Chapter Text
Sometimes, Johnny dreams.
He dreams that there’s hands around his throat and they’re squeezing so hard, he can see stars dance behind his eyelids. The harder he tries to fight, the heavier his limbs get and the tighter the hands become. He chokes, gasping for air and his pulse hammers in his chest, echoing in his ears and that’s all he can hear. A rabbiting thumpthumpthump as his body goes into panic mode—mayday mayday mayday, oxygen levels are low, repeat, oxygen levels are low, get this guy some air.
He can’t scream or cry out for help and even if he could, it’s not like anyone’s around to save him. It’s just him and those hands, slowly choking the life out of him, pressing down down down, fingers grasping so tight he can feel the imprint of a ring as it bites into his skin, the slow trickle of blood from the open wound. Right before the dreams fades (or he dies, he’s not really sure) he gets a flash of cold blue eyes, the lingering smell of cigar smoke and a voice whispers mercy is for the weak and there will be no weakness in my dojo, Mr. Lawrence.
*
Johnny wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, tears on his cheeks and with the phantom feeling of those hands on his neck—their bruising grip against his skin, their crushing weight against his throat. His chest is burning, lungs sucking in the sweet sweet taste of the cold air blasting through the empty house. His heart is thudding like a war drum against his ribs and he scrambles for the lamp next to his bed, tugging the cord so harshly, he almost yanks it off the night stand in his desperation to turn it on.
Soft light blooms, casting the room in a gentle yellow glow and it eases the knot of anxiety in his belly when he takes in the familiar surroundings of his room—the posters on the walls, the jeans on the floor he was too lazy to throw in the hamper on his way into the bathroom, his drum set over in the corner, where it’s been collecting dust since Sid made him quit, all those years ago.
Johnny runs a shaky hand through his sweat matted hair and glances at the clock radio, blowing out a breath when he sees the bright red numbers blink 5:03 back at him almost mockingly, reminding him that he has almost two hours before he needs to be up in time for school.
And even though he feels exhaustion pulling at his limbs, Johnny can’t shake the fear at what awaits him if he tries to go back to sleep. Maybe that makes him a pussy, but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. Besides, it’s not like there’s anyone around to see his moment of weakness.
Once he feels confident that he can get up without falling over, he stumbles into his bathroom, flicking the light on, wincing, slamming his eyes shut because too bright too bright, holy shit it’s like staring into the surface of the sun. His stomach rolls and his head pounds and for a moment, Johnny thinks he gonna throw up, but the nausea passes after a moment and when he blinks his eyes back open, the level of light in the room is tolerable, not as jarring.
Johnny glances, out of habit, at the long mirror above the sink and for a moment, he swears he sees finger shaped bruises, red and angry and already turning purple, on his neck and it makes him freeze, heart seizing up in his chest. But then he blinks and the marks are gone; all he sees is a neck free of bruises and wide, haunted blue eyes set in a face that’s as pale as the gleaming white marble of his bathroom counter.
It’s okay, he tells himself, willing himself to calm down, you’re okay. Kreese is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.
Kreese is gone, he chants to himself, stepping into the shower, letting the steam rise and open his still aching lungs, wonders why it feels like he’s drowning when he’s standing up.
Kreese is gone, Kreese is gone, c’mon, Lawrence, breathe, don’t be a pussy, Kreese is gone and you’re safe. Kreese is gone, breathe, inhale, exhale—
The water pounds down on him, echoing his racing heart and he tries to practice breathing, like Daniel taught him to do on the beach, tries to center himself, tries to focus on inhaling the damp air through his nose, exhaling hot air into the foggy glass of the shower.
It works long enough to get him through showering—inhale. Shampoo. Exhale. Rinse. Inhale. Condition. Exhale. Wash body. Inhale. Rinse body and hair at same time. Exhale. Done.
But when Johnny steps out of the shower, shivering in the cool air of the bathroom and wipes the condensation off the glass of the mirror, he sees a flash of blue—and not his blue, either. Suddenly, the steam from his shower smells like aged tobacco and the hands drying his hair aren’t his and they’re sliding down his head, down down down, towards his neck and Johnny squeezes his eyes shut because it’s not real, notrealnotrealnotreal—
You’re gone, Johnny wills himself to believe, you’re not here, you don’t exist anymore. Kreese is gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone—
But then a voice, cold and taunting, whispers, low and velvety, Oh Johnny-boy, you didn’t really think you could rid of me that easily, did you?
*
Johnny had waited as long as he could and he still ended up being stupid early to Daniel’s, but when Lucille opens the door, smile bright when she sees Johnny—well, he can’t really bring himself to care.
“Good morning, Johnny!” She greets warmly, holding the door open for him while she flutters around the apartment, gathering her things for the day.
“Morning, Mrs. LaRusso,” Johnny returns, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him. The familiar sights and smells of the LaRusso home greet him like a warm blanket on a cold day, easing some of the tension in his shoulders.
“Oh please, sweetie, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Lucille?” She tuts, putting her hand on her hips and it’s a pose he’s seen Daniel do, so many times, when he’s beyond exasperated or frustrated.
It makes Johnny smile.
“Sorry,” Johnny says. “Lucille,” he adds, at her prompting look.
Her stern expression melts and she smiles. “Much better, now,” She says, pulling her favorite shawl over her shoulders. “Daniel’s still sleeping,” she informs him with a fond roll of her eyes, grabbing her keys. “That boy could sleep through a war zone and that’s without the help of pain pills,” she sighs, shaking her head, “Anyways,” she continues, “there’s breakfast on the stove for you two, please make sure you eat somethin’ before school, okay?”
Johnny nods, even if his stomach protests at the thought of eating food—which is shame, because he loves Lucille’s cooking.
“Alright, well, I think that’s everything,” Lucille says, grabbing her worn brief case.
She pauses on her way out the door to cup Johnny’s cheek, palm warm and smooth, wedding band cool against his skin. Her blue eyes remind him of his mother’s, even if they’re a few shades lighter. They roam over his face in motherly concern, a small furrow between her eyebrows.
“You okay, honey?” Lucille asks, pressing her other hand to his forehead, as if to check for a fever. “You a little warm. Are you getting sick?”
It’s such a mom thing to do and it makes Johnny’s heart twist with longing for his own mother, who’s still off skiing in the mountains with Sid on their annual New Years trip.
“I’m fine, Mrs. LaRusso—sorry, Lucille,” Johnny says, giving her a sheepish smile. “I must not of slept good last night or something.”
It’s a lie—Johnny had slept fantastic, up until that dream. But he refuses to let himself believe that a dream, of all things, is what’s making him feel so off kilter. Even if the events of the dream had been real. A memory. Whatever.
Lucille doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push him. “Okay, well, maybe lie down for a little bit—you have plenty of time until you boys have to leave for school, maybe a little cat nap will do you some good, huh?”
It’s not a bad idea, until Johnny remembers the dream and he has to fight back a shiver. “Yeah, maybe.”
Lucille smiles, patting his cheek before letting him go. “Good. Now, I have to run. You boys be good and have a good day a school, alright?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny says dutifully. “Have a good day at work.”
Lucille smiles, pressing a lipstick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, sweetie. And thank you for taking Daniel to school for me. Now scoot, you look dead on your feet,” She says, pushing him in the direction of the hallway, towards Daniel’s room and Johnny doesn't need any more prompting, heading down the hallway as he hears the front door open and close with Lucille’s exit.
Daniel’s door is cracked open and Johnny takes it upon himself to enter the room that’s become just as familiar to him as his own, smiling to himself when he sees Daniel, curled up underneath the covers and snoring away.
Johnny kicks off his shoes and climbs inside the cramped twin, curling around Daniel’s body, sinking into the warmth and comfort of his worn sheets and soft skin.
Daniel stirs, nuzzling into Johnny’s neck, breath fanning over the sensitive skin and Johnny welcomes it. Daniel smells like ginger and citrus and boy—it’s spicy and earthy and Daniel.
It soothes the frayed edges of Johnny’s nerves, releasing the rest of the tension coiled in his muscles and untangling the knots of anxiety of anxiety in his belly.
“Mmmm, Johnny,” Daniel breathes sleepily. “Hi.”
Johnny chuckles, brushing his fingers through Daniel’s soft hair. “Hi. Miss me?”
