Work Text
Kendra hadn’t really been the same since prison. She was well aware that the justice system rarely worked as intended, that the people who were thrown into cells like forgotten refuse rarely saw any rehabilitation. That most in society didn’t really care, didn’t really want to think about the realities of prison life and the why of someone ending up there. But for a girl like Kendra, who had been given everything, had wanted for nothing, things like lockdowns and occasional yard fights had done a world of good. It wasn’t that Juvenile Detention had been a cakewalk when she was younger. Not by any stretch. But going to prison, at the age of twenty-four, had been a lot like being taken from a rusty jungle gym and thrown into a maze of knives. Except the maze had no exits. And it was on fire. She wonders how many people in the percentage of upper middle class had gone to prison and seen better turnaround- wonders how many people who grew up with a silver spoon could go back to a life of relative luxury and vow never to step a toe out of line ever again. Expunge their record. Raise a family. Vote Republican. There’s probably a statistic. It had been that way for Kendra, at first. Even with a reduced sentence and early release for good behavior, the eight months behind bars had been enough. Enough that she never wanted to see another public shower again. Enough that she valued things like privacy. Enough that even a kind word was something she clung to. But Kendra couldn’t go back to her old life, either. All she’d ever known was how to deceive people. How to talk her way out of sticky situations and maneuver herself into strategic positions. And that hadn’t kept her out of prison. Maybe it had for less time- she should have gone away for five to ten years after stealing Nakamura’s latest blueprints for an AI that could potentially help the government track down terrorist threats. If she’d been able to sell the information- which had been her plan all along- she most certainly would have gotten the book thrown at her, so to speak. She’d be rotting away in some federal prison until her hair turned gray and her face held a mapping of wrinkles. But even with an attorney that had cost her father and stepmother their third vacation home (the one in Nepal, that they hardly ever used), she hadn’t missed the way the haggard-looking man had held worry in his eyes come sentencing. And when the attorney had told her, just before she was cuffed and led from the courtroom, “This is the last time I’ll be able to keep you out for less than twelve months,” Kendra had believed him. Getting out and trying to start a new life meant a lot of change, all happening very quickly. Her father had threatened to cut her off monetarily if she didn’t go to a therapist, and for the first time in her life, she’d accepted the advice. Not because of the threat of poverty, but because she knew that without embracing change, it would never happen. And Kendra was afraid of going back to prison. The psychologist she saw twice a week was a stern, no-nonsense woman with a serious gaze and sharp mind, and while at first Kendra had railed and immediately decided she hated her, she ended up being exactly what she needed. The doctor was someone who saw through her right away and insisted on truth when the threat of reverting to her old ways (not of crime, but of easy lies), reared its ugly head. It wasn’t a fix, but the little white pill she’d prescribed Kendra to take once a day helped, too. Change also brought an aversion to tech. She simply didn’t want the temptation. The only tech she had now was a shitty little iPhone that was in the single digits of release (and she’d barely used it- barely glanced at its screen). She’d also sold her sleek black Tesla and traded it for a sad-looking Honda with mismatched doors and chipping brown paint. She hadn’t wanted anything that could seduce her itchy fingers into looking at stock reports or keeping up with the latest tech in the industry. Not that she’d even thought of it, not that she’d even wanted to. But she feared the potential backslide more than anything- she’d even gotten rid of her smart refrigerator, for fucks sake. The last of the change had been harder, in ways, than all the rest, and it had been to move from her parents' penthouse and refuse to take any more of their handouts. Her father had insisted on an emergency credit card, and Kendra had nearly cut it in two the moment he’d handed it to her. How could she change, after all, if she couldn’t even survive on her own? The true test though, had been being alone. Alone with herself. With a person she didn’t even like, didn’t even know, anymore. And Kendra spent many, many nights, alone in her tiny apartment, wondering if change was even worth it, when she still hated herself. Kendra had been out of prison almost a year on the dot when Donatello came through her line at the grocery store. In fact, her last meeting with her parole officer was later in the week- and part of her dreaded not having a person there to check in on her- even if the cheerless woman had only grunted every time she checked in and gave her her pay stubs as proof she was working and pissed into a cup to prove she was sober. Kendra had rung the mutant turtle up in silence, even when his narrowed eyes had burned into her, even when he’d just stood there looking at her- after he’d paid for his loaf of bread and half gallon of oat milk. “No purple hair?” He’d finally muttered out. Kendra chanced eye contact, shrugged, and said, “Is there anything else you need, sir?” He’d raised a drawn-on brow high on his forehead, and when he left he’d thrown her more than one backward glance. In the month that followed, he seemed to always make a point to do his shopping on the nights she worked and to always check out at her register. Kendra wasn’t stupid- she knew that he’d most likely hacked into the store's database to obtain her schedule, knew that there was no such thing as this many coincidences. But she found that, even when she tried to be angry about the invasion of privacy, she could not. Kendra worked right down the road from the Genius Built corporate office, after all. Of course Donatello was worried, suspicious. She would be too, if the roles were reversed. At first, Kendra thought there might be a tug, somewhere buried inside of her, to cajole and belittle him. To snark at him and call him names. Some hint of the old Kendra who wanted to needle the mutant before her, standing there with an untrusting gaze as she scanned his protein bars. Instead, with little emotion other than awkwardness, she rang out his items with only a quiet hello. “What’s the catch?” He’d asked eventually. Kendra sighed, typing in the barcode for a yogurt that refused to scan after three tries. “The catch for what?” she asked offhandedly. Donnie leaned in, elbows digging into the signature board and neck craning around the covid partition. “Why is Kendra Gunadi working at a grocery store? What’s the catch? ” Kendra frowned at the turtle. And that tug… it was missing. Maybe under all the fear, all the change she was trying to make in her life, it still existed. But for now? For now, there was nothing. Not even an inkling of hate or jealousy or anger. There was nothing. “I’m just trying to get you rung up, Donatello.” Donnie had pulled back with a jerk of his head, as though he’d been burned by her words, somehow. He’d left after paying with taut shoulders and a deeply furrowed brow. She hadn’t seen him for a month, after that, and then, when he had shown up in line again, it was with no items to purchase. “Did you need something, sir?” she’d asked plaintively. His jaw ticked, as though her customer service voice had offended him, somehow. “I want to offer you a job.” Kendra had raised a brow, blowing a wisp of dark hair out of her face. “I’m perfectly fine here.” “Liar,” Donnie had grit out from between clenched teeth. “Kendra Gunadi is not “perfectly fine” ringing up groceries at a Trader Joe’s.” Kendra gave him a long look, her face blank. “You don’t know anything about me,” she finally said. Donnie gave her a waspish look. “The Kendra I know would jump at a chance to get her hands on anything Genius Built was producing. The Kendra I know would want to sink her claws into that sort of information.” Kendra gave a shrug. “Like I said. You don’t know me.” His jaw had ticked again, almost violently. “I’ll pay you triple what you make here.” “I’m good.” “I’ll give you benefits.” “Not interested.” “Dental!” “I have perfect teeth, thanks though.” Donnie’s fists had balled, then waved wildly in the air. “I’ll! … I’ll put you in reception!” Kendra had just sighed and stared at him, that same void expression on her face. “Is that it?” Donnie breathed out, looming nearer, his eyes searching her face. “You want out of the tech side of it? You want to keep a low profile, after prison? You don’t want to be in the middle of it all?” Kendra had taken in a deep breath through her nose. “I don’t want to be in the middle of anything.” The friendship had been slow to build, and certainly it hadn’t been on purpose. Donnie didn’t trust her, and Kendra knew that. But Kendra also wasn’t looking for a friend, either (and never mind that her therapist had insisted she needed one). That was always the way of it, though. You always find things when you aren’t looking for them. The softshell had continued to come to the Trader Joe's on Thursday nights, with his paltry scattering of items that he purchased in silence, and eventually, he’d met her by her car after she clocked out for the night. “Are you stalking me?” Donnie had frowned, his hip leaning against the driver-side door of her shitty Honda Civic. “No,” he’d snapped, and Kendra had shot him a disbelieving look. “How’d you know which car was mine?” She asked. Donnie hadn’t answered her, had just moved to let her unlock her door with the key, and waited for her to slide into the front seat. He stood there, in her space and keeping her from shutting the door. “Purple dice,” he finally said, gesturing to the fuzzy blocks that hung from her rearview mirror. “I assumed it was yours.” Kendra said nothing, just waited for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say. “...Can I take you to dinner?” Kendra had snorted. “Not hungry,” she’d replied as she looked up at him, again with that bored stare. “Coffee, then,” Donnie had insisted. Kendra hesitated. She felt… nothing of her old self around him. That urge to best him or one-up him or fight him. Maybe there was something to that? Maybe she really was changing, and she was just so wrapped up in her past mistakes that she was missing the real growth (that’s what her therapist said, anyway). Maybe if she stayed with him for a bit, and that old narcissistic part of herself reared its head, finally, she’d know for sure? With a small groan, sure that this was only some plan of Donnie’s to keep a watchful eye on her, Kendra nodded. It became a routine, from then on out. He got his items in her checkout line, and a few hours later he met her by her car- always driving separately to the all-night diner just a block away, with its subpar waffles and often burnt coffee. At first, it had been awkward. Donnie had near interrogated her that first night, bringing up her time in prison as soon as they slid into the booth, and the waitress that had been beelining toward them had paused suddenly in her tracks before turning on a heel and retreating back to the kitchens, shaking her head as she went. “Have some fun digging up my criminal record?” Kendra had asked with a thin glare. Donnie shrugged. “Not like it was hard, it’s all public information.” “That makes it okay then?” Donnie had given her a shrewd look and replied, “I’m asking my former enemy to coffee, of course I looked up your record.” “And why are you asking me to coffee?” Kendra wondered openly. “Why are you interested in me at all?” Donnie tapped his fingers on the formica tabletop, gone yellow from a time when indoor smoking had been rampant. “I don’t know,” he finally muttered, waving over the waitress who had popped her head out of the kitchen to see if they were still there. “I went to prison, and I don’t plan on going back,” Kendra said in a hushed voice after the waitress took their order. “That’s all you need to know.” On many of what became weekly coffee meet-ups (they certainly weren’t dates), they sat in almost complete silence. Kendra imagined it was hell for Donnie, as he watched her sip her coffee- sometimes nibbling on toast. The silence of two people who have nothing in common and whose only history is sour. But Kendra had found it… almost nice. Peaceful. Sometimes she pretended she was with a friend. With someone who wasn’t judging her, didn’t know her past. Who didn’t look at her like a bad omen or a pariah. With someone who let her sit in silence, and didn’t expect anything from her, didn’t suspect her of anything terrible. Someone who let her have a blank slate, and judged her now, at this point in her life, and not on all her past mistakes. “How’s Jeremy,” Donnie asked one night, and Kendra had given a small shrug, hating the way the question made her shoulders stiffen. “No idea. Last I heard he moved to New Jersey.” To get away from her. She didn’t add the last part, but it stuck in her head and cajoled her, mocked her. Jeremy had moved as far as he could, while still being close enough to his family to visit, just to get away from her. “What about Jace?” Another small shrug and a sting to her pride. He waited for a real answer, and Kendra finally said, “He’s fine… I suppose. I only see him at Christmas.” “Because he won’t go along with any of your schemes anymore?” Donnie has asked sharply. “I looked him up. Seems like your stepbrother is a model citizen now.” Kendra sipped her coffee and said nothing, enveloping them both in silence once more as she looked out the window and watched the very first snow of winter begin to fall- the powder of it swirling in the wind. But