After the whole Draxum incident, Splinter had been trying to spend more time with them. Just… not tonight. As far as Donnie remembered, Splinter had declared this evening “personal relaxation time with soap operas and snacks.”

Alex’s expression softened. “Huh. Well, that sounds… nice, actually. Family’s important.” She smiled faintly. “No problem, maybe next time.”

“Yeah,” Donnie said, exhaling slowly. “Maybe next time.”

The conversation drifted back to formulas and diagrams, equations scrolling smoothly across the screen. But Donnie’s focus was gone. His eyes followed the motion of the graphs, yet his thoughts had slipped somewhere else entirely — into a tangle of impossible hypotheticals.

What if he had said yes?

Would she have laughed at his jokes the same way in person? Would she have found his awkwardness charming or strange? Would she have seen past the surface — the skin, the shell — and still wanted to spend time with him?

He caught himself before the thoughts could spiral further and shut his eyes for a second, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Ridiculous. Completely irrational.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to him.

He straightened in his chair, forcing his focus back to the problem set on the screen. But the equation refused to balance, his calculations looping back on themselves. The numbers blurred, merging with the echo of Alex’s voice in his head.

“Maybe we could go see it tonight?”

Donnie set the pen down and rubbed his temples.

“Brilliant,” he muttered quietly. “Of course, Donatello — the one formula you can’t solve is your own.”

Somewhere behind him, Sheldon gave a sympathetic beep — as if even the little drone understood that, for once, logic had no clear answer.

***

Some time had passed.

Donnie sat hunched over his desk, the dim glow of the monitor casting a pale light across his face. The lab was quiet except for the constant hum of the servers and the faint ticking of a wall clock that somehow made the silence feel even heavier. On the screen, the cursor blinked steadily in an empty line of code — patient, mocking, like it was waiting for him to stop pretending he was actually working.

His mind, however, wasn’t in the lab. It kept replaying the last few conversations with Alex — her easy laugh, the way she always found a reason to bring him out of his shell. And his endless, rehearsed excuses. Every single time.

“Earth to Genius,” came a familiar voice from behind him.

Donnie flinched. April had, as usual, managed to sneak up on him like a shadow.

“You look like your system just crashed,” she said, stepping closer and peering at him over the back of his chair. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Donnie replied instantly, a little too quickly, not looking away from the monitor.

April raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. She dragged a chair over, spun it around, and sat down backward, resting her chin on her arms.
“Uh-huh. And that blinking cursor — is it meditating, or just praying for your sanity?”

Donnie exhaled and leaned back, rubbing his temples. There was no point in trying to bluff his way through. April was too perceptive — she always had been.

“Alex tried to get me to go out again,” he admitted after a long pause. “This time, she called it a ‘practical learning trip’ to the new tech park. I guess it was her way of making it sound academic.”

He trailed off, staring into nothing.

“Just a normal hangout,” April said softly, folding her arms. “And you bailed again, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t bail,” Donnie protested, sitting up straighter. “I simply… made a logical assessment of the risks.”

“Logical,” she repeated with a smirk. “Right. And what did your complex analysis conclude? Global catastrophe?”

“Yes,” he said flatly.

April snorted, though there was warmth behind her amusement. “You’re being dramatic, Donnie.”

“I am not,” Donnie snapped, the words spilling out faster now. “If she finds out — about me, about us — it’ll all collapse. She doesn’t deserve to deal with a mutant who lives underground and spends his nights fighting ancient villainous clans!”

April tore off a piece of pizza from the box sitting on the workbench, chewing thoughtfully. “You seriously need to get out more,” she said with her mouth half-full. “Alex doesn’t seem like someone who scares easily.”

“Scares easily?!” Donnie’s voice cracked, his hands gesturing wildly. “April, I’m not human. That’s not exactly a small detail to overlook. She wouldn’t understand.”

April looked at him for a long moment, her eyes softening. “I understood,” she said quietly, smiling faintly.

