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Nineteen years ago, four mutagen soaked turtles began their half-human lives in the filth of a sewer.
Four years ago, they had their first confrontation with unadulterated evil.
They'd been young, then, untested and wild with optimism for the future: except Raphael. Discontent had set in early for the young turtle. While the others were glued to the television and scarfing their weight in pizza, he spent his time on the streets of Brooklyn, watching the humans from beneath the brim of his hat and stealing rare conversations on park benches.
Of all of them, only Raphael saw their sewer home as noxious and shabby. Only Raph had stared into brightly lit department store windows in the evenings and watched humans in their homes, fascinated by lives lived with every amenity.
He'd never done anything wrong. Nothing he should be ashamed of. Still, he watched gaggles of human girls, girls his own age, laughing together on the street, and once watched a girl illuminated by a floor lamp reading a book – watched her longer than he meant to, confused by his puberty: neither human nor terrapin.
He met a girl.
His first clear sight of April O'Neil was her slender, bare leg pale in the headlights of the police cruiser, her shorts riding up and him hoping she didn't spot his lost weapon on the pavement. Then she took his sai and slipped it in her bag and the shame of failing his family overshadowed her beauty.
His brothers noticed her, too, their attraction stirred later when she appeared on the television. The three of them had been working out their sexuality in their own way, seemingly with little comparative struggle.
After the Foot attacked April in the subway, Raphael carried her unconscious body close to his plastron, urged to protect her in ways he didn't understand. April was the first and only woman he'd ever been so near to. He sat close to her on the couch when she awoke, as she listened to Master Splinter recite their history, an unbidden smile on his lips as the memory of his heroism ran through his mind.
He explored her apartment while his brothers entertained her, imagining the impossible possibility of someday living in a home where sunlight poured through the windows and a young man could have his choice of night or day. He left with reluctance, the last out the door, waving with a giddy kind of feeling.
Anticipation ran hot in him when he realized she was about to recognize him on Channel 3 News. Thank him in particular; him out of the four of them. He'd never forget her smile, her freckles, the dimple in her chin, her hair pulled back and her blue eyes warm with gratitude across the distance between them.
He'd fallen in love for the first time.
Except, he was fifteen. It was almost uncanny how much further away from his age twenty-two had seemed at fifteen than twenty-six seemed at nineteen. He hadn't harbored any ambitions. Earning the recognition of a woman at that pivotal time in his life was more than enough.
He'd loved April, they all had. Did. They were her boys, but none of them her man.
That position went to Casey Jones, just for showing up.
When Raphael first met Casey in the park, the disheveled vigilante wore a nine o'clock shadow and back-alley grime on his skin and his clothes, his shirt open, curls of hair on his chest, attitude masking the rage inside him at a world that had robbed him of his chance at glory in the public eye. He took that rage out on gang bangers with his pawn store sports equipment. Raph possessed the same rage, but a life under the vigilance of Splinter curbed his worse instincts.
Casey'd called Raph a freak. Coming from a washout like Casey the slur burned at the heart of him in the midst of his teenage confusion. He never would've thought the man would be his best friend. Of course, he never would've guessed all the wild hair and the dirt of Casey would be tamed by April, either.
It starts with a question that's innocuous enough.
"How're you and April doin'?"
"You mean, how's living together?"
"Yea. That."
They're on the couch together, feet on the coffee table, Casey's shoes and Raph's big feet, toenails untrimmed. The Rangers are playing hockey on April's flat panel television. Casey thinks about it a minute.
"Beats living alone."
"I wouldn't know."
"Guess you wouldn't. Full house down there."
Raph scoffs at a bad call.
"That wasn't hooking. I'll show 'em hooking."
"You should try out as a goalie. Full face mask? Nobody would ever know."
Raph glares at the screen.
"Don't kid me. It's all cage/helmet now."
Casey takes a sip of the beer he's been nursing. Raph's sober – and silent. The Rangers manage to defend their goal during the New Jersey Devils' power play despite the one maligned player sitting out in the penalty box.
"So it's sexual? It's a sexual thing."
Raphael didn't know it'd feel so strange to name it. Casey glances his way, trying to figure him out, but he's not offended.
