Work Text:
Donatello wasn’t used to this kind of setting. He was a hired hand. A sharp shooter. A fucking sniper. All of those implied long distance, breathing room, space between the hunter and the hunted. Yet, this particular job required him to be far closer than he liked. He was amongst the throngs of a crowd, all dressed to the nines and entering an elaborate ballroom for those only of elite standing. So of course, he was dressed to impress rather than in his usual mercenary gear. No longer in a vest colored with the darkest of purple. But in a suit that was crisp and black, his preferred color was shown through the accents of his tie. Though he was not unarmed, that remained the same. Tucked in at his hip, hidden behind the fancy lapels of his tux. No one was the wiser to the threat that walked among them. And it would stay that way if he did his job correctly. His mission? Locate the target, bring them to a secluded area (using any means necessary) and finish the job. The last bit always ended with a fatal shot. Though it wouldn’t ring out tonight. It would be silent, since his handgun was stocked with a suppressor for good measure.
Once inside the grand building, Donatello took to the first wall. He knew the layout well enough but he wanted to gain his bearings. Now on the outskirts of the crowd, he was an outsider looking in. Searching for his target. He walked the perimeter of the room, hands tucked behind his hidden shell, only moving when offered a glass flute filled with bubbly alcohol. He wouldn’t drink, he was on a job after all, but holding such a prop made him fit in. He had almost made an entire lap when his eyes snagged onto features that he had instilled in his brain.
He didn’t know what you had done to become a target. Though the sum he would be paid was telling enough. Someone wanted you dead, someone with money to spare, perhaps someone in this room. He may have had second thoughts as he watched you glide across the dance floor. Graceful and sweet with a smile that lured all those around. You were beautiful. In a gown that clung to you as if it was your second skin. Green, emerald green silk, the color was flattering.. Donatello saw the opportunity for what it was, you out on the dance floor, sweeping into a different person’s hold with each passing song. It was his in. It was your doom. Against his better judgment he took a swig before placing the drink on one of the many tables that were placed enclosing the dance floor. He joined the crowd once more. Weaving in and out, eyes tracking your form, losing you a couple of times as more bodies seemed to pile together. He had tried to time it just right, as the previous song ended and a new one began. His efforts were in vain as someone beat him to you, offering up a hand which you took. Donatello almost left to sidle up against the perimeter once more when he felt a tap on his arm. Turning, he found that he too had a dance partner. Which he thought may be for the best, as he took the lead to where you swayed. He didn’t even have to try, he too could dance just as gracefully as you. It or rather he caught your eye and for the first time tonight you noticed him.
The song ended and as the next started it was as if both of you planned it, passing off your previous partners in favor of one another. Now with you in his arms, all he had to do was seclude you. Ideas flashed before him as the two of you danced, which with both of your combined prowess made for quite a spectacle. His scheming halted as you suddenly spoke, “I don’t believe I’ve ever crossed paths with you before,” it was said with contemplation as you twirled away from him, making a grand gesture before being pulled back. He wondered if he had pulled you too forcefully as you collided into his plastron with a soft thump. Your smell flooded his senses, as sweet as your smile. “Your assumption is correct, this is the first we have met.” The small pause, your hands still planted on his chest, looking up into his eyes with mild curiosity. “And it is your first time attending such an event as well,” your eyes glinted with a flash of concealed knowledge before putting some modest distance between the two of you. Donatello was immediately on guard. He thought you had meant in general.. he hadn’t realized you were so attuned to the usual guests of such parties. “Caught, red-handed” Donnie put on an air of playfulness. Not wanting to steer into the implications of seriousness. “Crashing a high-end party was on my bucket list,” a lame excuse but the best he could come up with. “And how would you rate your experience so far?”
Donatello had to train his features to maintain the illusion of ease, of calm. He couldn’t falter with the teasing, playful manner just yet. It was part of his plan to eventually drag you off into a more secluded area. But your words struck him. They hit him so hard, with familiarity. His paranoia told him that you must know. Who he was, what he did, and the way he spoke for that matter! But a more rational thought whispered that maybe it was a common enough phrase..? Highly unlikely. But he wouldn’t fold first, so he entertained your question. “I’d give it a solid eight, mostly because I’ve found such a competent partner.”