Daniel hums, snuggling closer, throwing a lanky arm around Johnny’s waist. “Always miss you.”
Johnny understands the feeling, but that’s too much mushiness for this early in the morning.
“I mean, I am pretty great,” Johnny says, just to be an asshole. “I’d miss me, too.”
Daniel snorts softly, smacking Johnny’s shoulder. “You’re a dick, is what you are.”
“I have a dick,” Johnny corrects, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, even though Daniel’s eyes are still closed and he misses it. “I could always refresh your memory, if you like.”
Daniel groans, cracking his eyes open and blinking up at Johnny, adorably sleep ruffled and annoyed. “That was the worst line I’ve ever heard and trust me, I’ve heard some bad ones.”
Johnny raises an eyebrow, shuffling on to his back and pulling Daniel down on top of him. “Oh yeah? Something I should know about?”
Daniel snorts again, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Didn’t you see the line of suitors knockin’ down my door, waitin’ for me to be done with you so they can have a turn?”
Even though Daniel’s joking, something tightens uncomfortably in Johnny’s chest at the thought of Daniel being with someone else and it feels a lot like jealousy.
“Well, that’s too fucking bad for them then,” Johnny says, kissing Daniel’s neck, humming when Daniel tilts his head to give him more access.
“Why’s that?” Daniel breathes, inhaling sharply when Johnny nibbles at the skin with his teeth.
Johnny pulls away and meets Daniel’s brown eyes, dark with arousal and still sleepy at the edges.
Johnny grins, bright and daring and says, “Because you’re mine, LaRusso,” before he captures Daniel’s lips in a kiss, a flicker of heat pooling in his belly at their familiar warmth and softness. He tastes like sleep and stale toothpaste, but Johnny doesn’t care—he welcomes the trickle of arousal in his veins, the zing of electricity down his spine at the feeling of Daniel in his lap, pressing Johnny down into the mattress.
“Am I?” Daniel teases breathlessly when they part.
Johnny nods, kissing him again, nipping at his lip, soothing the bite of teeth with his tongue, groaning when Daniel opens for him and their tongues brush together teasingly, gripping Daniel’s hips to pull him closer, nestling his ass in the cradle of Johnny’s hips.
“You’re mine,” Johnny breathes into Daniel’s skin. It’s a promise to Daniel and a reminder to himself, soothing jealous ache at the thought of someone else touching Daniel like this, kissing him, tasting him.
Daniel hums, moaning when Johnny grinds his erection into Daniel’s ass, teeth catching on his lip.
“Say it, Danny,” Johnny pleads, fingertips rucking up Daniel’s t-shirt to touch heated skin. “Say it.”
Daniel whimpers, grinding his hips back into Johnny’s, eyes molten copper burning into Johnny’s. “I’m yours,” he whispers, gasping when Johnny’s fingers dance below the waist band of his sweats to grip his cock. “‘m all yours, Johnny, all yours.”
Johnny growls, kissing Daniel roughly, stroking over his erection with a tight fist and Daniel’s hips buck encouragingly, beckoning Johnny to continue, breathless whimpers leaving his lips that Johnny swallows greedily.
They fall into an easy rhythm—Daniel thrusting forward on every up stroke, grinding back on Johnny’s jean clad erection on every down stroke and the friction…it’s good, so good. Having Daniel on top of him, whole and alive and pulsing with life, is grounding and it chases away all traces of fear and anxiety that Johnny’s been carrying around all morning because of that fucking dream.
Because here, locked away in Daniel’s room, with Daniel a warm weight on top him and all of his senses focused solely on Daniel, Johnny feels safe, like nothing could touch him here.
It’s so childish and not the least bit badass, but Johnny doesn’t care. He lets himself float in the feeling, let’s it wash over him like gentle waves lapping at his skin.
“Johnny,” Daniel whispers, pleading, lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks, face scrunched in pleasure and there’s this overwhelming feeling clawing in Johnny’s chest at the sight.
“I’m right here, Danny,” Johnny murmurs, kissing his lips, “I’m right here, baby, I’ve got you.”
Daniel whimpers, eyebrows furrowing, pupils blown and Johnny can feel his cock twitch in his hand and he flicks his wrist on the next upstroke, drags his thumbnail right underneath the head, a flicker of pain to break through the pleasure and Daniel shudders, hips stuttering, cock pulsing and Johnny knows he’s close.
“Come for me, baby,” Johnny demands gently, nosing against Daniel’s cheek, teasing his lips against Daniel’s jaw, teeth nipping at the muscle that jumps and twitches underneath his kisses.
“Johnny,” Daniel murmurs, breath ghosting over Johnny’s neck, “Johnny, JohnnyJohnnyJohnny—“
Johnny pulls away to watch Daniel fall apart in his arms—shaking and breathless, eyes burning gold in the warm morning sun and it punches all the air out of Johnny’s lungs, that overwhelming feeling exploding in his veins and he feels himself come messily into his boxers, cock twitching and pulsing against Daniel’s ass.
They fall back on the bed in a tangle of limbs, Daniel a dead weight on top of Johnny’s chest and Johnny holds him there, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of sex and citrus, the smell of his cologne on Daniel’s skin and he feels weightless and grounded, all at once.
They both startle when Daniel’s alarm clock goes off and Daniel grumbles, pulling away to slap the snooze button before he collapses back on to Johnny’s chest, burying his right between Johnny’s pecs, right over his heart.
“I don’t wan’a go t’ sc’ool,” Daniel says, voice muffled against the fabric of Johnny’s t-shirt. He props his chin on Johnny’s chest, which, kind of hurts, but Johnny ignores it in favor of grinning down at the grumpy pout on Daniel’s lips. “Can’t we just stay here?”
Johnny hums, running his fingers through Daniel’s hair, laughing when Daniel leans into it with a happy sigh. “I wish, but I think your mom would kill me if I didn’t get you to school.”
Daniel sighs, long and forlorn. “I know, I just—“ Daniel sighs again, tracing the logo on Johnny’s t-shirt. It tickles. There’s a frown on his lips that Johnny wants to fix immediately, doesn't like the feeling it gives him to see Daniel doing anything but smiling.
“What?” Johnny asks softly, catching Daniel’s hand in his.
Big brown eyes meet his and Johnny swallows when he sees the nervousness, the self-doubt, the insecurity. He doesn't like that, either.
“How are we gonna do this, Johnny?” Daniel asks, voice shaky. He’d be gnawing on his nails if it wasn’t for the fact that Johnny was holding one hand and Daniel was supporting himself on the other. “I mean, I know we can’t—but like—are you—I mean, it’s cool that we’re like, seen together, right?”
Daniel looks so shy and vulnerable and Johnny feels a piece of his heart crack at the thought of making Daniel feel unsure in own skin, giving him a reason to doubt that Johnny wouldn’t want to be seen even hanging out with him in the halls.
He only has himself to blame, he knows this—but Johnny would be lying if he said he wasn’t sure how being this with Daniel was going to work when they couldn’t be this, in public, in school, around their peers. If he’s also being honest, he didn’t really think this far a head when they decided to be, well, together.
“As long as you don’t think being around me will cramp your style, LaRusso,” Johnny says, trying for teasing, ruffling Daniel’s hair. Daniel doesn’t look impressed, so Johnny changes tactics. “We just have to be careful, is all,” he says, brushing his fingers over Daniel’s knuckles, “obviously we can’t do this,” he waves their conjoined hands between them for emphasis, “but we can still be seen with each other. I don’t plan on like, ditching you or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Daniel smiles sheepishly. “I know,” and he sounds like he means it, which soothes the blow of having his doubts in Johnny confirmed, just a little bit, “I just—what happened with Dutch at the party, people might wonder, you know? I don’t want you to have to deal with something like that again.”
Johnny winces, mind flashing to Dutch’s angry face, his arm wrapped like a vice around Daniel’s neck. The bruises were almost gone from Daniel’s skin, but the memory will be burned into Johnny’s mind for the rest of his life.
“People might wonder, but as long we don’t give them anything to really confirm it with,” Johnny shrugs.“Besides,” he adds, “people were probably too drunk to really remember what happened, so it’s probably not even that big of a deal.”