"Yeah, Raph. It's a sexual thing."
Raph's taken the plunge. Now it's down to keeping his head above water.
"…how often you do it?"
"Raph…" Casey's confused.
"I'm not tryin' to freak ya out here. I just wanna know how often two people who live together do it."
A spark of understanding dawns in Casey's eyes. He takes another drink and eyes the ongoing game because the Rangers are getting aggressive around the Devil's goal.
"Between work – when she's here? When she's here, all the time. Regularly. Not every day, necessarily. But when you're living together: why clothes?"
"That I almost know something about."
"Right. You're naked. On my couch. Hey, that is so much stranger out loud. What's up, Raph?"
"I'm nineteen years old and never gonna have sex. Forgive my curiosity."
"Hey, hey. You don't know that."
"I'm never gonna be human, Case. Have a girl. This is it for me. Nineteen and until death. Even if I got the short end of my lifespan I've got twenty to go, except maybe for the way we live."
Casey's technically watching the game, but the wince at the corner of his eyes betrays that his thoughts lie elsewhere.
"Don't do this to yourself. Have a beer."
Raphael rolls his eyes. Beer doesn't help, just gets him a lecture from Leonardo if he comes back to the sewer with the smell of alcohol on him.
"Look at me. I'm a goddamn turtle."
Casey rubs his head, sighing and swinging his legs off the table to set the beer on a coaster. April has them all coaster-trained.
"There anybody you like?"
"Like there's anybody I know. Don't be an ass."
"Sorry, I'm no Casanova myself; just a lucky man."
"If I'd never brought April down to the lair, and if you'd never met me…"
"You're right. I owe you one."
"Two."
"I've never fooled around with a guy."
"—whoa."
Casey's eyes widen as his pupils contract – the picture of shock.
"Okay. We were having two different conversations. Let's focus on your conversation."
Raphael goes quiet. He can't take his eyes off Casey. Casey isn't what he wants. Not in an abstract sense, anyway. If what he wants is warm, willing and there, then Casey happens to be exactly Raph's type.
"I've never fooled around," Raph points out, his own voice alien, his throat choked up.
Casey turns off the hockey game. Raph nearly tells him to put it back on. He's never been this vulnerable. He's never felt naked. Now he wants to pull his head inside his shell until the moment passes – closed up where it's dark and he's secure.
Casey takes his hand. He grips it firmly. The offer of reassurance isn't lost on Raph. This kind of touch he's used to. He and his brothers are affectionate with each other.
"Relax, Raph. This'd be new for both of us."
Raphael nods. Casey lets go of him to take his shirt off. Raph doesn't ask. It'd be unfair any other way. The hair on Casey's chest fascinates him. What could it be like to have hair growing all over? Raph's eyes follow the trail down Casey's lower abdomen that lead beneath the waistline of his jeans. Raph has to face it: guys shave for porn.
Casey lays his hand on Raph's plastron. He traces the bridge with his thumb, equally curious and equally mystified. Raphael shivers. It isn't skin, but he can feel Casey's hand: the warmth, the closeness. No one has ever touched him – not even like this. His cock stirs inside him. He has to resist letting it drop, for now. Double or nothing it'd freak Casey out.
The human slides closer. Raphael shuts his eyes. He doesn't imagine it's a woman – not anybody but Casey – when the man applies his lips to Raph's; or what passes for Raph's.
Raph has imagined human lips before, and Casey's are soft. Soft; a little moist. Casey's hand drifts to Raph's broad abdominal scute. When the vigilante kisses him again, Raph responds, mouth mobile enough. Casey's hand wanders in circles on the smooth keratin of his scute, just above his belt.
"Can you feel that?" Casey mutters against his lips.
"I can feel it," Raph says, looking at him a minute, into the brown of his eyes. They aren't so different from Raph's own. Then Casey closes his eyes, so Raph does too, and Casey moves in, this kiss different than before. Raph feels the smooth, wet skin under Casey's lips glide across his own.
Heartbeat racing and breath short, Raph rests a hand on Casey's back, tentative at first, like the pale, bare skin could burn him. It's soft on the surface but firm beneath. There are ribs beneath his skin. It doesn't burn; Casey doesn't break, so Raph's touch becomes a grasp. Casey makes a noise.
