Meant to Be (Soulmate AU, the end.)

:) I know it’s been a lot of time in between each chapter, but I’m glad I saw it through, I think it’s a nice wrap-up to this.

Pacing her apartment, the girl, covered in little bruises still, slapped a palm to her forehead. Stupid, stupid! She’d just let him take off before they could even work anything out, no place, no time—what had she been thinking? 

“I am such an idiot,” she moaned into her hands. As Raphael had instructed, she had, in fact, called the police once her strange rescuers fled from the scene, but the procedures that ensued from an assault case had occupied her for a few days. Three, it was; too long for her liking. She racked her brain trying to figure out how to find him again. And if she didn’t, all she could do was hope he was the smarter of the two and would find her. 

Raphael. The corners of her mouth dared to smile a bit despite her current issue. That name suited him. 

It appeared that he’d lived a rough life in some capacity. There were scars on his face from God knew what, and he carried weapons and tough stride. Though, his colleagues were all a little different in appearance and gestures. Where did they rest their heads, she wondered. Not in a place like hers, clearly. And his clothes…

Yes, Raphael was gruff. But maybe just a little handsome, in a way—she blushed at the thought. You can’t not remember that character. He looked like he could bench a truck. 

She’d lately been taking a cab home due to the incident, but there was only one place they could possibly convene: the alley. A dank, kinda dirty, rat-here-and-there kind of place. Or the rooftop, if she could even get up there.  Who wouldn’t want to get to know their prince here, she thought sarcastically.

What do people usually do when they’re getting to know their one true love? 

On the window sill her phone chimed twice, calling her over. She wandered to her window and gazed out. On the sidewalk below, a couple strode down the concrete, both holding a bag of takeout between them. And suddenly, she had an idea. 

Where exactly was that alley again? 

He jumped past one, thought it didn’t look familiar and went on to the next. It was about the hour that they’d crossed paths and he felt rushed like he was running out of time, impatient as he was. Until his phone vibrated from his pocket and demanded his attention. 

The screen lit, Donnie’s ID. He pursed his scarred lips and picked up. 

“Need some help?” asked Don in his cheeky way. Raph could see the smile across the phone.He’d been expecting some kind of nagging or squawking over his departure, but it was just Donnie trying to be helpful as usual. He would have to pay him back for the solid. 

“Sure,” answered Raph. 

“Sending the location now. It should show up on your GPS. Oh, and don’t worry about you-know-what." 

"Say what?”

Studying the address, he opened his mouth to speak, but Donatello was already cutting him off. “Gotta go, bye!”

“Don?” Raph said. The call ended and he stared at the address, puzzled. This was four blocks over and not where he remembered it to be. He wasn’t that unobservant. It was the only real lead he had to go by, though, so he set off toward the new destination. 

He flipped over an AC unit and landed on the lip of a roof adjacent to the one that marked the tiny red dot on his phone, skidding to a stop at what he saw. 

Little candlelights littered around a blanket with white boxes and a couple of plates, the girl in question scuttling around trying to get things prepared. There was a container of some kind of sweet. Raph watched as she multiple times relit the same candle, only to have the breeze blow it out, followed by her anxious groan. She went back and forth with it until she gave up and fell back onto her rear. 

You’re kidding me, Raph thought, scooting to cover. The whole display was a bit pitiful. Now he understood the mysterious address. But how did she know to come up there? Don’t tell me Don contacted her? 

A typical dinner date with a mutant, stuck onto the top of a building to accommodate his…conditions. She didn’t really think that was how it could go, right? That they could just sit down and have a meal together like nothing was wrong with that picture? It all seemed so wrong, too casual for what it was, false comfort. All of the candles went out and left her sitting alone in the dark, making her dig through her bag for her phone. 

She rubbed her forehead and leaned back onto her hands, looking all around her as if surveying the cityscape for something. Her foot was tapping more and more rapidly. Cracking open one of the boxes of takeout, notably, no steam rose. Raph felt a pang of pity.

It was awkward and he just couldn’t understand the idea of hers, but never had anyone do anything like that for him. Not like I ever had ‘em lined up to take me out to dinner. But after some consideration, for someone like him, he supposed that it was the thought that counted. It didn’t make the approach any easier. He stepped out into sight and whistled curtly, holding up his hands as if to say he wasn’t a threat. 

No, this ain’t awkward or weird at all. Couldn’t be, he mused with sarcasm. His long strides had him there a little quicker than he would have liked. He felt lumbering and intrusive.

“You’re not serious, are ya?” he asked from the distance, eyeing the setup skeptically. She closed the gap between them as she fixed up everything and made it neat again. He waited for her to finish, shifting around on his feet.

She responded, “Your…brother told me to meet you up here. I don’t even know how he got my number.”

“He’s got the means. And the fancy little dinner was his idea, too?” he snorted. 

Her face fell almost imperceptibly. Back it up, put it in reverse, he sighed to himself. Why was he like this? Why did he always have to say what he was thinking? 

“'Cause it just…seems like something…he’d do,” he added reluctantly, wanting to wince. “That’s Donatello for ya.” A few uncomfortable seconds went by. He started to panic when she gave him a questioning look. “But I know he didn’t, I’m just bein’ an ass.”

“You’re not,” she let a breath out, mustering a hesitant smile, “I know it’s kind of stupid. I just thought that…" 

He rose a brow.

Sitting herself down on the blanket, she looked up at him, and his heart started to quicken. "You ever had takeout from here?” she asked in a soft tone, forcing a laugh. He knelt down rigidly. The whole thing was uncomfortably small for him. "I don’t know what you guys eat in the sewers, but I figured that this was the least I could do. For us.“ 

He’d been opening up one of the boxes and inspecting the contents when his eyes went wide. ”'Us’?“ he parroted, dropping the  container and spilling some of the noodles. 