At least, that what Johnny hopes. And if they do, on the off chance, remember what happened, Johnny just hopes they chalk it up to Johnny being a decent dude and putting Dutch in his place for picking on Daniel, especially when he was still injured. Mostly everyone was at the tournament, they saw Johnny hand Daniel the trophy, some of them might’ve even heard him say you’re alright, LaRusso. Maybe they’ll think they finally got over their childish little rivalry by beating the shit out of each other.
It’s a 50/50 shot, really.
“Maybe,” Daniel says, but he still looks worried. Shrugging, he gives Johnny a brave smile and says, “Guess we won’t know unless we go, right?”
Johnny brushes a kiss across his knuckles. “Right,” he affirms and to the lighten the mood, he adds with sly, teasing smile, “If anyone tries to give us shit, just kick ‘em in the face, LaRusso. You’re good at that.”
Daniel huffs out a surprised laugh and it makes warmth curl low in Johnny’s belly, making him laugh, too.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t seem to work, at least on you,” Daniel says, eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Johnny demands, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re still harassin’ me, aren’t you?” Daniel counters, grinning down at Johnny, eyes dancing with humor.
Johnny smirks, leaning up and capturing Daniel’s lips in a slow, dirty kiss that makes his heart race and his cock twitch with interest in his ruined boxers.
Daniel looks dazed when Johnny pulls away, eyes dark and glazed over with lust and Johnny grins. “I don’t know, LaRusso, you seem pretty into whatever I’m dishing out.”
Daniel rolls his eyes, huffing an annoyed breath and Johnny laughs, bright and open, pressing an apologetic kiss against Daniel’s lips.
“You’re an ass,” Daniel mutters, but there’s no heat behind it and he kisses Johnny back and he keeps kissing him, until his alarm clock goes off for the second time and they have to pull away from each other lest they risk being late.
Which, Johnny is totally fine with, especially when Daniel strips right in the middle of his room before he crutches himself into the bathroom, throwing a clean pair of boxers at Johnny that he barely manages to catch before they hit him in the face and mutters something about perfect attendance and not being late.
Nerd, Johnny thinks with a snort, rolling his eyes affectionately as he gets off the bed and changes before wandering out to the kitchen to eat their breakfast that’s probably long gone cold by now.
The memories of his dream have long since faded and he actually feels good.
For now.
*
They make it to school with six minutes to spare before the first bell. Johnny had gotten distracted when Daniel came out of the shower, skin flushed and glistening, trapping him against the wall to kiss him breathless, which cost them fifteen minutes and barely gave Johnny enough time to scarf down breakfast before Daniel, fully dressed this time, hustled him out the door and all but shoved him into the driver seat of the Firebird.
“I have perfect attendance and I’m not gonna have it ruined just because you can’t keep it in your pants,” Daniel had huffed to him as Johnny pulled off the curb and on to the street.
“Says the one who I barely had to touch before they were creaming their pants like a twelve year old discovering playboy for the first time,” Johnny had muttered and that earned him a slap to the chest and losing control of the radio the entire drive to school.
Now that they’re here and on time, Daniel seems much more relaxed, digging through his backpack to make sure he has everything he needs and Johnny finds himself wanting to draw out the last few minutes of their alone time, because he doesn’t know when they’ll get another chance during the day.
“Hey, I’ve got something for you,” Johnny says, prompting Daniel to look up from shoving a notebook into his backpack to raise an eyebrow at Johnny.
Johnny licks his lips, feeling suddenly shy and nervous, as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, Daniel watching him with big, curious eyes, mouth parting in surprises when he sees it—it being Johnny’s class ring. Gold with his birthstone in the middle, his name engraved in cursive on the inside band. It’s on a matching gold chain that Johnny offers out to Daniel, who takes it hesitantly.
“What’s this for?” Daniel asks, glancing between the ring and Johnny, head cocked to the side in that adorable way that he does when he’s trying to puzzle something out that doesn't quite fit.
“I was hoping you’d wear it,” Johnny says, biting his lip sheepishly. “Just like—as a reminder, you know, that you’re important to me and that this—us being together—might not be easy but that it’s worth having,” Johnny shrugs, cheeks flushing pink, “Just thought it might be a helpful, in case, you know, something happens or someone says something stupid or I don’t know,” Johnny’s rambling and he knows it, but Daniel’s still just looking between him and the ring with the weird look on his face and fuck—“it’s stupid, right? Like, obviously, you don’t have to wear it, if—if you don’t want to—“
“I want to,” Daniel cuts in and when Johnny chances a glance at him, his eyes are shining as he stares at the chain, the ring. There’s a hesitance there, that makes Johnny uneasy the longer he goes without taking it, because Johnny doesn’t understand what it means. Some of the confusion clears, when Daniel adds, shyly, “are you sure? I mean, Johnny, this looks really expensive and I wouldn’t want to—“
Oh, that. Of course Daniel would get caught up on that.
“I want you to have it,” Johnny assures him gently.
Daniel bites his lip, taking the chain from Johnny’s hand, their fingers brushing. Daniel traces a thumb over the ring, fingers playing with the thinly braided gold chain that Johnny had bought specifically for it. He’s had the idea since Christmas and he spent two hours in the jewelry store, trying to find the perfect chain to put it on.
“Will you help me put it on?” Daniel asks, blinking up at Johnny with those mile long lashes.
“Turn around,” Johnny whispers in answer, holding his hand out for the chain. Daniel hands it to him, fingers brushing over Johnny’s sweaty palms and he twists in the passenger seat, back to Johnny, waiting.
Johnny fumbles with the clasp, suddenly all thumbs and nerves, but when he finally get its, he places it gently around Daniel’s neck, the ring making a soft clink as it finds a home on Daniel’s chest, right over his heart.
Johnny clasps it and takes a moment to admire the contrast of the gold chain against Daniel’s tan skin, before he taps the back of Daniel’s neck twice and when Daniel turns back around, he’s smiling so hard it looks like it hurts.
Johnny smiles back and he really wants to kiss him, but there’s people around and the tint on Johnny’s windows isn’t dark enough to hope that no one would see them.
“Looks good, LaRusso,” Johnny compliments before tucking it into the collar of Daniel’s shirt, so it’s hidden away from prying eyes.
There’s a sad twist to Daniel’s mouth when Johnny looks back up at him.
“What’s the matter?” Johnny asks in concern.
“Nothing, it’s just—“ Daniel bites his lip and looks away, down at his lap, “—I don’t have anything to give you.”
Johnny feels his chest warm and his belly swoop. “I have you. That’s enough for me.”
It’s mushy as hell and Johnny will die from shame if anyone else heard him say that, but seeing the sparkle return back to Daniel’s eyes is worth the sacrifice.
“C’mon, LaRusso,” Johnny says with a roll of his eyes, getting out of the car. “Wouldn’t want you to be late.”
*
Daniel’s still on crutches for the time being—his next doctor’s appointment is Friday and that appointment will determine when he can finally retire them—and selfishly, Johnny’s thankful for it, because it gives him the chance to spend time with Daniel throughout the day, since they don’t have that many classes together. Johnny walks with him to his classes, carrying his books for him, ignoring the little bemused smile Daniel wears as he crutches along side Johnny.
It’s not until Johnny walks with him to their shared third period history class that he gets fed up with the amused looks and the little secret smiles Daniel keeps giving him and he finally demands, a bit harshly, “What are you looking at, LaRusso?”
Daniel just smirks, pausing outside the doorway. The classroom’s locked, their teacher running late and they’re the first one’s there, so Johnny feels bold enough to lean a bit closer to Daniel as he raises an impatient eyebrow.
“Well? Do I have something on my face?” Johnny demands, when Daniel just stands there, still looking at him with that little quirk to his lips that Johnny finds both endearing and annoying in equal measure.
Which is how Johnny feels about most things concerning Daniel, if he’s being completely honest with himself.
“Just your usual California pretty boy looks,” Daniel says with an easy smile, eyes twinkling with mirth.
Johnny feels his cheeks flush at the compliment disguised as teasing, but ignores it, rolling his eyes.
“Nice try, LaRusso,” Johnny says. “Now how about you answer my question?”
Daniel grins in challenge. “And if I don’t?”
Johnny growls in irritation. “Then I’ll kick that pretty little ass of yours until you do.”
Daniel’s eyes are practically dancing at this point, that annoying little arrogant smirk playing across his lips as he tilts his head and taps his chin in mock thought.
