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mermmarie · 5 days

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What Do You Want From Me?

Pair: ROTTMNTLeo x OC(Aida Guerra). Note: Both characters are over the age of 21 in this.

Word Count: 3560

Rating: M for language and subject matter.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Discussions of murder, implied family trauma/toxicity.

Sexual Content: None.

Authors Notes: It's my birthday today, so I'm treating myself by posting a self-indulgent snippet-fic. Have fun!

“Thank you for tonight, Leonardo. This really cheered me up.”

The cute, agonizing way her upper lip twitched, just enough to tease a flash of teeth, made Leonardo’s stomach drop all over again.

“…You’re a good friend, ya know?”

A selfish part of him had invoked his ‘winner’s prize’ from their silly gamble months ago. The terms had been simple. He got to pick who, when, and where she went out with for one night, and he had picked himself.

Aida had been reluctant, no thanks to her soured mood, but he knew she couldn’t resist his charm. He confidently told her it was not a real date, he just wanted to cheer her up. With one well-placed pun and a smile, he had cracked through her wall and their night began.

The worst part was, it had been perfect.

The food was fantastic; the games were fun, and ending the night at a karaoke bar helped her release all her frustrations. In between each event, she grabbed his hand, and each time, he squeezed her lithe digits; and she responded by leaning into him. By the time they had reached the karaoke bar, she had been beaming and reluctant to leave his side.

And yet, she ended the night with a forced smile and a soft, sad kiss on the cheek.

He sounded like an incel to complain about being friend-zoned. Unlike those guys, however, he had real experience in the dating pool. He knows when someone is into him. And Aida had been throwing signals nearly every time they hung out. Yet, anytime he attempted to go further, she threw a wall up.

And that was how their cycle started.

First, she would text him, then he would text back. Nothing serious, of course; her wall was still up. Which meant that, if she were ever in the lair, he couldn’t smother her. No matter how tight his heart fluttered each time he caught her looking at him. Or how much his stomach squeezed when she finally asked to join him in training. They would effortlessly reconnect, enjoy each other’s company, extend invitations to one another—or simply show up—whenever their schedules allowed even a sliver of free time.

Once he felt the crack in her wall was big enough, he’d test the waters with a flirtatious comment. If she flirted back with that beautiful, flawless smile of hers, or bumped his side with her tight hips, then he knew he could up his game.

He would tease her with cheeky comments, counting it as a minor victory each time her face turned a darker shade. Even better was when she matched his tone, planting sweet, tantalizing ideas for him to revisit when he was alone at night. No matter how tempted he was to pull her aside and confess with the hopefulness that she would reciprocate, he had to wait for her to make the next move.

It was always something that could be casually brushed aside as accidental on the surface. A bump on the shoulder, her hand skimming over his as they reached for the same thing.

Only she would remain at his side after she bumped into him. Or her fingers would skim over his and stay on his knuckles; as if memorizing each bump she found. If he was lucky, he would get away with holding her hand the rest of the night.

His agonizingly favorite part was when they finally got to sit alone together, sharing a blanket to hide their hand-holding. Every quiet sigh she let out squeezed around his neck as the warmth of her very breath sent deep shudders down his center. If it were movie night, he cradled her in his arms. She nestled seamlessly into each of his curves and avoided the uncomfortable points of his plastron. Sometimes, he whispered little bits of film commentary into her scalp; sneaking quick kisses in between every few words. And each time he did, she let out muted whimpers only he could hear. Her body would gently press against his, her leg crossing over his as if to get closer. It would take all of his willpower to stop his hand from slipping past her waist and exploring lower.

When the moment felt right–whether it was when the film was over or there was a moment of silence between them–he would try to ask more of her. Of their relationship.

And each time, Aida had an excuse ready for why this wasn’t the right time.

As a good friend, he knew she had a right to turn him down if she wasn’t ready. And he would never be upset at her for it.

But Pizza Supreme, if every rejection didn’t chip away at his confidence...

“You’re a good friend, ya know?”

His heavy heart sank each time he recalled her trembling line. He was happy to keep her as a friend, as long as it meant she would remain in his life, but he needed to know that was the extent of their relationship.

And yet, something scratched relentlessly at the back of his mind.

Actions speak louder than words.