later, before she got into her car, she called out to Donnie; “Because he hates me.” Donatello had paused, half crouched into the front seat of a very nice Corvette (and of course it was purple, everything always was, with him). “Jace doesn’t speak to me,” she said, working hard not to bite her lip. “He… He hates me.” Donnie hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry,” in a soft voice. Kendra gave another shrug. “I get it,” she said quietly. Then, unsure if he could hear her from the distance they stood, she said again, “I get it. I…” She trailed off long enough that Donnie raised a brow at her, waiting. “I just get it,” she said finally, before slipping into her car and driving home. Home now was a very squalor little flat in The Burrows, and the first Thursday that Kendra had missed work had been met with Donnie pounding on her door until she pulled herself from where she’d been sleeping to answer. Kendra peered at him- not bothering to hide her annoyance. “So many questions,” she grunted tiredly. Before he could speak she muttered, “First of them would be, why are you pounding on my door like the police?” Donnie gave a little cringe, looking her over. “Sorry,” he said with a wince. “Got a little carried away.” They’d been talking now for four months, and in that time neither had particularly opened up to one another. Not really. She was standing there in an oversized shirt, dark circles around her eyes and a wad of tissues in hand, and Donnie’s annoyed face melted into one of tentative concern. “Are you sick?!” Kendra glared. “No, I just wanted a day away from you,” she’d rasped, sneezing into her elbow as though to punctuate her sarcasm. “How did you even know where I lived?” She thought about her question then shook her head, “Actually, don’t answer that. I’m sure it was easy to figure out.” He’d hesitated at her door long enough, looking suddenly awkward and saying nothing, that Kendra had shuffled back into her living room and flopped onto her couch, saying, “Either go or stay, but stop looming at my door.” Donnie had scowled and walked into her apartment, shutting the door behind him and taking up entirely too much space in the middle of her home. “I’m not looming.” “You are,” Kendra muttered, her voice muffled by the pillow she’d buried her face into. “You loom.” She’d heard him grumble, not catching any of his words and possibly going into a sort of hazy, fever-fueled sleep. But when her couch shifted, and she lifted her head, she was being handed a very hot mug of tea. “Thanks,” she mumbled, sitting up carefully and taking the scalding beverage, blowing over it. He’d eyed her for a moment before saying, “Sorry I just showed up. You weren't at the store and I was… worried.” Kendra rolled her eyes, sipping the tea and burning her tongue in the process. “Worried about me, or worried I was out causing trouble?” He doesn’t clarify, but she knows the answer anyway. He still regarded her with unease, with unveiled distrust, and Kendra didn’t blame him. She barely trusted herself, why should Donnie? He looked her over, probably taking in the sheen of sweat over her face, and his brow knit with concern. The back of Donnie’s hand rested on her forehead. “You’re burning up,” he said softly. “When was the last time you took some medicine?” Kendra gave him a slow blink. Donnie’s eyes narrowed. “Have you taken any medicine?” Another slow blink, and Donnie huffed and pulled out his phone, hunching over it and tapping away. “What are you doing?” “Ordering you drugs.” Kendra’s face scrunched. Or she thought it did. Who was to know, with a fever coursing through her body. “I’m like an Ox. I don’t need medicine.” She’d groused, feeling suddenly dizzy. Donnie had hummed, taking her tea when she swayed, his eyes never leaving the screen of his phone. “I believe you, absolutely,” he said dubiously. “That’s a first,” she’d mumbled, falling back onto her pillow and pulling the covers around her. He might have said more, but she didn’t know it. Not with the way unconsciousness swept over her like a fog. Her dreams had been disjointed, full of swirling dark and replaying out of order all of her worst memories. She was awakened again, this time to Donnie prodding her cheek with a finger, and she jerked and gave a sharp yell as she was torn from a nightmare- half expecting to look around her and be back in a small, cramped cell. Her breath came heavy as she’d looked at Donatello, and in his eyes she saw… pity. Unmasked curiosity. Worry. “You’re alright,” he’d told her cautiously. Kendra groaned and hid her face in her pillow, hoping she’d said nothing in her sleep, hoping Donnie would never ask about it if she had. “Come on, Ken,” he coaxed almost gently. “Your drugs are here.” Kendra had moaned out a sound of despair. “Why is it so cold?” she asked, shivering. “It’s not, you have a fever.” “No I don’t. I never get sick.” Donnie let out a puff of a breath that might have been a laugh. “Mmm, I see. Well, do me a favor and take the drugs anyway.” Kendra sat up, grumbling all the while, and when she looked at him again Donnie had schooled his expression back into one that no longer looked so curious, so troubled. “I’d think you’d be happy to see me suffer,” she groused. Donnie handed her the horrid liquid cold and flu medicine with a dubious stare. “I don’t want you to suffer, Kendra.” “Yeah?” She knocked back the liquid, pulling a disgusted face before saying, “What do you want?” He didn’t respond, and she flopped back down, curling in on herself as she began to tremble with cold chills. Donnie had stayed the whole night, though. Had gotten her comforter from her bed and covered her with it. Had forced her to drink liquids and brought her cold washcloths when she became hot- kicking off her blankets and complaining weakly. In the morning he was gone, and though she was still sick- everything was a little more manageable. He’d left her with a fridge full of Gatorade and even set out some cans of chicken noodle soup, and later she got a text asking how she was.
Kendra; I’d ask how the fuck you got my number, but that’s a stupid question.
Donnie; Answer the question, Ken. How are you feeling?
Kendra; Pushy.
Kendra; I’m better. Still a fever but not so bad.
Donnie; Ok good.
A full hour went by, and she eventually texted again.
Kendra; Thank you, btw.
He’d not responded. On most mornings, when she looked in the mirror, Kendra would only give her reflection a flat stare. On this morning, however, in late January, Kendra paused and really looked at herself. There were the ever-present bags under her eyes, and her hair was due for a trim- something she’d just do herself and pray it came out right. She wondered, idly, if having such an aversion to people was healthy. She’d liked to go out, once upon a time. She and Jeremy would hotwire a car while Jace kept lookout, and then they’d bar hop- using her father's credit card to rack up an astronomical tab before joyriding around the city. It was a wonder they’d never been caught. It was a wonder she was still alive. Still, even then she’d not really enjoyed being in the midst of a crowded room. She’d thought people annoying and stupid, unlike herself. She’d used to think so highly of herself. She was a genius. She was beautiful. She was better. Now she looked in the mirror and saw… none of that. Just some sad reflection of a woman who had never really known herself, and still didn’t, after all these years. Her phone pings, and with a sigh she looks down at it.
Donnie; Look at this idiot.
Kendra snorts at the image that follows- a billionaire who had literally tripped over one of his own brand of soda cans and fallen flat on his face in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard.
Kendra; i hope he broke his nose
Donnie; No such luck. But that’s good karma.
That was new. The texts Donnie sent her occasionally, the little news blurbs she never saw herself, or the memes he somehow knew she’d enjoy. Kendra wondered at it, half-agonized over it. Why did Donatello Hamato want to text her? The coffee meet-ups made sense, in a way. It was a chance for him to get information from her, a chance for him to check in on her. … Though, since her bout with the flu, he hadn’t really asked her any more questions. Hadn’t prodded her on her life or her plans. It was almost as though… It was almost as though he didn’t see her as a threat, anymore. Kendra scoffed at the thought. There was one thing she knew about Donnie for certain, and that was his suspicious mind where she was concerned. Her phone pinged again.
Donnie; If Mikey tries to get me to eat brussel sprouts again I’ll shove a whole bag of them up his ass. Look at this shit.
Then an image of a container full of soggy-looking vegetables that had gone moldy.
Kendra; Ew! Is that from Thanksgiving?
Donnie; Don’t worry about it.
Kendra; Omg it is. Clean your fridge! You’re an adult!
Donnie; According to Mikey if I don’t eat my vegetables I’m an overgrown child.
Kendra; Mikey is right.
Kendra looked in the mirror and was startled by what she saw looking back at her. A smile. A very large, very toothy grin. It changed her whole face. Made her look younger. Made her look… Happy. She tried to scowl, but her phone pinged again, and before she could even look at it, she was smiling. It was her twenty-seventh birthday, and Kendra was ignoring her phone. Not that there were many people lining up to message her. Her parents had, and she’d texted back a quick thank you before turning the offending device on silent and deciding that all she was doing for the day was watching old Bruce Lee movies and ordering takeout. She’d opened all her apartment windows and let the air in- even though there was a chill in the air. Spring might be on its way, but they’d had a snowstorm just two nights prior, and Kendra could smell the icy wind as it whipped through her apartment. She’d spent the morning and afternoon deep cleaning her home and wishing she’d just picked up a shift at work. By mid-afternoon, she was half starving, and she ordered her lo mein and queued up Fist of Fury, taking a shower and changing into her rattiest but most comfortable pajama set. But when she answered the soft knock at her door, her Chinese takeout was nowhere to be seen, and instead a large, purple-banded mutant turtle was standing at her door, looming. “Why are you here?” Kendra has asked, perhaps a bit more aggressively than needed. Donnie had raised a brow. “Don’t you ever look at your phone?” Kendra frowned. “Not really, no.” He’d shifted then, as though he were suddenly nervous. “Uh… It’s… It’s your birthday.” Kendra couldn’t help the loud sigh that escaped her. Of course he knew. He knew everything. “And?” Donnie rubbed the back of his neck. “And… And I thought you might want to have coffee?” Her gaze narrowed. “It’s a Monday.” Donnie scowled down at her. “There’s no rule that we can’t hang out on days other than Thursdays,” he snipped. Kendra thought about slamming the door in his face, but her food had arrived and she took it, Donnie shifting a bit to let her snag the white bag from the courier. “I already ordered food,” she said, holding up the bag. “Chinese is always better after a day in the fridge,” Donnie told her. “I’ll drive. And I’ll pay. My treat.” Then, seeming to realize that his voice was almost pleading, he rearranged his features and said with an air of indifference, “But if you already have plans it’s no big deal.” Kendra pursed her lips as she looked at him, standing there in his peacoat and designer jeans, smelling like expensive cologne and wearing a look of… vulnerability. She sighed and shook her head. “No… No, it’s fine. Just, let me change really quick.” The drive there had been quiet, the Corvette switched out for a more suitable vehicle for the weather- a black four-door truck with loud purple detailing, and Kendra had stared at the city as it inched by, slush and snow piled into high mounds on the side of the road by plows. Donnie had looked like he wanted to speak so many times during the drive, but had aborted his sentence before he could ever start it, hands tightening on the wheel. Kendra wondered what had him so jittery, so nervous. It was odd, being in the diner in the light of day. Everything looked more… yellow. The tile of the floors were chipped and the plastic of the menus looked even more frayed and abused than usual. “This… probably isn’t the best place for a birthday dinner,” Donnie had muttered as they sat, looking around at the restaurant that was brightly lit by the winter sun streaming in its long windows, seeming to also notice all the things that were somehow hidden when the clock struck 10 p.m.
She shrugged, deciding it was her birthday and she’d allow herself to order waffles. “I wasn’t really planning on doing anything,” she said, setting aside the menu. “This is fine.” There was that silence again, and when their coffee came Kendra was content to marinate in it. To let it swallow her up. Donnie, apparently, was not. “Why weren’t you going out with friends?” Kendra snorted out a derisive laugh. “What friends?” More silence, and Kendra carefully avoided looking at Donnie’s face. “I don’t have any of those,” she finally murmured. “I don’t think I ever did.” When she did chance a look at him, Donnie’s face was carefully void of any expression. She ate her waffle with small bites, ordering more coffee and giving Donnie another glance. He was dressed so nicely… maybe she should have put on something a little more fancy. … Not that she owned anything of the sort- not anymore, anyway. And she fit in better, there in the shitty little diner, with her oversized hoodie and gray beanie hat. “Were you doing something after this?” Donnie disappeared half his slice of toast in one bite and shook his head. “No… why?” “You’re just… You look nice.” It was the first time that Kendra felt awkward in any silence. He just looked at her, a faint blush on his cheeks, and she realized with a sort of dawning panic that he’d dressed that way for her.
For her birthday.
