Now, when you really think about it, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Tonight is a new moon, and this specific area of downtown Brooklyn isn’t exactly the brightest place in the city.
You are having enough trouble as it is seeing your hand in front of your face, never mind throwing yourself from one rooftop to the next without falling to your untimely demise.
This wasn’t initially how you pictured spending Friday night, but things happen.
You strain to hear the soft tapping of footsteps beside you as you leap from yet another rooftop.
Peeking from the corner of your eye, you barely see your emerald friend sprinting beside you, partially masked by the shadows.
You envy his ninja skills, how he can sneak discreetly amongst the darkness, how he can make these nightly runs for hours at a time without breaking a sweat.
You two have been patrolling for a little under 15 minutes and your lungs are already screaming for oxygen, your clothes soaked from perspiration.
You wouldn’t be surprised if your legs gave out within the next few minutes.
But you wouldn’t stop, not in a million years. You want, no need to prove to Raph that you could take care of yourself.
This is the first time in the three months you’ve been training with the turtles that you’ve actually been able to do anything.
You finally convinced your crimson-masked companion to take you with him one night.
Of course, this was on the one condition that Leo and Master Splinter never heard one word of your little adventure.
Ignoring the burn of your near-bursting lungs, you push on.
The chilly January air bites at your nose and cheeks, forcing them into an irritated tint of red, reminiscent of your friend’s crimson mask.
You really just want to go home and sleep now, if you were being completely honest.
The only thing stopping you was the thought of one of Raph’s signature cocky smirks and cruel jabs at your abilities. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you give up.
Master Splinter always told you that your stubbornness would turn to bite you in the ass one day (well maybe you paraphrased a bit).
Your vision blurs as salty sweat drips into your eyes. (S/c) hands shoot up to wipe at them, temporarily obscuring your line of sight.
At the panicked shout you rip your palms from your face and almost stumble over the edge of an apartment building. Large, strong hands grab you, launching you to the adjacent rooftop.
You skid across the concrete, feeling the skin being torn from your hands and knees and the whole right side of your face.
A strangled cry erupts from your lips. Fuck trying to hide it from Raph. It hurts so much.
You feel a familiar warmth slide under your back and knees as you’re lifted up.
“Dammit, (l/n)!” You could practically feel the panic in his voice. Through the crippling pain you realize that you’ve never heard such emotion come from the hothead. Anger, yes. Panic, no.
You’re barely conscious when Raph gently sets you down a few minutes later to yank open a manhole covering.
Warm arms slip under you again and you feel a brief sense of falling before you’re jostled by a poorly-concealed impact. You groan as your cheek hits Raph’s rugged plastron.
“Sorry,” is all Raphael can manage to murmur, his pace picking up when he sees the lair’s entrance.
He doesn’t even try to conceal his footsteps as he hauls you to Donnie’s room, all thoughts of keeping your escapade a secret abandoned.
His purple-masked brother looks up from his current science project at the noise. He releases an audible gasp at the sight of your limp, bloody body and Raph’s desperate expression.
The tallest brother springs into action immediately, jumping towards a large metal table in the center of the room and pushing random gizmos and parts from unfinished projects onto the floor.
“Raph, get the first aid kit from the cabinet over there.” He nods his head towards a beat up cabinet on the other side of the room.
“I think you’re gonna need a helluva lot more than a first aid kit to fix that.” A growl is ripped from the red-clad turtle’s throat, but he shuffles over to the cabinet and grabs a red bag.
Donnie ignores his brother, taking the bag out of Raph’s grasp and turns to you, the complete epitome of professionalism.
He whips out a pack of disinfectant wipes, ripping open the plastic and gently pressing one to the side of your face.
You scream, and Raph races to your side, holding down your arms as you writhe in pain.
“Don, you’re hurting her!” This earns him a heart-stopping glare from the genius.
“You don’t think I know that? It’s the only way to keep it from getting infected. If you want to actually be helpful, you can continue holding her down and try to comfort her.
Yelling at me is only stressing (y/n) out more.” This only slightly calms down the hot head.
“Ya gotta point I s’pose.” Raph looks down at you, guilt spread across his face like butter.
