mnt_raph | (no subject)

(no subject)

*Raph hadn't felt like leaving the tent today. The weather is getting colder, and the days are getting shorter. In years past that would make him smile. More dark means more time outside. Now, not so much.

Instead of heading to the bar for dinner, Raph has decided to attempt Spagetti-os. The begin to burn almost immediately after leaving the can.*

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*He doesn't answer her question with words, rather he just wraps his arms around her. That one hand is still in a fist, and there might be a small growl at the back of his throat.*

She half-collapsed against him, not unaware of his continued aggressive stance but reasoning that as long as she was attached to him he couldn't do anything. Then there was the fact that there was a singular sort of comfort in his reaction. A justification for her earlier transgressions, a sort of balm against the idea that she was some sort of overly-violent freak. There was nothing wrong with being a little aggressive. It wasn't abnormal, and neither was she.

"I don't know why he got so upset," she mumbled to Raph's neck, his scent familiar even though his form wasn't. "I didn't even knock the breath out of him or anything."

*He sighs and rests his chin on the top of her head.*
...

Wait...what?

"I said I didn't hurt him. He looked kinda scared, but I guess he just wasn't expecting it. He acted like he thought I was gonna take his head off or something!" she maligned, sniffling against his shirt.

*Raph blinks and leans back.*

April...did...did you hit him?

"I said I didn't!" she protested, frowning up at him, unhappy that her bastion of comfort was questioning her. She chewed against her bottom lip nervously, however, as her answer wasn't exactly true. She'd not hit him with her hands, anyway.

No...you said you didn't hurt him...you know what? It don't matter, forget I asked.

April's bottom lip jutted out, a reaction to feeling suddenly as though she was disapproved of. "I didn't hit him. I just kind of..." She fidgeted a bit, transferring her weight from one foot to the other and then back again. "I knocked him back onto the bed and pinned him with my knee on his throat," she finished quickly, the words tumbling out. "But he could still breathe!"

*The blinking continues. But not the keeping the eyes moist sort of way. It's more the you have got to be shitting me/I can't believe what I'm hearing sort of way.*

You're jokin'....ain't you?

Oh, that hurt, coming from him. April looked utterly pained and then wrenched herself from his grip with an aborted sob.

"No, I'm not joking! You think that makes me a freak?! That I can't control myself or something?" She blinked damp lashes back at him, and thought of all the times she had struck him. Of how he had taken it without protest, even when she'd split his lip and given him a concussion. Cowed by the thought, she turned away, scrubbing at the tears on her cheeks with the heels of her palms.

Uh...no...no that ain't it at all. I just...heh...'m actually kinda proud of you, you want the truth.

*He's trying to keep his smile in check...it's not working.*

April paused in mid-sob to turn and stare back at him in disbelief. "You what?" she asked, feeling certain she had misheard him.

You really like,...that's just wild, April.

*He's grinning like a grinning thing.*

To say that April was confused would have been a massive understatement. She stared back at him, stunned.

"It... is?" She wondered if wild was a good thing or not, although judging by the look on his face, it was exceptionally good. "Am I crazy, or are you proud of me for accosting my boyfriend?"

Way you say it, you make it sound wrong....

April blinked, and then blinked again.

"He didn't exactly deserve it. Not really." Of course, that was open to interpretation, and Raph's interpretation was likely to be that Sherlock deserved to have the shit kicked out of him regardless.

What did he deserve then?

That made her hesitate, her mouth open to speak, except that no words were forthcoming because she couldn't think of an appropriate answer. It was certainly not 'to shut his pompous mouth,' or 'to have some sense smacked into him,' although both of those options came to mind.

"Understanding, maybe. I kinda think I was done giving it, though," she replied at length, looking rather uncomfortable. "There's being understanding, and then there's being used, and I just don't want to be used." She lifted her chin a little with that, her confidence slightly boulstered. She had been right, after all, now that she'd considered it. Maybe not in her reaction, but in the reason for the fight.

Think maybe he'll think twice before tryin' to use you now?

The corner of her mouth might have quirked up just a fraction. "Maybe. Or maybe he's done thinking about me at all." To have to choose, between her and drugs? April wasn't so sure she would come out the victor in that fight, and it sent a fresh wave of melancholy over her.

"It's not fair," she mumbled, averting her eyes. "He made me choose, but he won't do the same." Of course, she'd not really chosen, had she? She was standing in the middle of Raph's tent on the roof, after all, thinking that his arms looked very inviting again, even if it wasn't quite in same way. Somehow, she managed to justify it to herself.

Oh come on now, you don't know that. Don't jump offa bridges you ain't come to yet.

April sighed, giving her cheeks a final wipe of her palm before she pushed her hair from her face. "You want to know why we fought? Because when I tell you, you might think differently about that," she replied dispassionately.

G'head, hit me.

*Leaning up against the counter.*

"We fought because-" She paused, taking a deep breath. She hated admitting it, even though it was public knowledge in any of the books. "Because I asked him to stop doing drugs and he won't agree."

Holmes is a pothead?

To her credit, April successfully resisted rolling her eyes, although she did make a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. "No. If he was tokin' up, I might be a little more understanding about it. He does cocaine and, um, morphine, actually."

Huh...right, well I guess that makes sense then. I mean, control freak like him'd have to do stuff like that...right?
...
Don't tell Mike, it'd only give'im ideas....

April gaped open-mouthed at him for a full minute, too insensed to speak. "Wh-what?! What?! It doesn't make ANY sense! It's insane!" She was motioning wildly with her hands to better illustrate her point. "If I stopped right now and started cookin' up some heroin, would that make sense to you?" She threw up her hands and rolled her eyes heavenward, as if she might find some answers there. "Christ, I need a joint right about now."

Would you calm the heck down, that ain't what I'm sayin' at all. Control freaks, they don't like shit like pot, do they? They don't want to be out of control...just lucid. Right? That's what I'm sayin'. Sheesh.

"He shouldn't be doing it at all," April replied indignantly, jerking her chin at him with a faint pout. "It's upsetting. I keep getting these flashes of health class lectures and after-school specials."

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