#i've been working on a different thanksgiving rasey fic but uh this happened also

[sylvain-writes]

Thanksgiving (Raphael x Casey)

Rated: T M/M, friends to lovers, love confessions, thanksgiving, Casey can cook, light angst and fluff, mutual pining

The couch groaned in protest as Raphael flopped himself upon it. "Ugh," he sighed, laying a hand over his stomach, "I don't think I can move."

"Seriously?" Casey followed him in from the kitchen, still holding a tea towel and raising his eyebrows in disbelief. "I spent all day in there cooking my ass off, but you- You, you don't think you can move? Unbelievable."

"Come sit down, will ya?"

"There's a mess in there. I cook, you clean, remember.? We had a deal, man."

"Yes, dear."

"Don't ‘yes dear’, ‘schmess dear’ me." Casey tossed the towel over his shoulder and sat down hard on Rapahel's extended legs. "You look like you're about to pass out."

"Leave the dishes, man. I'll get to them later. Right now I need a nap, seriously."

"That's fucked up, Raph."

"It ain't." 

Casey squirmed on Raph's knees and Raphael scooted down to adjust their fit on the couch. It put Casey in his lap and Raph tried not to enjoy the pressure of him on his thighs. He and Casey were friends, nothing more. The way Casey stayed close these days. The way his eyes lingered on Raphael when they worked out. Those were just things Raph was imagining. 

Raph had been acting strange around Casey and he knew it. Casey knew it. Hell, his brothers knew it, and he hadn't even brought Casey around them in weeks. 

Maybe that was the problem. He’d stopped bringing Casey around the Lair. They'd been spending time at the apartment, they'd gone out to patrol together, they'd trained a bit together, but Raph stopped bringing Casey down to the sewers. 

Part of the reason was because of his brothers' watchful eyes. They'd be able to see Raphael was being different with Casey now. But part of it was because Raph worried Casey didn't like it down there. 

Casey was always one to speak his mind, and he poked fun of Raph's cluttered bedroom. He asked why, in a sewer full of empty spaces, Raph still shared a room with Mikey. He asked why they kept furniture made of old pizza boxes instead of upgrading to hand-me-down dumpster dives or stuff from second-hand shops.

And Raphael didn't want to answer. He didn't want to tell Casey that the room was cluttered because Raph had a problem letting things go. He was afraid to admit that out loud, because things weren't the only thing Raph was afraid to lose. He was afraid to lose people, too. Especially after losing his father. And Casey was high up on the list of people he didn't want to lose. But if Casey knew that, Raphael worried it would somehow scare him off. 

Casey didn't like to be held down. Raphael could see that. Casey didn't keep much around. His apartment was sparse. His contact list was short. He was going to spend Thanksgiving alone because he didn't speak with his family anymore. How he could give up relationships with family, Raphael didn't understand. Casey didn't explain. And Raphael didn't ask. 

Raph didn't want to say the reason he held Mikey close was because his little brother somehow kept him safe from nightmares. It was strange, the first night they slept apart. Well, sleep isn't the right word for it. 

The first night they tried separate rooms, after puberty dictated they definitely needed some privacy, neither of the brothers got much sleep. Raphael tossed and turned, waking in cold sweats. When he started screaming in his dreams, it was Mikey who rushed to his bedside, and eased him awake with soft pets to his arm. They didn't bother trying to sleep apart after that. Mikey said he had trouble sleeping away from Raph as well, but Raphael always wondered if that was because Raphael had kept him awake or if Mikey really had been restless on his own.

And the reason their family kept old furniture they made themselves was because none of them could risk a trip to a second-hand store. Sure, it seemed like they made good for themselves. There was a pizza parlor that was friendly. They didn't ask questions about the big guys in strange trench coats and hats that ordered take out a few days a week. And there was the Chinese place that slipped them extra orange chicken whenever Mikey went to pick up their order. And the herbalist who definitely knew they were mutants, but kept their suspicions quiet, passed them satchels of tea along with the things they ordered. 