Donnie hesitated, his voice lowering. “We were kids. Things were simpler then. Besides, you screamed like a maniac when you first saw Raph.”

April chuckled. “Guilty. But I got over it, didn’t I?” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. “You forget — I’ve seen worse since then.”

She didn’t push further. She didn’t need to. Donnie knew she understood exactly what he was afraid of: the look on Alex’s face if she ever saw him for what he truly was. Not horror, necessarily — just that moment of shock, the shift, the distance that would follow.

April stood, brushing crumbs off her hands. “You do realize she’s not giving up, right?” she said, turning to face him. “If you keep avoiding her, she might get herself in trouble chasing something she doesn’t understand. And that’d be on you.”

Donnie’s jaw tightened. His gaze drifted back to the screen, to the blinking cursor that seemed now almost accusatory. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

April sighed. She rested a hand gently on his shoulder, her tone soft but firm. “Maybe… stop thinking so much and just try. You never know until you do.”

He looked up at her — the faintest flicker of conflict in his eyes — but said nothing.

April lingered a moment longer, then gave him a light pat on the shoulder and stepped back. “Alright, genius,” she said with a teasing smile as she walked toward the exit. “Keep pretending to code your feelings away.”

The lab door closed behind her with a quiet click.

Donnie sat still for a long time, the hum of machinery slowly filling the space again. The cursor kept blinking on the screen — one, two, three beats — waiting for a command that wouldn’t come.

He let out a long, shaky breath, resting his head in his hands.

All his brilliant inventions, his algorithms, his perfect logic — none of them could solve this equation. Not when the variable was human.

Somewhere in the background, Sheldon buzzed softly, the little drone hovering close as if sensing his unease.

“Yeah, buddy,” Donnie murmured, without looking up. “I know.”

The machine whirred gently in response, and the lab fell silent again — leaving Donnie alone with the blinking cursor, the low hum of circuitry, and the thousand thoughts he still couldn’t quiet.

Chapter Text

"Pssst, Curly," Alex lightly poked April’s arm with her pencil. "No sleeping. Just a little longer."

April stifled a yawn. The only thing more boring than chemistry was algebra… and algebra was exactly the class where she’d started nodding off.

The teacher droned on at the board, scribbling formulas as he lectured about progressions in a tone that sounded like he was reading out a doctoral thesis written in Old English. Listening was mandatory, staying awake — a heroic feat.

With about ten minutes left before the bell, Alex turned back to her friend:

"You do remember we have to finish our computer science project after class, right?" She raised an eyebrow. "Today’s the deadline."

"I remember… unfortunately," April groaned, propping her chin on her hand.

The project had been assigned a week ago: each pair had to write code for their tiny robot so it could perform a simple action. Alex and April had gotten the robot bunny, whose task was to wiggle its ears. The easiest thing in the world. On paper.

In practice, however, their bunny seemed determined to prove it wasn’t just a piece of plastic but a personal nemesis. No matter what code the girls wrote — it didn’t move. Not an ear. Not even a twitch.

The two friends stared back down at their notebooks. Another minute passed before something finally clicked in April’s mind.

"Hey, North…" she began thoughtfully. "Why don’t we ask Donnie for help? He lives for chances to show off his genius."

Alex froze for a moment, weighing the idea. It was actually good… or almost good.

"Brilliant suggestion, except the teacher definitely won’t let us call him during class."

"Who said anything about calling?" April’s lips stretched into a mischievous, borderline-criminal smile. "We’re going to summon him."

Alex snorted under her breath, her expression perfectly conveying: “Yeah, right.” April didn’t take offense — she knew exactly why her friend doubted the plan.

For nearly a month, Alex had been trying to coax Donnie out of his techno-lair, but he always had some convenient excuse, or abruptly changed the topic, or vanished into his work. His classic “I’m not avoiding you, I’m just… busy” routine.

And April understood them both.

Alex wanted real, in-person interaction — not just messages and video calls where Donnie stubbornly kept his camera off.
And Donnie…
Donnie was afraid that if Alex ever saw the real him, she’d reconsider being his friend.

