'Have you got colour in your cheeks?

Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift

The type that sticks around like something in your teeth?

Are there aces up your sleeve?

Have you no idea that you're in deep?

I dreamt about you nearly every night this week

How many secrets can you keep? – Do I Wanna Know, Artic Monkeys

Welcome to the Neighborhood

His pack slid against the brick as his feet shuffled sideways. The vibration made gooseflesh rise up on his arms. He leaned forward. Eyes darted about the narrow alley. Searching for soldiers or security cameras. It wouldn't be surprising to have one attached near the rear door, considering what was taking place inside. The antennae attached to his night vision goggles bobbed as he swung his head around.

The area was clear. No cameras, hidden or otherwise. Not a sign or sound of anyone. Only the rustle of loose garbage toyed with in the breeze and the scurry of claws from an unseen rat.

He relaxed, breathing out a soft breath as he leaned his weight upon the building. Flipping the goggles up over onto his forehead, he rechecked the coordinates April had sent him. The illumination of his wrist device winked on; making the darkened space of the alley glow a dim, flickering blue before he doused the light.

He was at the right place. Of course he was. His modified GPS would never be wrong. He glanced again at the time. Right on schedule.

Now . . . where was she?

A few minutes went by and he fidgeted. He adjusted his glasses. Took them off and cleaned them. Irritation swept through him at her continued absence. He brushed it off. Surely she was just a bit late.

No need to get anal about it, he chided himself. He blew a breath through loose lips and shrugged. Women did that, he decided with a nod of his head and then frowned. Wait, didn't they?

He crossed his arms; thinking on this new puzzle; tapping the toe of one shoe. He noticed one of the straps were undone and bent to retie it. While crouched, he removed a small packet from his belt. He unrolled the tiny tools and began tweaking his wrist device. Tightening a loose screw and fixing a wire more securely.

He placed the tools back and braced his arms upon his knees. Closing his eyes, he did some mathematical equations to pass the time. And to keep his irritation at bay.

The minutes wore on. His patience began to fray.

He paced between the buildings. Crossed and uncrossed his arms. He paused to listen as a siren cut through the night. His mind calculated the speed of the ambulance, the distance. As he did, he moved to the large metal door for the third time and reached for the handle, only to drop his hand away. Again. There might be an alarm engaged.

He stood there another moment. Staring at the blank expanse of metal before him. Unsure. Debating the odds. No camera. No guards, at least none stationed near the alley.

He sighed through his nose. Checked the time again. Where was she?

There was a flash of fright that went through him as if suddenly drenched with ice water. Was he being stood up? The fright swiftly morphed into dread. The back of his neck heated. What if this was some sort of-of prank?

He shook his head. No. That's something Mikey would do to him. Not her.

His eyes darted around. Perspiration dotted his forehead. He stepped back from the door. She wouldn't do something so sophomoric. Something so-so mean-spirited to him.

"Would she?"

He glanced up at the side of the building and into the scant view of the black sky above. The blinking lights of a plane passed overhead and he calculated the speed of travel and guessed at the destination using the trajectory of flight. Trying to distract himself from his fearful thoughts. He glanced again at the digital readout. He frowned and tapped the mechanism several times with one fingertip. It was twenty-one minutes and forty-two seconds past the time April had told him to meet her.

"She wouldn't."

He swallowed dryly and moved back further from the door. Staring at it as if at any moment it would burst open. Wishing it would.

He could feel the seconds building into minutes. Ticking away and measuring the deepening embarrassment that was quickly turning into something thicker: Humiliation.

He sighed and leaned his shell against the opposite building. He slid down into a crouch. Reaching out, he picked up a bottle cap and tipped it onto its side. Spinning it with his fingertips until it fell over. He repeated the gesture.

It would be the perfect prank, actually. If he thought about it with some logic and rid himself of silly emotions. Get him to trek across the city to this industrial park in the middle of the night. Wait for a while, thinking April had needed him – specifically him – to help her investigate this lead.