“Oh,” she’d whispered. They were both blushing now, and Kendra moved a cut of her waffle around in some syrup. “I don’t… I don’t really celebrate my birthday.” His lips pursed to the side. “Why not?” She’d shrugged, looking down at the formica tabletop. Finally, after a long stretch of silence, she said so quietly she was surprised he heard, “It seems selfish.” He’d tried to get her to look at him then, had bent his head down and probed her gaze with his own. “It’s selfish to celebrate your birthday?” He finally asked, giving up trying to catch her eyes and leaning back, cracking his knuckles in a nervous tic. Kendra gave him the smallest of fleeting glances. “Yeah.” The silence stretched again. “You know it’s okay to… To forgive yourself,” Donnie finally said. Kendra bit the inside of her cheek. “Is it? No one else has… why should I?” Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “That sounded like a complaint, and it wasn’t,” she clarified. Donnie raised a brow at her. “Did you apologize to anyone?” She bit her cheek harder. “Yeah,” she whispered. “A few people.” It strikes her then that she’d never afforded the softshell across from her the same courtesy as her parents and stepbrother. She eyes him before saying tentatively, “I’m trying, you know. And… And I’m sorry-” “Stop. It’s fine,” Donnie cut her off quickly with a hard edge in his voice, seeming to realize what she was about to say and wanting to stop her before she did. “It was a long time ago.” Kendra gave him a curious look. It was true- most of their tanglings had been when they were teenagers, and by adulthood she’d gotten smart enough to avoid going after Donnie and his brothers. But he’d hated her, and she had hated him. And she knew that she’d caused him an endless amount of grief back then, too. “I thought you’d want an apology,” she murmured. His brows knit. “Yeah, so did I.” “And you don’t, now?” Donnie shook his head. “No. I… I don’t need one, Ken.” Kendra suddenly wasn’t hungry, and she stared at her waffle and hated everything about herself. Hated that she’d ever been the kind of person that needed to apologize to people.Hated that the only reason she was even trying was to stay out of prison. Hated that she’d fucked with people's lives so badly that they could never trust her again. Hated that she’d been so selfish, once. She thought she probably still was, under everything. Was probably still that selfish, unkind person that no one could trust. She wondered when the old Kendra would come back. She wondered if the man across from her would even be surprised. If he’d even be disappointed. “Well… Happy Birthday, Kendra,” Donnie whispered. She nodded, pushing away her plate and wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. “Thanks, Donnie.” Summer in New York that year was ridiculously hot, and because Donnie was Donnie, he insisted that any time they went to the diner he would drive her in his convertible, the top down and synth music blaring obnoxiously. Sometimes he played what Kendra teased was “Dad Rock”, hair metal and guitar solos that didn’t seem to his taste and had clearly rubbed off from Leo- the wailing of them punching through the speakers. He’d wiggle in his seat and force her to sing with him while he drove around the block over and over- waiting for the song to end. At least, she pretended that he had forced her. Secretly she’d added Journey to her playlist and would listen to it while she cleaned her apartment, catching herself smiling and thinking of Donnie screaming Any Way You Want It in her head. It was on one such occasion, in his car on a warm night, the third drive around the diner while Motley Crue sang about someone called Dr. Feelgood, that his phone had rang, and he’d answered it with a tap of his finger and a cheery hello.
“Hermano! You want to pick up the pizzas tonight?!”
Kendra shifted, happiness deflating, and suddenly afraid to breathe too loudly. She knew the voice that echoed through the car’s speakers, cutting off the discordant sounds of the electric guitar. Donnie’s eyes had narrowed, gaze flitting casually to his mirrors as he asked, “Why am I picking up pizza?” There was a loud sigh on the other line.
“Booooo! We all told you about this! Junior is home! We’re having a party!”
Donnie raised a brow and replied, “I thought that was tomorrow. In fact, I know it is because that’s what I have on my calendar. Shelldon reminded me.” Another uncomfortable lance of distress at another familiar name. “Well yeah,” Leo had replied. “But tonight is a pregame! A party before the party!” Donnie had rolled his eyes and smirked. “Alright well, you dum-dum’s will have to wait a couple hours.” Leo had scoffed, then after a brief pause had asked, “Is Kendra with you?” His question had made her stiffen, but not so much as when Donnie had brightly replied, “Yeah! Say hi, Ken!” Her eyes had been wide as she looked at him, and she’d only been able to squeak out a tiny, “Hello, Leonardo.” “Well that explains everything,” Leo had said with a small chuckle. “Have fun you two!” The line went dead, and Kendra had remained in shell-shocked silence until Donnie pulled into street parking and sat waiting for the soft top of the hood to lift over them, turning off his music and humming a little under his breath. He didn’t even seem to realize that Kendra was on the verge of a panic attack. Unable to stop herself, Kendra had said, “You… you told your brother about me?” It had come out as a question when she clearly already knew the answer, and there had been a ring of disbelief in her words. Again, Donnie raised a brow high over his mask. “Why wouldn’t I?” Kendra just stared at him, and eventually, he turned his head and looked at her. “You alright?” Her eyes crinkled in the corners as she thinned her gaze. “Don’t… Don’t they hate me? Aren’t they worried?” Donnie shrugged. “At first… yeah. But they know people change.” His words hit her in the chest like a physical blow. “But I haven’t changed,” she’d whispered. “I’m… I’m still me.” Donnie had scoffed, turning off the Corvette and opening the door. “Of course you’ve changed, Kendra.” They’ve known each other a full year before Kendra finally notices the tug. It’s the most embarrassing thing she thinks she’s ever realized, and this was coming from a woman who had cried real tears on her first night in the penitentiary. Not since that first night at the diner had she wanted to do anything but be in Donnie’s presence. She hadn’t wanted to mock him or argue with him- not the way she’d used to. Even when they had snapped at each other, her heart had never really been in it. She’d just been content to have him near, to have their quiet moments. She felt…calm, with him. Safe, somehow. She still wasn’t sure what all this was. But even now, the tug wasn’t anything that she might have imagined. Because of course it wasn’t. “You should be happy!” Kendra glared up at the softshell. “Oh, fuck you,” she snapped, hiding her laugh with a frown. “You got his number!” “I didn’t want his number!” They stood in the diner parking lot, the two of them leaning on her rusted Civic and chatting, back to wearing sweaters now that the weather was cooling. “I assure you that the last thing I’ve ever wanted was a sixty-year-old drunk slipping me his number,” Kendra insisted, then added, “In a diner I’m pretty sure has a rat infestation.” “Oh, it definitely does,” Donnie said, then added in a teasing voice, “It could be true love! That man in the John Deere hat could have been your soulmate!” “Ugh!” Her lips threatened a smile as she looked up at him. “I bet you’re jealous he didn’t give you his number.” Donnie nodded sagely. “Yes, obviously.” And he smiled down at her, and there it was.
The tug.
With the air getting cold again in the early fall, their breaths seemed to mingle together in the space between them. And Kendra felt suddenly horrified. Something about the way he looked at her. The way he seemed… happy to be around her… She pushed away from her car with her hip. “I should go,” she muttered. “Oh… Alright,” Donnie replied, his voice holding a hint of confusion. “You okay?” Kendra’s hand lingered on the door handle. “Why wouldn’t I be, Von Ryan?” she snapped. A flit of surprise crossed Donnie’s features before he gave her a small, rueful smile. “There’s the Kendra I used to know.” Her lips parted in distress, realizing what she said- the shame of her words washing over her like static. “N-no! No, I-” “You’re okay,” Donnie interrupted, hands shoved now into his pockets. “It’s sort of nice, knowing you’re still in there. I was starting to worry you might be an android.” Her frown deepened. “No,” she said seriously. “I don’t- I’m not-” Panic was suddenly gripping her heart, her chest was tightening and her breath was coming up short. She hadn’t changed. Not at all, not even a little. All this work, and it was for nothing. She’d been right all along… She needed to escape. She needed room to breathe. “I need to go.” She went to pull on the handle, and when Donnie’s hand reached out to take her wrist she snatched it away. “Don’t.” He raised his hand in a show of backing off, shoving it back into his jeans pocket. “Alright… I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, then added quietly, “I didn’t mean anything by it.” Kendra yanked open the door, but she only stood there, staring at her front seat and hesitating. “I don’t want to be that person,” she finally said. “I don’t… I don’t want to be the old Kendra.” A stretch of quiet enveloped them, and it was the first that Kendra had ever hated. “I believe you,” he finally murmured. Her head snapped up to look at him. “Don’t.” Before he could reply, she was gone. By the next Thursday she was supposed to meet him, Kendra was nervous. The entirety of the day she had looked around whenever there had been a lull in customers, feeling jumpy and ill at ease as she looked for jade skin and purple mask tails. But Donnie had not come through her line, and when she clocked out at the end of the night he wasn’t waiting by her car, either. It almost surprised her, how much she’d grown used to seeing him waiting for her. How much she’d come to expect his form leaning against her car, how he’d lift his head and smile when he heard her approach. Kendra had slipped into her car and turned on her phone, letting the engine run with the heat turned all the way up- the October air crisp and the temperature low.
Donnie; Hey- gonna be late. Situation in Midtown.