Silence stretched on for a couple more minutes.

"Okay… it’s worth a try," Alex finally exhaled. "But you’re the one sending the bat-signal."

April’s grin widened triumphantly as she gave a firm thumbs-up.

The plan was in motion.

***

The lair was unusually quiet.

With his brothers off grabbing pizza from Hueso, Donnie was savoring the rare luxury of working in complete, undisturbed silence. Only Sheldon occasionally zipped overhead, chirping his cheerful electronic commentary as if providing a one-robot soundtrack to the afternoon.

Donnie had just lowered the tank’s hood with a satisfied clank when his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket.
He froze, wiped his hands on the nearest rag with lightning speed, and snatched up the device — heart leaping before he could stop it.

Maybe it was Alex.

But the screen lit up with a different name.

April.

April: Donnie, I need your genius for a project.

Donnie raised an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth twitching.
Helping April with her school assignments was practically one of his unofficial duties — though, admittedly, these “simple tasks” had a suspicious habit of turning into chaos, explosions, or the accidental activation of experimental prototypes.

He typed quickly:

Donnie: I’m intrigued. Elaborate.

The response came in almost instantly.

April: We need to code a robot, but this plastic gremlin refuses to follow any commands. Can you come to my school and help?

Donnie nearly dropped the phone.

April’s school wasn’t exactly foreign territory to him, but every visit boosted his ego for days — the labs, the equipment, the chance to demonstrate brilliance to an unsuspecting audience… it was irresistible.

He was already halfway to mentally mapping the fastest route there when he typed:

Donnie: Of course! I’ll be there in 20 minutes.

April: Perfect! Alex and I will be waiting.

…
Stop.

His brain screeched to a halt so sharply he could practically smell burning rubber.

He reread the message.
Then reread it again.

We.
Alex and I.

Pieces clicked together with painful clarity.

"APRIL O’NEIL, YOU ABSOLUTE SNEAK..." he muttered, gripping the phone like it had personally betrayed him.

Of course.
Of course this was a trap — a brilliantly engineered social ambush disguised as an academic emergency.
And he — Donatello, creator of anti-infiltration drones and triple-encrypted perimeter defenses — had walked straight into it like the most naïve rookie on Earth.

Now what?

Just show up? Even in disguise?
Too risky. Alex was sharp; she’d notice inconsistencies instantly. A single miscalculation, a slip of posture or pitch, and the whole fragile balance he’d managed to maintain would collapse.

But backing out…

Backing out wasn’t an option anymore.
They were counting on him.
Calling him as a friend.
As someone they trusted to show up.

He began pacing across the garage, steps quick and restless, then stopping, then pacing again. His mind spun at maximum velocity — probabilities, risk matrices, voice modulators, escape routes, contingency plans A through Z.

Sheldon hovered nearby, watching with the concern of a very tiny, very metallic parent bird.

Then suddenly — click.

A mental light bulb flared to life with almost cinematic brilliance.

"Of course! It’s so obvious! Why didn’t I think of this sooner? Oh, I’m a genius!"

With a triumphant shout, Donnie bolted out of the garage, narrowly avoiding an airborne Sheldon, and sprinted toward the main entrance of the lair.

If he wanted to make it in time — and pull off his freshly conceived plan — he had to act immediately.

And Donnie Hamato thrived under pressure.

***

Alex and April were already sitting at their desk in a classroom that was steadily emptying as the last students finished their work and bolted for home.

Well… technically, Alex wasn’t sitting. She was sprawled across the desk, her forehead resting on her folded arms like she’d simply given up on existence, while April stared hopelessly at the keyboard of the old school computer.

Between them stood the rabbit robot — the very embodiment of plastic arrogance. It was perched on the desk with the smugness of someone who knew perfectly well it wasn’t doing anything and took pride in the chaos it caused. It practically begged to be issued a blue card and erased from the school’s memory banks.
It had been half an hour since they sent their “Bat-signal” to Donnie — and the genius still hadn’t appeared.
Alex glared at the rabbit so intensely she looked moments away from trying to move its ears through sheer frustration. It didn’t help. She exhaled loudly, defeated.

