A/N: I'm going to start letting Problem Child oneshots stand alone, rather than post them to my drabble collection. Idk, I just feel like it will be easier on people looking for all the extras that way.
"The stars look lovely tonight."
It teases a surprised snort of laughter out of Donnie, exactly what April was hoping for, and she hides a pleased smile in his sleeve. The sticker stars along the walls and ceiling of her bedroom glow peaceful and teal.
"They're the only stars in the city tonight," he remarks, and April can clearly picture his brown eyes tracking through the dark toward her bedroom window, where the rain is tapping without rhythm against the glass. "Light pollution aside, it's probably going to storm until morning."
Casey is asleep between them, newly bruised from a highly enthusiastic street hockey game, and Donnie is running fingers through his hair. He's never brave enough to try it when Casey is awake, makes up for it now.
"What a menace," Donnie continues, a little softer. "He keeps this up and he won't have any teeth left by the time we're in college."
Donnie is going to graduate a year early. He and Casey and April have already applied to NYU. Casey's award letter is on the fridge right next to April's, and it's been a few weeks but sometimes it looks like he still can't believe it. They're going to college together, they have everything planned.
"I've been meaning to ask," April says, without bothering to lift her head. Don's shoulder makes a fairly comfortable pillow. "Have you thought about it yet? What you want to do?"
Kind, clever Donatello. He could do absolutely anything, April is certain. She's never known anyone like him, there's no one else in the world who can read about stars and poetry and mechanics and medicine with the same unobjective dedication.
But her question gives him pause, fingers stilling in Casey's hair, and uncertainty leases the bright space in his eyes. April tries not to sigh, but she might as well have, because it telegraphs through her body somehow anyway.
Apologetically, Donnie says, "I won't fall behind. I'll take all my prerequisites first, and by the time I get them out of the way, I'll figure out—"
"It shouldn't be this hard for you," April says without cruelty, finally sitting up to look at him. "You used to be full of ideas. You used to bookmark all the openings at NASA on your computer. You must still want something, Donnie."
He looks down at their hands for a long moment, quiet and still for so long she isn't sure she's going to get an answer.
Then he says, "I want to make enough money that Leo never has to work another day in his life." His brown eyes are bright when they move to meet hers through the dark, burning with determined devotion. "I want to pay back all our debts, and buy us a house, and put Mikey through school. I still want to make the world a better place, with new advancements in technology, or an engineering breakthrough, but I want to make their world a better place, first. And then…"
His gaze drops away again, and he twines his fingers through hers. Traces the familiar lines of Casey's face with his free hand, like a totem or a good luck charm, and Casey stirs at the touch, blinking honey amber through the dark while Donatello finds bravery.
"And then, after that," Donnie whispers, so sweet and sincere, "I want to marry the two of you."
It's almost dreamlike, the glow of April's stars, and the sound of rain, and the future waiting for them patiently, kindly, just around the corner—and now more than ever, as she and Casey draw Donnie into a kiss that goes three ways as naturally as the earth moves around the sun, April can't wait to meet it.