Author's Notes: If there is such a thing as fluffy smut, this is probably it. A bit steamier than anything in Click, hence the mature rating. Consider yourself warned. I figured these two needed some happy alone time after all they've been through.

Takes place a couple weeks after the last chapter of Click, and is told from April's POV. There might be a companion piece from Donnie's view, but I haven't decided yet.

The Best Laid Plans

April

There's a precise, yet tentative knock on the door and I know it's him before I open it. Not only because he said he was coming over. He could have never mentioned it and I would still know it was him. No one else would knock in that same way. It's a comfort and I feel a smile stretching across my face as I move through the kitchen to answer.

I slide open the locks and pull open the door, my smile turning into a grin when I see him standing on the other side. He's wearing a large winter coat with the hood covering his head and a scarf wrapped around his face so only his eyes are visible. Black sweat pants cover his legs and heavy, black boots encompass his feet. He looks a touch on the ridiculous side, but he's still not well enough to go climbing and jumping across rooftops so the disguise is a bit of a necessity.

"Hey April," he says with a tiny wave. The fluffy purple mittens covering his hands bring a small giggle from my throat. "I think I might have scared your neighbor," he admits, shuffling inside when I move to allow him entrance.

"Mrs. Leary? Don't worry about it. She's scared of everyone. One time she told my dad she thought I was carrying bombs in my backpack to school," I insist, closing and locking the door behind him.

He struggles to take off his boots, but I know better than to offer help if he doesn't ask for it. He'll get there. We just have to be patient. He does it and instantly curls his toes into the carpet beneath his feet once they're free. It's been almost a week since we've seen each other in person. There have been long, meandering phone calls and an almost embarrassing number of text messages, but my time has been preoccupied with finals and school projects and he hasn't been allowed to leave the lair.

"I'm glad they let you go for the night," I say, unzipping his jacket with a smile.

He pushes back the hood and pries the scarf from his face, his green skin flush from the cold or possibly the feel of my hands slipping inside his coat.

"Y-yeah," he says with a nervous little laugh. "I'm still surprised Sensei let me go. Although, he did insist on a rather strict curfew."

"A curfew?" I ask, grinning when my hands find the smooth shoots of the bridge between his carapace and plastron.

There's a tiny hitch in his breath. He tries to hide it, but I heard it and I want to hear it again. He shrugs out of the coat and instantly shivers without the protective layer of clothing. The scar on his plastron is still painfully deep and jagged, curving down around the edges where that monster cracked it. I know it will fade in time, but the mere sight of it is enough to cool any of the less than innocent thoughts I have been entertaining. I look away when he catches me staring. I'm not surprised when his fingers reach out to take hold of my wrist.

"It's snowing," he says, the words an almost desperate plea to avoid what he thinks I might say in sight of his lingering injuries.

"Yeah?" I murmur and put another smile on my face. "Guess I'll have to think of a way to warm you up," I reply and his worried look is gone in a flash, replaced with wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth.

"Oh…um, that's…I mean…"

I turn and stand on my tiptoes to cut him off with a kiss. Tonight wasn't supposed to be about the things we'd both rather avoid. I wasn't going to mention his scars or the way anything even remotely strenuous still brings a pained grimace to his face. I wasn't going to call attention to the way his right hand still fumbles and struggles to move or how he still looks so tired. Tonight was supposed to be about making him feel better…feel good. I had a plan. I had decided. I'm not about to go back on it now.

"Come here," I breathe around another kiss. "I want to show you something."

There's that hitch again and I fight back a smug smile at my success. I take hold of his hand and move towards my bedroom. My heart is hammering in my chest and when my thumb slides along the side of his wrist I can feel his pulse racing as well. The butterflies are back and they're flapping up a thunderous typhoon. For once I welcome them. They spur me forward and make me determined to prove them wrong. My bedroom door creaks open and I fumble for the light switch along the wall.

"You…um, how were finals?" he asks when I let go of his wrist and leave him to shift awkwardly on his feet.

He's looking everywhere but at me, the deep green color of a blush still lingering on his face. He'll start rambling soon. Maybe breaking down the science of accumulation or laying out the statistics for each possible letter grade I might receive on my tests. I don't want him to be nervous. With him anxiety quickly follows and that's the opposite of feeling good. I need him to relax. It's not an easy task, but I'm up to the challenge.