"If I “accidentally” drop it off the table, will that count as damaging school property, or cruelty to animals?" she muttered.

"No idea," April sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "But Donnie would definitely call it inhumane treatment of techno-fauna."

Alex snorted softly, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. You didn’t have to meet Donnie in person to understand his deep emotional attachment to anything containing wires, bolts, or even the faintest hint of AI.

She was about to launch into a long, fiery rant about their “savior” being late when a familiar voice sounded behind them:

"Ladies, I hear you’re in need of a professional’s humble assistance."

Both girls whipped around.

Standing before them was… well, technically Donnie.
The voice matched. Absolutely, unmistakably.

But the look…

April froze for a heartbeat — then her eyes flicked to a familiar antique brooch pinned to his hoodie. Recognition sparked instantly. She stood up with a broad smile and greeted him warmly.

Alex, on the other hand, remained completely still — like her brain had just crashed.
In front of her stood a very handsome, toned, dark-skinned teen wearing a purple hoodie in the very specific style of “I’m pretending not to try but I absolutely did.” His hair was neatly styled into dark dreads tied into a bun with a purple ribbon. On his head sat multi-functional goggles with mismatched lenses, tilted slightly to the side as if by design.

And he had self-esteem issues?
Seriously?

Heat flooded her face as her thoughts scrambled like bugged lines of code.

Why hadn’t he come earlier?
Why had he refused so many times if he looked like… this?
And why, WHY was she panicking?!

"Alex?" April nudged her with an elbow. "You good? System crash?"

Alex realized she’d been staring at him with a blank, slack-jawed expression for several seconds. She shook her head quickly, trying to reboot.

"No," she muttered. "Just thinking."

She stood up, ignoring April’s very pointed “uh-huh,” and extended her hand to Donnie.

"Well… nice to meet you in person, Donatello."

Donnie gave an awkward, almost shy smile and shook her hand carefully — like he wasn’t entirely sure he was doing it right.
Or like he didn’t do this often.

"Likewise, Alex", he said quietly, studying her with a curious, sharp look. "Honestly, I thought you’d be a little taller."

Alex’s eyebrow twitched upward so sharply it could’ve cut steel. She wasn’t short. She was average. Perfectly average. And definitely taller than April!

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

"Let’s skip the insults, okay?"

They both huffed out something like a laugh. A short, awkward silence followed as they both pretended they weren’t avoiding eye contact.

April, watching this display with the satisfaction of someone who had just received a full-year subscription to her favorite show, clapped her hands:

"Alright, you two. Let’s get back to work before I fall asleep at my desk."

They both nodded a little too quickly, mumbling “right-yes-of-course,” and all three sat down.

Alex and April walked Donnie through every attempt they’d made to get the rabbit to obey commands. Donnie listened intently, fingers already flying across the keyboard with the kind of speed that suggested he and the computer were old friends.
Every so often, he stole a glance at Alex — something April noticed instantly. Her smugness grew with every passing minute.

By the end of the class, thanks to all three of them — fine, mostly thanks to Donnie — the stubborn rabbit finally twitched its ears.
Smugly.
As if it had always been able to do it and simply hadn’t felt like cooperating earlier.

Chapter Text

When the work was finally finished, the three of them let out a collective breath of relief and stepped out of the classroom.

Despite the school day being nearly over, the corridors were buzzing with life. Some students had just been released from their last classes, others were hurrying off to clubs, sports practice, or extra lessons. Teenagers streamed from room to room, laughing loudly, slamming locker doors, their voices and footsteps blending into the familiar, chaotic soundtrack of the school.