They'd probably place bets on how long he'd wait before heading back. Mikey would be in on it, probably Raph, too. They'd all have a good laugh.

He could just picture it: April leaning on Raph's shoulder, laughing companionably. One arm around his neck. Resting her head on it as he wrapped his arm around her back. Rested his ape-paw on her hip.

He snatched the bottle cap and flung it away. Grimacing bitterly. It bounced and rolled out of sight. He stood up in a huff. Fists clenching and unclenching. Ducking his head. He pinched his eyes closed tight. Took in a breath. Released it through his nose.

He knows how they see him: Nerd. Lame. Boring. Science Geek. He's a joke to his brothers. Has always been a joke. Why would that change just because April had come into their lives?

He opened his eyes and stared at the door. Still closed. Still no sign of her. His shoulders slumped. This was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

So what if his ego got bruised a bit? Didn't they all deserve a little fun being poked at them from time to time? No need to be such a-a big baby about it. If he thought about it, rationally. Mikey played pranks on them all, even Master Splinter, though rarely. And he was such an easy target. It wouldn't even take much. Mention a few science terminology and boy-o he was hooked.

He gave a soft, broken little laugh. "It doesn't matter," he told himself, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest. The heat suffusing his face, burning his eyes. "I can laugh at myself, too," he decided.

Then maybe it wouldn't hurt as much.

But just as he'd made his peace with the notion of April being in on the prank, deciding to go home and face the ridicule he was sure he'd meet, he suddenly froze. Body rigid.

Wait. What if she's in trouble?

A flicker of worry ignited inside him. Maybe that's why she hasn't shown up yet. I've been standing out here like an imbecile while she's been taken prisoner . . . or worse!

He debated risking trying her cell. But he didn't have time to consider it too long, for the sound of a bolt unlocking had him scattering for cover. He spun in a circle, and finding nowhere to go, he twisted back around to face the building. Noiselessly, he scaled the side of the building next to the opening door, using only the cracks in the bricks to secure his grip.

He'd only cleared the door when it swung open completely. He hung there by his fingertips and toes. Sweating. Without a dumpster to hide behind or fire escape to climb or even a low-hung window to facilitate his ascension, it was the best he could do. To hover just above the door and pray that whomever was exiting didn't happen to look up. His fingers trembled and pearls of sweat broke and rolled down the back of his neck.

A head appeared below him, glancing from left to right. "Donatello?" she called.

He peered over his shoulder. A grin split his face. April. She hadn't stood him up. Of course not. She wouldn't do that to me.

He blew out a tremulous breath and dropped silently next to her. Feeling a wave of relief crash through him that was as troubling as it was refreshing; he ignored it. Refused to look too closely at how close he'd come to accepting that she'd treat him so cruelly or how it had made him feel. Avoided considering the massive relief as any indication of anything more than his impatience being allayed. Nothing else. Nothing more.

She startled back, gripping the edge of the door as she gasped, "Oh!" She glanced around, covering her mouth and then turning back, she smiled as he dusted off and then shook out his aching hands.

Her warm expression caught him. He cleared his throat, he gave her a nervous, fleeting grin. He checked the digital readout on his wrist device and tapped it once. "Ah, You're here. My watches must be off," he offered and laughed meekly. "I'll have to recalibrate them when I get home."

"Found the fuse box and disabled the alarm system," she rattled off and ducked back inside the door without a word and he stood there a moment before following.

"Right. Focus on the task at hand," he murmured to himself.

But focusing was proving difficult. With the remnants of the emotional roller coaster he'd just put himself through, he was still feeling as though this was all some sort of elaborate prank. Each step further into the building, however, had that thought diminishing. This meeting was not for pleasure, nor was it a prank, but important business.

"I brought all the equipment," he whispered to her, wishing with an oddly intense yearning for her to speak to him. To reassure him and chase away the lingering, niggling doubt.

