Vanilla Pudding

He didn't mean to, honestly, it wasn't intentional, but—

.

.

.

Why does she keep doing that?

Leo couldn't concentrate, he gave up trying to meditate about five minutes ago once Y/n walked in. She was there, sitting innocently enough at the small kitchen table with a spoon hanging from her lips and a pudding cup in her hand. A vanilla pudding cup.

Every time she would bring a spoonful to her mouth, she'd twist the spoon and let it fall, slowly, from her lips. Each time caused Leo to gulp and make another attempt at clearing his mind. It was an utter failure. He couldn't pull his eyes away and she was none the wiser.

Slurp.

Lick.

Twist.

Lick and swipe.

Hum in satisfaction before doing it all over again. And again. And again.

"Will you stop that!" He finally had enough.

Y/n jumped at the sudden growled out request from Leonardo. Huh?

"What?" Y/n wasn't sure what to say but the look that Leo was giving her made her want to push deep into a shell, if she had one.

"That." He motioned from his meditative position to the spoon and pudding cup in her hand. What?

"What, my pudding? what—."

"Just stop. Please." His demand was gritted as she watched him hold his beak between his thumb and forefinger as if her eating pudding was absolutely driving him nuts.

"It's just pudding."

"Not with the way you eat it." He mumbled low enough that if she wasn't giving him her full attention, she probably would have missed it. He sighed then resumed his stoic position with his hands on his knees and eyes closed, almost serine. But not for long.

"Not with the way I'm eating it...what the hell does that mean?" Y/n was starting to panic as she felt the sudden pull to defend herself. She was already self conscious enough, why did he have to point out the way she eats her pudding? What was the problem? What was his problem?

"It's just—,"

"No, you—," Y/n bellowed, pointing her spoon at him in anger but he was too transfixed on the glob of pudding that was about to—

Splat.

The offending sound echoed through the lair caused all of Leo's resolve to shrivel up and die. Of course. Of course! It just had to land there. Fuck me. Leonardo internally groaned as his eyes dropped from her shocked eyes to where the pudding landed.

He couldn't pull his eyes away from watching the glop of vanilla pudding slide down from her clavicle into the crease of her breasts, disappearing below her shirt. Leonardo couldn't help it when he suddenly licked his lips as his throat became dry and his pants increasingly tighter.

He gulped. Then let out a rough grunt as he shifted to stand on the platform he was, attempting to, meditate on.

Did he just gulp?

Y/n was stock still, she couldn't move as she felt her face flush in embarrassment as she looked down to see her beloved pudding falling between her boobs. She was so confused and heated. Why had he mentioned it? Why had he gulped? Why was he standing there, his hands flexing and mouth opening as if he was going to say something? Y/n's mind was racing as she watched the large terrapin before her seem to contemplate his next move.

"Do you—,"

"I'm sor—,"

They both attempted to speak yet were cut off by the other and fell into another tense silence. Leonardo was trying to find reason but he's come to terms with his feelings for Y/n months ago and with Spring encroaching, keeping his feelings in check, was getting harder and harder. Pun intended.

"Just...never mind." He shook his head and with a final lick of his lips, turned to jump from the large podium and stomp towards his room. She watched him the entire way until he disappeared behind his bedroom door. Y/n was still standing, the pudding getting lost below her shirt as her belly pulled tight with butterflies.

"He likes ya, ya'know." Y/n immediately locked eyes with the red banded brother that stood in the doorway of the weight room.

"Wha—,"

"And...he loves vanilla pudding." The insinuation was not lost on her by the way he wiggled his brow before pushing from the door frame and disappearing back into the weight room.

That's when an idea suddenly hit her. Y/n's confidence soared with Raphael's confession and prayed that what she was about to do wasn't going to cost her a friend.

After working up the nerve, playing out all possible situations in her head, Y/n made her way towards Leonardo's room. With a deep breath, she knocked three times and waited to see if he'd open the door. Everything seemed too slow in that moment, her heartbeat became louder as she replayed Raphael's words in her head to keep her edge. You got this.

A few seconds later the door opened and she made her move before she lost the nerve. Locking eyes with his deep sapphires, she allowed her finger to trace across her collar bone without saying a word. Never breaking eye contact, Leonardo watched as her small finger dipped, scooping the pudding from her chest before it met him half way. Her brow arching in question.

"Wanna taste?" Her eyes darkened with a devious smirk breaking across her lips. Oh this is just too good.

But, what shocked her, was that everything went better than she expected. Suddenly Leonardo gripped her wrist before slotting her finger between his lips, twisting his tongue around to lick all the pudding off. He then let go of her finger with a subtle 'pop' before pulling her into his room and slamming the door. The final tone of this chapter was the sound of the familiar click of a lock.

– –

Bonus:

Watching the scene unfold from behind the couch, Michelangelo let out a frustrated groan as he chucked a twenty at Raphael.

"What'd I tell ya, knucklehead?"

"Shouldn't count man, you helped her out!"

"Wasn't in the rules Mike, she made the first move. I win."

"Ugh, whatever man." Michelangelo grumbled, turning back towards his game when Donatello walked into the den, sipping his third cup of coffee.

"Nuh-uh," he snatched the twenty that Raph was using to tease Mikey.

"Wha—,"

"I win. I said she'd make the first move AND it'd involve some kind of food." Donatello's shit eating grin split across his face as he tucked the dollar bill into one of his many pockets.

With a grumble from Raph, they all turned to focus on the game that Mikey started when all of a sudden Mikey piped up.

"Who got the vanilla pudding?"

The question went unanswered but not by their father, Master Splinter. Who, innocently, continued to clip away at his bonsai trees. Unbeknownst to his sons, the receipt of two, four packs of vanilla pudding he had April pick up earlier that night laid in the trash can in his room.

Who doesn't like vanilla pudding?