Donnie instinctively pulled his hood up — more out of habit than actual necessity. His gaze wandered with genuine curiosity. Even though he’d been here more than once, he still managed to notice something new every time: a stain on the ceiling tiles, a cracked floor panel, a crookedly taped announcement peeling at the corners. Nothing escaped his attention. He liked the school — not as a place for socializing (that particular aspect he always considered highly questionable), but as a space for knowledge, experiments, and opportunities to demonstrate one’s abilities.

On the way to Alex’s locker, Donnie noticed people glancing at him, whispering to one another. An unpleasant twinge tightened in his chest. When people stared, trouble usually followed — that instinct was deeply ingrained. It was hard not to feel on edge. April seemed to notice it too; she gave him a light nudge with her elbow.

"You look great, Dee," she whispered. "That’s why they’re whispering. Relax, it’s fine."

Donnie nodded and forced himself to loosen up. Right. He looked like a normal human. And hardly anyone here had seen him before. Just ordinary human curiosity — nothing worth panicking over.

They hadn’t even reached Alex’s locker when April suddenly darted off toward the other end of the hallway with unmistakable enthusiasm. Alex and Donnie exchanged a glance; the green-haired girl shrugged, clearly just as confused.

Donnie leaned back against a locker and watched the steady flow of students passing by, occasionally stealing glances at Alex. She was rummaging through her locker, silently moving her lips as if conducting an intense internal monologue. A quiet settled between them — not awkward like after their first handshake, but light, almost comfortable. Neither of them seemed willing — or able — to break it.

The silence was shattered by Alex’s irritated sigh.

"What’s wrong?" Donnie asked, turning toward her.

Her face wore the unmistakable expression of someone exhausted and annoyed, like a person trapped in their own personal Groundhog Day. She didn’t say anything — just pointed sharply down the corridor.

Donnie followed her gesture and spotted April. She was standing near a blonde girl whose expression practically screamed, “I am surrounded by filthy peasants.” Donnie immediately recognized her as Taylor Martin — the most popular girl in school. April talked about her… often. Donnie, admittedly, only listened about half the time.

"Behold," Alex said with solemn sarcasm, "the sight of the “unyielding” April O’Neil hopping around like a loyal puppy in front of a girl who’s got more makeup on her face than a construction site has plaster."

Taylor was glued to her phone while April practically bounced around her, waving, trying to speak, doing everything possible to grab her attention. Taylor ignored her deliberately — not out of distraction, but with clear, open disdain. The scene was painfully pitiful. Donnie immediately understood why Alex was so angry.

"Yeah…" he muttered, a pang of sympathy tightening his chest.

Alex snorted and slammed her locker shut. She had never liked Taylor, and watching April humiliate herself like this was downright unbearable. But stepping in wasn’t an option — because April herself didn’t want anyone interfering.

A couple of minutes later, Taylor finally walked away. April returned to them, shoulders slumped, her expression dim and deflated — just like every other time this happened. Alex immediately placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Don’t let it get to you, Curly," she said gently. "She’s not worth it. Let’s go to a café instead. My treat."

April smiled and nodded. A distraction was exactly what she needed right now, and coffee with something sweet sounded like the perfect plan. Both girls turned to Donnie.

"Want to come with us?" Alex asked hopefully. She really didn’t want him to leave just yet.

Donnie hesitated for only a second. Normally, he would have declined without a thought. But right now, he looked… normal. Almost ordinary. And April clearly needed company.

"Why not," he said. "A cup of coffee sounds tempting."

Alex smiled — openly, brightly, like a kid whose wish had just been granted. Donnie caught himself smiling back. It was contagious — even more so than Mikey’s grin. April smirked, looking like an audience member eagerly anticipating a very interesting show.

"Perfect!" she exclaimed, noticeably more energetic. "I know a great place. Get your wallet ready, Alex — I plan on eating without limits."

"Wouldn’t expect anything less, Curly," Alex laughed.

And the three of them stepped out of the stuffy school corridor and into the open air outside.

***

The group moved easily through the noisy streets of New York. Donnie still felt a faint undercurrent of anxiety and kept glancing around from time to time. Even under the disguise, he stayed alert out of habit — old instincts didn’t simply switch off.