She twisted to make a shushing motion to him. He ducked his head. He pressed his mouth together, walking through the dark hallway just on her heels. He glanced around as they passed alternating doors with windows dark and empty; thinking all the while.

Not a prank. That was a good thing. Just business. Of course. She wouldn't have called him otherwise. And why should she?

It was always for one mundane reason or another. To establish the structural integrity of her new apartment building, to install a new hot-water heater, to aid with rewiring some of the electrical work in the second hand shop on the lower level. His expertise. His skill and knowledge was what she'd call him for. Nothing else.

He paused mid-step; frowning slightly. And why should that bother him?

He was happy to help. Honored. Really. She'd even offered to assist him in his lab a number of times, now. Had reciprocated in kind for his services.

It was just that . . . Michelangelo had gone to her place with Leonardo last week, just to hang out and see the new furniture she'd purchased for the living room. And yes, he'd been invited, but Raphael had pulled a ligament in his right knee again and needed some assistance. But he'd missed out. And had hoped for an invitation to come at a later time. Only . . . It never had.

April turned right, entering a shortened corridor. Her footsteps slowed. She twisted and looked to him as he caught up to her and pointed to a door up ahead.

"There it is," she whispered. She pulled from the bag slung across her shoulder a folded piece of paper. She looked from it to the number on the plate affixed to the door below the mottled glass. She nodded.

He shook himself. Why was he even thinking about these inconsequential matters? What difference did it make in the long run? Logic dictated that he'd see her purchases eventually.

He stepped next to her. There was a metal plate next to the frame which read: Laboratory 1411: Specimens; matching the numbered plate on the door and the number on her paper.

"This is where you think they have it?" he asked her.

Her eyes were wide as she looked over one shoulder. She turned her face to him and gave him a nod. "Yes," she said, her voice in a whisper. "I overheard Joe Capanelli talking with Colleen Anders at the station, you know, she's the one assigned to cover breaking medical news."

Donatello nodded again despite having no idea what she was talking about.

"She happened to bring up a newly developed vaccine being tested here."

He nodded again as he turned to pull a small kit from his pack. Listening. April had managed to get the alarm system shut down. Now he needed to get this door open. And retrieve the mutagen specimens that were supposedly inside. That's why he was here. His ninja skill.

"I wouldn't have even stopped walking, if they hadn't mentioned that Oroku Corp was fully funding the project."

The tip of his tongue poked from the corner of his mouth as he worked the intricate tools into the opening. Fidgeting them into place with delicate care.

She crouched down to his level. His eyes rolled to one side, noting her proximity, but unable to do anything about it. He swallowed dryly and felt his pulse quicken.

"Oroku," she said, her voice low, eyes intense, "as in Oroku Saki." She raised her brows and let that sink in; then eased back to sit on her heels bracing her hands out in front of her. "That's when I got the idea that they might have some mutagen here. I mean, there was no way we could've found all the canisters. I know for a fact that Sacks had only brought one up to his lab at the tower." She blew a stray strand of hair from her eye. "It's sort of a long shot, really, but I knew you'd want to at least investigate a little. Just in case."

Mouth dry, he said, "Yes. Good thinking."

She smiled at the compliment and for a moment, he lost himself. His eyes roved over her face, dropping from her lovely eyes to linger at her lips, glistening softly. A powerful urge to kiss her flooded through him. Blotting out everything else.

He'd never kissed anyone before, had never really thought about it before, to be perfectly honest. Kissing was such a superfluous activity. One that was so completely out of the realm of possibility for any of them that he'd decided long ago that there was no point to it. Not really. Besides, it was an irrelevant, aimless activity. Why risk the transfer of any number of microbes in the exchange?

And yet, in this moment, with her so close, beaming with pride, he couldn't think of a single reason why it would not be ideal to press his mouth to hers. His eyelids drooped as the desire became urgent. He began to lean towards her. Never taking his gaze from her lips.