"Fine," I say with a dismissive shrug before peeling off my sweatshirt leaving only the thin camisole underneath to cover my torso.

He swallows and stares. I blush even though I try desperately not to and he averts his gaze with something close to shame flickering in his eyes. I don't want him to feel ashamed. There is nothing shameful about what we're doing. Nothing at all and I need him to understand that. I need him to believe it. I close the distance between us and reach up to wrap my arms around his neck so that he has no choice but to lower his head.

"I've missed you," I whisper, letting out a small sigh when a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and the shame goes fleeing off to the dark corners where it belongs.

"Missed you too," he replies and there's a huskiness to his voice that makes me forget the chill on the air and warms me straight to the center.

Our lips meet again and I waste no time opening my mouth to his. Our embraces may have been awkward at first, but we've found the perfect way to fit and have no trouble returning to it with each new try. I moan quietly when his hand settles on the small of my back, arching encouragingly into the touch. He applies more pressure and moves his fingers in slow, even circles that trace my spine and turn my legs to jelly. I lean into him for support and a surprised gasp of pleasure rips from my throat when his thigh moves up between my legs.

"Sorry," he says, instantly maneuvering around the accidental touch.

"D-don't apologize," I pant. "It felt good," I add with a blush that I'm sure covers my entire body.

I lick my lips and try desperately to circumvent my own embarrassment, because there is nothing to be embarrassed about. I press my hands along his bridge and push him towards the bed. He very much looks like a deer in headlights, stumbling until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. I give another push and he slides down. I don't wait for him to adjust, crawling onto his lap and taking hold of his face for another kiss.

His hands are back on my body, this time acting with a little more boldness. He lifts up the hem of my camisole and skin touches skin. I break away from his mouth to lean back against his touch. His skin is cool and every pass of his fingers over my skin sends shivers of pleasure throughout my entire body. I moan and lean my head back when his mouth finds my neck. His tongue is wide and a little rough and oh so good at pulling out those little noises I can't seem to stop making.

I'm losing control of the situation. I had a plan. I wanted to make him feel better. I wanted to have him making the little noises and squirming uninhibited against the sheets. I reach down and find one of his hands along my waist, rubbing and pressing against the pressure point at my hip. I take hold of it and pull it upwards, turning it over so that the scars are visible. He stops kissing along my neck and I think he might try and stop me. I don't give him the chance. I kiss along the edge of his wrist, tracing my tongue along the puckered edge of the scar before doing the same along his thumb. He hisses out a breath from between his teeth and I look up at him through my eyelashes.

"Does that hurt?" I ask, not wanting to do that, never wanting to do that.

"N-no," he replies around a swallow and a vehement shake of his head. "Doesn't hurt."

I try to hide a smirk before lowering my mouth over the length of his forefinger. He gasps and shifts beneath me, before settling on a small grunting sound. I move to the other finger and let my hands move to trace the indents along the bridge of his shell. When I pull my mouth away his fingers are wet and glistening and he's staring at me with open wonder. I keep hold of his hand and move it up and underneath my camisole, not stopping until it settles on my breast.

This is a new kind of touch. It's intimate and lovely and so very much adult. There's no mistaking it for anything else and I lean into his hand to encourage him. He won't act if he thinks there's any doubt on my part. There's a slow, painful moment when we just sit there, neither of us making a move and I think he's going to pull away with a blush and a shameful apology. I don't allow myself to relax until his hand moves of its own accord to properly cup me and his thumb works in a slow, meticulous circle around my nipple.

My breath comes out shaky and my eyes drift closed while the sensation coming from his hands works its way lower. My plan is out the window. I'm an incoherent mess and the only thought I can successfully focus on is the need to have his hand touching skin and not just rubbing against me through the fabric of my bra. I squiggle my shoulders and try to maneuver my arms through the straps without having to break contact. He must take my movements as a sign of displeasure because he instantly lets go and I can sense an apology forming on his lips.

"Hang on," I pant, pulling the straps down and fumbling with shaking hands to pry apart the clasp between my shoulder blades.

I toss aside the offending garment with a triumphant cry. He doesn't share my grin and instead stares at me with a terrified look in his eyes. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I'm going too fast. He still isn't entirely healed and I don't want to hurt him or make him nervous. I lean forward and settle on a soft kiss, grateful when his mouth opens to mine. My hands are searching, pressing on every grove and divot in his plastron. I drag my fingers up to where his shell meets softer skin and I press against the spot I know will make him moan. He doesn't disappoint and the sound sends a tremble between my legs.