For most of the walk, Alex enthusiastically told a story about how her cat had managed to get tangled up in a bedsheet in the middle of the night, trash half the apartment, and scare its owner half to death. There was so much expression in her voice, so many gestures and tonal shifts, that it was impossible not to listen.

"…So I walk out of my room," the green-haired girl continued, waving her hands vividly, "and this bedsheet comes charging straight at me. The same one I’d left on the couch! I almost climbed the doorframe out of pure terror! And then the bedsheet starts meowing. Like, really pathetically. I yank it — and there’s Midnight, eyes huge like saucers, and she immediately launches herself into my arms."

April burst out laughing, and Donnie let out a quiet snort. Live conversation really was nothing like calls with the camera turned off. Hearing Alex’s laughter right beside him felt completely different — warmer, more real — than through computer speakers. And in general… in person, Alex felt different. More vivid. More genuine.

"That’s horrifying," April shook her head, still smiling. "You definitely never get bored."

Alex rolled her eyes playfully. They both had pets — they just caused chaos in very different ways.

"Oh, please. Like Mayhem doesn’t do the same thing."

"Well… "April drawled thoughtfully. "He can, for example, jump into a mirror when someone tries to give him a bath."

Donnie snorted louder this time. Jump into a mirror — literally. Mayhem was, after all, a magical creature that looked like a brightly colored dog and possessed an extremely inconvenient ability to teleport. That had already happened once, and it had sent Donnie and his brothers scrambling through the mystic library in a panic. He’d handled finding the right book perfectly. The “not drawing attention” part… less so. Especially once he got distracted and started rapping. But those were details.

"Yeah, bath time is always a problem," Alex dipped her head slightly, though her smile didn’t fade. "By the way, you still haven’t said what kind of br..."

"Oh, we’re here!" April interrupted, immediately grabbing them and pulling them inside.

The café turned out to be cozy: gray brick walls, light furniture, soft chairs, and large windows letting in plenty of daylight. Inside, it was calm and quiet — a pleasant contrast to the bustling streets outside. It wasn’t rush hour, so most of the tables were empty, and the space felt comfortably open rather than lonely.

After placing their orders, they settled by the window in a corner of the room. Donnie automatically scanned the café, noting exits, reflections in the glass, and the general layout. Old habits again. The conversation flowed easily — mostly about school and small, everyday things that didn’t require too much thinking.

But when April insisted on going to pick up the orders herself, a familiar silence settled between Donnie and Alex once more. Alex stared down at the tabletop and began picking at the skin around her nails, a clear sign of nervousness. Donnie noticed immediately. Had he said something wrong? Offended her somehow? He didn’t think so… but social interaction had always been a minefield for him. He was just about to speak when Alex beat him to it.

"Donnie…" she didn’t look up, her voice muted. "I’m really sorry."

He froze. One second. Then another. His mind rapidly replayed their recent conversations — no arguments, no sharp words. So what was she apologizing for?

"For what?" he finally asked.

Alex sighed, clearly searching for the right phrasing.

"For pushing so hard about meeting earlier," she admitted. "I see how you keep looking around. You’re uncomfortable in crowded places. I shouldn’t have pressured you. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t even have brought it up if..."

Donnie stared at her in complete shock. He’d expected her to notice his tension — but he hadn’t expected her to feel guilty because of it. She hadn’t dragged him out here against his will. And wanting to see a friend… wasn’t that normal? His chest tightened unpleasantly.

He carefully touched her shoulder — the gesture unfamiliar and almost instinctive.

"Alex," he said softly. "You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you or kept coming up with stupid excuses. I’m sorry."

She finally looked up at him, and clear relief flickered in her eyes. Alex truly hadn’t wanted to push him or cause him stress with her persistence.

They might have continued the conversation if April hadn’t returned at that exact moment with a tray. Black coffee and a brownie for Donnie, a latte with caramel syrup and a chocolate croissant for Alex. April, as promised, had gone all in: a blueberry muffin, an Oreo cheesecake, a honey gingerbread cookie — and, of course, coffee.

