Chapter Text
“Your hand-to-hand is weak and always has been,” Raph declares.
Casey’s not just gonna stand there and take it. “I’ve always got my stick, man.” It’s never hard to find a weapon, as far as he’s concerned.
“You could be disarmed sometime,” Raph says, pushing up on his feet to get into Casey’s face.
Casey doesn’t bat an eye. When Raph is pissy for no reason, you just have to go with it. “Fine, whatever, you wanna do this? Come at me.”
He dodges the resulting punch, laughing. Even without skates on, Casey Jones is more than fast enough to dodge. “That the best you can do?”
Raph’s eyes narrow, and the next strike is faster. Also harder. That’s fine, not a problem.
The more they keep at it, though—punch after kick after dodge—the more Casey wants to get a rise out of the turtle. Raph is fast, too, more than anyone with that much muscle has any right to be, and Casey is starting to resent Raph’s lower center of gravity and wish he could knock him off-balance just one fuckin’ time.
So with Raph’s next strike, Casey dodges again—blocking is a stupid plan with Raph anyway—whirls out of the way, and as Raph’s momentum carries him past, Casey spins around and slaps him on the ass. Or where his ass should be if he had one, right below the lower edge of his shell. Raph actually stumbles and wheels around looking shocked. “What the hell?”
“Ha!” Casey crows. “Can’t take it?” He’s too busy laughing to dodge when Raph rushes him this time, and goes down onto the dojo floor with a thud.
After that it’s not so much training and more just random tussling; Raph gets a handful of Casey’s hair and Casey calls him out on a girly move, Casey manages to jab a knee into Raph’s side and roll him over on his shell, Raph snarls and flips them both over again, and they actually roll a couple of times, squirming and flailing, but Casey ends up on his back with Raph pinning him to the floor and oh shit, when exactly did he pop a boner during all that?
“Admit it,” Raph growls, and that’s not helping with the hard-on at all, “you lose.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get off, dude, you weigh a ton.” Casey squirms ineffectually. There’s still half a chance Raph hasn’t noticed.
But he pushes down harder and repeats, “Admit it,” and now his thigh is pressing in a way that feels way too good and there’s no way he hasn’t noticed; sure enough, his face freezes for a moment, and Casey waits for the explosion.
It doesn’t come, though; Raph’s face goes through a whole series of shifts and ends up with something Casey doesn’t recognize, because it’s not one of the twenty different kinds of scowl. He just stares, with that unreadable look in his green eyes, and then says, “Yeah. Okay,” and backs off, pulling himself to his feet.
Casey lets out a whoosh of breath, torn between relief and more than a little missing that pressure. He starts to push himself up on his elbows, but, to his surprise, Raph extends a hand. “Thanks,” Casey says, taking it.
Raph pulls him to his feet without any visible effort. “Good session,” he says, looking off at the corner of the dojo instead of at Casey.
“Yeah. Uh… yeah,” Casey replies.
“So I gotta… go see what my idiot brother’s up to.”
“Right,” Casey says, not bothering to ask which brother he means. “I’ve got stuff to do, too. Yeah.”
“See you around,” Raph says, and doesn’t actually run out of the dojo, but only barely.
Well, shit.