The message had been sent over an hour ago, and with hesitant fingers Kendra pulled up her internet tab (something she hadn’t really done much since she’d gotten out of prison and vowed to keep away technological temptation) and looked up a local news station. It was the Breaking News, at the moment. The city’s mutant heroes were fighting some villain, some juiced-up-looking yokai with a blaster gun who towered over them (was it a triceratops? Kendra couldn’t tell). Kendra kept refreshing the news feed, an hour going by before her car dinged out that it was low on gas. She’d put a measly fiver into the tank, and when she paid for it at the counter she’d also bought something she hadn’t partaken in since the first month after her release from the penitentiary. Back in her car, she agonized, unsure whether to head home or to the diner. There was still no updated news, and she cursed before putting her car in gear and driving to the little all-hour restaurant, exiting the vehicle and staring again at her phone. As she lit the menthol cigarette, part of her wanted to lie. Wanted to insist that she wasn’t worried. She knew Donatello was more than capable, more than skilled. He and his brothers could take care of any threat, any issue that needed to be taken care of. But she was worried, and she didn’t even bother trying to hide it. She smoked one, then another, letting the smoke burn her throat and grinding the filters under her heel, scowling over every minute that ticked by with no news. “That’ll kill you, you know.” Kendra’s head whipped up, and there he was. He looked worse for wear, wearing nothing but baggy pants that were singed in places and his battle shell- something she hadn’t seen him in since they’d started talking. And he looked tired, standing there with hunched shoulders and loose arms, a frown on his face as he eyed her cigarette. Kendra threw it down, shoved her phone into her jacket pocket, and began to scramble toward him. She aborted the motion to go to him, her feet scuffing against the asphalt, and then restarted and rushed into his space. She just barely stopped herself from throwing her arms around his shoulders, had even raised her hands to do so before letting them fall limp at her sides. “Donnie!” His name was a relieved whisper on her tongue, and it had the terrapin smirking a little, eyes suddenly alight. “Ken… Were you worried about me?” Not able to quell the impulse, she reached out and slapped his plastron. “Of course I was worried about you, you idiot!” Donnie smiled at that, earning another smack to his arm. Then, without warning, he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her the short distance into his space. Kendra went stiff at the motion, hands halfway raised as he hugged her, his head dipping to rest on her shoulder. They’d made some contact since they had started talking. The most when she’d been sick last winter, and a few errant touches since. Playful slaps or pinches, and one or two times when Donnie had taken her arm and tugged her out of her car when he thought she was moving too slowly. Never this. Never a hug. And certainly not one so intimate- with his whole body almost melting into hers, his forehead pressed into her shoulder. With slightly shaking arms, Kendra raised her hands and wrapped them around his neck. After a moment, she tightened them, acutely aware of every inch of him that aligned with her body. Kendra tried to remember the last time she'd been embraced by someone who wasn't her parent and comes up with nothing. His fingers pressed into her back, as though he could somehow get her closer. “Sorry I worried you,” Donnie said, his voice a little muffled with his face pressed into her jacket. Without thinking, Kendra pet over the back of his head, fingers trailing down to his neck and lightly squeezing the nape of it. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I… I know you’re a big hero type.” A pause, and then she added, “Everything alright?” Donnie nodded, his head knocking lightly against her jaw. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m okay.” Kendra couldn’t help but doubt the words, especially when he made no move to release her. But she let herself relax, a little. Let her hand continue to rub over his neck and her chin tilt high to rest on his shoulder. “You can’t be comfortable like this,” she finally rasped, trying to make her voice light and casual. “You’re all shrimped up.” She expected him to straighten, to release her, or to hold her standing straight, at least, and not curled down with his knees bent. Instead, he hummed and pushed her a little, walking her backward until her lower back hit the Civic. Then he was lifting her with ease, setting her up on the trunk so she gained the extra height he needed to straighten his back. The whole ordeal he never raised his head from her shoulder, never unwound his arms from her waist, and now that it was a more comfortable position, he only held her tighter. Kendra pressed her lips together, taking a deep breath and sending a silent prayer that anything that was about to happen she had the strength for. She wasn't used to this. This clinginess. She'd never known Donatello to be particularly touchy, and part of her seemed to want to cringe away from it just for the sake of not looking weak... It hadn't been her to initiate it, though. And, somehow, that made it easier to enjoy. Because truth be told, she did enjoy it. The firmness of being held by someone who she trusted, even if it was marred, a little, by worry for him. “Donnie… Donnie, are you alright?” “I’m okay,” he mumbled, arms flexing as though he might be worried she’d pull away. “Okay,” Kendra whispered. “Okay, Dee.” Her words had him almost burrowing into her, had his face pressed more firmly into her collarbone. She rubbed his neck and spread her legs almost involuntarily so he could step closer into her space. She just stopped herself from wrapping them around his waist. They were… friends? (Were they friends?) And this… This was already beyond friendly contact. But what did she know about it, anyway? She’d never really had a friend to begin with- if that’s even what Donatello was. The hand not rubbing at the back of his neck trailed over his battle shell, and in a quiet voice she said, “Is this heavy?” rapping a little on the side of the titanium with her knuckles. Donnie grunted an affirmative. Kendra’s hand trailed to the side. If she remembered correctly, the button that would have it coming loose was right… there. There was a hiss of sound, and the heavy shell was unlatched from his shoulders and dropped to the ground. Donnie gave a sigh of relief to have it off, and Kendra's lip ticked upward as she smiled and wrapped her arm around him, her hand trailing over his shell. “Careful,” he whispered. “I know,” she replied- just as softly. Part of her wondered why she wanted to touch him. Both of her hands moved now, kneading his neck and rubbing over the leathery texture of his shell, touching feather-light over old scars. Donnie seemed to only melt more into her, and when his chest vibrated and he churred, Kendra felt a momentary flare of pride at having pulled the sound from him. Then his head turned and pressed into her neck, his breath on her skin, and Kendra froze. Donnie seemed to hold his breath for a moment, then asked, “Is this okay?” After a beat of silence, she nodded. And never mind that she still hadn’t sorted out her feelings, that she still felt terrible for their last interaction- when a bit of her old self had seemed to make an appearance. Her hands moved again, back to rubbing over him, and Donnie churred again, too, nuzzling into her neck. “Wrap your legs around me,” he murmured, lips moving against her skin as he breathed out the words. “R-really?” “Just… Just for a minute,” he whispered. “Wanna know…” He trailed off, his hands moving down to the hem of her jacket, and he pushed both of them up under her sweater to lay cold hands on the warmth of her bare skin. She shivered as his fingers pressed along her spine. “Sorry,” he murmured. Kendra shook her head, any words she had trapped in her throat. But she did wrap her legs around his waist- careful not to dig her Nike’s into his shell, and Donnie squeezed her to him. Finally unfurling her tongue, Kendra asked in a shaky voice, “You almost die tonight, Donnie?” “No,” he replied, then corrected himself and said, "Maybe. But I just… I just want you close, that's all.” Kendra’s face seemed to crumple at his words, at the earnest way in which he’d said them. “Why me?” Donnie sighed into her neck. “Dunno,” he mumbled, hands trailing over her back, fingers tracing over the line of her bra before moving lower and avoiding it. “Wanted… Wanted to… for a while now.” Kendra bites her lip to keep from asking the same question again. Wherever this neediness came from, this insistence to have her pressed to him, she didn’t want to complain. She was half afraid that if she thought about it too much, he’d pull away. And she wanted him close, too.
“Get a room!”
The words had been yelled with a laugh by a small group of people as they walked into the diner, and Kendra blushed and glared over Donnie's shoulder at them. In her arms, Donnie sighed. The moment had finally been broken, and Kendra loosened her legs and her hold on him as he pulled back. He stayed in the width of her thighs, his hands moving from her back and smoothing out her clothing. “I… should get some rest,” he said in a hushed voice. “Yeah,” Kendra whispered. “You look tired.” He hesitated, as though there was a question he was burning to ask. Instead, though, he stepped away from her, and Kendra slipped down from the trunk of her car and looked up at him, nervous, now. “You need a ride home?” She didn’t even know where his home was- if it was still with his brothers or somewhere near the Genius Built office, close to the Trader Joe's where she worked. Donnie shook his head. “No, my apartment isn’t far. I’ve got the battle shell, I’ll just fly there.” Kendra nodded. “Alright.” They stared at one another. Before she could think about it and chicken out, Kendra went on tiptoes, her hand going to his cheek and her lips pressing to the other. She felt the whisper of his lips graze against her own cheek just as she pulled back. “See you next week?” Donnie smiled a small, happy smile, not even bothering to stop himself from touching the place her lips had just been. “Yeah,” he said with a crooked grin. “See you next week.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Why do i waste all of my time
Pretending to be alright
What if this time i want to cry
Kendra was irate. She was livid. She didn’t even know she could feel this way anymore, this anger that seemed to consume her. The moment she saw him walking into the store she was taking off her apron and meeting him at the door, pushing him with a hand on his chest back out into the parking lot. “How dare you, ” she hisses up at him, and Donnie had the audacity to look bewildered. “W-what ?!” “How dare you talk to Jace!” His eyes go round as she backs him further into the parking lot. “He called you, then?” Donnie squeaks out, head whipping about as though some passerby might save him from the angry woman who was corralling him between cars. “Fuck you!” Kendra barks, her voice echoing and making others turn and look. “You told him I was different?! That I’ve changed?!" “You have!” he chirps, heels digging in so she is forced to stop pushing him. Kendra’s head tilts, her jaw jutting out and her fists balling at her sides. “You don’t know that!” she spat out. “You don’t know anything about me!” Her words have Donnie’s eyes seeming to suddenly blaze, and he takes a step into her space, his hands flapping about as he speaks. “I know you aren’t the same!” he snaps. “I know you’ve changed!” “Stop it.” “You aren’t the same person, Ken! You’re completely different!” “I said stop.” “And I don’t know why you can’t just admit it! ” “Donatello!” “And by the way! It isn’t like I tracked him down, I swear I didn’t! I just… I saw his name on an application, at the office, and we got to talking and-” “And you told him shit that you don’t even know is true!” Kendra half snarls, half screeches. “You said to- to give me another chance,” she sputters out wildly. “You got him all- all excited! He wants to have lunch!” Donnie gives her another bewildered look. “Isn’t that a good thing?!” “No!” Kendra fumes. “No! I don’t… I don’t want that!” “Why?!” “Because I don’t want to disappoint him! ” She’d yelled it, had bellowed it into the night air, and with her words a silence followed. Donnie stares at her, his eyes seeming to sharpen, and Kendra is so afraid of what he might read in her expression that she tries desperately to school it. Donnie’s jaw ticks. “You’ve changed,” he says, voice holding an insisting tone. “You don’t know that,” Kendra growls. “Just the other day you said that you saw that old Kendra.” “What I saw,” Donnie begins, voice heating up again, “was fire. It was a person. It wasn’t this shell you hide in all the time.” “That’s the real me,” Kendra insists, ignoring his words. “That terrible, shitty girl who only thinks of herself. Who’s mean to everyone she meets. That’s the real Kendra.” “It isn’t,” Donnie says, voice sure. “You don’t know that!” And suddenly, she wants to cry. Her words have Donnie pausing, have him narrowing his gaze and looking at her with calculating eyes. “Is that what this is?” Donnie finally asks, voice almost a whisper. “Are you afraid you didn’t change?” She says nothing, eyes flitting off and to the side, and from the corner of them she sees Donnie scowl. “Do you think I’m stupid?” Kendra gives no indication of an answer, too busy with an internal diatribe that insists she keep it together, insists she didn’t break down in front of Donatello- like the wet bubble in her throat was threatening to do. “You must,” Donnie says. “You must think I’m fucking stupid, if you want me to believe for one second you’re the same person you used to be.” Kendra throws him a quick glare. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” she snaps roughly. “I just! I just…” Her voice trails off, that bubble in her throat threatening to make her voice crack. “I don’t want him to get hurt,” she says, quieter this time. She bites her lips harshly and takes a severe breath through her nose, looking down at the pavement, her shoes scuffing the ground below her “Why would you hurt him?” Donnie asks, voice mystified by her words. Kendra says nothing, just keeps her eyes trained on her shoes, rolling one of her shoulders when Donnie tries to lay a hand on it and making him sigh in annoyance. He looks at her though, she knows he does because she can feel the way his eye bore down on her, and Kendra can feel the way tension leaves his body, can feel - just from his closeness- how the fight goes out of him and is replaced with… pity. “Kendra… Do you want to hurt Jace?” She hesitates, then shakes her head, scared that if she speaks her voice will break. “Do you… Do you want to hurt me?” “No,” she croaks instantly, and later she’ll be surprised by the quickness of her response. She’s dead set on looking only at the ground, so when Donnie’s finger goes under her chin and lifts it, she flinches. “Look at me,” he murmurs gently, taking a small step forward, and she does, hating how her eyes are watery, hating how his form is a little blurry from it. Donnie’s eyes are gold, she notices- not for the first time, but maybe more intimately than she ever has before. They hold her own in an almost hypnotizing way, full of concern and care “Say you don’t want to hurt me,” he tells her, bending his head down to keep eye contact, his finger still under her chin. “Say it.” She lets in a little gasp of air and says in a rush, “I don’t want to hurt you.” She desperately wants to look away, especially when she has to choke back a sob at his next words. “I believe you.” Kendra pulls back, wiping her eyes almost angrily. “I don’t want you to.”
Two days later, Kendra lays on her couch, exhausted. Therapy always did that to her, made her feel tired and drained. She had left Donnie in the parking lot, standing there in the cold and staring at her as she left, and Kendra hadn’t heard from him since. She finally told her therapist about him, though. Told her all about Donatello and their past. About how she thought maybe they were friends now… maybe more. About how she feared a backslide, how she feared screwing everything up and hurting someone she cared about. Deeply, she realized. Even the thought of never seeing Donnie again caused a panic in her heart- and she scolded herself for becoming so attached. She told her therapist about Jace, too. About her step-brother wanting to meet her for lunch, wanting to hang out. About how angry she’d been- not wanting to once again let down someone who had already written her off. “Kendra… have you used a computer since you got out of prison?” Kendra had blanched at the question. “Of course I haven't. You know I haven't.” The doctor had made a face and shook her head. “I want you to. Even if it’s just getting on your phone and looking through TikTok or Instagram.” Kendra had nearly fled from the room at the mere suggestion. “But what if-” “Donatello is right,” she’d said sharply. “You have grown. And the only person who doesn’t know it is you.” “But… But what if you’re wrong, and I haven’t changed? What if the old Kendra is still there?” The doctor raised a thin brow. “She is, Kendra. She always will be. You never lose everything. You never will.” She’d leaned forward in her seat a little. “None of us just suddenly become new people. None of us ever shake the past. It’s about acknowledging the mistakes and moving forward. Forward, Kendra. Not living in them and wishing they weren’t real. All those mistakes? They make you a better person.” Then, leaning back and tilting her head she added, “You’re worried you haven’t changed, but it isn’t change we go through… It’s growth.” Her time had been up- it always was when she had a million questions she wanted answered. But the doctor had given her parting instructions. “Get on your computer this weekend, and see if the temptation is there. I know you think you’ll backslide, that you’ll suddenly want to- to rob a local bodega-” Kendra snorted at her words. “-Or hack into Microsoft. But have a look and see. I think you’ll be surprised, Kendra.”
