Summary: Who would have tought that even the genius could fall in love? Donnie realises his feelings and tries to shove them down, but failing miserably.
Notes: she/her pronouns, mostly Donnie pov, fluff, nsfw, grammar and spelling errors. English is not my first language.
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The first time Donatello thought differently of (Y/n) was two months after their first encounter. By now she was considered a close friend of the turtles; she may not have been on the same level as April, but she was still important to them.
At first the softshell turtle observed her from afar, analyzing every movement. His first thought of her had been "Just another annoying human" since he considered everyone, beside April, dumb enough to be friend with his brothers and only an acquaintance to him.
Donnie often saw her laughing and playing games with his brothers while he simply studied her habits and her mannerisms. His sharp gaze was focused on (Y/n) only and he always thought he was cautious about his behaviour. But oh boy, was he wrong.
She never missed a glance he shoot her from the couch in the projector room. Chills always ran down her spine when his gaze would land on her. Her heart would beat so incredibly fast against her chest that sometimes she was scared he was able to hear it, even if he was meters away from her.
However Donnie couldn't understand how he felt to stupidly attracted to her. Of course, she was pretty, really pretty, and also kind of mean when needed. Basically she was his type. But he would have never thought to start harbouring feelings for her.
He was a man of science, his constant observing her was a completely explainable behaviour and surely he shouldn't feel ashamed to do that. I mean, Donnie needed to satisfy his curiosity and his intelligence, his thirst for knowledge.
Even when they found themselves into a impromptu fight, Donnie's gaze would flicker in (Y/n)'s direction. He always told himself that this conduct of his was simply out of pure curiosity. Unfortunately, those were all lies he constantly told himself, just to justify somehow his decisions.
Her combat style, even if it was slight sloppy and uncoordinated sometimes, amazed him and captured his attention fully, often making him trip in his steps while fighting.
He didn't know what he felt for her. He didn't know if he got the so-called butterflies and surely he didn't know if the sudden heat on his face and the thumping against his plastron were consequences of this mysterious feeling. But one thing was sure...he didn't want to get rid of it.
