Chapter Text
The first time Daniel LaRusso buys something for Johnny, several decades have passed since the last time they met.
Johnny truly does his best to avoid the whole thing. He has convinced himself he can get into LaRusso Auto, get his car, and make a quick exit without have to see – much less talk to – Daniel, and yet… when their eyes lock from across the room, he’s caught. There’s a moment of something like surprise, maybe even shock, and then Daniel’s hurrying across the room as if it’s that easy to bridge the decades of separation between them.
Those dark eyes are framed by crow’s feet now, but the spark in them has not faded. The closer Daniel gets, the wider he smiles, and Johnny wonders why on earth the sight of him would have Daniel LaRusso smile so brightly. He wonders what’s so different about him now; what made him suddenly deserve this.
Within weeks, they’re brawling again, and it turns out that the easiest way to ignore years of doubt and loneliness is to get fucking angry. To lash out at the world – at Daniel – and ignore the voice in his head that tells him to chill the fuck out. The voice that sounds an awful lot like Johnny’s younger self, trying to remind him that Daniel smiled at him that Johnny promised himself to never ever hurt LaRusso again.
But the thing is… when they’re fighting it’s like decades haven’t passed them by; like that summer never happened; like they’re once again two high-school idiots, in over their head. It’s reassuring. It feels like home.
Johnny likes it, because this he knows. There’s a lot in life he hasn’t figured out, but Daniel looking at him like he’s the scum of the earth? Daniel being ready to take a beating if it means putting Johnny in his place? This is the space where he belongs. A role he knows how to play.
For now, though, he’s just trying to get his car back, and Daniel’s reaching for him – reaching out like he isn’t the one who left. He smiles and like always, he touches Johnny so easily. Fingers clutching flannel, dark eyes intense for a brief moment until Daniel looks away… but he’s never managed to avert his gaze for more than a few seconds, has he?
Ever since they were teens Daniel has stared at him, and whenever he averted his eyes back then, it seemed for show. Like he knew he was supposed to look away when he was caught staring, but actually didn’t want to.
Technically he doesn’t buy Johnny anything; technically… well, there’s a lot of technicality going on between them… but ultimately it very much feels like Daniel is trying to give Johnny a damn car, and goddamn it if that isn’t an abnormal, overpriced gift. Johnny isn’t sure how he’s supposed to deal with it.
Even if they had stayed in touch throughout the years, this would feel weird – now it feels absolutely unhinged.
Daniel LaRusso hands him a fucking bonsai tree and then he doesn’t pull away. Their fingers brush and Johnny doesn’t know who refuses to break contact. For a moment in time, they’re both caught holding on to the pathetic little tree, fingers brushing, and neither of them let go. They need this to last just a few seconds more – need the physical aspect to ensure that the other is actually here.
Johnny is too caught in the flurry of emotions; the shock; annoyance; humiliation – the warmth in his chest that burns bright and painful – to pull away.
Daniel does not break eye contact. It would feel like a staring contest if he didn’t smile so brightly – if he didn’t fucking bite his bottom lip, biting that bright smile, his eyes trailing Johnny’s features slowly before finally, finally letting go.
Johnny leaves the dealership with a racing pulse.
He feels like he should be furious for being pitied, but this didn’t feel like pity. It should’ve been humiliating, but something much more complex than humiliation swirls through his mind. The bonsai tree weighs heavy in his hands, and he can still feel those soft fingertips on his knuckles. He lets go of the damn thing before he’s tempted to bring it home – before he heads to the nearest book shop to buy a guide on plant pruning or some shit. The fact that his mind even went there for a second, that he’d unironically consider bringing a damn plant into his home, is enough to have him shiver in disgust.
The meeting with Daniel lingers in his mind, a haunting thing that he wishes only carried a feeling of rage. Instead, he has to deal with nostalgia and regret and that kind of bullshit, and he can’t even wash it down with a couple of beers in the evening. When he wakes the next day, every single thought, every single feeling, is still very much present in his mind.
Since his past has showed up in such a physical form, he figures he might as well unravel what’s left; figures there’s not point in denying himself the little things, if the biggest denial of his life won’t leave him alone.