“Hmm,” Daniel says, dragging out the sound just to be a little shit. “I don’t know about it, Johnny, see that doesn’t seem like such a fair trade to me. But,” he adds, grin turning mischievous, “I guess I’ll agree to it, on one condition.”
“And that is?” Johnny demands impatiently.
Daniel flickers around the hallway and deeming the coast clear, he leans in, warm breath tickling Johnny’s ear as he whispers, “That you promise to kiss it better afterwards.”
All the breath leaves Johnny’s body in a quiet groan, lower belly heating at the suggestion of kissing Daniel there. Wonders what kind of sounds he’d make as Johnny nipped and teased the skin of his ass, maybe he’d get brave and dip a finger between his cheeks, caress it over the furled skin of his hole.
Fuck
They haven’t gotten that far yet. It’s mostly been quick and dirty hand jobs underneath the sheets, breathless pants and moans being swallowed by frantic kisses or sucking bruises into each other’s skin. Johnny’s toyed with the idea of blowing Daniel—wrapping his lips around the warm skin of his cock, tasting him for real, not just the shy, curious taste Johnny had sampled after making Daniel cum all over his fist—but he just hasn't worked up the nerve to. Partly out of not wanting to rush Daniel, who, for all his bravado, has about as much sexual experience as a nun.
The other part—the tinier, smaller part of him that Johnny refuses to even acknowledge exists—is intimidated at the thought of doing that, with another guy.
He’s imagined Daniel doing it to him countless of times; on those rare days where they’re not together, Johnny’s fisted his cock underneath his sheets, eyes closed with image of Daniel’s plush lips wrapped around him, the feeling of his cock in Daniel’s throat as he swallows around him, the flush on his cheeks. Daniel may be inexperienced, but he was a quick learner and Johnny knows it wouldn't take him long to figure out what would make Johnny moan, make his toes curl and his belly heat with want.
Hell, just thinking about it now has got his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans.
Johnny knows Daniel would do it, too, if Johnny asked him to. And that makes him feel like an asshole for being hesitant to return the favor.
Which really tracks because Johnny would kill for a blowjob, especially if it’s Daniel doing the blowing. But Johnny’s not that much of an asshole to ask for something that even he’s not sure about doing. Tit for tat and all that.
Or, in this case, dick for dick, he supposes.
All this thinking about sex has got Johnny all tangled up and he’s hit with sudden realization that it’s been almost four hours since he last kissed Daniel.
And now Daniel’s looking at him, all smug arrogance and cocksure Jersey swagger and Johnny can’t even kiss the annoying smirk from his face because they’re in the middle of a crowded hallway, where anyone could see them.
“You’re a little shit,” Johnny hisses, just as the teacher comes up behind them and unlocks the door.
“Is there a problem, here, gentlemen?” Mr. Harris demands over the rim of his glasses.
His eyes flit between Daniel and Johnny suspiciously, a frown on his lips and Johnny puts on his best charming smile.
“No, sir, not at all.” Johnny says, trying to discreetly shuffle away from Daniel.
Mr. Harris doesn't look the least bit convinced and Daniel intervenes, big brown eyes softening into this doe-eyed look of innocence that, much to Johnny’s amusement and annoyance, seems to reassure their teacher.
“I was just telling Johnny here about a book I read on World War II over winter break,” Daniel says without missing a beat. “It’s really fascinating. My karate teacher gave it to me—he fought in the war, was given the medal of honor and everything. It’s about how the Ally’s began using hand to hand combat when confronting their enemies, which saved the government like, millions of dollars on ammo and guns.”
Even though Daniel been telling Johnny exactly zero of that, the lie rolls easily from his tongue and by the end Daniel’s little tirade, Mr. Harris actually looks interested, eyes sparking in a way that Johnny knows means he’ll be hanging around after class as Mr. Harris pumps Daniel for more information on a book that Johnny is about 99.9% sure doesn’t even exist.
But with the way Daniel’s talking about it, it has Johnny half believing that it does and when Mr. Harris walks into the classroom to scribble down whatever bullshit title Daniel fed him, Johnny can’t help but lean down and whisper an impressed, “Nice one, Bambi.”
Daniel shivers and shoots him a grin over his shoulder. “Thanks. My ma says I’d make a good car salesman because I’m a natural bullshitter.”
Their lips are barely a breath a part and Johnny wants to bridge the gap so badly he can taste it, but no matter how much of a natural bullshitter Daniel may be, they’d have a tough time explaining themselves out of that one if anyone saw them.
So Johnny just snorts and settles for ruffling Daniel’s hair, letting his nails scratch against Daniel’s scalp in a way he knows Daniel likes before he pulls away.
“She’s probably right,” Johnny says as Daniel crutches towards a seat.
“Oh yeah?” Daniel asks absently as he shuffles himself carefully into a desk. “What makes you say that?”
Johnny grins and in a show of giving Daniel his history book, he leans down and whispers, “Well, you got to me to agree to date you and if you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of a picky guy.”
Daniel smirks right back at him, long fingers tangling in the chain around his neck, caressing it with this thumb. “Well, you know what they say,” Daniel whispers, eyes shining with something that makes Johnny’s insides feel like a warm puddle of goo. “There’s a sucker born every minute.”
Johnny eyes Daniel’s lips, red and shiny and totally kissable. “Oh, I’m a sucker for something, alright.”
Daniel flushes, a soft laugh escaping his mouth, making his nose crinkle, and it makes Johnny smile, heart flip flopping pleasantly in his chest.
But then the bell rings and students come rushing in, filling the desks around them and Johnny is forced to pull away, breaking the spell.
Johnny taps Daniel’s desk twice with his knuckles. “I’ll see you after class,” he says before he walks all the way across the room to his assigned seat.
And if he pays more attention to Daniel as he scribbles notes into his notebook or the way he bites the tip of the eraser while he listens to Mr. Harris drone on about the Civil Rights movement or something along those lines, well, no one besides Johnny has to know.
Except for Bobby, who shoots him knowing looks between his own note taking that Johnny ignores completely.
*
By the time lunch rolls around, Johnny feels like he’s about to come out of his skin if he doesn’t get his hands on Daniel soon. Having to look at him all day and not being able to touch him in some way—hold his hand, put his arm around his shoulder—is torture in a way Johnny hadn’t anticipated when they agreed to give this a shot. It’s not even about like, sex or anything—though Johnny wouldn’t mind an empty classroom or janitor’s closet and about ten free minutes to get Daniel all flushed and aroused—Johnny just wants to be able to do normal things that normal couples do without the unsavory repercussions he’d be opening them up to if he even attempted it.
So when he meets Daniel at his locker after fourth period to walk with him to the cafeteria, he’s relieved when Daniel reminds him he has to go to the nurses office to take his pain and anti-inflammatory meds. It’s a chance at getting Daniel alone for the first time all day and Johnny doesn’t hesitate to follow him, taking Daniel’s backpack from him and slinging it over his shoulder, in case a teacher walks by and wonders why Johnny’s not at lunch with the rest of the seniors.
Johnny has to fight the urge to shove Daniel behind the nearest row of lockers and kiss him breathless, the only thing stopping him being the pinched look on Daniel’s face, the strain around his eyes and his mouth the only outward sign of how much pain he’s actually in. And Johnny only knows because he knows what to look for—has to, because he doesn’t trust Daniel to be honest with him when it comes to his pain scale. It’s a mixture of male pride and some weird form of Daniel wanting to protect Johnny from the damage that Johnny and Bobby had caused him.
It’s sweet and also very irritating, leaving Johnny no choice but to learn to read Daniel’s tells, both verbal and non-verbal.
Johnny manages to keep his hands to himself, waiting out in the hallway outside the nurses office, listening through the cracked door as Daniel flirts and sweet talks to nurse Brenda—a stern woman who, as far as Johnny knew, didn’t even know how to smile—but when Johnny peeks in the doorway, the normally serious nurse is flushed and giggling like a school girl as she digs through her cabinets to find Daniel’s pain meds.
Johnny can’t help but smile to himself, shaking his head as Daniel charms her into giving him a Coke to wash his pills down with and she even hands him a lollipop afterwards—and not the cheap ones that are gone in like, three licks. It’s one of the good ones with the chocolate in the center, from that commercial that has the owl saying, all suggestive like, how many licks does it take to get to the center?
