Down the hall from Donatello's home office, April was lamenting her morning routine. "Donatelloooo. Why does flossing have to be so horrible?"

"Because you don't do it often enough!" the turtle chided, raising his voice just enough so that she could hear him over the cooling fans toiling over his server racks. April let out a long, loud groan.

"Keep fighting the good fight my sweet chinchilla!" Donatello called. He fell into a soft chuckle at the absurd term of endearment of a lovelorn, mooney eyed teen boy. It had been so long since he called her that. My sweet chinchilla. The saccharine pet name he had fashioned from his unrequited teenage love for her had been honed into a joke. Ten years ago, it would have crushed him. But now he didn't mind at all.

He never would have told her about the pet name, of course. The years of longing, and chart-making, and petty fights with Casey over her were so embarrassing that they still made his stomach curdle, even a decade later. No, he never would have told her. But Raphael had ratted him out. None of his brothers had never had much talent for keeping secrets, but Raphael was especially adept at revealing things at the most uncomfortable moment. When it came to making his brothers squirm, he was a savant.

The first Christmas they spent together April had brought the eggnog, and Casey brought a bottle of his father's bourbon. Raphael quickly learned that the effect of the bourbon was expedited by the absence of eggnog, and shortly after, all of their secrets were spilling out of his mouth. Eager, slurred words made Donatello's cheeks flare hot and red. But April only smiled. She held his hand. She laughed with him, not at him. That was when he knew. Sitting there, on that old lumpy couch, her quiet smile cut through Raphael's bawdy laughter, and he knew. Everything was going to be all right.

But that was before he made the decision to live turtle shook his head, trying not to dwell. Nothing good ever came from dwelling.

He had known living above ground with her was going to be a challenge. Thankfully, the advent of the internet had simplified things considerably. Most basic functions of modern living could be orchestrated online. Working. Banking. Buying groceries. But there was only so much that could be approximated online. There was no walking down the street holding hands. No meeting at the bar for drinks after a long day. There would never be a baby to push through Central Park while the leaves changed colors in autumn.

There were so many more sweet, paltry trappings of an ordinary life that he so desperately wished to give her, even though she insisted she did not need them. April O'Neil was extraordinary, after all. Destined for incredible things, not just a quiet, ordinary life. There was no doubt about it. But that didn't mean that there weren't bad days. Or bills to pay.

Maybe this was as close to normal as it would ever be.

Life had been so quiet after the Foot Clan had disbanded. Despite having enough absences to give Casey's truancy record s a run for its money, April graduated from high school, top of her class. And then there was college. Summa cum laude. Donatello had attended both graduations in sweats, with a hoodie drawn taut around his face. A ballcap and aviator glasses concealed his eyes as he sat with his large, painfully inhuman hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. Kirby said he looked like the Unabomber, but that didn't keep Donatello from smiling when April walked across that stage. Donatello reminded himself to find something more fashionable to wear to the next one. She would be defending her PhD thesis soon enough.

April's voice rang out from down the hall, but he did not make out the words. Not exactly. The turtle murmured absentmindedly in response; his eyes scanning line after line of code on one of the many screens before him.

"Hey!" she called, again.

Donatello swivelled around in his chair, and there she was. Standing in the doorway. A vision in a mustard yellow cable knit sweater. Her lip tugged at the corner, curling into a half-moon smirk. She was giving him her Yeah, I'm hot shit look. Even though she hadn't taken up her fan in years, she was still a kunoichi at heart. Always would be. Her blue eyes gleamed in the soft morning light. After all these years, he still sighed a little when she looked at him like that.

"I've gotta go. If I miss my train I'll be late for class, and I'll never hear the end of it from my TA." She rolled her eyes.

And, then, in unison, they both said, "What an a-hole."

That made her smile. When she smiled, Donatello smiled. That was how he got through every day top-side, sitting in his office. Alone. Her happiness was his happiness.

When she leaned in to kiss him goodbye, wisps of her brilliant red hair fell from her messy bun, tickling his nose. Her lips pressed against his, warm, and soft. They lingered for a moment, as if she wanted something more. But he knew she had to go.

"See you tonight," she squeezed his hand. "Love you."

"I love you too."

She was already gone. He listened, waiting for her to pull the door shut. The door groaned, and he turned back to his desk. It was an old building. The wood swelled in the heat. Got stiff in the cold. The windows could barely keep the heat in. Or the cold out. The water heater worked, most of the time. But it was home.

The building had been hit particularly hard during the invasion. The whole neighborhood had. That was the only reason they could afford the apartment. It would have been less of a strain if Donatello wasn't supporting his father and brothers. But he was the only one who could work. Remote IT support and hosting services wasn't exactly intellectually stimulating work, but it was work that paid. Between his small business and April's modest stipend from the university, they all got by.

Donatello cracked his knuckles. He had IT tickets to review and customized servers to tend to. As he was debating making himself another cup of coffee or not, a chat window populated the corner of the nearest screen. April's name glowed in a cheery, nonconfrontational orange.

Did you see the papers I left you?

His eyes drifted to the edge of his desk, where a stack of printed term papers were piled high. Yes I did. Very generous of you, professor.

You know I hate it when you call me that!