Alright. So he likes that, Raph thinks to himself. He shudders within his shell. He's been turned on but he's never turned anybody else on before.
Pretty soon he's rubbing Casey's body, discovering the anatomy of a spine and shoulder blades, the small and broad of a back. It's almost a positive that he's trying this out with a guy. April passes through his thoughts. Despite skills acquired through four years of martial training, her limbs are so thin and her body so delicate the fear of hurting her – of hurting any woman – might be too much. He's sure of his strength but not always of his self-control. Even making out's so new he's unclear on Casey's boundaries.
Casey has inches on him but is probably half his weight. It's easy for Raph to support him when Casey slips a leg over Raph's thighs. Now he's straddling the turtle and Raphael is bigger, thighs thicker. Raph doesn't feel at his mercy anymore.
Casey's reaching up to untie Raph's mask even while they're swapping spit, his hands brushing Raph's head in new ways. Casey sits back as he removes the bandana. The human grins.
"So, that's what you look like, Raph."
"This is what I look like. That alright?"
"I'm getting used to it."
Casey traces Raphael's brow with a thumb that's soon brushing his cheek. It brushes back to touch the small hole that's his ear. Casey's expression's intense. Raph watches him a minute, then does some exploring of his own. He raises his hand to touch Casey's darkish little nipple with his own thumb. It hardens the pebbles that've formed in the skin. The little nub at the center contracts.
Casey mutters "Shit…" beneath his breath.
Casey's pectorals are strange enough, two powerful, angular hemispheres of skin bulging with strength. Raph's anatomy's not completely different, there, but his pectoral muscles are attached to his plastron. (It's the muscles of his neck that differ drastically.) Still, Casey's got these alien ribs supporting his pecs. Raph's never closely examined how that works. He caresses Casey's abdomen. The muscles twitch beneath his fingers.
"Can you feel that?" Raph teases.
"Uh, yeah. Yes." Casey sounds a little breathless himself. Raph likes it, but he's hard now and it's starting to ache.
"Case, you realize I got one hell of a hard on?"
Casey looks down, totally baffled.
"I did not realize that."
"You gonna freak out? It's green; kinna tucks itself."
"Alright. Terrified. Um. Go ahead. Seriously."
Raph shelters him enough just by slipping his hand between his legs and easing himself out. It's a half-and-half sort of deal, mostly human, but there's not exactly foreskin, because it's what pockets him. Still, by the time his balls drop and he's stiff up against his shell, Casey's impressed with the look of a guy that might develop post-traumatic stress.
"You have a talent."
"What can I say?"
"It's—It's actually surprisingly normal. Looking." Casey's regaining his senses, now.
"I might call it completely normal, ya human."
A long moment where they hold one another's gaze.
Suddenly they're both laughing. Hard to say what sets them off, but they rest their heads on each other's shaking shoulders and laugh long and throaty. Apparently this is what it's like to screw around with a best friend. Raph's suddenly realized it won't redefine their relationship; maybe Casey has, too.
"I've never touched another guy's…" Casey begins. He trails off when he recognizes how irrelevant it is and he's grasping Raph and Raph groans like he's never groaned before – not exactly like when he's had the shit kicked out of him.
It triggers some sort of association. He can't place it at first. Intense emotions burn through him, raging like his anger rages. Casey strokes him with calloused hands, Raph's cock on fire – Raph's mind on fire—
Suddenly he's on the roof, Leonardo underneath him with an expression that's not surrender until his eyes narrow and he realizes Raphael's under a killing haze – has just barely, instinctively stabbed his sai anywhere other than Leo's throat.
"Whoa! Stop."
Casey stops. Releases him. Braces him, though, with a hand against his plastron.
"You okay?"
Raph squeezes his eyes shut and imagines April and Casey's apartment around him. Opens them. There's Casey, looking a little cagey but attention fully focused.
"Yea. Yea, just went to a weird head place." He's trying to figure out why Casey's squinting at him that way, like the human's trying to read his thoughts in the back of his eyes.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No! God. No."