Johnny can’t wait to mock him for it.
But then Daniel crutches out, lollipop stick already dangling from his mouth, lips stained red from the candy and holds a blue one up to Johnny in offering.
It’s Johnny favorite flavor and he wonders, briefly, how much flirting it took to get Nurse Brenda to dig through her secret stash for just one lollipop, let alone two, but Johnny’s stomach is doing this weird, fluttery thing that he refuses to acknowledge as butterflies and he’s too hung up on the fact that Daniel remembered something as trivial as his favorite lollipop flavor to really care.
“Aw, did Nurse Brenda reward you for taking your pills like a big boy?” Johnny teases, taking the offered candy and putting it in his pocket for safe keeping—he toys with the idea of not eating it at all, to keep it and treasure it, but that thought is embarrassing enough that Johnny banishes it before it can really take form. Or worse, he does something stupid like actually follow through with it.
Daniel smirks, lollipop stick falling to the left side of his mouth, cheeks hollowing deliciously as he sucks on the candy. “Hey man, those pills are pretty big,” he says with a lazy shrug, but there’s a filthy look in his eyes, paired with a mischievous tilt to his chin when he adds, “I should get a reward for swallowin’ ‘em without gagging.”
The comment lands just like Daniel knew it would and Johnny groans, head falling back agains the wall.
“You’re trying to kill me,” Johnny mutters, swallowing heavily.
Daniel’s body is warm when he steps closer to Johnny, a firm, lean line against Johnny’s front. His big brown eyes are twinkling up at Johnny from their slight height difference, lips—red and plush and shiny with spit—pulled back into a teasing smile. He still smells like Johnny cologne and the chain, Johnny’s chain, glitters and winks at him from underneath the fluorescent lights of the hallway and Johnny just—really wants to kiss him.
“Now why would I want to go and do somethin’ like that?” Daniel murmurs, fingers teasing at the buttons of Johnny’s sweater.
“I’m sure you could think of a reason,” Johnny says, quirking his lips into a grin.
Daniel chuckles, breath warm and smelling like cherries as it dances over Johnny’s chin in a tantalizing caress. “Let’s see,” Daniel says, ticking his fingers across Johnny’s chest as he continues, “there was this morning—“
“I didn’t hear you complaining—“
“—earlier, outside of history, teasin’ me—“
“—I was simply finishing what you started—“
“—then there’s the fact that right now, you’re standin’ here, arguin’ with me, when you could be kissin’ me.” Daniel finishes, tapping his final point out on Johnny’s chest.
Johnny swallows, eyes flickering around the deserted hallway, the cracked door of the nurses office, before they land back on Daniel, who’s watching him with an amused smile and daring eyes.
“Can’t exactly do that here, can I?” Johnny says, chancing another look around him.
Daniel tuts, shaking his head. “So pretty, yet so dumb sometimes. Blondes man, I tell yah.”
Johnny flushes—at being called pretty, again—and at the insinuation that his hair color has anything to do with his I.Q.
“Well, I don’t see you coming up with any ideas,” Johnny snaps defensively, crossing his arms with a huff.
Daniel raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “You’re tellin’ me that Johnny Lawrence—King Karate, Mr. Popular, Mr. Blue-Eyes-With-Golden-Locks-On-Top—doesn't have some sort of top secret make out spot on campus?”
Johnny does, actually, but that’s where he used to sneak off with Ali, back when they were dating and taking Daniel there feels wrong, in some way. Johnny’s not always smart when it comes to this relationship stuff, but even he knows, taking his current significant other to a place where he used to take his ex to make out is a bad idea.
He does, however, have a back up plan.
Idea in mind, Johnny smirks back at Daniel. “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”
*
Johnny used to spend a lot time in the library, back in his freshmen year, before he became really close with the rest of the Cobra’s. Johnny would go to the library with the lunch his mom had Linda, the maid, pack for him and he’d sit there and eat, headphones over his ears as he listened to whatever was in his Walkman at the time. Sometimes, if he wanted to put off going home a little longer, he’d come back after the last bell of the day and study or even read, if he was desperate enough. Anything to stay away from Sid and that big, lonely house that never felt like home, no matter how hard his mom tried to make it one.
Situated in the back of the library were a bunch of old study rooms that no one really used anymore—not since the school found funding for a few computers in the center of the library. Most students tended to sit at the tables close by, in case one freed up, they could snag it before someone else came along and tried to use one.
Johnny himself had one at home—another one of Sid’s useless gifts—and he never really found the use for it nor did he really get the novelty of having one, either. They were big and bulky and took up too much room and used for boring things like research and writing papers, two things Johnny never really had much a use for. He wasn’t a nerd, after all.
Daniel, however, was and as soon as they walked through the doors, he begins gravitating towards the machines sitting in the middle of the comings and goings of the library, eyes wide and shining as he took in the latest technology like he’d never seen it before and Johnny, eyeing the clock, redirects his attention to the back of the library, towards his old study room that he used to use.
It’s empty and so are the other ones, so Johnny holds the door open for him, guiding him into the room before Johnny closes the door. It doesn’t lock, so Johnny steals a chair from the desk and shoves it underneath the door handle.
Daniel hops up on the desk, resting his crutches against a chair next to him and surveys the room, taking in the dated furniture and the dusty encyclopedias on the small bookshelf in the corner, before he looks back at Johnny, lips quirked around that damn lollipop stick.
“I gotta say, you take me to the nicest places,” Daniel says, fingers running over the desk he’s sitting on, nose wrinkling when they come back dusty and dirty. He wipes them off carelessly on his leg of his jeans. “I mean, seriously, Johnny, this place looks like it hasn’t been used since the Cold War and that’s being generous. I mean geez, does the janitor even knows this place exists? ‘Cause there’s no way anyone has come near this place with a rag and a can of Pledge—“
Johnny rolls his eyes and shuts the blinds on the door, the small window, before he steps into Daniel’s space, sliding between his spread thighs, hands automatically gripping the dip of Daniel’s hips.
Up close, Johnny can see the nervous energy radiating off of Daniel in waves—the way his jaw is clenched around the lollipop in his mouth, the tense line of his shoulders, the way his eyes keep darting towards the door.
Johnny is nervous, too. It’s risky, doing this in a place where doors don’t lock and anyone could walk in and catch them with their pants down, figuratively and literally, maybe, one day, if they ever get that desperate or brave.
But while the risk is great, the reward is greater and underneath the nervousness, there’s an undercurrent of excitement, too. It bleeds into the arousal building slowly in Johnny’s belly and the possessive part of him wouldn’t mind someone coming in and catching Johnny kissing Daniel, marking him up, making him pant and moan. Wants the world to know that Daniel is off limits to everyone but Johnny.
Daniel’s still babbling, words coming out of his mouth involuntarily, something about the amount of germs that can be found in dust and what makes up dust and while it’s endearing, listening to him go off on a nerdy little tangent, hearing about dead skin cells and bacteria isn’t exactly setting the mood.
Johnny stops him by taking the lollipop from his mouth and tossing it in the trash can by the door. Daniel squawks in protest, red stained lips falling into a pout.
“Hey, I was eatin’ that—“
“LaRusso,” Johnny murmurs, fingers catching Daniel’s jaw. “Shut up.”
Daniel’s indignant reply is swallowed by Johnny’s lips descending on his, tongue sneaking out to tease at the plump bottom lip. He tastes like cherries and the sugary after taste of the Coke he downed in the nurses office. It floods Johnny’s tongue with sweetness and he groans in satisfaction, sliding his fingers into Daniel’s hair and tugging him closer, wanting to feel as much of him as he can.
Daniel responds eagerly, hands tangling in Johnny’s hair, licking into Johnny’s mouth, nipping at his lip in a way that makes Johnny’s head spin with want. Daniel’s hands are warm and Johnny can feel the heat of his body through the too many layers of clothing and he wishes, more than anything, that he could spread Daniel out on this table and trace every inch of his tan skin with his fingers, his lips, his tongue. Burn his touch into Daniel’s skin so he doesn’t forget it.
Daniel seems to agree, thumbing open the top buttons of Johnny’s sweater, teasing the warm skin of Johnny’s chest, right over his fluttering heart beat and Johnny presses closer, humming against Daniel’s lips.
