39A/N: I mostly get Jonatello prompts, which I certainly don't have a problem with, but as they say, variety is the spice of life. So if anyone would like to send me a prompt that includes April, please feel free. :)
"Jesus," was Don's greeting when Casey dragged himself home, followed by, "what happened?"
Casey shrugged as he shut the door behind him, and shouldered off his hockey gear, letting the bag hit the floor with a muffled thud and kicking his sneakers off next to it.
"Took a hard check near the end of practice. Shit happens."
"You're bleeding," Don said incredulously. Poor guy still wasn't used to this college hockey business. But Casey wasn't exactly complaining, not when Don ignored all his own boundaries to step right into Casey's space and take his chin, turning his face toward the light to better inspect the damage. "Did you shower at school?"
"Uh, yeah. Thought the bleedin' stopped, must've opened up again on the way home."
"Go sit on the couch. I'll be right there."
And then he was gone, taking that sudden proximity with him, and Casey huffed a disappointed sigh and grudgingly did as he was told. April wouldn't be home from class for another two hours, so it was just the two of them, and their small apartment felt somehow smaller as Donnie returned with the first aid kit.
"Aw, come on, D. All that ain't necessary."
"Shut up," Don said without heat, and sat on the edge of the coffee table. Casey's legs made loose brackets that Don's knees slotted neatly in between, and he took Casey's face in hand again, all proprietary-like, and it made Casey swallow back a rising heat in his face.
They were new at this, still. A little awkward with each other just yet, happy to be together with April in this cozy student housing unit Leatherhead helped them scope out, but still getting used to not being at home anymore, and being on their own as mostly-functional quasi-adults, and living together, like people in love tended to do.
"There," Don said, what felt like two seconds later, already leaning back and away. "Done."
Casey had approximately five seconds after that to regret not getting his ass kicked a little harder at practice, if it would have meant Don manhandling a little longer, and then Don said, "Would you like a back rub?"
"Uh," Casey said eloquently, and Don started to withdraw into a shell literally right in front of Casey's eyes. So he continued, too quickly, "No, that'd be awesome, man. Thanks, for real. I just – why, though?"
"I've read that a massage helps speed up muscle recovery after an intense workout," Don said slowly, in that tricky halfway point between bravery and 'nevermind, forget it.' "And you're usually pretty sore when you come home, so I figured. It might help. Just – stop looking at me like that."
Casey didn't realize he was grinning until he noticed Don blushing, and then he could only grin even wider. "You read that, huh? You go lookin' up how to make your boyfriend feel better after a rough day?" he couldn't help but tease, warmed and delighted.
"You want the back rub or not?"
"Babe, you can rub me down anywhere you want," Casey said with a leer that probably looked ridiculous, given the dumb smile still plastered across his newly bandaged face. "Y'don't even gotta ask, seriously."
And down the road, Don would be ridiculously good at giving massages. Like, voodoo magic good. He would straddle Casey's hips and dig expert fingers deep into the bare muscles of his back, and talk or tease or scold him for not taking better care of himself, all while Casey moaned and whimpered and agreed to literally whatever he said because holy shit how did this feel so good. And it would be familiar and comfortable, in that not-so-far-flung future place, but Casey would think back to this first, fumbling time on the couch with the most fondness – this flustered, earnest Donatello, who wasn't sure where to put his hands but was determined to figure it out, and this lovedrunk Casey Jones, who laughed without cruelty the whole time.