"…because you just called me Leo."
Raph's eyes widen in horror. He can't even reconcile shame, because sex with Leo hadn't been on his mind. Casey's still, but focused.
"Call it 'friendly concern.'"
Raph nods. He looks away, out the window into the not-quite-darkness of the city night.
"It's not like that. It's not like that with Leo."
He catches Casey nodding, himself, out of the corner of his eye. Eyes the human a little and it looks like Casey believes him, because he backs off, too, hand on Raph's plastron relaxing.
"One more time. You wanna talk about it?"
"Yea. Just…cold shower. I gotta take a cold shower, Casey."
"We have a shower. It can be cold." Casey climbs off him. The human grabs for his beer and quaffs the rest. He shakes his head, eyes askance – not looking at Raph.
Raph's embarrassed now; mostly about the size of his boner. He makes a quick exit for the shower, throwing his belt on the bathroom counter and turning the water on full blast. The chill dominates his senses, but it takes a long time for his erection to die down enough that it sinks back inside him. He stays longer, still, halfway meditative.
He can't get off on the thought of killing Leo.
That's not alright.
He doesn't want to kill Leo.
He comes downstairs with his belt in his hand and a towel around his neck.
Casey's cracked open another beer. The six pack's on the table, three missing, plastic rings hanging loose. Casey pulls off the fourth beer and sticks it out to Raph as Raph collapses onto the couch. Raph takes it in hand and throws his belt on the table where his mask is lying.
No beating around it.
"Leo, he…Here's the thing. Nightwatcher—Leo caught me as Nightwatcher. I fought. Once I got the sai out, I won. I handed him his ass. Right then? I hated him. I hated that he left us two years and came back weak." His lips curled in a sneer, hating himself, not his leader. "I'm stronger. Sure, I'm stronger. But I need him. I need him to keep me in perspective, because you and me? We're thugs."
"Thanks, Raph."
Raph looks him straight in the eye.
"We're thugs, Casey. Face it. Without Leo and April, all we are is a couple thugs."
Casey knows it – doesn't argue it.
"I've never been turned on like that," Raph continues, looking back to his beer. He's sipped off it generously as he's talked. "The only thing it was like was like wanting to kill. The only guy I've wanted to kill lately? Leo."
Casey's quiet awhile, digesting that. Raphael's glad he's here. He could never have this conversation with Splinter. Splinter is compassionate toward his rage, but Splinter's never had sex. Raph's certain of that. Sure, his master has to have the same urges, but Splinter's dedicated himself to a life of contemplation. For once, he's not sure his master would get it right.
"You don't want to kill Leo," Casey promises him softly, awhile later. His look's filled with understanding. Concern, too, but understanding first. Casey knows what bloodlust is underneath the gentlemanly new him. A shadow of that lust darkens his voice, now, no matter how seemingly reasonable his words: "If you wanted to kill Leo, you'd've taken his head."
Raphael closes his eyes. He believes that inside. At least, he knows it, even if his faith is shaken.
"He was gone so long. And he came back different… He grew up."
"So did you." Casey laughs. "So did I. Unwillingly."
Raph rests a forearm on his knee. He sets his empty can on the table and motions for Casey to crack him open another one. Casey obliges.
"I'm married to New York. He's not." They just drink for a few minutes, because Raph's searching for the end of that sentence. "…that scares me."
Casey slides an arm around his carapace. Raph accepts his support. Casey can't promise him Leo and the others won't leave New York as they mature into their twenties, so Casey doesn't. Casey is just as firmly wed. In a way, they share a woman – just not April.
They catch the last few minutes of the third period. The Rangers lose, and they holler and throw beer cans at the injustice. (Or at least at the AV setup.) Casey goes out and buys a six pack of high gravity beer. They're drunk as Scotsmen by eleven forty-five when only Raphael's ninja grace gets him back to the lair.
Raphael stinks like a dive bar where it's dark at noon. Leo's awake and on the couch, gaze sharp, a lecture in his eyes before he even starts in on him.
Raph doesn't too closely examine the emotions coursing through him as Leo lays down the law. He can't; not right now.
The words pour over him.
He loves his brother for them for the first time.