Her smile faltered, breaking him from his daze. A very solid reason as to why it would not be a good idea to try and kiss this woman came to mind. He caught his reflection in her quizzical eyes and he backpedaled.

He turned his burning face away. Cleared his throat. "Ah, I better, hm," he muttered and returned to the work at hand, blushing fiercely and internally cursing himself for being a fool.

The lock made a sharp snapping sound and then clicked as Donnie turned the knob. He glanced at April and nodded, looking away before he could read too much into her expression. Before he could question the confused, near disappointed look in her eyes. Because that, right there, he knew he was imagining.

The door swung open smoothly. They crept inside and April carefully shut the door behind them.

Inside was a lab. Several long tables sporting vials and built-in sinks took up most of the space in the room. Along each wall were cabinets and counters with processing machines set up. On either side of the room stood a door similar to the one they'd entered through. The one on the left stood slightly ajar. A line of windows directly opposite them, made up the far wall and horizontal blinds were closed against the sharp illumination of the parking lot's flood lights. They cast diagonal stripes of shadow and light along their bodies as April and Donnie moved between the rows of worktables.

His heart leapt at the sight of some of the equipment, gleaming and clean in the broken shafts of light. He ran his hand over one of the microscopes; glancing at the rows of test tubes, glass vials; spotting not one but two thermocyclers, a titrator, as well as a micro and a multi-purpose high speed centrifuge. An electrophoresis chamber caught his eye, making his breath catch.

The things he could do with some of this stuff!

Not only for his family's standard medical care, but to understand and unlock some of the mysteries of what they were, how their genetic makeup differed from the humans, or how similarly they matched up . . .

If he only thought to bring a backpack, he could've taken some of the items to add to his poorly equipped lab in the lair. Surely they wouldn't miss one of the centrifuges, there were at least five on the one counter! Even but a few sterile syringes would make a big difference for his family. He turned an envious eye to the boxes neatly stacked on one counter in the corner, labeled sterile.

He started as he felt her suddenly grab his arm.

"What is –" he began, but she pressed her finger to his mouth to shush him.

He blinked rapidly as she yanked on his arm and made him duck besides the table. Suddenly, he became aware of a beam of light roving along the ceiling and the sound of the doorknob being twisted reached them.

"Guards!" April hissed. "I didn't see anyone earlier. No car, nothing," she whispered. She pushed at his shoulder. "We should get out of here before you're spotted."

He stared calmly into April's fright-filled gaze. He tipped his head to one side, indicating for her to follow. With stealth, he crept along the floor, peering between the tables as voices reached him.

"Mahavir," a woman's voice, laced with accusation, "the lab was unlocked."

Footsteps entered the room. "I locked it before I left. So, don't look at me. It was probably that moron, Stockman."

There was a soft titter of laughter. "I've brought the new samples from the main lab, Mahavir. We'll need to run the process here and then get it to the animal testing site. I've got a good feeling about this batch. Now that we've introduced the foreign substance provided by Oroku Corp."

There was the sound of a bag placed on the floor, followed by the sharp metallic sound of equipment being unloaded.

Donatello looked at April's face, eyes wide. "Scientists," he mouthed while shaking his head, "not guards." They crawled towards the open door. Using his finger, he risked pulling it open just far enough to slip inside, followed closely by April.

The conversation went on, oblivious to their departure. "I'm telling you, we would've been better off with the standard rats, Nila. Whoever heard of testing on reptiles? And what is this business of not revealing the components of that-that . . . ooze? I don't like it. Not a bit."

There was a noncommittal sound, followed by a yawn. "Baby alligators and snapping turtles work just as well if you ask me. And I've learned a long time ago not to ask questions. Mahavir, if you know what's good for you, you'll shut your mouth, do your work and collect your pay at the end of the project."