“Missed you,” Daniel admits softly, when they part for air, resting his forehead against Johnny’s.
“I’m right here, Danny,” Johnny assures, nuzzling Daniel’s nose, brushing his lips against Daniel’s.
“This is a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be.” Daniel whispers, swallowing heavily. “Not bein’ able to touch you or kiss you, it’s—“
“I know,” Johnny says, cupping Daniel’s jaw, thumb brushing over the curve of Daniel’s cheek.
Daniel leans into the touch, giving Johnny a brave smile. “We’ll be okay, though, right?”
“Yeah,” Johnny answers, giving him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Yeah, LaRusso, I think we’ll be okay.”
Daniel hums, pressing a kiss to Johnny’s lips. “Besides,” he murmurs, between kisses, nipping playfully at Johnny’s lip, “just think of all the catchin’ up we get to do—” another kiss, this one longer, deeper, making Johnny’s belly tighten and heat spread down his spine, “—once we get home—“ Johnny can feel Daniel, hard and hot through his jeans and it makes his own erection twitch, straining against his zipper, “—and we’re alone, no one else around—“
Johnny groans and it takes all his willpower to pull away, resting his forehead against Daniel’s, to breathe and get himself under control.
Daniel’s kiss swollen lips are smirking, dark eyes glimmering with mirth, obviously pleased with himself and it shouldn't be as hot as it is.
“God, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Johnny breathes and it’s the truth, too. He feels insatiable, like there’s this constant hunger for Daniel humming underneath his skin and Johnny can’t remember ever wanting someone this badly before. It’s overwhelming and distracting and Johnny prays it never ends.
“What a fun way to go though, right?” Daniel pants, as Johnny trails his lips down his jaw, over this pulse point, sucks a bruise there for everyone to see.
Johnny’s response is kiss him again.
(They don’t actually make it to the cafeteria for lunch)
*
Gym is Johnny’s last class of the day and he spends it kicking the soccer ball around the field with Bobby and the boys, laughing and joking around like usual and it’s…nice. Familiar, even if it’s a little weird not having Dutch there with them.
Johnny knows they all feel it, but no one says anything, so Johnny lets it go. At least, until Bobby corners him on his way to his locker, both with towels around their waists and Johnny won’t lie and say he wasn’t expecting this. Bobby had been shooting him concerned looks through the whole gym period
“Dude, where were you at lunch today?” Bobby demands with a worried crease between his eyes.
Johnny thinks of Daniel and their feverish kisses in the back of the library and smirks. “I was busy,” Johnny says. “Why?”
Bobby rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna pretend like I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he fake shudders and Johnny shoves him, laughing.
“Anyways,” Bobby continues, tone getting serious, “I was asking because I didn’t know if you heard or not.”
Johnny grabs his sweater from its hook on his locker. “Heard what?”
Bobby bites his lip. “About Dutch.”
Johnny pauses in buttoning up his sweater, raising an eyebrow. “What about him?”
The truth was, Johnny hasn’t really spared much thought to Dutch since the party, not after what he did to Daniel. Johnny was surprised at not seeing him around school today, but he didn’t really take time to consider why that was.
“He‘s in Juvie,” Bobby informs him with a grim look. “Apparently he got into it with this bouncer at a bar—tried to use his fake and the guy caught him, kicked Dutch out. Dutch got pissed and started whaling on the guy and did a number on him.”
Johnny whistles. “Shit, that’s—“ Johnny shakes his head, blowing out a breath, “—rough, man.”
“Johnny, I don’t think he’s okay,” Bobby says worriedly, chewing his lip. “I know we’re all dealing with—you know, Kreese and stuff, but Dutch—“
“—is choosing his own path, Bobby,” Johnny says, cutting him off. “What Kreese taught us—it was fucked, okay? But that’s not—we can’t keep using that as an excuse to...hurt people, man. What Dutch did to Daniel...I can’t forgive that. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite but I’m trying to fix it, okay? Dutch seems like he wants to do the exact opposite.”
Bobby doesn’t look convinced, blue eyes sad. “Yeah, I guess,” he says dejectedly.
Johnny sighs, giving Bobby a wan smile. “You can’t fix everyone, Bobby.”
“I know that, Johnny,” Bobby says, annoyed. “But Dutch isn’t a bad guy. You know he’s got it bad at home, I figured you of all people—“
“Fuck you, Bobby,” Johnny snaps, slamming his locker shut. “Don’t compare me to him, okay? He’s a Kreese wanna be who wants to blame the world for his problems and I’m actually trying to work on mine. Dutch didn’t do shit for me when Kreese was trying to choke me to death, he hurt Daniel and he’s just—I can’t do it anymore. It sucks that this is happening to him, but those were his choices, Bobby. His. Not yours, not mine. His.”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Bobby says after a beat, looking genuinely apologetic and Johnny’s anger disappears as quick as it came. Bobby’s one of those people that’s hard to stay mad at, with his earnest blue eyes and kind soul that wants to help everyone in need. “I just—he used to be our friend, you know?”
Johnny sighs tiredly, rubbing at his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose to ease the sudden flare of a headache away. “Yeah, I know, man.”
“Everything’s changing,” Bobby says quietly. “It’s just—it’s taking some getting used to.”
Johnny snorts. “Tell me about it.”
Bobby’s eyes soften and he nudges Johnny with his elbow. “Where was Daniel today? I didn’t see him out there.”
“With everything going on with his knee, he won’t be able to do much, so the school transferred him out and into study hall,” Johnny explains, checking his watch, he adds, “speaking of which, coach told me I could leave early to meet him at the library .”
Bobby smirks playfully. “He’s got you whipped man.”
Johnny rolls his eyes. “I think it’s the least I can do for him.”
Bobby concedes this with a nod. “Fair point. I’d be happy to help out too, if you guys need it.”
Something stirs inside Johnny at the thought of Bobby helping Daniel—carrying his books for him, opening doors for him, walking him to class—it’s tight and possessive and Johnny tries to push it down. He knows Bobby is just trying to help, to be supportive, maybe even become friends with Daniel, but that was their time together. At least, while Daniel needed Johnny’s help, that is. But Johnny wants to take full advantage of the opportunity while he can, because once the crutches go away and Daniel’s knee gets better, he’s not really sure what his excuse will be to hang around Daniel without it look suspicious.
“Thanks, man,” Johnny says, shouldering his backpack. “I’ll catch you later, alright?”
“Later, dude,” Bobby replies easily, slapping his shoulder.
Johnny exits the gym and makes it to the library with a few minutes to spare before the bell rings. He finds Daniel at a table in the back, eyes trained on a book and Johnny takes the moment to lean against a neighboring bookcase and just…watch him.
The afternoon sun is streaming in from the window and it hits the side of Daniel’s face, illuminating his tan skin and casting it in a warm glow—like bronze melting over the light of a flame. His dark hair is falling over his eyes and Johnny watches, as Daniel runs his fingers through it, pushing it back over his forehead, brown eyes never leaving the page in front of him. He looks relaxed, completely at ease, sitting there reading his book, leg propped up in a chair, twirling a pen on the table with his long, elegant fingers and that overwhelming feeling bubbles up unexpectedly, threatening to knock Johnny off balance.
The bell rings over head and Daniel looks up, as if broken out of a trance and his eyes almost immediately land on Johnny. A smile breaks across his face, cheeks dimpling, brown eyes crinkling and he just looks so happy to see Johnny. It’s a feeling Johnny isn't all that familiar with, but he finds him basking in, regardless.
“Hey,” Daniel says, when Johnny steps closer to his little table, closing his book. “You’re earlier than I expected you to be.”
Johnny shrugs, smirking. “Perks of being coaches favorite student,” he says, grabbing the chair next to Daniel and flipping it around before he plops down in it, resting his arms along the back. “Told him I was helping out a disabled student, so he let me leave class early.”
Daniel rolls his eyes, snorting. “Okay, first of all, I’m not disabled and you sayin’ I am might be vaguely offensive to those who actually are,” he points out, grabbing his back pack and beginning to stuff his things inside. “Second of all, I’m so glad my ‘disability,’” he says, with air quotes and all, “has given you so many advantages.”
“It does have it’s perks,” Johnny agrees, dodging the half hearted smack Daniel sends his way. “Oh c’mon, how else would I be able to walk you to class and carry your books without it looking all—“
“—gay?” Daniel finishes with a wry smile, standing up and grabbing his crutches.