“It’s time to go back to the land of the living, Kendra.”
They had been her parting words, and Kendra lay on her own threadbare couch, staring at her phone’s dark screen, fingers tracing over the side button.
It’s time to go back to the land of the living.
Is that what she’d been doing? Avoiding everyone to keep them safe? Keeping people at an arm's length not to keep from hurting herself, but others. Burrowing in on her own solace and ignoring the person she was… She didn’t want to be old Kendra- and she wondered how she’d even gotten that way in the first place. Her father liked to tell her she’d been a wild child when she was younger. That even in diapers she was toddling through the house and making a mess of anything she could get her hands on. But that she’d been curious and sweet, too, and that he’d never seen a child so intent on impressing her parents- with her drawings and schoolwork, and later with her knack for programming at an early age. And then she’d turned eleven and… things had changed. Her parents had divorced, her mother had moved away and she’d just known it was her fault, somehow. She’d started getting too smart for her teachers- too smart for any of them to keep that edge of boredom from creeping in, anyway. And she had met Jeremy, who was a little wild, like her, and then Jace- who went along with everything she said because he was easy to manipulate and desperate to be accepted. It had all just kept spiraling, from there, and not once had she paused and thought about her actions. Even when her father was yelling at her, pleading with her to change her ways- asking where that little girl had gone. No. It had taken prison to get her to want to change any part of herself. Fear that had prompted it. And it made her angry that it hadn’t been a nobler reason. Still, she had done a lot of self-reflecting in the two years since she’d been out. And there hadn’t been the temptation to slide back into her criminal ways. Maybe it wasn’t because she had removed the temptation, not anymore. Maybe… Maybe she really had changed? Maybe she had grown. She spends an hour on her phone, looking over an Instagram feed that is full of people she never saw anymore. Of Jeremy and his wife, smiling with a baby between them (when had that happened?!). Of Jace and his boyfriend- who she hadn’t even known about- together on a beach in Australia. Old high school friends and their lives, their smiling faces or their posts of heartache and trauma. She’s missed a bevy of messages, too. From old friends wishing her a happy birthday. From Jeremy, telling her that he hoped she was doing well and attaching a picture of a chubby infant. From Donnie. Who had sent her a friend request months ago.
Donatello Hamato; Do you even use this app, Ken? I want to send you pictures of Mikey’s art.
Donatello Hamato; Hey! What are you doing for your birthday?
Donatello Hamato; Look! I grew a fucking cucumber! I’m a botanist!! I’m unstoppable!
Donatello Hamato; Ignore the plant in the back. Don’t be a snitch.
Donatello Hamato; Like my post, damn you! I know you like the Vette!
Donatello Hamato; Ugh, Ken. I know you won’t see this, but I had to go into the store today for bread and you weren't there for me to pester. Unacceptable.
Donatello Hamato; Sorry if I was weird tonight.
How long had he been waiting for her, she wondered suddenly. How long had he been waiting for her to give him some sign, some hint that she cared for him. Kendra closes the app, hesitates, then opens another. Nakamura’s homepage had gotten a little fancier in the years since she’d visited it, and she browsed over their welcome page with a frown, reading about all their technological advancements, and the products they planned on releasing. And she felt… nothing. Maybe some mild interest in the tech side of it all. But nothing else. No sudden urge to plan a heist or download stolen files. Part of her did wonder if she still had the chops for it, if the skill was still here. But the want… It was gone. Carefully, Kendra turned off her phone, setting it to the side and staring at her ceiling. It took less than a minute for the tears to come. It takes Donnie two weeks to come back to Trader Joe’s, and Kendra stiffens when he again comes into her line with nothing in hand. He stands there for a moment, looking at her, and Kendra finds she cannot meet his gaze. She’d thought he abandoned her. She’d thought he was done with her. And she hadn’t been angry, hadn’t been upset. She got it, after all. She understood. Who the fuck wanted to stick around for Kendra, of all people. Even if she had changed… Who wanted the hassle? And yet, here he was, standing in her line and looking at her like she was a hurt animal- caught in a trap and needing soothing words. “Are you still mad at me?” “No,” she whispers, resisting the urge to hide under the register. “Want to get coffee, when you’re done?” She hesitates, then nods. The silence isn’t the good kind, there in the diner, and Kendra hates the way she longs for a time when she could sit with the turtle across from her and not feel this sudden awkwardness. Their coffee comes, then Kendra’s toast, and finally Donnie shifts in his seat. “I’m sorry I talked to Jace about you,” he begins. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Kendra presses her lips together, then mumbles, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” The silence stretches again. “When I first saw you… I thought it was an act.” Kendra spares a quick glance at him. He’s got one arm over the back of the booth- as though he’s trying to look casual- but it’s all ruined by the stiffness of his posture. “And… And I wanted to keep an eye on you,” he continues. “I wanted to see what you were planning. Because you had to be planning something. Kendra- the one I knew- she didn’t just… she didn’t do anything without a purpose.” She shrugs, looking back down at her coffee. She’d assumed it was the reason he’d wanted to be around her, and she’s not offended. She gets it. “I get it.” Donnie frowns. “So I was sure it was an act. I was sure there was something else. Maybe Trader Joe’s was suddenly a front for the Purple Dragons? Maybe you were waiting for the right moment to enact some over-the-top heist.” She just frowns at her coffee. “Then I realized something,” he tells her softly. “I realized… You were different. And… and you were scared.” It’s the truth, so she doesn’t bother denying it. Instead, she says, “You figured it out. I’m a pathetic little shell of a person now.” Donnie’s lips tick downward. “I don’t think you’re pathetic.” Kendra just barely holds back a scoff. “Yeah? Well… Well, I think I’m pathetic.” The admission has her going hot under the collar of her sweater. “Because you’re changing?” “No,” she whispers. “Because… Because I don’t even know who I am.” Kendra chances a look at him. “It’s pathetic,” she says quietly. “I spent all this time worried about being a shitty person and… And I don’t even… I don’t even know who the fuck I am.” His eyes hold what could be pity, but Kendra thinks is actually compassion. “You don’t have to know, I don’t think. Not right away,” he tells her. Kendra breaks eye contact, crossing one leg over the other and frowning. “So you figured out I’m changing, or… My therapist said it’s… It’s growing , I guess.” She shrugs. “Why stick around?” He doesn’t respond long enough that she has to look at him, just to see his expression and gauge it. She almost wishes she hadn’t. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes when he looks at her now. “I like this new Kendra,” he finally says. “No one likes me.” “I like you.” He says it so quickly, so simply- as though it’s the most natural thing in the world to come out of his mouth. “I like you a lot,” he adds, and it makes her feel a little warm again, this time because a blush threatens to make an appearance on her cheeks. “Why,” she rasps. Donnie frowns and shrugs, leaning forward and taking a sugar packet, fiddling with it while he speaks. “You can… You can be mildly funny,” he begins. “And when you think no one is looking, you smile.” He throws her a small glance before twisting the packet in his fingers. “It’s a nice smile, Ken. Makes me… It makes me want to see it more.” “We barely talk,” Kendra points out. “I mean… That’s not really true,” he says, raising a brow. Kendra wants to argue that, wants to point out all the ways he’s wrong, when she realizes she can’t. Maybe they only spend time together once a week- but when they do, the time is filled with chatter. Gone were the days of peaceful silence, Kendra realizes. When she saw him, it was filled immediately with talk of work, talk of life in general, and Donnie would return it with his own conversation. About his company and his brothers and his other friends. About his inventions and the upgrades he was making to the turtle tank. And they texted a lot, too. Sent little memes and had side conversations. And most nights… Most nights they wished each other a good night. And in the morning, it was the same. The ping of a message that held a gif or words of good morning. Kendra looks at the turtle across from her and finally acknowledges that in the last year, she’d finally made a friend. A friend that she definitely likes more than she should. A friend who absolutely likes her more than “just a friend.” Kendra bites her lip. “How… How long…?” She can’t say it, but Donnie seems to understand, judging by the way crimson blossoms over his snout. “When you were sick.” Kendra shifts in her seat, wanting desperately to ask why again but knowing she still won’t believe him. Donnie seems to see the question forming on her lips, though, because he says, “Just… I realized you were changing. I’d… looked into you, a little…” He looks guilty at the admission, and Kendra scoffs. “If you think I didn’t already assume that, you’re nuts.” Donnie grimaces when he twists the sugar packet a little too firmly and it breaks open and spills out onto the table. “Still,” he says, wiping the granules off onto the floor, “I shouldn’t have-” “Yeah, you should have,” Kendra insisted. “I was an enemy. I did… I did some really shitty things to you. And your family. So… So yeah, you should have.” “I stopped after that, though,” he assures. “I realized that you were… actually changing. Growing. ” He looks at her tentatively, and when he talks it’s fast, as though the words are stuck in his throat and he has to push them out quickly. “That day, when you weren’t at work- Nakamura had a huge release of new tech. And I just… I thought you were going to do something, going to try another heist. But… But you weren’t. You were just sick and…” He trails off, leaning back in his seat and rubbing at the back of his neck. “I figured prison must have been a bad enough experience that you didn’t want to repeat it. You weren’t doing any of the things I thought you would. And you thanked me for making you tea, and for stopping over and… And I just…” She waits for him to gather his thoughts, warring with being embarrassed by his words and charmed by them (which was ridiculous, but true all the same). “Old Kendra wouldn’t let me talk shop without writing it all down and selling the information to a competitor. Old Kendra wouldn’t pass on the chance to work for me. Old Kendra wouldn’t say thank you…” She wants to say that of course she had thanked him, he’d stayed with her while she’d had the flu, after all. But the words don’t come. All this time she had been looking for proof she was changing, and here he was, pointing it out. Because he was right, she never would have thanked him or anyone else. And a thank you wouldn’t keep her out of prison so… So maybe she really was changing… When he looks at her now, earnest and open and sweet- all the things she isn’t- her heart does a little stutter in her chest. The tug is there again, and Kendra realizes it’s affection.