If Casey knew these things, he wouldn't want to spend time with them. He wouldn't want to waste his time with some hoarder who still needed his baby brother to help him through nightmares like he was some little kid afraid of the dark. Monsters under the bed and all that. No matter that Casey and the guys knew first hand that monsters were real. 

"What are you thinking about? Looks like it hurts."

Raphael didn't want to admit that it really did. His chest ached as he looked down at Casey in his lap. Casey who just wouldn't understand. Casey, the one person Raphael desperately wanted to be understood by. Instead of answering, Raphael turned and dumped Casey onto the floor. 

The man landed on his feet but made a grunt of indignance at the affront. "You really gonna leave the mess for me?"

"Nah, I told ya. I'll get to it later."

Casey looked over his shoulder toward the kitchen and made a deep sigh. The sour look on his face did things to Raphael's stomach. Casey looked disappointed and hurt. Two things Raphael never wanted to be the cause of.

Raphael swung his legs over the couch and pushed himself to stand. "Alright alright, I'm up. I'm up." There wasn't that much to clean, Raph thought. But when he reached the small table in the kitchen, Raphael let out a long whistle. But he didn't complain. 

Casey looked like he was gearing up for a fight, like he was waiting for Raphael to protest. 

But Raphael didn't dare, and a part of him twisted sharp at the thought that Casey thought so little of him, that he'd really leave the mess after Casey put together such an impressive spread. 

When it looked like Casey was going to help, when he reached for the ramekins of bread pudding, caked and crusty with the remnants of dessert, Raphael quickly grabbed them from the table.

"Said I'd do it," Raphael reminded him. But Casey didn't look convinced and that hurt. "Dude, come on."

Raphael carefully placed the ramekins in the sink, still impressed and surprised Casey had that kind of dishware in the apartment he could afford alone on a detective's salary. Raphael wondered if he should say something about the place. It was nice, if sparse. A modern ‘less is more’ kind of feel. 

Raphael wasn’t sure he had ever mentioned he was happy for Casey getting the promotion. That he was proud of him. But that was stupid right? You couldn’t be proud of someone for something you had no part of, right? 

Sensei was proud when the turtles succeeded because he trained them. Leo expressed pride when his brothers did well because he was the oldest and led them. 

But Casey's older. He's independent. He's his own man and fully capable of surviving and thriving without some guy hanging on his every word and telling him how great he is all the time. So Raph kept the words to himself.

Instead, he took Casey by the shoulders, sat him on a stool at the short breakfast bar, and turned to grab the can of coffee from the counter. 

Casey looked up at Raphael with a quirked eyebrow and a curled lip, and Raphael tried not to think of his confusion as something sweet. As something cute. He tried not to think about how much he’d like to kiss those lips and make them smile. 

Raphael turned away from Casey wondering if he had any right to think he could make Casey smile with a kiss. 

Maybe a sad one. A smile of pity and apology. A smile that said, Sorry, man. I like you and all. You’re a real pal. Just not like that.

Raphael peeled the lid off of the coffee tin and set a filter into the machine.

“Little early for a coffee break when ya haven’t even gotten started.”

Raphael could have made a joke, he could have scoffed, but he said, “It’s for you,” and his voice was so much softer than he had intended. 

The energy in the room shifted just a bit and Raphael’s heart rate quickened. There were butterflies in his chest - and weren’t they supposed to be in his stomach? But, no, there was definitely discomfort in his chest and he wondered if he was going to have a fucking heart attack having let three words slip with that voice. 

“Oh.” Casey said, and Raphael thought, no, it was Casey’s tone that was set to kill him. “Thanks.”

It was that little word that reminded Raphael it was the holiday for being grateful and he hadn’t told Casey how good everything was, how tasty and cozy and how thankful he was that he got some time away from his brothers. Thankful he had a hot meal with his best friend instead of cold pizza while his brothers argued over which remote they could play with - despite them having assigned controllers since they were kids. 