Donnie raised an eyebrow, silently wondering how all of that even fit inside her.

The pastries turned out to be delicious — and, most importantly, fresh. There was something especially comforting about that simple fact, as if it quietly confirmed that coming here had been the right choice.

The conversation once again became light and easy. Alex visibly brightened, her shoulders relaxing, her expressions growing more animated, and Donnie felt a familiar weight lift from his chest. They would come back to that conversation later — he knew that. Some topics couldn’t be resolved in one sitting, no matter how much you wanted them to. But for now, he allowed himself to simply be here and enjoy the moment without calculating consequences or running endless scenarios in his head.

Donnie and Alex finished their coffee and sweets fairly quickly. April, as expected, was the last one still eating. She chewed thoughtfully on a honey gingerbread cookie and sipped the last of her coffee, her entire posture radiating absolute gastronomic bliss, as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.

"Mmm," she hummed through a full mouth. "This gingerbread just melts in your mouth. I should get another one… for later."

Donnie shook his head in disbelief. Somehow, she had managed to finish everything she’d ordered — and then topped it off with a massive cup of coffee. He hadn’t realized her appetite was that impressive.

"Oh my God, April," Alex laughed. "I’ll bake you a whole mountain of those for free. Just buy the ingredients."

The girls burst into laughter. Donnie, meanwhile, looked at Alex with mild curiosity.

"I didn’t know you baked," he remarked.

"It just never came up," Alex shrugged. "Baking’s a good way to switch gears and let your brain rest."

Donnie smiled faintly. He felt exactly the same way. In fact, baking reminded him of science in many ways: precise proportions, interactions between ingredients, results that depended on the smallest details. In their family, Mikey was considered the main cook, but Donnie’s brownies consistently received the most enthusiastic reviews. And honestly… he just liked doing it.

April snorted softly, brushing crumbs from her hands.

"Donnie bakes too," she added casually. "And he’s pretty good at it."

This time, Alex looked at him with interest. Donnie flushed slightly and cleared his throat.

"I don’t do it often," he muttered. "Mostly brownies. My brothers love them."

Alex smiled, warm and genuine. It seemed they’d just discovered another thing they had in common.

A few minutes later, the trio was back on the city streets. Everyone’s mood was lifted, their pace unhurried. The evening itself seemed to encourage slowing down, stretching the time a little longer than usual.

Soon, they reached the crosswalk. Alex lived on the street next to April’s, and this was usually where they parted ways.

She sighed softly and looked at her companions.

"Well, I’m heading the other way. See you around."

April hugged her friend tightly in farewell. Donnie limited himself to a nod and an awkward smile. He half-expected Alex to hug him too — there was still some stiffness between them, after all.

But the green-haired girl merely waved and headed across the street.

As soon as he and April turned into a nearby alley, she deftly plucked the brooch from Donnie’s clothes. In the same instant, the disguise dissolved, revealing the familiar Donatello — a soft-shelled turtle in a purple hoodie.

"April!" he exclaimed, hurriedly pulling up his hood and pressing himself closer to the wall.

April twirled the brooch between her fingers and shot him a sly look.

"So, you stole a magical brooch from Sunita?" she drawled with a smirk. "And what about your devotion to a purely scientific approach?"

Donnie looked away, grumbling under his breath. Yes, he was a turtle of science and didn’t believe in magic — sometimes even openly disdained it. But circumstances, as they say, had cornered him. For that brooch, he’d had to swallow his pride — and it still annoyed him.

"First of all," he snapped, "I didn’t steal anything. I borrowed it. Second, developing a full-scale disguise device would’ve taken a ton of time, and I didn’t have that back then!"

April laughed quietly. She knew Donnie was far too proud to admit the obvious. Still, now he had a chance to see Alex without endless excuses or running away from reality.

And, truthfully, this was only the beginning.