Johnny ignores the flush on his cheeks and gets up to help him. “No, not that, it’s just—“ he fumbles for the right words as he grabs Daniel’s backpack and throws it over his shoulder, “—weird? Not like, weird, like we’re weird, just—“
Daniel’s eyes flicker around their surroundings before he reaches out and grabs Johnny’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “John,” Daniel says, tone serious, but his eyes are amused. “I think you might be over thinking this, just a little bit.”
“Maybe,” Johnny concedes, shrugging. “I just don’t want to deal with assholes like Dutch giving us a hard time.”
Daniel sighs and smiles sadly. “If there’s anything I’ve learned since moving here, it’s that there’s always going to be assholes, no matter where you go—“
“Hey—“ Johnny says, frowning but Daniel ignores him.
“—and you can’t live your life in fear of ‘em. Eventually, they’ll get bored and move on,” Daniel finishes with a shrug.
“And if that doesn’t work?” Johnny demands, thinking of Dutch.
Daniel smiles, squeezing Johnny’s hand one last time before he lets go and begins crutching his way out of the library. “Then you challenge them to a karate tournament and kick their ass until the leave you alone.”
Daniel shoots him a grin over his shoulder, eyes twinkling and Johnny can’t help but roll his eyes, smiling fondly as he follows him out of the library and into the empty hallway to his locker.
“Whatever, LaRusso, just remember, as soon as that knee is better, I want a rematch and this time, you can leave your little crane kick at home,” Johnny says, leaning up against the locker next to Daniel’s.
Daniel scoffs. “Crane kick or no crane kick, I can still kick your ass,” Daniel says matter of factly, handing Johnny the books he needs before he slams his locker closed.
“You think so, huh?” Johnny murmurs, pressing closer, trapping Daniel back into the row of lockers.
Daniel just smirks, raising his eyebrows in challenge. “I know so.”
Johnny hums, eyes flickering down to Daniel’s lips. “Guess we’ll see about that.”
Daniel’s pupils are blown as he licks his lips and says, “Yeah, I guess so.”
Johnny smirks. “Hey, Jersey boy?”
“What?” Daniel asks distractedly, eyeing Johnny’s lips.
“Do you wanna get a milkshake with me?” Johnny asks, feeling suddenly shy, which, is really dumb in the grand scheme of things, considering they’ve made out and touched each other dicks on more than one occasion, but. The feeling is there—a nervous pit opening up in his stomach, palms sweaty in his jean pockets, teeth gnawing on his inner cheek.
Daniel blinks, eyes moving from Johnny’s lips to his face, titling his head in confusion.
Johnny can feel his cheeks warm underneath the weight of that brown eyed stare and a slow smile spreads across Daniel’s lips, eyes shining.
“You askin’ me on a date, Johnny?” Daniel teases, but Johnny can see the pleased flush to his cheeks, the shy way he’s biting his lip and it makes Johnny’s chest warm with pleasure.
“Duh, LaRusso,” Johnny says with a roll of his eyes, fighting his own smile. “Except, this doesn't count as our first date. I can do way better than milkshakes on a Monday for a first date.”
“Alright, Casanova,” Daniel teases, following Johnny down the hallway. “We’ll call it a pre-date then, if that’ll make you happy. But just so you know, it’s gonna take a lot more than just a milkshake to get into my pants, I do have standards.”
“Oh yeah? What if I buy you fries to go with your milkshake?” Johnny asks, opening the door for Daniel without giving it a second thought.
“Ohh, fries and a milkshake?” Daniel hums, tilting his head in mock consideration as they make their way through the parking lot to Johnny’s car. “That’s at least second base worthy.”
“Only second base?”
“Throw a burger in there and I might let you round to third.”
“You’re a cheap date, LaRusso.”
“Keep talking like that and I won’t even let you kiss me on the cheek afterwards.”
*
When Johnny parks in front of Sal’s, he tries to forget what happened the last time he was here. Of course, that all goes out the window when he walks Daniel through the door and makes eye contact with none other than Rhonda, their waitress from last time and the giver of his free chocolate milkshake for punching Dutch in the face for using the word fag.
Her eyes light up and she practically sprints over to them, blonde pony tail swinging like a perky pendulum behind her and Johnny groans underneath his breath.
“Well, hello again!” Rhonda greets him cheerily, like they’re old friends.
Daniel shoots Johnny a confused look that he ignores in favor of giving Rhonda a tight smile.
“Hi,” Johnny says. “A booth for two, please.”
Rhonda smiles. “You got it, hon,” her eyes drift to Daniel, her gaze suddenly scrutinizing. “And who’s this?”
Daniel immediately gives her his most charming smile, holding his hand out for her to shake. “Hi, I’m Daniel, Daniel LaRusso.”
Rhonda takes his hand, giving him a once over. “Well, aren’t you a charmer? I’m Rhonda, nice to meet you.” Turning her gaze back to Johnny, she says, “I must say, sweetie, I thought your last uh, friend was cute, but this one here—“ she moves her gaze back to Daniel, eyeing him up and down like one would a piece of meat, “—my goodness. You’re a sight for sore eyes. And speaking of eyes—you have some of the prettiest brown eyes. And those lashes! I’d kill to have those lashes.”
Daniel flushes bright pink, giving her his best aw shucks smile that Johnny knows works like a charm on the entirety of the female population. “Thank you, ma’am, you’re way too kind.”
“And humble, too,” Rhonda says with a sigh. She turns back to Johnny and says, like Johnny was asking for her approval, “I think you’ve found a keeper, honey.”
Johnny smiles tightly. “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that. Now about that booth?”
Rhonda’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink like her lipstick. “Oh yeah, sorry about that! Right this way gentlemen.”
She escorts them to a booth in the back, close to the jukebox and lays down their menus, cooing when Johnny helps Daniel slide in to the booth before he seats himself. She scurries off to get them water and as soon as she disappears, Daniel raises an eyebrow, lips twitching.
“Friend of yours?” He asks, glancing over at Rhonda over his shoulder before he turns back to Johnny.
Johnny sighs, flipping through his menu even though he knows what he wants already. He gets the same thing every time he comes here.
“She was our waitress last time, when I came with the guys,” Johnny explains. “She overheard Dutch call you—well, what he called you and she saw me punch him and she gave me a milkshake as a thank you. Her brother’s gay, apparently and she was thankful that I stood up to someone using that word or something, I don’t know.”
“Aw, Johnny—“ Daniel starts, eyes twinkling with mirth.
“Don’t—“ Johnny warns but Daniel ignores him.
“—you’re her hero,” Daniel teases, batting his eyelashes.
“Can it or you’re paying for your own shit,” Johnny warns, but it’s an empty threat and Daniel knows it.
“Now, Johnny, is that anyway to talk to your friend?” Daniel says, eyes dancing. “We wouldn’t want Rhonda to overhear you and shatter all her illusions about you, now would we?”
Johnny opens his mouth to retort but Rhonda comes back with glasses of water and asks them if they’re ready to order.
Johnny gets his usual—cheeseburger and fries with a chocolate shake and Daniel opts for just fries and a milkshake, much to Johnny’s surprise.
“I thought you wanted a burger?” He asks when Rhonda disappears again.
“My ma would kill me if I spoiled my dinner,” Daniel says with a shrug. “Besides, we skipped lunch today and the pain pills make me nauseous if I don’t eat right after I take ‘em.”
Johnny feels guilty, thinking of the way he swept Daniel off right from the nurses office just because he was horny and wanted to make out.
A foot nudges his under the table and he looks up to see Daniel watching him, a flush to his cheeks and a small grin on his lips.
“Hey, it was worth it,” Daniel says, keeping his voice low. “Trust me.”
Johnny rolls his eyes but he won’t lie and say Daniel’s reassurance doesn’t make him feel better. “Geez, LaRusso, who knew you were so easy?”
Daniel throws his balled up straw wrapper at him and Johnny dodges it, laughing.
A comfortable silence settles across the table and Johnny takes that moment to look out the window, good mood evaporating at the sight of the Cobra Kai dojo, the metal of the building glittering mockingly in the sunlight.