He did nothing for the first few days. It just would not be right to confront her right after their not-date-night.

One night, they started back up on their late night texting; the first sign that cracks were forming in Aida’s emotional wall. Normally, this would go on for a few nights, but he couldn’t wait around this time.

His numb thumbs flew across the screen as warm adrenaline pumped through his bloodstream and quickened his heart.

Neon Leon (3:13am): We need to talk. Meet me on the rooftop at 47th.

Those dreaded dots appeared promptly after he sent his request. His jaw clenched and knuckles paled as they gripped the rectangular device.

Gato Grande (3:14am): Ok. See you in 30.

Her response made his stomach twist. He had half-expected her to turn him down with another excuse. In fact, he was prepared for a rejection. But the fact he got a positive response so fast made him uneasy.

Still, he threw his typical gear on for comfort and slipped away to the surface.

* * *

He was the first to arrive at the abandoned residential space, which he appreciated. It gave him more time to look at the nostalgic space, as if he were looking at it for the last time. His chest squeezed as he recalled their playful chase, which had led to their first genuine conversation. Since then, the rooftop had been their secret meetup during sleepless nights, a place for them to spar without his brothers and father teasing him, or to eat pizza while they opened up with deep discussions.

Because of course they also had not-dinner-dates here.

A sharp exhale flitted from his nostrils. This place would have to be the first thing to go. If she only wanted to be friends, then fine. But that meant normal friend hours. If they needed to have late conversations, it would be text only from now on.

“I figured you’d wanna talk.” Aida announced herself before he saw her.

She stepped out of the water tower’s shadow. Brown eyes held his stare, but not in the warm, casual way he was used to. Her gaze held a hardened edge, as if expecting an attack. Maybe it was the straight line her eyebrows formed, or how her face lacked a smile.

Even so, he couldn’t help but admire the way her curly side-part bounced with every step closer she made. Nor the way her legs glided over the gravel turf, as if she were a large cat stalking her prey. He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he recalled every time she had pinned him down during a sparring match–which he may or may not have allowed to happen purposefully.

Just another thing he would have to put a stop to if she didn’t want to go further than friendship.

“So y’know what I’m gonna ask?” He asked.

Her eyes darted to him for a split second before turning away. “I think so.”

“Tell me.” He started. “So I know we’re on the same page.”

A flash of pink darted over her lower lip. When she glanced back at him, her eyes shimmered.

“…You want to be more than friends.”

His heart sank when she confirmed his suspicions. “And you don’t.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to—”

“Then what’s stopping you?” His voice strained at the question, surprising even himself. “This?” He gestured to his face, hoping the simplest, cruelest answer was correct.

“No!” she proclaimed in an exasperated voice, as if offended by the suggestion. “Of course not!”

“Then what is it? Aida, I can’t—” He stopped to take a calming breath. “If all you want is to be friends, then I’m down with that. But you have to tell me.”

The dreadful weight that had followed him around all night found its home across his shoulders; pushing them down as if to make him sink through the rooftop. “‘Cause I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed. “You’re really putting me on the spot here.”

He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

Her fingers clamped to the underside of her arm as red hues appeared underneath her smooth, tawny flesh. She pursed her lips as she turned her gaze to the city.

Had she been anyone else, he would have walked off. But he waited with crossed arms as she shuffled her weight from one foot to the next, with her mouth opening and closing every so often.

Aida sucked in a sharp breath and broke her silence.

“I can’t be with you because you’re good.” She turned her head to finally meet his gaze as she continued. “You’ve saved the city. You protect people. You’re doing everything I thought my family did—that I was supposed to do.”

His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what she just said. But this piece of her puzzling personality refused to fit into any of the places.

“That’s why? You don’t want to be with me because I save people?”

“No!”

“Then what is it?”

Her mouth opened, but only a silent gasp came, as if terrified to speak.

“Aida–”

“I killed someone.”

His eyes widened at the bombshell she just dropped. He even shook his head, certain he had misheard her.

“What?”

“I killed someone.” She repeated, her voice quaking and hard.

“…In self defense. Right?”

She shook her head. “It—he was a yokai, a tiger. I was fifteen and on my first hunt. I was so ready for a big fight. To be thrown against a dumpster, or go back home barely alive. Because that’s what I was told to be ready for. I spent three days prepping for it. But he wasn’t a monster. He was just some guy, out on the night with his friends.”