She’s afraid.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she tells him softly. Honestly. Donnie gives her a crooked smile, and when he reaches out his hand across the table, she only hesitates a moment before taking it. “Then don’t.” She isn’t sure if it’s dating (has it somehow been that, this whole time?), but they hang out more in the next month. And not because her therapist had suggested it (because she had), Kendra opens up more too, little by little. Thursdays are still coffee nights, but at least once a week Donnie picks her up in his truck, switching vehicles for the changing weather, and takes her somewhere new- a restaurant or a movie, or even to the park to look at the newly hung Christmas lights. And Kendra… likes it. Looks forward to it. She’s never been one to move slowly, but something about this, about spending time with Donnie with actual intent other than a coffee meet-up, has her mood skyrocketing and her heart swelling. He makes her laugh. When he talks to her, he can keep up with the conversation- isn’t left behind by any jargon or overly-intellectual talk. And he’s sweet. He holds open the car door for her, helps her down from the high step with a firm hand wherever they end up. He puts his hand on the small of her back when he wants to show her something. He leans down so he can hear her- so she doesn’t have to always crane her neck to look up at him. It takes a month of incredibly modest dates. Of only the barest of hand-holding and the occasional prolonged eye contact, for Kendra to want more. Her whole body seems to rail for it, seems to scream for it. And now, when she uses her little bullet vibrator at night, it’s Donnie’s face she thinks of, his hands she imagines palming over her breasts and his mouth over her cunt. It’s his voice in her ear, whispering filthy praise. And she wants that to be real so badly that sometimes her finger hovers over his contact, late in the night, desperate to call him and beg him to come over. It’s the first selfish whim she’s willing to act on in a long time. In late November, when her dishwasher breaks and her landlord drags his feet to fix it, Donnie shows up with a toolbox. She’s quiet while he works, shoving some mail under a magazine and making him a cup of coffee, heart fluttering a little when he takes it and beams at her. “You know it was the principle of having the landlord fix it, right? I could have done it,” Kendra tells him, watching him there on her kitchen floor, resting on his calves and sipping his coffee while he eyes the belly of her open dishwasher. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t come fix it?” Donnie asks distractedly, handing her the half-empty mug and missing the way she’s gone still. But it takes her so long to move that Donnie notices, peering up at her and cocking his head to the side. “You okay?” “Hmm? Yeah! Yeah, I’m…” She trails off, staring at him and realizing… realizing so many things at once that it steals her breath. “I’m just surprised it’s taking you so long,” she finally breathes out. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?” Donnie snorts and his head disappears into the open dishwasher. “Rude!” he says, voice echoing in the empty confines of the appliance. “When I’m done with this you’ll be glad that fascist slum-lord never got his hands on it!” Kendra allows herself a slow smile, setting the mug aside and bending down to watch his progress. Before he leaves, the dishwasher full and running better than it ever had, Donnie leans on her counter and moves aside the magazine, pulling out the unopened envelope by dragging it across the counter with a finger. “What’s this?” Kendra glares up at him. “Why are you so nosey?” Donnie only smiles and waits for an answer, and Kendra huffs and says, “It’s… It’s a letter.” “If you think I can’t tell that, then I need to show you my Mensa card.” “They just hand those out, you know,” Kendra needles. “They give them to anyone.” “Mmhm, sure. What’s the letter, Ken?” “One track mind,” Kendra groans. “C’mon, Dee. Let me have my secrets!” But Donnie just raises a brow, and finally she mumbles, “It’s… it’s information… for college.” Donnie’s face almost splits from the grin he gives her. “That’s great!” “Ugh, I’m almost twenty-eight!” “So?” “So… So it feels silly!” Donnie takes her by the waist and pulls her toward him. “Stop that,” he murmurs. “It’s never too late. And it’s definitely not silly.” Kendra’s hands splayed over his sweater, her fingers pressing in and feeling the hard plastron under it. At her hips Donnie’s hands tighten, his thumbs skimming over her sides and pushing up a little to ghost over bare skin. She hesitates, mind going a little fuzzy at the feeling of his touch, then says, “Do you… Do you want to stay over?” Donnie’s eyes darken, and Kendra wonders if he’s been waiting for this, if he’s been wanting her to ask. His hand raises, thumb trailing over her lower lip. “Maybe,” he says, voice a rumble that makes her pulse quicken and the hairs on her arms raise. “If it’s not too fast for you… then maybe.” She opens her mouth to say, no, it’s not too fast. In fact, it’s a little too slow. She wonders how much he’d short-circuit if he knew all the times she pleased herself with his name on her lips. Some high-pitched sound blares from his gauntlet though, and Donnie is groaning in frustration and pulling up his sleeve to look at it, scowling at what he sees. “And that’s my cue,” he grumbles, standing and stepping away from her, tapping at his gauntlet. Before he leaves, his phone now ringing and his face set with determination, he pauses at her door, looking her over. “You make it hard to leave, looking at me like that,” he says. “Sorry,” Kendra says, not even realizing the disappointment that had edged into her features. Donnie gives her a lopsided grin, “Don’t apologize. I’ll see you this weekend, right?” Kendra nods, not sure if he’s even seen it with his hastily retreating back to her, and she locks the door behind him and lets out a loud sigh. Donnie’s words, earlier, run through her mind.
“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t come fix it?”
Boyfriend.
When the hell had that happened? She bites her lip and decides immediately that she doesn’t mind it. Maybe she’ll give him shit about it later, but for now, she more than likes the way the word sounds, even when she whispers it out loud into the quiet of her apartment. Maybe she should take her time. Maybe she should let herself just enjoy this new, unexplored side of being with Donatello. But she’s never been one to move slowly.
Kendra; Everything work out? You guys ok?
Donnie; Yep! Took a while but the city is no longer in danger of being sucked into the vacuum of a black hole.
Kendra; …
Kendra; Is that real?
Donnie; Don’t worry about it.
Kendra; Oh ok.
Kendra; thats sarcasm btw I am worried.
[Donnie has sent an image]
Kendra; I want you to know that a fucking SELFIE of you standing in front of a BLACK HOLE does not make me feel better.
Donnie; It’s contained!
Donnie; Did you like the t-pose?
Kendra; NO
Donnie; Home now!
Kendra; I’m mad at you
Donnie; … Because of the t-pose?
Kendra; YEAH
Donnie; I’ll do something cooler next time.
Kendra; fl;ksd;lfksgh
Donnie; Are you awake?
Donnie; Keeeeen
Kendra; Needy.
Donnie; What are you doing?
Kendra; I was taking a shower!
Donnie; Oh?
Kendra; Don’t oh me.
Donnie; I’m just very interested in everything you do.
Kendra; Sure you are.
Kendra; In bed.
Donnie; Me too. I’m fucking beat.
Kendra; Oh ok nevermind.
Donnie; No wait. I’m very awake.
Kendra; No, you’re very tired. Go to sleep.
[Donnie has sent an image]
Kendra; your eyes are bloodshot, go to sleep.
Donnie; Look how awake I am!
Donnie; I’m still awake
Kendra; I’m busy
Donnie; What are you doing?
Kendra; Literally none of your business
Donnie; Ken, what are you doing?
[Kendra has sent an image]
Donnie; fuck
Donnie; Fuck, Ken. Fuck.
Kendra; You okay over there?
Donnie; It’s purple.
Kendra; That is my favorite color.
Donnie; Show me again.
[Kendra has sent a video]
Donnie; Shit.
[Donnie has sent a video]
Kendra; u moan a lot, your neighbors probably hate you.
Donnie; soundproof walls
[Donnie has sent a video]
[Kendra has sent a video]
[Donnie has sent a video]
[Kendra has sent a video]
Donnie; call me.
Kendra; why?
Donnie; Wanna hear you.
[Kendra has sent a video]
Donnie; Fuck
[Donnie has sent a video]
Kendra; Go to sleep
Donnie; Need to clean up
Kendra; Clean up and go to sleep.
Donnie; yeah.
Donnie; You ask me to stay again, and I’m going to have you screaming, Ken.
Kendra; Promises, promises.
They’d been to an art show- which isn’t exactly either of their interest- but it had been an excuse to buy a black dress that cost too much but was justified the moment she removed her coat and saw Donatello’s expression. He’d watched her with hungry eyes the whole night, holding her hand as they milled about the gallery, gaze roving over the dramatic slit of the dress that went to her thigh, and low vee cut that only showed off the barest of cleavage. At one point, as they looked over some nouveau monstrosity, his hand had trailed just a little lower than appropriate. His fingers had skimmed over the line of her thong, and he’d leaned down to murmur in her ear, “What color is this?” Kendra had cut her eyes up at him and smothered a smile. “Why?” Donnie cast his eyes about the gallery, making sure no one was looking as he pinched the dress and hooked a finger under the thin strap. “Tell me, Ken.” He gave a little tug, and she bit her lip. “Maybe you’ll find out later.” This time, when he walks her to her front door, she debates only for a brief moment before saying, “Do you want to come in?” He lingers, looms, there at the door, his eyes seeming to darken, chest expanding, before he nods. She makes a show of going to the little kitchen, dropping her coat on a chair and kicking off her low kitten heels before opening a cabinet, going on tiptoes and saying, “I have wine, I think?” She feels him in her space, behind her, and when she lowers her heels and turns, they are nearly pressed flush together. Both her hands press into the counter behind her. There is a build-up of lust and what feels like electricity between them, and it is thick enough it could be cut with a dull knife. He’d removed his own coat, and his shiny dress shoes with the silence of a cat, and Kendra can’t help but give him a once over, her eyes trailing up and then down the line of his body before landing again on his face. That darkness of attraction hasn’t left his eyes as he looks down at her, and it makes her whimper. “Donnie,” she breathes out, just before their lips smash together. Immediately his hands are on her cheeks, his shoulders bunching down and his whole body pressing into hers, and Kendra whimpers again before raising her hands and fisting them into his shirt. The kiss makes her mind go fuzzy, makes her ears ring. Makes her heart hurt with how much feeling it holds in her chest. When they pull back, it’s with heaving breaths and swollen lips. Her eyes are half-lidded when she opens them, and Donnie searches her face. “Wanted to do that for a year now,” he says, one hand brushing back her hair- the other still on her face, his thumb moving side to side against her high cheekbone. “Why didn’t you?” She asks softly. Donnie bumps his snout against her nose, his lips brushing over her half-parted ones. “You aren’t the only one who’s scared,” he murmurs. “You’re afraid of me?” She feels the little puff of air he releases against the bridge of her nose. “No,” he whispers. “I’m in love with you.” He doesn’t give her time to reply, just presses his lips to hers again, and after a moment of shock, she returns the kiss in an almost frenzy. His hands go to her thighs to lift her onto the counter, having to crouch a little at the height difference, and immediately she’s spreading her legs, her dress bunching high on her thighs and her heels hooking onto the sides of his shell to pull him between them. He gives a small groan as he settles into the vee of her legs, his hands gripping her thighs before sliding up to her waist- and she’s small enough that they almost encompass her. She pulls back from the kiss, eyes still closed as he kisses down her jawline. “Say it again,” she breathes out, one hand on the back of his head and the other gripping his shoulder. Donnie nips at the shell of her ear, his tongue darting out to lick behind it before whispering again, “I’m in love with you.” Kendra trembles. “Why,” she breathes, head tilting back to give him more room to kiss down her neck. “Because,” Donnie says between kisses, seeming intent to cover every exposed scrap of flesh he can find with his lips. “I think you’re smart.” A kiss to her pulse. “I think you’re funny.” A nip to her shoulder. “I think you’re beautiful.” He sucks lightly over the place where her shoulder and neck meet, his hand raising to pull down the strap of her dress so that it rests loose on her upper arm. “And I always want to be around you,” he finishes, straightening his head and finding her lips once more, capturing them in another kiss that has no business stealing her breath the way it does. He pulls back to look at her, and Kendra wonders what he sees there in her expression- wonders if he read the shock, if he notices the delight. “Is that acceptable?” he asks. Kendra nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay with me.” He gives her a slow smile, one she returns, and his hands trail to the hem of her dress, his fingers dancing over the tops of her thighs. “Do you want me to stop?” His fingertips press a little, skimming under her dress, and it makes her breath hitch. She can’t think of a time when anyone had made her feel so needy, so touch-crazed, and she realizes the answer is never. Never has anyone made her feel this way. “No,” she answers. “Please don’t stop.” He lets his fingers trail over her skin, pushing her dress up until it’s up around her waist, her hips shifting to let him move it. Then he’s touching bare skin, tridactyl hands exploring her stomach, his thumbs brushing just under the wire of her bra- following it like a guide. “How long has it been?” Kendra lets out a shaky breath. “Oh… Over three years.” She eyes him tentatively. “What… What about you?” He nuzzles his face into her neck. “Over a year.” She’s always been the jealous type, and she’s not sure why, but his words have a flare of happiness alighting in her heart. Perhaps all those trips to the diner had been dates. Perhaps he’d not bothered trying to bounce off into anyone else's bed since he met her, because it was her he wanted. She kisses the side of his face for it, her hands trailing up and down his shirt sleeves, fingers pressing into firm muscle. “So we’re both rusty,” she murmurs, trying to keep her voice light but failing miserably, a little moan escaping her when he licks up the line of her neck. “I don’t know