Donatello rose up onto his knees and pulled the door closed, cutting off any further exchange of words from the two young scientists. He climbed to stand and turned in the cramped space to find them trapped in a rectangular supply closet with barely enough room for the both of them. Inwardly he groaned.

Just great.

Not two feet away from him, April stood in front of a window with a frosted glaze for privacy. Her fingers played along the edges, searching for a lock. She yanked and struggled at the bottom sash.

She turned a desperate look to him, "It's stuck."

He shuffled closer, feeling her shift, trying to get around the gear on his back. For some reason, he felt his face flame with embarrassment at the bulk of equipment he usually always carried with him. Failing to get around him, she remained pressed between the corner of the back wall and his side. Casting a nervous glance over his shoulder to her, he huffed a soft laugh at their predicament.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Let's see if I can –" His words cut off as his breath caught in his throat. "Oh!"

April had shifted when he braced to lift the window. The result was her breasts rubbing across his upper arm. A tremor ran through him. He ducked his head and coughed quietly. She rested her hand on one of his shoulders and the heat of it sent ripples of pleasure through him. Swallowing, he moved to try the window again.

"You can do it, Donnie," she whispered and her breath was warm as it caressed his shoulder and side of his neck, making him shiver. His heart thrummed and his blood heated as parts of his body reacted with violent glee at the situation.

He pulled, furiously doing his best to keep his thoughts on the window as it creaked and started to open, and not on the softness of the press of her feminine body; the scent of her hair, the slight aroma of her perfume, tickling his nose with floral notes and a citrus undertone. Most tantalizing and befuddling: the spicy, mouth-watering scent that was uniquely April beneath it all. He huffed and choked.

His glasses fogged.

Chest heaving, he pushed the window up and finally open. He leaned back as she moved closer still. Hands up. She squeezed in front of him, teetered over the sill and glanced around. The motion sent her hips back and her bottom straight into his lower body; rigid and stiff, despite his best efforts to remain calm. The feeling set his blood ablaze, incinerating logic, replacing it with the magmatic heat of lust.

Instinctively, he leapt back. Muffling a startled cry.

The gear and his shell slammed into the shelves just behind him. A shout of alarm erupted from the room beyond. Donatello lurched forward, linking his hands for April's foot to catch hold and lifting her out and over the window sill. She jumped down to the ground below, grunting and rolling forward in a sloppy somersault. Her hands skidded through the gravel and she hissed in pain.

Donatello's hands were on her back before she could rise, helping her up. She stumbled forward and tripped. He caught her before she hit the ground again. Wasting no time, he stooped and scooped her into his arms, bolting down the alley and making a quick left, disappearing into the labyrinth of low manufacturing warehouses and lots filled with parked semi trailers.

# # #

Out of breath, but controlling his breathing into soft puffs and measured gasps, he arrived at the back of the second hand shop. She uncurled her arm from around his neck and gave him a soft pat. Without a word, he quickly set her on her feet. She fished the keys from the inside pocket of her jacket and jangled them into the lock. She turned to motion with her head for him to join her inside.

He hesitated.

There was nothing more that he wanted to do than go inside, tend to the scrapes on her palms and talk about what they'd heard inside the lab. But his mind was whirling with the emotions he'd experienced and he didn't trust himself not to make an utter fool of himself in her presence.

He took a half step away. Looking down the empty back street. The distant sound of rough voices laughing and the sound of a motorcycle engine revved and then rumbled away cut the tension between them.

"Donnie?" she asked.

"I should go."

She held a hurt expression that he couldn't bear the sight of – but before he crumbled, he took another step back. Hands up. Pleading.

"I have to tell them what we heard and see if Leo wants to go back. We . . . We should have let them come with in the first place."

He looked up, startled as she approached. "I didn't think it was worth troubling them if I was wrong."

"Ah," he replied quietly. The hurt was not surprising – the anger he felt, was.