"No, no, no, not ’us’ us, I meant as in, getting to know us, we—getting us to know each other,” she stammered. “Sorry. No, that’s not what I meant. I just thought it would somehow be less weird.”

“You’re sittin’ across from a mutant turtle freak, don’t you think that’s weird?” he said. 

Raph could have let out a sigh of relief, but felt he wasn’t out of the thick of it yet. 

He wasn’t expecting the smile, the warm eyes. The “I don’t think you’re weird.” he heard. 

Needing something to occupy himself with, he snatched one of the cans of cola and popped it open. Before he started to chug, he replied, “Sure, ya don’t think I’m weird." 

"Okay, then I’m weird too,” she said, tilting her head to catch his eye. He glugged the whole can of cola. 

“Oh, you’re weird, alright,” he chuffed as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “I mean, look at ya. Putting together all this so you can eat cold noodles with a giant turtle ya just met. Is this what you call 'fun’?”

“They’d still be warm if you’d gotten here earlier. And for the record, I am having fun,” she said, dipping into her own food. “Come on, eat, Raphael. Please." 

He started to refute it, tried to get his guard back in place again, but his mind couldn’t find the words. How badly he wanted to say "you’re not having fun, you’re just tolerating me,” or “you’re kidding yourself”.

After a moment of squirming and trying to find something to bite back with, he picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. “Nah,” he finally said. Then mumbled, “No way." 

"Way,” she chuckled, taking a sip of her drink. Raph shook his head. 

A silence befell them. The self-consciousness was somehow worse when he was only being observed, which he knew by the gaze he could feel on himself past the chopsticks feeding noodles into his mouth. She can’t possibly like what she sees. Get real. I’m gross. 

“Can you stop your starin’?” he eventually snapped, narrowly avoiding crushing the takeout box on the concrete beneath them. “Didn’t your mom or whatever ever tell you that’s rude?" 

It was pretty dark around them, but between talking and eating, she’d managed to keep a few of the candles lit. The warm glow it casted on her face didn’t miss him, neither did her sheepish expression that held the possibility of a blush. She uttered an apology and averted her eyes. She couldn’t have been looking upon him with any kind of joy. That’s what Raph truly believed, at least. So why did it feel bad?

"I think I just can’t stop looking at you, Raphael, truth be told,” she said. His heart did skip that time. Oh, how he hated yielding.

He narrowed his eyes, “Whaddya mean?" 

"You’ve got a lot of scars,” she mumbled, leaning in. Without the disgust he’d imagined she would. “And your eyes are pretty." 

"Pretty?” he scoffed. He was getting up, now. She scrambled onto her feet as well and reached out, just missing his arm. 

He’d yanked his arm away. She corrected herself, “They’re not like anything I’ve seen!" 

Well, you don’t have any business looking at me that close. 

”(Y/N).“ 

Her smile left. He stood square before her as if on display. But his brow ridges were furrowed in, creating the intimidating visage she recognized as the first thing she’d ever seen of him. "What?” she asked. 

Motioning to all the stuff at their feet, he questioned, “What’s all this for, really?”

“I–I don’t think I understand." 

"You, doin’ all this. Over some silly birthmark?” he pressed. “I can’t figure out what’s goin’ on in your head and it makes me—" 

She interrupted him. He went still as she slowly took his hand and balled his shaking hand, cupping it in hers. Lightly trembling, not from anger, not from fear. Those trepidatious shakes he’d felt many times before, but never with another person. Never like that.

 "Confused? Mad?” she finished for him. All the words he couldn’t quite find found themselves in the flutter of his stomach. They were caught on his tongue. 

She was wrong. That wasn’t it. “No,” he could finally say, his voice low. “I don’t know.”

It took two of her hands to wrap fully around one of his, but she wouldn’t let go. Raph wouldn’t dream of trying to tear away from her delicate grip. “Do you think we can figure it out together, then?” she inquired softly. 

“I…I don't—" 

Lifting his hefty hand, she planted a light kiss on his knuckle, feeling the rough skin on her lips. Raph was absolutely stunned and could not move. 

"I hope this tells you all you need to know,” she stated, drawing away. Her back turned to him. The longest ten seconds of his life passed and he only regained the ability to move once she started to walk back to the stairwell, lunging forward to grab her shoulder before she caught the door. Careful to not hurt her.

Turning her around to him, he swallowed, “We ain’t had dessert yet.”

Raph never wanted to stop seeing her eyes shine like they did. 

He prompted them to sit down this time, his hand running down her arm as he leaned back. Even then he was too shocked to smile, or make any other face, for that matter. She simply smiled at him. 

“Right. Dessert,” she winked. 

In the end, Raph still couldn’t totally shake his  tough shell off. But he suddenly had the patience to try, just maybe, a lopsided grin forming as she divided the cake. 

“…and two for you, because you’re a big guy…" 

He let her continue for a moment before getting closer. "Ya know, think I want to get to know ya without these stupid birthmarks, (Y/N),” said Raph with a smile that he didn’t bother to hide. She glanced up at him, wondering. “So let’s do it over again. I’m Raphael, but it’s Raph to you." 

Taking her focus off the cake, she slid his plate to him. "Without the marks?" 

"Forget about 'em. We’re strangers." 

She laughed sweetly, "Then I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you, Raph." 

After that, they shook on it over dessert, and marked the night that the walls Raphael had put up began to crack.