Raphael struggled to find words that didn’t sound too… too… he wasn’t sure. Too desperate maybe. Too flowery or stupid. 

He didn’t want Casey to think he was poking fun. Because today was impressive and clearly took hours to prepare. Forethought and recipes and care. Planning and trips to the grocery store with intent. Raph wanted to acknowledge that work, but if he did that, he worried Casey was gonna think he’s getting soft. 

They didn't do ‘soft’. They argued and threw punches when things got too much. They joked and called each other out on bullshit. They poked fun at each other. But they never touched an insecurity once it was revealed. And they never pushed when the other wanted to be left alone. 

And apparently they cooked now. Casey cooked. And Raph cleaned. Well, Raph was supposed to be cleaning.

Raph filled the reservoir with water and set the coffee to drip. He put out two mugs on the counter even though he couldn’t stand the taste of the dark roast Casey bought. And he finally turned to the table to grab dishes for scrubbing.

When he added the leftover sweet potato casserole to the half-empty dish of green beans, Raph let slip a small phrase of praise. “This stuff was real sweet.”

“Yeah, it uh, got marshmallow on top.”

“Oh.” Raphael said and too late realized that he shouldn’t have messed up the dish by nesting it inside the dirty dish of green beans. “You got those plastic box things?”

“Tupperware?”

“I guess.”

Casey slid off his stool and grabbed a set from the cabinet. It was neatly organized by shape and size. And Raphael knew that he and Casey would never fit like that. Raph was too messy. He had his own method of organization, but it had never been orderly like that. Even if he wanted to straighten up his room, he wouldn’t know where to start. 

Raph took the container with a hum and spooned the slop into it. Popped on the top and set it aside. “Bet Leo would like it.”

“It wasn’t too sweet?”

“Nah. He, uh, likes that stuff. Always puts extra honey in tea and syrup on pancakes.” 

“What about you? Did you like it?”

“It was alright.” Raph figured that probably wasn’t the best answer, but he didn’t want to lie. The sweet potatoes with marshmallow were too sweet for his taste. But the corn muffins were nice and fluffy, and they tasted enough like butter that he ate them all on their own. And the butternut squash soup Casey made for the first course left him wanting to lick the bowl. 

But how could he tell him that without sounding like he didn’t appreciate everything else. “Everything was good, Case. You, uh, really outdone yourself, y’know?”

Raphael didn’t look at him. Didn’t see the flush upon Casey’s cheeks as he turned to rest his elbows on the counter. He didn’t notice the way Casey twiddled his thumbs and picked at his cuticles. 

“Yeah?”

The dishes clattered in the sink and Raphael drizzled soap over the lot of them. The casseroles had to be hand washed in batches. The sink was too shallow and small to hold everything. And no dishwasher in the apartment. “Sure. Never had anything like that before.”

“The turkey was dry.”

Raphael shrugged his shoulders. He liked the turkey well enough. “It was fine.”

“The beans burned.”

The tops were a little crispy, but Raphael had actually enjoyed the combination of textures. “You watch a lot of cooking shows or something?”

“Huh?” Casey looked up from his hands and over his shoulder to where Raphael washed the dishes. Raph glanced at him with a question in his eyes. 

“You cook real good. Do you watch that cooking channel?”

“Oh. No. The, um, the… there was classes.”

“Ya took cooking classes?” Raphael bit his tongue after he asked, knowing the question came out all wrong. He was impressed, surprised, but the way he said it sounded judgmental and he didn’t mean it that way at all.

“Wasn’t gonna live off take out,” Casey countered. 

And Raph shrugged. That was fair. Casey knew that even Raphael couldn’t stand night after night of fast food. 

