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sibillascribbles08 · 1 year

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23. “You can’t just sit here all day.”

Finally back to these. Bath time.

Jason slipped down into the old subway. The barricade that blocked the entrance looked normal, like the tunnel caved in, but by now Jason new part of it was just a hologram. He slipped through it, let Donnie's camera scan him, and then headed into the proper lair.

A small paper bag hung off his wrist as he descended the stairs. The main hall was barren, but he could hear Donnie's brothers hollering at each other. Probably playing video games.

A correct guess. He walked in on Raph, Leo and Mikey all competing hard on the DDR machine. They'd been using it a lot since Jason and Donnie finished repairing it.

Leo was in the middle of dancing, Raph cheering him on. Only Mikey glanced back, face brightening.

"Jase!" He shouted and ran over.

The announcement made Leo lose his focus. He missed a step, and then in his attempts to recover he lost his footing entirely, falling off the machine.

Raph laughed at him.

"I got distracted." Leo cursed, glaring. "Thanks, Jase."

"Your fault, not mine." Jason shrugged and let Mikey pulled him into a quick hug. "Donnie in his room?"

"You sure you want to see him today? He's in quite a mood." Leo stood and stretched his arms.

"I'm aware." Jason held up the bag. "I brought something to help."

"Aw, you shouldn't have." Leo waved a hand. "I think he could suffer for another day."

Raph glared at him. "Leo, we all know how much shedding sucks."

Mikey snorted. "Leo's just jealous that Donnie is getting taller than him."

"Yeah," Leo forced a grin. "What he gets for sprouting up so quick all of a sudden."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'm going to see him. See you guys at dinner, probably."

"I'm making ravioli." Mikey called after him.

Jason gave him a wave and kept moving down the hall to Donnie's room. The door was shut, and didn't open with a knock either. Jason sighed and put a finger on the speaker button.

"Donnie, it's Jase. Open up... please."

It took a few beats, but eventually the door hissed and slid open. Jason stepped inside, glancing at the closed doors of the lab and heading into the room.

Donnie sat on the bed, curled up. He didn't have on his shell, gloves, mask, or anything really. Even from a distance the shedding was obvious, bits of old scales flaking upwards. Donnie scratched at a few of them before clenching his fists and forcing himself to stop.

"What are you doing here, Jase?" The softshell grumbled. "I told you it wasn't a good time."

"Yeah, and you also made the mistake of telling me why. I have something that might help." He held the bag up again, but left it on the desk as he stepped over to the bed. "Like, no promises, but even if it doesn't I'm here to help."

"What did you bring?"

"A gentle, unscented salt scrub. My dad uses something similar a lot, and I steal it from time to time."

Donnie wrinkled his nose. "That explains why you sometimes smell like sea water."

"Are you willing to try it or not."

"I don't want to move." He somehow glared harder as he looked at the wall. "Every time I do everything itches all over again."

Jason sighed. "You can't just sit here all day."

"Try me."

He narrowed his eyes. No way Donnie was actually going to be as stubborn about this as he was acting. He decided to test the theory, reaching out a careful hand and gently scratching the side of his boyfriend's neck.

Donnie's eyes went wide before they fell shut. A few squeaks escaped his throat as he leaned into the touch.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Jason smirked. He hated the feeling of the old scales on his fingers, but it was worse when it got into his hair that one time because Donnie failed to mention it was happening before they took a nap.

"Come on." Jason trailed his fingers under Donnie's chin. "I think you can make it to the bathroom."

Donnie went back to grumbling, but actually stood when Jason did. Jason picked up the bag again and lead the way to the bathroom.

As soon as he got there he started the water to the bath--always jealous of this homemade tub--and made sure it was warm enough. Donnie said more than once that he and his brothers liked the water pretty hot, but not scalding.

Donnie sat down in the tub as it filled up, sighing from the warm water. Jason left him to it as he pulled out the scrub container and grabbed a couple of soft brushes. Then he pulled off his jacket and hung it up, just to insure it didn't get wet.

The tub was half full when he came back over--filled up fast with three spouts--and Donnie was already sinking into it, nose under the surface.

Jason tapped him on the forehead to get his attention.

Donnie opened one eye and sat up a bit. "So, what gave you this idea?"