about rusty,” Donnie chuckles lightly. His hands trail down, down, over each of her thighs, and he squeezes them, pushing them more firmly against him. “I like this, though,” he breathes against her skin. “Just need to get you out of this dress. Wanna feel you wrapped around me.” Kendra gives a little mewling sound that the old her would be disgusted to hear. Her hands fly to his cheeks, tugging his head until he raises it and lets her press her lips against his. She’ll never get tired of kissing him, she decides. She’ll never grow bored with his lips locked against hers, with his tongue licking into her mouth and entwining with her own. It steals every thought from her mind, takes away even the remembrance to breathe, to be more than just a body that craves the touch of this one man alone. When her hips give a shallow roll, he pulls back, his hands spreading her thighs wide and leaning back to look down. “Purple,” he rasps, looking at her underwear. “Knew they’d be purple.” One hand travels upward, his fingers skimming over the silky material. He doesn’t remove them, even when she shifts her hips, he just drags his knuckles along the edges and keeps his focus on her center, his lower lip disappearing between his teeth. “Lean back,” he murmurs. Kendra whines a little, but listens, her head resting on the cabinet and her hands moving from his arms to brace on the countertop. His fingers swipe over her weeping center, the material there dampened from it, and Donnie gives a low churr and pushes them aside, one hand spreading her. “Wanna taste you,” he mumbles, almost to himself, before sparing her a glance and lowering his body- going to his knees so his head aligns with her dead center. He gives a little tug, pulling her at an angle, his eyes holding an almost inebriated quality as he looks up at her. He kisses the side of her thigh, his thumb finding that bundle of nerves and grazing over it, making her lips part and her breath come in little pants. “Please,” she says, lips moving but barely able to moan out the word. “Please.” Donnie gives a soft churr. “You never have to beg.” He kisses up her thigh quickly, then places his mouth over her center, and at the angle they are in Kendra can only see the back of his head and feel the swipe of his tongue as he licks a line up her. He churrs again, licks again, and one of her hands goes to his mask ties and pushes him there, keeping him where she needs him the most. Not that he’d made any move to leave. He seemed content to lazily lap at her, the hand on her thigh kneading while the other keeps her spread and open for his long tongue- which ran tight circles over her clit before dipping down to prod lower. The position is abysmal, though, and even when he’s burying his face into her cunt he can’t seem to get at just the right angle. He pulls back with a growl in his throat, standing and yanking her to him. Her legs wrap automatically around his waist as he lifts her, her lips locking onto his. They don’t part from the kiss, which tastes of her own need and a mint he must have eaten on the drive to her apartment, and he takes the few hurried steps back to her bedroom with their tongues entwined, his shoulder knocking against the wall as he carries her and making both of them let out a little laugh. In her room he pauses, eyeing her bed. "Why would any one person need that many pillows?" Kendra frowns, looking over her shoulder at the queen-sized mattress. "There's like, six pillows," she says, raising a brow at him. "But why do you need more than one?" "Is this really the conversation you want to have right now?" She asks. Donnie's brows lift and he nods. "Right." Then they are falling into her bed, the springs bouncing and creaking under his weight. Donnie pulls a frown and looks down at her, looming over her. “This is the shittiest mattress I’ve ever touched,” he grumbles. Kendra scoffs. “It’s not that bad you big baby.” With a hand on either side of her, he bounces a little. “I can feel the springs,” he says, lips ticking into a half smile. “Listen.” He repeats the motion, and the whole room is filled with the creaks of the mattress. “Oooohhhh,” he breathes out, smiling fully now. “Your neighbors are about to hate you.” He dips his head to kiss over her neck, churring when her legs wrap more tightly around him. “It isn’t that loud,” Kendra says lowly, eyes sliding shut and hands going to the back of his neck, slipping them under his shirt collar and kneading there- pulling another deep churr from his chest. “Hmm, but I bet you are,” Donnie mutters, teeth grazing over her ear lobe. “I bet you scream, Kendra.” She doesn’t even bother to deny it, and she doesn’t think she could, anyway, when his hips roll into her and his lower plastron presses against her center. She just whimpers and clings to him, slotting her eyes open in time to see him pull his head back and smirk down at her. “You’re a terrible person,” she mutters. Donnie’s eyes soften. “I know you love me,” he says gently, going to his knees and breathing a laugh when her heels lock and she’s pulled up with him, perched on his thighs. She holds his cheeks then, tightening her thighs against him and looking over his face. “I think I do, you know,” she says- something akin to wonder in her voice at the realization. Donnie only grins and unzips her dress at the back, kissing over her shoulders before tugging it over her head, meeting her lips when she presses them against his in a desperate kiss. She tugs at the collar of his shirt, and seeming to have pity on her he pulls back and helps her, undoing the first few buttons before yanking it over his head. “It’s okay if you don’t,” he says. “Just means I’ll have to work harder to get you there.” Kendra gives an indelicate little snort. “Does that mean you’ve been holding back on me?” He directs them back down, following along over the top of her, his lips pressing into her collarbone. “Maybe,” he says between pecks across her sternum. “I haven’t even serenaded you yet.” Kendra huffs out a sigh- the faux annoyance of it ruined by the way she clings to him. “Spare me that, maybe.” She watches him kiss down the valley of her breasts, his eyes sliding up to her own. “This still okay?” “I’m just wondering if you'll be able to get the bra unhooked.” Donnie scoffs. “I’ve taken off bras before, thanks.” She arches her back when his hands loop around her sides to give him more access. He gives a few tugs on the hooks, a frown on his face, and when Kendra tries to reach back and help he pushes her hand away. “I’m a genius, I can do it,” he insists, tongue poking between his teeth. Kendra presses her lips together and waits, eyes full of humor when he finally gets the two clasps undone. “Congratulations,” Kendra says in mock celebration, snickering when he tosses the garment across the room. “What a terrible contraption,” he mutters, hands slipping from under her to palm over both her small, bare breasts. “I don’t like it either,” she says breathlessly. His fingers tweak her nipples and she hums out a little moan. He kisses her chin, nipping at it, then dips his head down, firmly gripping one of her breasts and latching his wide mouth over the peak. Kendra arches again, this time into his touch. His hips push into her own, and she rolls them to meet the movement, her clit dragging over his plastron and slicking up the silky cloth of her underwear. There is a point of pleasure inside of her, and all she wants- more than anything- is to make it grow. She whines, pushing at Donnie and finally unhooking her legs from his waist. He pulls back, a little confusion bleeding into his lust-filled eyes, and Kendra runs her hands down his chest. “I have a confession,” she says, and Donnie makes a face and replies, “What am I, a priest?” Kendra ignores him to lace her fingers into the clasp of his belt. “I’m very impatient,” she tells him, pulling the leather from the clasp, nimble fingers easily undoing the button of his slacks and yanking down the zipper. “You should probably work on that,” Donnie chokes out, his neck and cheeks a muddy red as her hand pushes down under his boxer briefs. “Shit, Kendra.” He curses again as her fingers find his weeping gap- not something she’d been expecting to find but willing to go with it. But the moment she prods at it, presses into the viscous slit, her fingers are pushed aside. The length that emerges makes her breathe out a gasp, pushing at his pants and boxers and pulling it out. It bobs there, hitting his plastron and leaking precum, thick and long, and Donnie’s groan fills the room as she wraps her fingers around it firmly. She keeps one hand on his lower plastron, pushing at it so he stays poised above her, looking between them as she eyes his cock. Her thumb swipes over the flared head, pressing a little into the tip, blunted nail dragging over the little opening there and enjoying the sound it pulls from him. She pumps over him, eyes widening as he hardens more, his hips rocking into her hand. “I want you… now.” The look he has is almost pained, and he shakes his head. “Not yet-” he begins to say, voice cutting off when her hand leaves his stomach and pushes aside her silky purple underwear, lifting her hips and guiding him to her. He groans again as she rubs his head over her entrance, slick meeting slick, heat meeting heat. “Ken, seriously,” he edged out, pulling back and making her whine. “I don’t… I don’t even have my pants off just… Shit, just hold on…” She whines again, legs raising and heels digging into the backs of his thighs. Her hand still holds his cock, and she squeezes it a little as she pushes him with her legs back to her. His eyes roll back, and he follows, breath coming in short gasps as again he slides over her cunt. “Impatient,” he growls, his hands fisting into the blankets by her head. Kendra cants her hips, the head of his cock pushing ever so slightly into her, and one of Donnie’s hands flies down to still her, holding her waist in a firm grip. But she can see just by the look he gives her that his resolve is broken, even more so when she whimpers out, “Please, please Donnie.” “Christ,” Donnie warbles out. “I know I said I wouldn’t make you beg but-” He gives another shake of his head, this time as though to clear it. “Don’t be a liar,” Kendra breathes out. “Please, baby, I need you.” Donnie growls, burying his face into her neck and biting the side of it with the barest of pressure. “Baby,” he repeats, lips moving against her skin. “Kendra, you’re gonna be the death of me.” His hand slips to her hip, and he gives a light tug to the strap of her underwear. “Are you attached to these?” She’s barely said the word “no” before he’s tugging harder, the thin material ripping like it was nothing more than gift wrap in his hand. Then he’s positioning himself, not removing her hand from his cock but instead placing his own over it. “Let me put my fingers inside of you,” he murmurs in her ear, poised before her entrance and stalling there. “Let me eat you out first.” He says it like it’s a battle he knows he’s already lost. “I need this first,” she whimpers out. “Please, please, I need this first.” And she does, desperately. She wants more than anything to feel full, to have this man who she loved, who loved her, fuck every thought out of her mind. He starts slowly, pushing forward and clenching his teeth together as his cockhead pushes past the ring of her opening, and inch by inch he sinks into her. About halfway he widens out, and he stills at the sound she makes. “This is why,” he pants, “I wanted to finger you.” Donnie removes his hand from over hers, and Kendra does the same, wiping it on the comforter before wrapping both arms around his shoulders. “Want me to stop?” Donnie asks, giving a shallow thrust, the drag against her walls making her eyes roll to the back of her head, and halting right at the halfway mark once again. Kendra shakes her head, struggling to speak. “Kendra?” His hand goes to her face, thumb trailing over her lower lip as he looks at her. “More,” she finally whines out. “God, more. Baby please, please, you feel so good.” Donnie’s pupils dilate at her words, and he pushes into her more, until there is nothing but an inch left that strains to fit inside her. “Shit,” he huffs, head lowering as he stills again, his breath coming in gusts and heating her neck. “Fuck, Kendra you take me so well.” Kendra can only moan, wiggling her hips in an attempt to get some sort of friction. She’s desperate for it, and the only thing her sex-addled mind can think to do is beg like her life is on the line. “Please move. Please baby, please move.” Donnie groans, but her words are gifted with a cant of his hips. “You’re really milking this baby thing,” he grunts, giving her another slow pump- the clinking of his belt that hangs loose at his waist mixing with the sound of her harsh breathing. “Need you,” Kendra pants. “Need you ba-” “You call me baby again and I’m going to lose my mind,” Donnie growls, this time with a solid thrust that has her yelping, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her voice momentarily stolen from her from what feels like shockwaves coursing through her entire body, Kendra can only nod. Donnie leans back to look at her face, his brow furrowing. “Is that what you want, Ken,” he heaves out, voice graveled. “You want me to fuck you?” The words fuck you have him thrusting firmly into her, the sound of slick squelching between them. Kendra nods again. “Baby please-” His hips move with purpose now, surging into her and dragging back out- only to slam back in and make her back arch and her mouth hang open. But when there isn’t a call for him to stop, for him to slow or gentle his movements, Donnie continues, his churrs almost growls with every movement. When he pulls back to his knees, readjusting her, his hands on her hips and lifting them to allow that last inch to sink into her, Kendra nearly screams. Again he pauses, a frown of concentration on his face as he looks her over. And again, Kendra nods, words unable to form but urging him to continue. Her open-mouthed cries fill the room as he fucks her, every slam unforgiving, large hands moving her waist back and forth and using her nearly like a cocksleeve. He grinds his hips into her with every bottoming out, breathing harshly through his nose, his eyes focused on her face. “Scream, Ken,” he growls. “C’mon baby, scream.” Her arms flail a little before fisting into the blankets under her, and when she's coherent she’ll realize that she’ll never be able to meet the eyes of any of her neighbors ever again. Because she screams, the sound drowning out every other noise as Donnie moves faster, the friction somewhere in the category of pleasure-pain that has her vision swirling. And he just keeps going, one hand moving to her stomach as though he might somehow be able to feel himself there, before traveling lower to work