Donatello smiled at her protest. What - I can't be hot for teacher? He could imagine her rolling her eyes now.

I refuse to dignify that with a response.

The turtle chuckled. I have about a dozen tickets to go over, but I can give them a look once I'm done.

Thanks. She paused. Donatello closed his eyes. He could see her so clearly. There she was. Crammed in a sea of bodies that filled the train, holding her pack tight across her chest. Sighing. I wish you could be my TA for real.

Me too. His smile shrunk.

There's something I was meaning to ask you before I left.

Donatello's fingers flew over the keyboard. I already paid the PG&E. And the cell bill.

It's about Casey.

The turtle's face settled into a frown. Though his rivalry with Casey Jones had long been put to rest, his soft spot for Jones was still considerably smaller than April's. If he was putting things politely. They tolerated one another, for her sake. And Raphael's. When Casey shipped off to some state college where people evidently cared about hockey enough to award scholarships for playing the sport, Raphael had taken it pretty hard. And he wasn't the only one who missed their friendly neighborhood vigilante.

Donatello knew that April and Casey had kept up with one another, but it neither concerned nor interested him. There were emails, and there was the occasional text message, but mostly April periodically tutored Casey over skype, late at night. The following mornings often included an update on Casey Jones and where he was on his "ten year plan". Donatello made it a point to listen, but rarely asked April to repeat herself if anything got lost in the tiny roar of the bean grinder while he made their morning coffee.

These days, they saw Casey about once a year. He always brought a bottle of bourbon to their underground christmas party. Said it was tradition. He drank and expounded on all of his late night encounters with girls he picked up after his hockey games. Michelangelo busied himself in the kitchen. Leonardo nodded politely. Raphael drank that bourbon straight, and rarely said a word. Raph only really drank when he was around. Donatello assumed it helped his brother cope. He sighed. Casey Jones once a year was enough.

He lost his hockey scholarship and needs a place to crash while he gets back on his feet. April continued, and Donatello's face furrowed into a deeper frown. Can he stay with us?

Why can't he stay at the lair? They have more room.Donatello asked, though he already knew the answer. Raphael.

The two had done the whole "roommate" thing while Casey was doing his time at Laguardia Community College. But Casey had wandering eyes for pretty co-eds, and pro-hockey ambitions that ended their tenure as roommates before their lease was up. That was years ago; Donatello had almost assumed Raph would be over it by now. The turtle pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tight. That was stupid. Raphael never got over anything.

An ellipsis hovered in the chat window, making him wonder if she was teasing him. Refusing to dignify his petty question with a response. Donatello sighed. How long?

A few weeks? Her reply appeared almost instantly. I mean, he could crash at my dad's place, if you're not comfortable with him staying with us.

Donatello dragged his hand over his face. That was all he needed; April's former suitor to have more bonding time with her father. Kirby liked Donatello. They got on well enough. But during all of their family dinners, arranged late at night to accommodate Donatello's need to move through the city unseen, there was always an undercurrent of disappointment. After the Krang, and her mother, and everything, all Kirby wanted for his extraordinary daughter was an ordinary life. And the worst thing was, Donatello agreed with him.

In comparison to a mutant ninja turtle, Casey Jones was normal. Donatello smirked. If a vigilante was their barometer for normal, they were in serious trouble. Or at least moderately deranged. And yet... Jones had the potential to pass as normal. He had an able human body. He could work, and provide everything associated with employment. Income. Health care. Stability. He could even open the door for a take-out delivery without the foreknowledge that it would end badly. Encounters with other humans rarely went well for Donatello. Best case scenario: shrieks of terror. Worst case scenario: police involvement. He wheezed miserably. Nothing embarrassed him more than April having to contend with the police on his account.

The last time an officer showed up at the door they were marathoning X-Files on the couch. Someone had called because they thought they saw "a monster" in the window, and they were worried. Worried about that nice red-headed girl. April bought a set of curtains for every window, after that night. The curtains were nice enough, but whenever the cool evening air crept in, making those curtains sway in the breeze, he thought of that night. It wasn't the first time someone had thought he was a monster. Or a freak. Or any of the other litany of terms that haunted him when he laid in bed next to her each night.

Don?

The text cursor blinked rapidly in his chat window, awaiting his response almost as eagerly as she was. He took a deep breath before he committed to the keystrokes. A single green finger lingered over the return key before hitting send. Yeah babe, it's fine.

Thank you sweetheart.

Donatello sighed, again.

He'll be home sometime this evening.

Home. Her choice of words stuck in him like a sliver. A dull, niggling ache that laid in wait, almost dormant; until it was touched. Then it burned like hell. Home. This was their home. Not Casey's.

Their cat curled around his ankles, letting out a plaintive mewl for attention. Donatello bent to scratch her behind the ear, his eyes searching her sweet face.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

2012 fanfiction isn't something I've delved into too deeply, but I'm really excited to keep working on this one. Aging the characters up a little has made me way more comfortable with them. But anyway. I wanted to work on something that felt real. That hit home. That touched on sore spots like self-doubt, jealousy and sadness. That explored what it would take to make April and Don's relationship work, for real. Really looking forward to exploring all of that more. Thanks for reading!