"Well, not to sound weird, but when you start dating a biped softshell turtle you start doing some research." Jason unscrewed the top of the container. "Obviously not all of it applies to you but, you know."

Donnie stared at him. "Curious to know what you found out that I didn't."

"Oh, I'm sure you already know that softshells dig in sand in order to clean off dead skin and stuff." He dug out some of the scrub. It felt gritty, but also soft. He hoped the oils wouldn't end up irritating Donnie's skin. "I thought this might do something similar."

Donnie let out a long sigh. "I've never gotten the chance to try it much. I mean, Dad did take us to the beach once when we were younger. We had to go late at night, with no one around, so it was kind of cold." He chuckled as his gaze moved to the ceiling. "I quickly became enamored with being buried in the sand. At one point I was covered entirely and Dad panicked until he found me."

Jason smiled, leaning on the tub. "Maybe you should build a sand pit in here."

"Perhaps, but could you imagine how awful it would be to clean." He groaned.

"Hah, right. Okay, let me know if you hate this or not."

Jason smeared the product right over Donnie's left shoulder. He didn't apply a lot of pressure as he rubbed it in gentle circles, and marveled for a second how the light reflected differently off his green scales and the ones where the magic scar was seared into his skin.

Donnie sat up straight, eyes focused on the space in front of him, but bit by bit he relaxed and even rolled his shoulder to increase the range.

Jason chuckled and grabbed some more. "Doesn't feel too bad?"

"It feels a bit strange." Donnie admitted. "But not bad, no. It's also doing wonders for the itching."

"I can imagine." Jason gently tugged his boyfriend's arm to convince him to lift it up. Using both hands this time he applied more of it, trying not to gag when he saw how much shed it lifted. Normally when you used it on human skin you could see clumps of it on the surface before you rinsed it off, but not like this.

Whatever, that meant that it was working.

Jason kept working, getting Donnie to turn or tilt as he did. Now and then those squeaks from earlier would show up if he hit the right spot. And when he did Donnie's shell he swore his boyfriend almost fell asleep.

"Come on, snap out of it." Jason lightly patted his cheek as he laughed. "Because you're going to have to do your legs."

"Aw," Donnie smiled at him. "Not going to pamper me and do those too?"

"That would require me to climb into the tub and I didn't bring a change of clothes, so no."

Donnie's smile vanished and he blinked a few times. "Then don't wear your clothes into the tub?"

Now it was Jason's turn to blink as his whole face heat up. "Uhhhhhhh..."

"Jase. It's not like I haven't--"

"I know!" He snapped, ignoring the urge to cover his face because both of his hands were still covered in salt water. "Just... not this time, okay?"

"Fine, fine." Donnie held out a hand and gestured. "Hand me the container. I am going to request you keep massaging my neck, however."

Jason did and sighed, his nerves settling down. "Fair enough."

#scribbly fics #jasonnie #rottmnt #boyfriend pampering his boyfriend #I think Donnie doesn't mind gritty textures as long as they aren't too intense #or combined with slime (like lotion texture)#Used to rub his fingers over sand paper a LOT

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lemony-snickers · 2 years

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the end of a great campaign!

hello everyone! as you are likely tired of hearing, the lovely & talented @wind-becomes-lightning invited me to join her donations for stories & art campaign back at the beginning of april. we have decided to close requests for this at the end of may, and so here is what is likely my final contribution!

today, i offer a gaara/oc fic for @nightingaleflow. thank you so much again, my dear, for donating & letting me get to know aki!

@kankuroplease, who graciously reached out to nisi to join the campaign well before i did, and has provided all the art for every single fic, has created this sweet little sketch to go with this piece as well:

i’d like to take this moment to personally thank everyone who donated, and especially nisi & kpz for being so generous with their time and allowing me to contribute to this really wonderful project. you’re both aboslutely incredible to work with and i appreciate you so very much. <3

Title: Beginings Summary: Gaara and Aki attempt their first date. Word Count: 2,687 Warnings: fem!OC, pretty much all fluff, though

Gaara is nervous. It’s an almost totally foreign feeling. Gaara has felt anger and sadness and accomplishment, shame and regret.

But never nerves. He has never been as on edge as he is now, sitting in a dimly-lit restaurant, hair a wild mess he couldn’t tame and hands clenched together in his lap, knees bouncing while he waits for his date to show up.