To prove his point he upped the antics, spinning you around with such speed that stamped his inhuman abilities. You kept up though. In fact, you flashed him a smile once the move was over, not even a hint of dizziness to your steps. “May I inquire the name of my proficient dance partner?” It was as if the two of you weren’t just dancing with bodies, but with words as well. “You may,” he smirked, knowing you had already asked but wanted to see if you would do so again. Instead he found you had quite the temper as you stomped squarely on his left shoe. The glare you gave him only widened his smirk. “Othello, Othello Von Ryan,” he spoke into your ear as he dipped you. “Wasn’t so hard, now was it?” You teased, as he brought you back up. “My foot says otherwise.” He bantered back. And the song ended all too soon. You took a step back. Neither of you were out of breath despite the intensity that both of you had danced with.
It became apparent to Donatello that sharks were surrounding him, or you. All seeking for a chance to spin you around the floor as he had done. He found he didn’t want to let go of you so soon. He was delighted to find that you were still staring up at him, waiting for something, so he offered his hand, “May I have this dance?”
“You may..” you slipped your hand into his once more. Stepping forward, into his space. The sharks dispersed and from then on the two of you danced and danced and danced. He may have gotten enthralled in the way you were able to snag the lead out from under him. It was like a parry of back and forth. It was fun. He was having fun. Which inevitably brought him back down when he felt your hips at his, his attention immediately shifting to the handgun that dug into his waist. You didn’t notice though, breathing a bit heavier as the songs flew by, you smile bright as ever. It was time to end this.
So when the song ended this time around, Donatello’s arm secured itself around your middle as he drew you close, whispering in your ear for you to follow. You obliged him. It seemed his plan to woo had succeeded. He noticed eyes following after you, glares thrown his way. He almost wished someone would follow, to make this a little harder. To prolong the inevitable. Up a marble staircase and down a hallway, you allowed him to pull you outside on a balcony. You sighed out in a long exhale, the chill of the air was a welcome feeling to the heat you had gathered whilst inside.
Donatello watched as you left his side, leaning out and over the railing, New York’s ever-present lights giving you a dazzling view. Now that he was outside, he felt his mission was coming to a close. He didn’t want to waste any more time than he already had. So he reached for his weapon, fixing his features into a cold stone stare. Your back still turned to him, you spoke out towards the city, “You never did ask for my name,”
“I know who you are.” Donatello stated squarely as he lifted his arm, gun ready and aimed. When you turned to finally face him, you didn’t seem surprised. His earlier paranoia rang true, so you had known who he was. You had danced with a killer. Your killer. He wondered briefly if you just liked to flirt with death or if you were just accepting your fate. He fired. Then he fired again. Two resounding clicks could be heard against the background of flowing traffic. He shot a third time and watched as you smiled a slow triumphant grin. “Surprised?” You questioned as you held up his magazine that held his ammo. The bullets. Lifting your dress, you revealed a black strap circling your upper thigh. Pulling up a strikingly similar gun to his own, you loaded his bullets into the chamber with practiced perfection. He huffed, more of a laugh. He had a million thoughts going through his head, but the one on his forefront was this: he had been set up.
He lunged forward, a suppressed shot sounded as he dodged and you shot again, amusement dancing in your eyes as he pranced before you. “I don’t think you know me, though I know you, Donatello~” you all but purred as he rushed forward, pushing the gun up as you fired for a third time. “So either I was played or someone wants us both dead.” Donnie clutched your wrist tightly. You raised your other hand in surrender, “my thoughts exactly.. the latter for your information.” He let his hand squeeze your wrist with warning before letting his hand trail down your arm. “I propose a plan, work with me Othello, two is better than one.” You winked flirtatiously. Donatello chuckled, licking his lips in contemplation at the idea of working with you. “Only since you won’t slow me down,” he said offhandedly.