"Touch me. I want you to," I insist and he doesn't have to be told twice.

I gasp at the feel of his cold hands along the sensitive skin of my breasts and can't help but wonder what they would feel like in lower, warmer places. He's a quick study and I don't know why I thought he might not be. He draws out little whines and moans from me with each pass of his thumb and if I don't do something soon to gain control I might lose it entirely.

"Lie back," I say. I rest my palms on his chest and give a small push in case he thought I wasn't serious.

I place a leg on either side of him and lean down into a kiss. He gently holds the back of my head and I hope he might finally be starting to relax. I trail my fingers up to the soft spot along his shell and sigh when I hear the quiet moan my touch draws from him.

"I wonder," I breathe, dragging my nails down his bridge. "Is it just as sensitive down here?"

I curl my finger underneath his shell along his right leg, searching out the soft skin beneath. He gasps, an actual gasp and it only makes me bolder to hear it. I trace along the top of his thigh and grin when moves his hips in time with my touch. There's a slight bulge at the low point of his plastron and I blush assuming what is underneath. I run a hand over it and he gasps again, this time reaching down almost instantly to take hold of my wrist and stopping me from any further exploring. He sits up, pulling me with him. His eyes are wide and just a little bit frightened and I feel my boldness leave me in an instant and I move to cover myself with my other arm, suddenly feeling very exposed.

"I…I'm sorry," I say quickly. "Was that bad? I didn't mean to…"

"N-no," he says, shaking his head and struggling to swallow. "Not bad. It's just…I mean, technically, no, no it wasn't bad. I'm just, you see that's…"

He won't look me in the eyes until I take hold of his face and force him to. "Hey, it's all right," I say quietly, leaning my forehead against his. "We don't have to go any further. If you don't want me to…"

"I want you to," he murmurs and all the pain and need behind that second word makes me pause. "It's…it's just I'm…different," he says, closing his eyes and trying to turn his face away. "There…it…it might not be what you're expecting."

I lean forward a press a kiss against his eyelid. "I don't exactly have anything to compare it to," I whisper, blushing instantly and unable to keep back a nervous giggle.

He opens one eye and looks up at me. "Right…yes, but I," he sighs around a grimace. "I'm sorry, I ruin everything."

"No," I say, refusing to let go. "No, you didn't ruin anything. This is my fault. I thought…I had this ridiculous plan," I sigh and lean against him. "We should have talked first. I just thought," I feel like my skin is on fire with the embarrassing blush that refuses to leave. "You've been in so much pain lately…I wanted to make you feel good."

He makes a tiny noise in his throat and I feel his hands tighten around my waist. He leans forward and presses his mouth against neck, taking in a long, slow breath before I feel his tongue touch my skin. I have to let go of his head and let my hands fall to his shoulders for leverage. I'm moaning again before I can register what's happening and I arch my hips forward, gasping when I meet the hard plates of his plastron. He groans against my throat and the sound vibrates across my skin and makes me move my hips again in need of the same response.

"I…I feel good just being with you," he says in a husky whisper and his breath is hot against my throat.

That's sweet and kind and entirely not what I meant and he knows it. He's giving me an out. I don't take it. I don't want an out. I keep one hand on his shoulder and buck my hips forward, moaning at the jolt of pleasure it sends through my body. His teeth graze across the tight skin of my throat and part of me yearns for him to bite down.

"Want you to feel better than good," I breathe, snaking one hand down his torso to lightly move my fingers across his lower plates.

"April," he groans and his hand grips my hip.

I reach lower, tracing my fingers lightly around the bulge in his plastron. His entire body shudders at the touch. I move my hand between his legs, happy when he shifts to give me better access. I don't know what I expect to find, I just know every move of my fingers against him makes him squirm in the best possible way. My fingers graze against something unfamiliar and I pause when he lets out a gasp and moves his hips towards my hand. I must look surprised because his face falls and I know that look. It's worry and anxiety and self-loathing all rolled into one little grimace and it makes my heart clench in my chest to see it.

"I…maybe we should…" he starts to stammer out an excuse for fleeing and I feel him shift beneath me.