Ever since he started getting invited to Casey’s for dinner, Raph looked forward to their meals. Raph just didn’t realize how much work went into things like this. Casey always had everything cleaned up and ready to reheat by the time Raph showed up. Granted, Raph usually showed up around 3 AM with a ravenous appetite and ate all of Casey’s leftovers, but Casey didn’t seem to mind. Today was the first time Raph saw Casey ‘in action’. Slaving away over the burners and checking on the oven. Timing everything just right so nothing went cold while the rest cooked. It was amazing, now that Raph was really thinking about it.

“You think you could teach me sometime?” 

It wasn’t even about cooking down at the Lair. While that would be nice, Raph would probably be roped into making the same thing his brothers always ate. And that didn’t appeal to him. Not really. Not now that Raphael knew there were so many other flavors out there to be enjoyed. 

Truthfully, Raph would have liked to repay Casey with a meal himself. Maybe trade off nights one day. If he ever got good enough to make something edible.

“Teach you to cook? I dunno if you could handle it man. Takes patience and attention to detail.”

“You don’t think I got patience?” Raphael had to laugh, but it was a sad thing. 

He’d been waiting for Casey to notice him for months now. And as far as Raphael could see, Casey was just as clueless to Raphael’s feelings for him as he had ever been. So, Raph waited.

Maybe one day Casey would see him as more than a friend. Maybe not. But friendship was good. Friendship kept them close. Allowed Raph to keep Casey safe when he went out on some harebrained scheme or got it in his head to take on criminals by himself. Raphael could keep an eye on him. As long as they remained friends, Casey would never truly be alone. 

Casey didn’t answer the question, so Raphael didn’t say anything more. 

Raph cleaned the kitchen in quiet until the coffee maker gave one long annoying beep to announce it was done. Raphael rinsed his hands under the water and dried them on the towel tucked into the waistband of his slacks, before going over to pour Casey a cup.

When Raphael brought over the mug, filled to the top, no need to leave room for milk since Casey drinks it black, Raphael sees Casey watching him curiously. 

“I could teach ya a few things, I guess.”

Raphael shrugged and the coffee sloshed dangerously toward the lip of the mug. He carefully set it down on the counter before looking up to meet Casey’s gaze. “The soup. That was my favorite.”

“There’s more in the pot,” Casey offered, standing up, “I could heat some up.”

“Dude, I meant what I said about being full. Everything was good. But, if I had to choose one thing. The soup. And maybe the muffins. So, a’right, two things, I guess.”

“...you’re a muffin man,” Casey teased, easing himself back onto the stool.

Raphael sneered. “Shut the fuck up, Jones.”

With that, the tension in the room broke and Casey went on to poke fun at Raphael as he washed the dishes. “Put your back into it, sweetheart. I wanna see my reflection in that glass.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make it shine. Maybe then you’ll see you’ve had creamed spinach dryin’ on ya forehead for the past hour.”

“You asshole. Why didn’t you tell me?” Casey rubbed at his forehead, missing the smear, and Raphael bit back his chuckle.

“Green looks good on you.”

Casey’s eyes narrowed at that, and Raphael swallowed hard wondering if he said something wrong. 

The intensity of Casey’s gaze made Raphael want to take a step back and a step forward, and he didn’t know upon which impulse to act. So instead he stood stock still.

When Casey took a step toward him, Raphael was grateful he didn't have to be the one to choose. 

Raph lifted his hand to wipe the smear from Casey’s face, but Casey told him, “Leave it.” Told him, “I like a little green on me.”

Raphael couldn’t hold his gaze at that. “Shit, Jones. Ya can’t say shit like that when ya-” Raphael’s train of thought disappeared into fog when Casey grabbed him by the neck, pulled him forward for a kiss. 

It was hard and fast, and over too soon. Casey pulled back, and Raphael held his eyes shut a little longer, wondering what he’d see when he opened them. Raph held his breath and Casey’s hand tightened around the back of his neck as they each waited for the other to make the next move. 

Raphael’s green eyes opened slowly. “That all ya got?”  And he took Casey’s face with both hands, dragging him into a searing kiss that knocked Casey off-balance in more ways than one.