So that's how it was, then. To trouble him was no issue. Why pull Mikey away from his precious video games or Raph from the weight sets, or Leo from the endless, repetitive training he spent his time indulging in, when he was doing nothing of importance? Only maintaining the lair's security, heating, water system, sewage, and countless other experiments and projects meant only to better their humble lives.

His hands balled into fists and he gripped the strap at his chest fiercely. What was he doing here? What was he getting himself into? He glanced around the decrepit neighborhood, searching for an answer that he knew he wouldn't find. Feeling out of place and more than a little awkward. This wasn't his place. This wasn't his neighborhood. Hell, he didn't even have a neighborhood. He only had the lair. And he needed to go back home. Now. To flee back to where he felt comfortable and safe.

Where she couldn't wound him so easily with words so carelessly spoken.

"Hey," April said and reached out to touch his face. "Are you –"

He lurched back. "Don't," he snapped before he could stop himself.

She shot him a hurt look.

"I-I mean . . ." He cast his gaze away, chest heaving. Mind racing. This was too much. Too much to process. Too many emotions roiling through him, twisting his usually clear thoughts into a jumbled mess. He was used to being used by his family, taken for granted, but this . . . why did this hurt so much coming from someone he actually barely knew?

He adjusted his glasses. Huffed through his nose. He leveled a look at her, "Listen, I-I just need to . . ."

She interrupted him. He glanced aside in frustration. "And I knew you wouldn't be angry with me or disappointed if I was wrong," she said.

His face snapped up. "What?" he breathed.

"You wouldn't think . . . if it turned out to be a waste of time, I mean. The others, would have teased, or-or . . . I knew you wouldn't think I was," she struggled and shrugged, shoving her hands deep into her jeans' pockets. She gave him an apologetic smile, "Nevermind."

His mouth dropped opened but nothing came out. She trusted you, you moron.

Suddenly, the roar of the motorcycle was upon them. Filling the air with its metallic, furious growl. Echoing off and bouncing along the bricks of the dark, graffiti-speckled buildings.

Donatello ducked to one side, diving behind a pile of garbage cans in the gang way of April's shop and the neighboring apartment building. Disappearing. April glanced around. She stepped back onto the sidewalk as the headlight illuminated the poorly lit street. Her shadow stretched and danced like a freed genie in the white light. She tipped her head, eyeing the stranger as he pulled up.

He knocked back the kick stand with the heel of one boot and eased back in the seat. One hand rested by finger and thumb on top of a sculpted thigh barely constrained by a faded pair of jeans, considering her. With his free hand, he pulled the odd-looking mask, that she at first thought was a helmet, resembling a skull, from his head, releasing and shaking back thick, layered dark hair.

He gave her a long look from where he sat. Neither of them moved. He reached down, killed the engine and loped his leg over the back of the bike. Strolling slowly up to her, he smiled, revealing a set of deep dimples in an unshaven face and eyes that glittered with mirth and danger.

April found her breath stuck somewhere between her chest and throat being hammered mercilessly by her thrumming heart.

"Well, well, well, hello there," he said with a wry smile. His voice was rich and warm. Like molten honey. He cocked a brow at the building behind her and then returned the startling blue of his eyes back to her stunned face. "Looks like my dump of a neighborhood just got its first ray of sunshine."

"Who," she squeaked and coughed, laughing nervously as she crossed her arms. She gazed up at him, doing her best to compose herself. Her voice came out, mostly steady, as she asked again, "And you are?"

"Jones," he said and reached his hand out to her, she slowly reached to meet it. His large hand enveloped hers, hardened and hot, sending the heat straight through her palm to ignite her core.

"Casey Jones," he added with a squeeze and a tilt of his head, still grinning like a feral cat cornering a mouse.

A/N: My oh my! Casey, you devil. XD

There is something about Artic Monkeys that just screams 'sexy' to me. I love that song! Them and The Black Keys remind me of Mr. Jones. I dunno why, they just do. I hope you enjoyed this! Reviews are appreciated!