fast circles over her clit. Her pussy clenches at the added sensory, and Donnie growls at the feeling. “Cum on my cock Ken… That’s what you wanted, right?” he grunts, a sheen of sweat now coating his skin. “Cum for me.” It only takes another hard thrust for her to follow his instruction, the scream that issues from her soundless. Donnie stills as she climaxes, and though her eyes are closed tight she knows he watches her, knows he takes in every expression that crosses her face as she’s washed with pleasure- every atom seeming to explode and every neuron seeming to fire. He just watches, sheathed inside of her and pressing on her clit, letting the orgasm ebb and lessen, his cock twitching as she writhes. When her breathing goes from harsh gasps to long, desperate inhales, Donnie forces her eye contact, finger and thumb on her chin until her eyes open and she meets his gaze. “Better now?” Kendra stretches her body like a cat in a warm shaft of sun, and nods. Donnie expels a loud sigh. “Christ, Ken,” he grumbles. “I didn’t even get my pants off.” “S’ok,” Kendra slurs. “Was hot.” Donnie rolls his eyes. “Can I please eat you out now?” His words have her keening a little. “I can’t even feel my legs,” she whines. “Give me a second.” Donnie grumbles, as though the denial of immediately latching his mouth over her cunt is some great offense, and pulls out of her. The action has her making a little trill of sound, weakly smacking his arm when he flops his body next to hers. He kicks off his pants and boxer briefs, glaring at them as they fall off the bed. But he pulls her to him, letting her splay herself half over his body as the last of her tremors begin to subside. “You could have finished, too,” Kendra murmurs against his chest, laying a kiss there before resting her chin over the hard plain of his plastron and looking up at him. “Not that it wasn’t tempting,” Donnie says, taking a hand and brushing her hair behind her ear, “But I never got around to asking if you’re on some sort of contraceptive.” Kendra’s brows quirk. “Is that really a worry?” “It is.” Kendra bites her lip. “I’m not. There wasn’t really a reason to be on anything…” Donnie smirks at her. “Looks like I’m making a mess of your tits, later.” Kendra groans, pulling up a leg to try and pinch him with her toes. “Oh good, these are working again,” Donnie says, a little smile appearing on his lips. “What?!” He shifts, leaning forward to grab her thighs and yank her upward, scooting down until he’s laying mostly flat- shoving a pillow behind his head. “You can’t be serious,” Kendra yelps, her knees on either side of his head and her center hovering over his snout. “Very,” Donnie rumbles, taking her hips in his hands and pulling her down to greet his craning neck. Kendra can only grip onto the flimsy bars of her headboard as he mouths over her, his long tongue taking the place of where his cock had been and pushing into her. He moans into her cunt, filthy sounds emanating from his throat as he makes sloppy work, his hands encouraging her to gyrate against him as he rocks her hips. “Aren’t you… fuck. Aren’t you like… squeamish about this sort of thing?” Kendra asks breathlessly. “No,” Donnie says sharply, before attaching his mouth back to core, licking wide swipes up to her clit. Her hips move on their own, not needing him to guide them, and instead, they go to the small globes of her ass to squeeze, fingers pushing into the sparse meat of them and churring when she releases a breathless gasp. Knowing that before long she’ll no longer be able to form a coherent thought, Kendra pushes his hands away, turning so she’s on her hand and knees, pussy still hovering over his mouth as she slides down his body, both hands going to his flagging cock and her tongue darts out to lick a line up it. The position takes her too far away from his mouth, though, and he’s growling and pulling her dripping cunt back to his face. “You’re too fucking tall for this,” she complains, trying again to wrap her lips around his spear-shaped head and huffing out a groan of annoyance when he keeps her from doing so. Instead of replying to her comment, his mouth too busy, apparently, he leans forward and moves himself up a bit to rest on the headboard, his body at an angle and bending a bit at the waist. The new angle, while having a wave of blood rush to her head, gives her the needed space to finally put her mouth on him. She licks a stripe up the shaft, following one long vein that pulses there. Trying to ignore the way he laves at her pussy she says, “Baby, you have such a nice cock.” Donnie’s muffled moan reaches her ears as she kisses over his head, her hands both working over him. She tilts his cock toward her and pops the flared tip into her mouth, relaxing her throat and bobbing her head, moaning when his hands find the cheeks of her ass again and squeeze them into his palms. She has to pull away, taking a sharp gasp of air when one hand pulls back and gives a light smack to her ass. “Donnie!” She hisses, looking over her shoulder in time to see him smirk. He winks at her and repeats the motion, this time a little more firmly, gripping her flesh after and flexing his hand around it. Kendra bites her lower lip, hard, when she hears him chuckle- apparently noticing the way she clenched around his tongue. His calloused hand smacks down again, then the other repeats the motion to give each ass cheek matching red marks. She’s just lingering over his cock now, holding it firmly in her hands and seeming to be set to pause as he works over her. One of his hands trails down her back, and when he presses his fingers into the back of her head- as though encouraging her to continue, she spares a backward glare at him. She doubles her efforts, though. Heedless of the way his own slick and precum coat her chin and neck, she mouths over his cock, licking and sucking- kissing the head of it as though they were his lips, with her tongue carding over the thin slit there. Then she lowers her mouth over him, taking him as far as he’ll fit down her throat. A burst of satisfaction explodes through her when he’s the one to pull his head from her cunt to moan, her name on his lips and his thighs flexing. It’s short-lived, however, because as though some competition has been enacted, Donnie makes a sound of determination- mixing with a sound of pleasure- and dips his thumb into her core. The action alone wouldn’t have as much effect if he wasn’t removing it after a few shallow pumps to drag it up- swirling over the ring of her ass and adding the barest of pressure. Not intentionally- Kendra stops minding her teeth for a moment, pressing them down just a bit as a jolt of surprise rushes over her- and she might have pulled back to apologize if Donnie wasn’t nearly purring from the added pressure. Later she’ll tease him, for how vocal he gets with her added knowledge of using her teeth, just a little, while she struggles to deepthroat him. His churring vibrates against her clit as he desperately tries to mouth at her with his thumb still teasing over her, but eventually his head drops back, and his moans fill the room. Knowing she’s won (if there had even been a contest- of sorts, not sure that she hadn’t imagined it), she climbs off him and scrambles between his legs before he can stop her, her focus now uninterrupted. But Donnie only watches her with heavy-lidded eyes, a hand reaching down and brushing back her dark hair, letting out a small chirp when she lowers her head again. She has him near drooling when he finally stops her, his hand going to his mask yanking it off, his neck tilted back and his forearms braced at his sides and his hands fisted into the blankets- as though he’s fit to fly away if he does not. But he snaps his head up when she drags her teeth up his shaft and sucks at his flared tip, kicking his legs out and moving up the mattress- which creaks in protest. Before she can really process what's happening, she's back to being laid flat, Donnie maneuvering her as easily as positioning one of her pillows and fixing himself between her legs and smashing his lips to hers, tongue invading her mouth and licking into it. When she kisses back, he takes a deep breath through his nose, lightening the pressure and slowing his movements. A hand skims over her side, the other propping himself over her, and when he pulls back from the kiss, there is something different in his eyes. Some emotion Kendra will later identify as affection. As he slides into her again, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that is staggered- starting and stopping in repetition, Kendra feels the shift in the dynamic. Feels the moment it changes- from obscene fucking to something Kendra has never in her life experienced. Something she wasn’t even sure was real. The moment it hits her, with the slow slide and and roll of his hips and his cheek now pressed to her own, that he’s making love to her, Kendra barely contains a sob. And perhaps it’s from overstimulation, from how good it feels, having him buried inside of her. But when tears escape the corners of her eyes, Donnie kisses them away. “I’m crazy about you,” he murmurs, his voice ragged in her ear, and Kendra can only nod in response, her own lips pressing firmly into the crook of his neck and staying there, feeling his pulse under them and how it quickens when her hold tightens. She knows he has to be so very close to cumming, but when he pulls back his face is serious, focused, and it’s something she’ll notice more and more, the longer their relationship spans. How quiet and intense he gets the longer their lovemaking lasts. How his eyes drink in every expanse of her body he can see, before falling on her face and watching her as she comes undone. When his hips roll at just the right angle, and the curve of his cock presses in just the right spot, Kendra’s mouth falls open and her already hitching breaths come to a stuttering stop. Her nails dig into his shoulders, her heels press into his calves. Donnie’s brow ridge quirks, and he repeats the motion, then again and again, until there isn’t a part of her that doesn’t feel as though it’s about to shatter into a million pieces that will surely never fuse together again. Her mind goes blank with it, shoves her down under a blanket of desire so that she is only a pinpoint of pleasure drowning in an endless release. She isn’t even sure how long she stays that way, every muscle and tendon pulled taught and all the air in her chest held there- her mind unable to form a single thought. She only comes too with a gasp of air and a full body tremor when he’s pulling out of her and spilling himself over her stomach and breasts- making a mess of her like he promised, his hand holding his cock and working over it with those same slow strokes he’d used when inside of her. Under him, Kendra shakes, her body buzzing and her ears ringing, and she doesn’t even realize she’s crying until the sound rips from her chest and startles her own ears. And for the first time, she doesn’t mind being vulnerable, doesn’t mind that someone can see her break. Donnie lets her- looms over her and pets over her hair, kissing the side of her cheek and humming a little calming shushing noise when she hiccups. When he detangles from her limbs and lifts her, carrying her off to the bathroom and pressing her close, Kendra can only curl into him. They stand under a hot spray of water for long minutes, Kendra little by little becoming calmer, and when she is able to stand with only the barest wobble of her legs, Donatello helps her rinse off. Finger and thumb on her chin, he raises her head. Nothing is said, and yet a million different things seem to be conveyed in his one meaningful stare. The gold of his eyes stays locked onto hers, the weight of his gaze unflappable, and in it Kendra sees… So much love it nearly has her falling into broken sobs once more. Instead, she holds him, lets him hold her- and much like he had in the parking lot all those many weeks ago, he curls into her- like he wants nothing more than to keep her as close to every part of him as he can. Later, naked and mostly dry, warm under the covers and all but two of her pillows shoved to the ground, they lay there, legs entwined and breathing soft and steady. She lays on his arm, one hand wedged under her and the other splayed over his chest, thinking idly about how a boy she’d once hated had grown into a man she loved. How, somehow, she’d done the same for him. How there was no doubt in her mind that he loved her, and even if the why of it was still mystifying, the fact of it remained the same. “Why me?” she asks, not for the last time. Donnie’s hand trails up and down her back, and for a moment he thinks about his answer. “Because… I don’t know. A lot of things,” he murmurs. “Mostly because the moment I realized I was in love with you, I knew I’d never want anyone else.” Kendra is glad she isn’t looking at him, and that she stares down the expanse of his chest and he can’t see the way her face twists and her eyes close to keep from crying again. After a bit, she asks, “When did you realize you were in love with me?” As though he had the answer immediately (and she supposed he did), Donnie says, “We were in the Vette, which I know you think is very cool and adds to my appeal, and instead of telling me to hurry up and park- you asked me to drive around the block one more time.” Kendra’s eyes thin, and she lifts her head and turns it to look at him. “That’s it?” Donnie gives her a toothy grin. “Yeah.” Kendra gives him a disbelieving stare. “Elaborate.” Donnie gives her a small shrug. “You just… You had me play Mississippi Queen-” “-Oh god-” “And you barely knew the words but you sang them-” “I have a terrible voice-” “-In your terrible singing voice, yes. And I just… You looked happy. And I just knew.” Kendra bites her lip, half hating the way she’s on the verge of beaming a smile at him. “Pick a different memory.” Donnie gives a light chuckle and pulls her back to him, further up his body to rest his chin on her head. “I cannot,” he declares, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “But feel free to tell me all about how much you love the Corvette.” Kendra snorts, then after a moment, she tilts her head back, his eyes cutting to hers and a small smile on his lips. “I do love the Corvette,” she says softly, and Donnie gives a nod. “I know you do.” Later she’ll tell him she loves him properly. She’ll say all the things that at the moment lodge in her chest and can’t seem to escape. She’ll tell him how he makes her feel more like herself than she ever has, makes her feel like being in her own skin and moving on- away from her past but still acknowledging it- isn’t such a terrible, frightening thing. But for now, she lays her head back onto his chest, her hand over the beating of his heart, and lets herself love him in the quiet of her room, content.