A shimmer appeared in her eyes, reflected by the subtle lighting of the night. Her throat bobbed before her voice came out strained, as if holding back a pained sob. “And I killed him.”

The weight lifted from his shoulders, only to be re-homed in his gut. “...You told me you didn’t do your first hunt.”

She shrugged, and her voice carried her defeat. “I lied.”

He stood there in silence, utterly shocked at what he just learned. It was more than just a killing. She murdered a yokai in cold-blood. He couldn’t even ask her why she would lie. She took a life! Of course, she would hide something like that. And yet, he struggled to wrap his mind around it.

He had spent so much time with her, and never once did he think she could do such a thing. Was she capable of it? Sure, when they got down to the nitty-gritty. He was too, but he never killed outside of combat, and certainly not when he was a teenager. As much as he wished Splinter had been more strict with him and his brothers in their teenage years, he was thankful for the chance to just be a kid.

But Aida never had that opportunity.

His nostrils flared as he let out a long, thoughtful exhale. “Okay. Tell me how it happened.”

“Wh-what?”

“How’d you do it? You can’t just tell me you killed someone and not tell me how you did it. I might think you’re lying again.”

The tension in her shoulders finally eased as he watched them droop down. She unbuckled the worn leather sheath from her side, holding the protected dagger by the blade.

“With this.” She muttered. “I snuck up on him. Waited ‘til he was alone. Caught his attention at just the right time.” She stared at the weapon before pressing the dull tip to the base of her throat. “Got him right here. I knew it would kill him. I just didn’t realize it meant he choked on his own blood.”

She averted her gaze and wagged the confided weapon in the air.

“That is what keeps me up at night. That sound. And not only do I have to live with that, but I got his powers too. I have a piece of him, living inside me constantly.” Her tone hardened the louder she spoke; and her gesturing hands stressed each pained word she uttered.

“Every day, I’m reminded of what I did, and that my own family lives with the same thing. Only they act like nothing happened. Like they didn’t take a life. That they haven’t taken many lives. Yeah, maybe some of them needed to happen, but all of them?”

She jabbed her own chest with her fingertips as her voice reached its crescendo. “They praised me, Leo! I murdered someone, and they wanted me to smile pretty for the fucking picture!”

She straightened her posture with a surprised gasp; as if she hadn’t planned on unloading so much on him.

“There you go.” She raised both arms and took a step back. “You wanted to know. Now you know.”

He stared at her for a long time as he digested what she had told him. This revelation felt like the handful of puzzle pieces he had been missing this whole time. The vehement disdain for her parental guardians, and why, despite her love for her siblings, she refused to go back home. All of it fell into place.

It should have appalled him. He should have denounced their friendship and left her alone on the rooftop. But even with her furrowed brow and hard frown, something familiar filled her glassy eyes. Something he had seen in himself on the rare occasions his trauma with the Krang invasion got the better of him.

A need for forgiveness.

“Was he the only one?” He asked.

Her brows twitched before she raised her chin. “Yes…”

“You sure?” He pressed. “No exes hidden in the closet, or buried somewhere in Central Park?”

“Fuck you.” She hissed.

“I’m serious, Aida.”

“You sure as hell aren’t acting like it.”

He huffed and took a step toward her. “What gave you that idea?”

“I just told you I killed somebody!” She hollered. “And the first thing you ask is ‘is he the only one’?”

“I mean, this was why I asked for your body count back at—”

“For real, Leo?!”

“Yes! For real!” He matched her tone, and she flinched at his sudden change in volume. “Because you’ve convinced yourself that you’re still that brainwashed little girl!”

“No, I haven’t!”

“Alright, lemme prove it to you.” He interlaced his fingers together. A series of pops and cracks erupted from each joint as he pushed the digits forward, as if readying himself for a tussle.

“Biggest case-in-point, you haven’t killed anyone else since. Right?”

Her jaw twitched as her fists clenched at her sides. “Right.”

“Right.” He nodded before moving on. “You were how old again when it happened? Eighteen?”

“…Fifteen.” She corrected him.

