Just a lil' snack
This time a lil' fluffy snack. Any Don, but Bay Don in mind... (~400 words)
Sitting on the couch, waiting for Mikey to finish getting ready before you hang out, you become engrossed in your phone. What has your attention isn't important, but you're so focused you miss the noise of one of the turtles walking up behind you. It's not a difficult task, as those sneaky reptiles could be surprisingly silent when they wanted, but he wasn't even trying.
You feel a tap on your shoulder. You know this trick. Mikey has been doing it to you for years now. It's so old you sigh.
Instead of turning left, towards the tap, you turn right, and with your mouth mid-speak, your lips brush right over his.
You're shocked. THIS has never happened before, but what has your eyes even wider are the magnified hazel eyes that are staring right back through the thick lenses of taped up tortoise shell frames.
Time feels like it stands still for a moment as you both freeze and look at each other from so close. Finally, you turn and pull back, cheeks flushed nearly red. You look across the room and clear your throat awkwardly.
A sputtering, flustered sound stammers from Donatello. He hadn't meant for this to happen. He thought he'd just be cheeky and playful, like Mikey was. He just wanted to get you to chuckle and smile, like his younger brother always seemed to do. Instead his heart now raced from having your lips, your beautiful perfect lips slide right over his own. This has not been the plan, and now he feared the distance between you both would grow, something he wished would shrink instead. Internally, he cursed himself for being far too close.
Before either of you could speak, Michelangelo noisily bounds into the room, always excited and full of energy. "Yo, you ready to get your butt whooped in Smash Bros again, baby girl?" he asks, flopping next to you and wrapping one of his huge arms over your shoulders, carefully, but not as mindful as his brothers were.
You quickly reply, grateful for the interruptions, "The only butt getting whooped is yours, Michael." As he turns on the TV and starts up the console, you turn to see Donatello still lingering behind the couch. He looks like he's trying to decipher your reaction to what had just happened. You try to look neutral, but you're doing the same thing to him.
You'll have to talk about this later, but not in front of Mikey, and not while both of you feel the unexpected sensation of butterflies in your stomachs.