It was weird to think that just a few weeks ago, Johnny would be walking through the doors with Bobby, Tommy, Jimmy and Dutch, laughing and talking about their day at school as they headed into the small locker room to change into their gi’s to start training. Kreese would be waiting for them at the front of the room, smoking a cigar before the rest of the advanced class got there and they’d shoot the shit about the next tournament, already focused on the next title, the next round of enemies they’d have to make their way through in order to stay on top.
Sometimes, Johnny would stay behind and Kreese would give him private training. Sometimes, Johnny would leave right after and go home with Bobby to hangout and eat dinner with his parents and little sister. And sometimes, if their training had been particularly rough that day, they’d come here, to the diner.
An ache blooms in Johnny’s chest and the sense of longing he feels—to have those days back, to feel the burn and stretch and soreness of a two hour training session—is overwhelming.
He doesn't miss Kreese, but he does miss Cobra Kai and training and karate. It’s like missing a piece of himself and he has no idea how to get it back. If he can get it back.
“Have you gone back at all?”
Johnny blinks, looking over at Daniel, who’s watching him curiously. He nods to the dojo across the street, where the blinds are drawn, parking lot empty, a for rent sign in the window.
Johnny shakes his head, fiddling with his straw in his glass of water. “No, I haven’t. Not since the whole—“ Johnny gesture vaguely to his neck and Daniel’s eyes darken.
“Good,” Daniel mutters, shoving his straw roughly into his water like it personally offended him. “I hope that asshole never comes back.”
Johnny’s inclined to agree, but there’s a small part of him that twinges at the thought of another father figure leaving him behind. Sure, Kreese was an asshole and a sadistic son of a bitch, but for five years, he filled a void inside Johnny that no one else could. Kreese mentored him, taught him and guided him into being strong, to be the best. And then turned on Johnny at the drop of a dime the minute Johnny wasn’t the best.
Sometimes, Johnny wonders what it is about him that’s never enough to keep people around. What is about him that makes people disappear, just when he needs them the most. What is about him that’s so desperate to be loved that he’s willing to overlook the worst parts of a person if it means he gets even an ounce of that love returned.
“Hey, I have an idea,” Daniel says suddenly, startling Johnny out of his morose thoughts. Daniel’s eyes are bright, gleaming with excitement and Johnny has a gut feeling he’s not gonna like whatever this idea is. “You could train with me! I mean, not right now, obviously, since I can’t really do much and I’d have to ask Mr. Miyagi, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind—“
“No,” Johnny says sharply, cutting Daniel off. It surprises him, how vehement he sounds and judging by the look on Daniel’s face, he is, too.
Daniel’s eyes flash with hurt, but just as quick as it appears, it’s gone, replaced by his everything’s copacetic smile that’s more self-deprecating than easy going. It lances through Johnny like a knife and he mentally curses himself for, once again, ruining everything he touches.
“Right, yeah, never mind,” Daniel says, ducking his head down, fingers tearing at the paper straw wrapper, “it’s stupid—dumb idea, forget I said anything.”
Regret twists Johnny’s stomach, but before he can say anything, Rhonda appears, tray laden down with their food and milkshakes.
“Here you go, burger and fries with a chocolate milkshake for you—“ she slides Johnny plate down in front of him with a smile, before she turns her attention to Daniel, “—and a plate of fries and a chocolate shake with extra cherries and whip cream for you, sweetie.”
Daniel shoots her a charming smile. “Thank you, Rhonda.”
Rhonda blushes and smiles shyly back. “You’re welcome,” eyes flickering between them, she adds, “do you boys need anything else?”
“No, I think we’re good, thanks,” Johnny says, giving her a tight smile. He’s being kind of rude and he knows it, but he’s angry at himself and he’s annoyed with her timing, even though he knows it’s not her fault.
If Rhonda picks up on his annoyance, she doesn’t show it and Johnny makes a mental note to add a few dollars to her tip to make it up to her.
“Alright, well, you boys enjoy and I’ll be back to check on you,” She says, giving them another smile before she heads over to another table.
Johnny eyes his burger, suddenly not feeling very hungry, but a voice in his brain that sounds a lot like his mother chides him about wasting food, so he nibbles on his fries, hoping that the salty greasiness might entice his stomach to regain some of it’s hunger.
Daniel looks about as interested in his food as Johnny is, eyeing his plate like it’s a plate of bugs instead of a plate of fresh french fries and Johnny feels guilt settle in stomach, making him lose what little appetite he did have.
“Hey,” Johnny says, nudging his foot gently against Daniel’s.
Daniel looks up, brown eyes guarded, raising a prompting eyebrow when Johnny doesn’t say anything. The truth is, Johnny doesn’t really know what to say, because he doesn't really know why he was so bothered by the suggestion of training with Daniel in the first place.
Force of habit, maybe. Some misguided sense of loyalty to Cobra Kai, to Kreese, Johnny isn’t sure, but the thought of training with Daniel, under a new sensei, makes him feel panicked, a sense of too soon too soon fluttering around in his belly like nervous butterflies.
(Johnny can’t help but find the irony in that. The fact that training with Daniel feels like too much, too soon, when not even a week ago he almost used the L word in Tommy’s bathroom, of all fucking places, while people danced drunkenly to Material Girl right outside the door).
Johnny shakes himself out of his thoughts and decides to just be honest. Or honest as he’s comfortable with, at least.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, it’s just—“ Johnny swallows, shrugging and gives Daniel an apologetic smile, “—it’s too soon. After everything with Kreese…” Johnny trails off, looking away, throat tightening. “I’m just not ready.”
Warm fingers brush gently over his, caressing the knuckles that are just starting to heel from his fight with Dutch, prompting Johnny to look up.
Daniel’s eyes are soft with understanding, the flecks of gold shimmering like the chain around his neck in the afternoon sunlight spilling in from the window they’re seated by. The smile on his lips is tentative at the edges, but his grip on Johnny’s hand his strong and sure, grounding like it always is.
“Hey, it’s fine,” Daniel assures, tone gentle, soothing. “I shoulda been more considerate and that’s my fault, don’t worry about it.”
Not for the first time, Johnny feels a rush of overwhelming gratitude for Daniel’s never ending sense of patience and understanding he seems to have for Johnny and his continuous fuck ups.
Johnny just prays that Daniel never wakes up one day and decides, just like everyone else, that Johnny isn't worth the time or the energy or the effort anymore. That his time might be better spent elsewhere, with someone else, someone better than Johnny could ever hope to be.
The thought makes panic bubble up inside Johnny, hot and vicious, but he fights it, unwilling to let it suffocate him and focuses instead, on the feeling of Daniel’s hand in his, Daniel’s fingers brushing across his knuckles in a gentle rhythm. Because Daniel is here and he’s not going anywhere, not anytime soon, at least.
“It’s cool, you were just trying to help,” Johnny says and giving Daniel’s hand a quick squeeze, he adds, softer, “Thank you.”
Daniel shrugs, but he looks pleased, smiling over a Johnny with his usual crinkle-y eyed smile that always hits Johnny square in the chest with force of it.
“Anytime,” Daniel says sincerely, before he goes back to his plate of fries. “Now,” he says, dipping a fry delicately into his milkshake before he pops it into his mouth. “Did you hear about Ali’s friend Susan?”
Johnny shakes his head, taking a bite of his burger. “No, what happened?”
Daniel’s eyes gleam excitedly as he regales Johnny with the tale that Ali told him in their shared math class, about how Susan apparently got braces over winter break and went to a party the next day and during a game of spin the bottle, her braces got tangled up with the guy she was making out with and some dumbass called 911 to separate them.
They’re both laughing by the time Daniel’s finished telling the story and Johnny feels lighter than he has all day, sitting here, pretending he doesn’t notice Daniel stealing bites of his burger as Johnny tells him about the time Tommy Barbra on a dare and she dumped her drink all over him. He drinks up every laugh and every smile that Daniel shoots his way, glowing with pride every time he hears that breathy chuckle leave Daniel’s lips. It’s warm and soothing and it’s a feeling that lasts for the rest of the day, up until he has to kiss Daniel goodbye for the night with promises to see him tomorrow.
He goes home, to his big empty house and tries to fight sleep for as long as he can, afraid of the dream he knows that awaits him, lurking in the back of his mind like a shadow, the minute he succumbs to the fatigue pulling his eyes closed.