I stop him with a kiss; firm and deliberate and nothing if not an invitation for more. I take the small moment of distraction to continue my exploration. The muscular appendage twitches and moves against my prodding fingers and when I take hold of it Donnie breaks from the kiss with a strangled cry.

"Oh."

Is all he manages as a slow pull of my fingers drags out a low moan and another full-bodied shudder.

"Is that…your tail?" I ask, pressing my thumb against the base and delighting in the rumbling sound it draws from his chest.

He nods. "Y-yeah it…it's umm, oh…God, April," he pants and leans forward. A nervous chuckle melts into a grunt when I rub my thumb in a slow, deliberate circle around the sensitive base. "That's…you're…if you don't stop soon…" he trails off into another low moan and I still my hand at the almost pained look on his face.

The bulge in his lower plates pushes the crease between them open and the pain must be coming from his effort to keep himself hidden. I let go of his tail and he whimpers but looks just a little bit relieved. He's still nervous. He doesn't want me to see him and I'm not about to make him do something he isn't comfortable with. I tilt his chin up and we kiss.

"Are you all right?" I ask, sighing into his mouth when his hand starts to move against my lower back.

"Yeah," he says with another grimace and a press of his fingers that sets me shivering. "Are…are you?"

"Yes," I hiss through my teeth when he moves his nimble fingers along my ribs.

He's trying to distract me. Two can play at that game. My competitive nature is winning out over my nerves and I do the one thing I know will stop him in his tracts. It might be a cheap move and a little unfair, because I know he doesn't stand a chance, but when I push away and pull my camisole over my head and wiggle out of my shorts to perch on his lap in only my underwear the look on his face is worth it.

"April, what are…what are you…" he stammers and trips over every word, quickly looking away as though I might have disrobed by accident.

"Now we match," I say with a smile, taking hold of his chin to turn his head to look at me.

His eyes go wide, traveling over every inch of my exposed skin. I blush, but don't move to cover myself. I want him to relax. I need him to know that I want this. That what we're doing is all right and nothing to be ashamed of. He sighs and it isn't sad or frustrated, but quiet and content and there's finally a smile on his face.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," he says and my blush flares to life again at the raw and undeniable sincerity behind the compliment.

"And you're the most handsome," I reply, kissing him between the eyes.

A bitter, little laugh escapes his mouth and my sudden rise to anger surprises even me.

"Don't do that," I say, leaning back to rest on the tops of his thighs so I can meet his gaze. "I mean it, Donnie. I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

"All right," he murmurs, refusing to keep eye contact.

I'm sure he thinks he has ruined the mood and I won't let him. I had a plan and it didn't include him thinking he's ugly. I shift to straddle one of his legs and gasp when I press down against his thigh. The coolness of his skin is heaven against the growing warmth between my legs and even with the material of my underwear separating us I roll my hips to get another feel. He's watching me now, with unblinking eyes the size of saucers.

"Don't ever…doubt that I find you attractive," I say, running my hands down his plastron as I move against his leg with a whimper. "Your arms," I say with a sigh. "How cool and smooth your skin feels, the little gap in your teeth."

He gives a dismissive snort at that and I kiss him around a smile. "Your mouth," I add, pressing my palm against his lower plates and catching the resulting moan with another kiss. "I won't look if you don't want me to," I murmur, running my thumb along the edge of the slit. "But I want to feel you Donnie."

He closes his eyes and a deep grunt from low in his chest slides off into a sigh as I feel him drop down into my waiting hand. He's bigger than I anticipated, but manageable and I slowly wrap my hand around him. He takes in a sharp breath and bites his bottom lip in a feeble attempt to keep a moan at bay. I move my hand up and down his length and circle my thumb over the sensitive tip, shattering any of his hopes of remaining silent. He gasps and moves his hips in time with my hand.

"April," he moans my name and it's husky and wanting and full of need.

I never knew my name could be said like that. It sets the fire in my belly alight and I have to make sure it wasn't just a fluke. A few more slides of my hand and he says my name again and it's deep and wanting and rumbles in his throat. He tilts his head back and grips the blankets beneath him in a tight fist. That pained grimace is nowhere to be found and the look on his face is much closer to bliss than anything I've ever seen him wear. He's finally starting to relax. He's feeling good. My plan worked after all.