The table is lit with candles, there’s a short floral arrangement in the middle. He swallows, looking around at the other couples in the place, huddled close on the same side of their intimate-looking booths.

He wonders where Aki will sit when she gets here, considers whether he should slide closer to the wall to give her room.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Aki’s voice commands Gaara’s attention immediately and he looks up to find her smiling slightly, face flushed—from rushing or embarrassment at her tardiness, he isn’t sure. She looks…

“Beautiful,” he whispers under his breath.

“Sorry?” she asks, “I didn’t catch that.”

Gaara clears his throat, collects himself. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, managing what he hopes is a half-real looking smile. Aki nods, biting her lower lip, and slides into the other side of the booth, putting the table squarely between them. Gaara realizes, unexpectedly, that part of him is extremely disappointed by this, but he chooses to ignore it.

Aki picks up a menu to begin perusing it and Gaara uses the opportunity to take in her appearance again.

Aki has always been fond of makeup and beauty products and it’s clear she’s put them to good use this evening. She always looks so lovely, but tonight there is something special about the smudge around her eyes, the glossy stain enhancing the natural pink of her lips. Her hair is loose and soft-looking, as if maybe she curled it a little to frame her face just right.

Gaara doesn’t think Aki needs to do any of these things to look beautiful, but he’s certainly not complaining if they are the reason she was a few minutes late to their date.

“How was your day?” he asks, cringing at the stilted way the syllables slip through his teeth.

“Good,” she says, “Yours?”

“Good also.”

They sit there, waiting, in a strange, taut silence, and Gaara wonders what is suddenly so wrong with their ability to speak. He and Aki have been friends since childhood—they spent every Sunday together as long as missions did not get in the way. There is no reason tonight should feel so different. Sure, they are in a restaurant instead of her apartment, but that is only because he wants tonight to be special.

The realization that Aki returned his feelings had been a shock, but one Gaara quickly recovered from. Well, recovered was perhaps a strong word, but he’d at least managed to spit out the question, “Would you like to go on a date next week?” without collapsing into a flustered puddle.

When Aki answered, he was sure her face was as red as his hair.

So, yes, he had booked them a table at the fanciest restaurant in Suna. The problem, he thinks, might be that he asked his brother Kankuro for suggestions. And Kankuro, for all his many qualities, was perhaps not the best person for him to have consulted. Maybe he should have contacted Temari. Even if most of her courtship with Shikamaru Nara had taken place in Konoha, his older sister certainly must have some idea of similar places in her home village.

“Are you ready to order?”

The server has already been to the table several times, needling Gaara to order expensive appetizers while he waited for his companion. She even whispered that she’d be happy to get him some alcoholic drinks if he wanted and Gaara blanched at the idea of the Kazekage breaking the law so brazenly in a public place.

Gaara looks at Aki, “Are you ready?” he asks.

Aki’s brows pull together, and she glances up at the server, “Do you have pork buns?”

The woman frowns. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Oh.” Aki’s countenance falls obviously and Gaara’s fists squeeze tightly beneath the table. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she says, glancing at Gaara encouragingly from beneath her long, dark lashes.

Gaara clears his throat and orders, something fancy-sounding and expensive, and the waitress beams.

“Wonderful! I’ll put that right in for you.”

“Thank you,” Aki says and Gaara nods.

He isn’t even entirely sure what he’s ordered, but he was too nervous to read the menu as he waited and too embarrassed to ask for any clarification once Aki arrived. Again, he wonders why he took his brother’s advice; considers whether this has all been one enormous mistake.

“It’s really, uh… dark in here,” Aki says.

Gaara stifles a chuckle when he notices Aki’s wide eyes as she watches another couple making out in a booth across the room.

“I think it’s supposed to be,” he clears his throat, “romantic.”

“Oh. Right.”

For just a moment, Gaara can feel himself hoping for an invasion of some kind—rogue nin from Kiri or even an uprising of Suna shinobi, someone challenging him for the title of Kage—because at least if he and Aki had to stand together in battle, it would feel normal.

“Here we are!” the server calls out in a singsong voice, returning to their table with two steaming plates balanced on her hands. She sets them in front of Gaara and Aki, who both eye the concoction somewhat dubiously. “Is there anything else I can get for you, Lord Kazekage?”