“Fifteen!” He stressed the number by patting the back of his hand into his palm. “Fifteen years old! Your family groomed you, Aida.” He took another step forward and grabbed her shoulders. “The difference between you and the people that broke your trust is that you stopped.”

Her lower lip disappeared into her mouth as little dimples formed in her chin. Tears welled at the edges of her eyes as she stared up at him. “I took a life, Leonardo.”

“And I’ve seen you do your best to make up for it. You try to steer your siblings away from that path as best as you can. You’ve distanced yourself from your parents. You don’t speak to your abuelo anymore. You do your best to do things just so you can say you lived life to the fullest. But anytime you feel like you’re too happy, you pull away. And you let yourself suffer in silence ‘cause you’ve convinced yourself that you deserve the guilt. The self-loathing. The shame.”

Without thinking, he raised a hand to cup her jaw, swiping away a stray tear that rolled down her cheek. He expected her to push his arm away. Instead, his heart fluttered when she leaned into his palm. Her eyes squeezed shut and her lips pressed together. Soft fingers reached for his wrist as if to hold him in place.

Like he would ever leave her side.

“How d'you do that?” She forced the words out.

“Do what?”

“Know exactly what I'm thinking.”

“Let’s just say I have some personal experience with persistent guilt. It’s like the cockroach of the mind.”

A weak chuckle mingled with her cough as she cleared her throat of phlegm. The moment a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, he pressed on.

“You’re not that person anymore. I don’t think you ever were. You were manipulated, Aida. The rest of your life isn’t about being miserable. You can be happy and still do what you can to make things right.”

She stared up at him with exhausted, reddened eyes. “You mean it? That’s all I have to do?”

His own lips pulled upward in a soft smile as he gazed down at her.

How did she still look so beautiful?

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

A soft exhale hissed from her nostrils as she closed her eyes once more. He watched as her whole body deflated, as if he were witnessing an immense weight being lifted off her shoulders.

“Thank you. For listening.” She muttered.

He felt that familiar heaviness return to his heart, only this time, he could ignore it.

“What’re friends for, hm?”

A frown flashed across her face, and her eyes snapped open. He spoke up just as she tried to voice a defense. “I get it now. It’s rough. Grappling with that feeling. You take some time.”

He gestured between the two of them. “We can circle back to this later. Just know that, whatever you decide, I’m happy to have you in my life.”

Her fingers tightened around his wrist as her eyebrows pushed upward. Both shoulders rose as she took a deep inhale, as if to stop herself from crying all over again.

“That means a lot. Thank you, Leo.”

He raised an arm to wrap around her back, and she moved closer to him. The hand on her face moved to the back of her head as she wrapped her arms around his midsection. He waited until she was comfortable against his jagged, armored torso before tightening his embrace; humming in content when her own biceps squeezed his sides. He lowered his head to nuzzle his snout against her pulled back curls and placed a tender kiss at her crown.

“I’ve got decade’s worth of vigilante experience on my resume.” He took on a more lighthearted tone. “I know evil when I see it. And you’re not evil.”

Hot air seeped through his cropped hoodie as she huffed. “Not even when I have a sack full of cash under my arm?”

“Petty theft doesn’t make you evil.”

“Petty?” She clicked her tongue and mumbled something in Spanish beneath her breath.

Regardless, her lightened mood pulled a chuckle out of him. His arms tightened around her as his head moved to nuzzle the side of her face. Temptation wanted him to kiss her cheek, but he knew this wasn’t the time to push it. For now, he only wanted to keep her in his arms; to assure her he was a safe haven for her.

“Leo?”

“Hm?”

“Wanna go on a date later?”

The question widened his eyes. Heat surged to his face, sending the world into a momentary spin. He lifted his head to look down at her, certain she would grin and say ‘sike!’. But when she remained silent, he dared to test the waters.

“You sure you don’t need to think about it?” He asked cautiously.

The smile on her face as she turned her head upward to meet his gaze made his stomach squeeze and cheeks flush in delight.

“I’m positive.”

Her words, her genuine smile, the smell of citrus emanating from her, the warmth of her body molded perfectly against his…he had never seen her so at ease.

The wall was gone.

“In that case… I’d love to.”

#This was soooo goooood!!#Want to know about that pretend date BAD though #lol #Friends Work

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