Your screaming eventually dies down a bit to groaning as Donnie finishes cleaning your face and scraped limbs. He takes out a needle full of liquid, taking your arm gently in one hand.
“(Y/n), I’m going to have to inject you with an anesthetic so I can work on you. Don’t freak out when you start feeling drowsy in a second.
Just let yourself sleep, it’ll make things easier for all of us.” You nod in confirmation, barely feeling the needle pierce your skin.
You almost immediately feel the effects, closing your eyes and slipping into a deep sleep.
You wake up with a dull ache throughout your whole body. It’s dark, and it takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but when they do you see a large figure slumped in the corner of the room.
There’s only one person you know with muscles like that.
“Raph?” The figure jumps up, startled by the sudden voice.
“No, I’m still sleeping.” You can almost feel the slight smirk of Raph’s face.
“Oh shut up ya smartass.” He moves to turn on the light.
“Hey,” you shrug, “better than being a dumbass.” A chuckle erupts from your companion.
“If your face wasn’t already messed up, I’d pummel it.” Oh yeah, your face.
Memories of what happened rush back to you in waves, and you shoot out of bed, rushing to the mirror next to the door, knees only slightly stinging.
What… What is this?
Your hand reaches up to touch your cheek, but you stop at the last second, hand hovering over skin.
Your breath catches in your throat, tears welling in your eyes. A strangled cry erupts from your sore throat. You were hideous.
You feel bile rising, and you barely manage to swallow it down as you whirl towards the panicking turtle, realization starting to build in the pit of your stomach.
“H-How am I supposed to explain this to my mom? Hell, how long have I even been gone?
I can’t just show up looking like this! God, I look like a freak!” Your breathing picks up and you sway with a sudden dizzy spell, on the brink of hyperventilating.
Raph surges forward to catch you as your knees give out, sobs wracking your body. You didn’t even care if Raph saw you as weak anymore.
“Hey now, errrr we’ll figure this out.” Raph awkwardly pats your back, obviously uncomfortable with the unfamiliar role of comforting someone.
You scurry away from his touch and rapidly shake your head, “No Raph. We won’t. I can’t just show up at home-at school-with half of my face torn off! People will ask questions.
Hell, I can’t even look at myself, why would anyone else want to?”
“Ay, shut up!” You jump at his booming voice.
His jaw is clenched, and he reaches over and roughly grasps your chin and pulls your face to look at him, not even aware of the slight ache it causes you. “I don’t wanna hear you say that shit.
I mean damn, I thought you were beautiful before, a bit of scarring doesn’t change a frickin’ thing. I thinks it’s badass."
His eyes widen in realization, a light pink spreading across his cheeks. “I-I mean,” he clears his throat, “yer a dumbass for thinking otherwise.”
More tears spill from your (e/c) eyes, and you release another heart-wrenching sob, burying your face in your arms.
“Oh shit, nonono that was supposed to make you feel better! Why do I always screw things up! I mean it’s my fault you’re hurt in the first place."
He spins and lets his fist fly, the sound of shattering glass filling the room.
Shards of glass from the grungy mirror scatter across the cement floor, a particularly large one stopping in front of you.
You peek from your folded arms and stare at your reflection in the shard. The rooms is silent aside from the occasional drip of stale sewer water and Raph’s heavy breathing.
Glancing back at him you see that his fists are clenched and his eyes are glued to the floor.
“Ya know what Raphael?” You lift your head completely to meet his gaze that’s now set on you.
“That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” you let out a harsh laugh, “even though you were kind of an ass about it."
The sight of his shoulders falling and an abrupt laugh is the response you get. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d say you like me."
With that he tenses up again, bringing a minute smile to your chapped lips. “But if it means anything, I’d say that I like you too.”
“Shut up (l/n)” His face heats to the color of his mask and he plops next to you, leaving only a centimeter between you two.
“If you tell the others ‘bout what I said I won’t hold back next time we spar.”
Your smile gets bigger and you lean your head on his rough shoulder, the pressure slightly irritating your raw skin. His cut, bloody fist catches your eye.
“We should probably have Donnie look at your fist. Ya know, right after he redresses my face cause you made me cry. Dumbass.”
“Oh fuck off, I can still beat you in a fight with this thing.”