“No,” Gaara says, turning to give her a tight smile, “thank you.”

She nods and disappears, still smiling; either oblivious to the strange atmosphere of the table or content to ignore it.

“This looks… interesting,” Aki says. When her eyes flick up, she must see the disappointment in Gaara’s expression because she immediately sits up straighter and corrects herself, “I mean good interesting. It looks… flavorful!”

Gaara smiles at her attempt to smooth over the first comment. Aki has never been one to hide behind niceties or sentiment, something he’s always appreciated about her. She has never shied away from wounding his pride or his ego when it meant telling him the truth.

Not until now.

Still, he agrees that it looks flavorful and picks up his chopsticks to dig in.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize the choice of restaurant was not only a mistake because of the atmosphere. The meal he’s ordered is too rich, slick with oil and over-salted, to his palette. There are expensive additions that do nothing to improve the overall taste, and a quick glance across the table at Aki, who is moving her food around on her plate without actually taking a bite of any of it, makes it clear she has similar feelings.

Gaara shrinks in his seat. He wonders how it would be possible for the night to be any more of a disaster.

“And how are you two lovebirds doing this evening?”

The appearance of his boisterous brother provides all the answer he needs and Gaara looks toward Kankuro with pleading eyes.

“Kankuro,” he says, unable to keep the fine edge of a desperate whine from his voice, “what are you doing here?”

Kankuro grins, the purple paint around his mouth and eyes stretching and crinkling in tandem. “What? Is my baby brother the only one in the family allowed to have a romantic evening on the town?”

It takes every ounce of restraint Gaara has not to send his brother spiraling out of the restaurant in a sandstorm.

Just as he’s about to reply through gritted teeth, Aki’s voice cuts across the table.

“You can’t possibly expect us to believe you’re here on a date, Kankuro.”

Kanakuro scoffs, “And why’s that?”

“Because I don’t see any of your puppets.”

Gaara nearly chokes on the half-chewed food in his mouth in response to Kankuro’s quickly blanching complexion. He brings his napkin to his lips to stifle his laughter. Aki, however, maintains a completely neutral façade, which only serves to fluster Kankuro further.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he shouts, leaning across the table as he narrows his eyes.

“Is this gentleman bothering you?”

The waitress, with a falsely sweet smile plastered on her face, stands just behind Kankuro. When he turns, he sighs and waves her off.

“No, no, I’m just leaving,” he says, turning to go. “Have fun, you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, baby brother.”

Gaara can feel the tips of his ears flushing, prickling from embarrassment.

“Better hurry, Kankuro. I’m sure your little wooden friends are lonely without you,” Aki says acerbically.

Kankuro snarls, but leaves without another word.

“Can I get you two anything else for the moment?” the waitress asks.

“No, thank you,” Aki says on Gaara’s behalf as he continues to collect himself in the wake of Kankuro’s interruption. “I think we’re all set.”

Their server bows slightly before taking her leave. Once Gaara has his flush and his laughter under control, he finally musters the courage to look up at Aki. She’s smiling at him, eyes dancing with mischief and affection.

If possible, she somehow looks even prettier now than at the start of their meal. He glances down at her plate and frowns when he realizes she really hasn’t touched it.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” he asks, flicking his green eyes back up to meet hers.

“Oh no, I’m fine,” she says, “just not very hungry.”

A moment later, her stomach interjects to the contrary, growling loudly enough that the couple at the closest booth spares them an irritated glance between their soft caresses and whispers.

Aki turns pink at being so obviously caught in a lie, but Gaara just chuckles. “Wait here. I’ll settle the bill and then we can head out.”

When he returns to the table, Aki is nervously nibbling her bottom lip. Gaara clears his voice to get her attention, holding a hand out to help her out of the booth. “Come on,” he says, “I know just the place.”

The streets of Suna are filled with people at this time of evening—the air is cooler than during the day, though it’s still light, so children race with one another, playing games until their parents call them home. Civilians returning from work stop at shops for last minute additions to their evening meal, old friends gather at bars to catch up over a drink.

And when Aki lays eyes on their destination, her whole face lights up. It’s dazzling, the way her green pupils sparkle in the diminishing light when she realizes where he's taking her.

“Better?” he asks, smiling.

“Perfect,” she assures him, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him forward.

The stand is small, with four little stools at the counter for customers to sit at. Luckily, three of them are vacant and Gaara and Aki waste no time in occupying two. The menu offers a variety of fillings for steamed or fried dumplings; Aki orders pork buns of both types and Gaara nods to say he’ll have the same thing.

Once their food arrives, they’re both absorbed in their meals, though Gaara keeps stealing glances at Aki from the corner of his eye. No one should look so pretty with their mouth stuffed full of pork buns, he thinks, but she somehow manages to pull it off.

The buns are perfect, just the right amount of chewy or crunchy, the perfect ratio of bun to pork. Kankuro would pitch a fit if he knew Gaara had taken Aki here for their first date. But, while the stand is certainly nowhere near as fancy as the restaurant they left behind, it feels more appropriate, somehow. Aki’s spark returns a little and their conversation is less stilted as they debate the merits of desert buns before taking their leave, waving happily to the man behind the counter with a promise to return soon.

It’s getting late and the foot traffic reflects as much; the streets are less crowded as they depart the stand than when they arrived, and a cool breeze slices its way through the air. Aki shivers and Gaara is about to offer to take her home when she turns to him.

“Want to walk to the dunes?”

He’s all too happy to agree; he doesn’t want this night to end—hasn’t wanted any of their nights to end for a long time—and he’d follow her wherever she asked if it meant spending another moment in her presence.

Gaara follows Aki’s lead. He knows she often visits the dunes to train, so he expects she has a specific place in mind.

The sand whips around their ankles as they reach the outskirts of Suna, fine grains dancing along the dunes in rhythm with the wind. The sun dips lower and lower against the horizon, now hanging by only the slimmest of threads, threatening to disappear completely.

The orange glow reflects off Aki’s pale hair, makes her skin glow, lights a fire in her viridian eyes. And in a moment of instinct, Gaara reaches his hand out toward hers coaxingly, letting his fingers dance along the back of her hand in a silent question.

She turns to look at him and the smile that pulls at her mouth is as breathtaking as any sunset. The moment she takes his hand fully, twining their fingers together, Gaara feels all the uncertainty fall away because there is no place he would rather be.

They stand there for a while, watching the sun as it languidly disappears below the horizon. They linger even long after it’s gone, hand-in-hand, until finally there are no excuses left and Gaara offers to walk Aki home.

She doesn’t stop holding his hand the whole way; the closer they get to her apartment, the more he can feel the damp sweat of nervousness slicking her palm and he wonders where her anxiety is coming from. His has all but dissipated in the wake of the restaurant; without the pretentious pressure of such a lavish setting, their date feels more like a natural extension of the friendship they’ve cultivated for years.

As if love were an inevitability between them. Maybe it was.

Once they reach their door, Aki turns to look at him, smiling almost bashfully. “I had a really nice time,” she says.

Gaara ducks his head, feeling that traitorous blush creep its way up his neck. “I’m sorry about the rough start, but I hope the rest made up for it.”

She nods, assuring him, “It more than did.”

He doesn’t want to let go of her hand, but eventually he has to so she can unlock her door. He’s about to wish her a good night when suddenly, Aki’s face swoops down to meet his and he feels her lips press chastely against his own.

In the same moment he registers the pressure of her mouth, it’s gone.

“Goodnight, Gaara,” she says, and then she’s inside and her door is closed so fast Gaara wonders if she used a new jutsu to achieve such startling speed.

He’s staring at her closed door, wondering if he imagined the last fifteen seconds of his life, when he reaches up to ghost his fingers over his lips.

No, he thinks, he definitely didn’t imagine the kiss, because he can feel the barest hint of her sticky lip gloss on his own mouth.

Gaara’s smile is impossibly broad as he turns away from Aki’s door to head home. He wonders if there is another pork bun stand they could try for their second date; maybe they can make a game out of discovering the best spot in Suna as they find their footing in this new phase of their relationship

Wherever they go, though, he knows he isn’t going to let her get away with a kiss like that the next time. No, next time, he would be sure he returned the gesture with equal affection and fervor.

#lemony-dfs #lemony scribbles #gaara/oc #gaara of the sand #oc: aki #gaara fanfiction #kankuroplease #wind-becomes-lightning #nightingaleflow #this is a queued post

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