Once he’s re-opened Cobra Kai all hell breaks loose; not that he expected any different.
He hasn’t felt this alive in years – especially since Daniel LaRusso is suddenly very much in his orbit again, all fiery temper and that lingering, heated gaze. How could Johnny do anything but pursue this, and cater to whatever Daniel needs him to be? He comes to find it’s easy to see his reflection in Daniel’s eyes, and live up to the expectation rather than subvert it.
There are quiet days though. Days when they aren’t at each other’s throats; late nights when he’s left alone with his thoughts. In those moments, Johnny thinks about their goodbye, and he wonders what happened in Japan. He wonders if the only way for them to meet again was to reunite as rivals – if there never truly was any space for them to exist in a different way.
The second time Daniel tries to give him a car, Johnny puts up as much of a fight as he can muster.
Turns out that when it comes down to it, he can’t seriously bring himself to fight Daniel. Not when it’s just the two of them. Not when he’s behind the wheel and Daniel is at his side, and it’s so very much like those long drives they would share at dusk.
For a short while, it’s easy to keep up the fight. To keep his voice harsh and to drive too fast, just to see Daniel squirm out of the corner of his eye. Except then Daniel turns on the radio, and of course it’s fucking Speedwagon out of all things, and then… then Daniel is nodding along to the music, his features softer, relaxing to the song in a way you only do when you’re really familiar with the band.
“You like Speedwagon?” Johnny manages, sort of bewildered, unable to tear his eyes off Daniel.
“What kind of man doesn’t?”
The kind of man who didn’t reach out and tell me as much after he returned from Japan, Johnny thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say it because it would be too emotionally slutty, and also because Daniel is smiling and there’s a challenge in his eyes.
Johnny waits, because maybe there’s more – maybe Daniel will actually elaborate… and there’s nothing. No mention of when or how Daniel might’ve started listening to the band.
Daniel must pick up on something, because after a moment he moves to turn off the radio, and it’s almost as if he needs Johnny to beg him not to. To turn to him with softer eyes, and speak to him with something like acquiescence, and of course; Johnny does so. How could he not, when this is the closest they’ve ever been to what they were?
While Johnny is busy trying to figure out how to ensure that his submission doesn’t go to Daniel’s head, Daniel starts singing. They’ve never done something like this before, and Johnny joins in because it feels like this could bridge the space between them better than talking could do. He joins in because singing is something akin to fighting, in the way you lay yourself bare for another person, and Johnny is not sure how he’s supposed to just let Daniel do that on his own.
So, they sing, and it’s like time doesn’t even exist, because they’ve been terrible to each other, and this shouldn’t be possible, and yet it is.
Johnny thinks of all the other things that could be possible, and he drives where Daniel guides him. The skies are clear as they take a trip down memory lane, and once they’ve set down on this road together, there’s no separating them.
Hours later they’re at a bar, having drinks that Daniel insists on paying for. In protest, Johnny keeps drinking shitty beer, because he’s always been good at sabotaging himself in order to prove a point to others. It’s not supposed to last, exactly, and Daniel specifies that they’ll only have one drink. That’s not what happens. One drink turns into several, and a short conversation turns into hours of catching up. Hours that remind Johnny of long summer nights – of slightly too intimate conversation between teens that very pointedly know which topics to avoid. At least that part hasn’t changed. They’re still very good at not mentioning certain things.
The gentle touch of their first meeting is back. Daniel shows him facebook, holding out his phone so that they can look at Ali’s profile, and his hands rests gentle against Johnny’s palm. It’s easy in a way it shouldn’t be, but Johnny doubts he’s ever been loved by a hand that’s touched him, because no touch has felt like this.
It should worry him how easy it is to slip into who he used to be. To rediscover that lonesomeness, the longing for someone to easily, kindly, hold him – the tendency to get overly attached to the first person to reach him after years of solitude. Maybe he should be worried that this has happened twice in his life now, and that Daniel LaRusso so easily grounds him with calloused fingers and casual touch.
Turns out that Johnny is not the only one Daniel LaRusso is doing things for. Turns out that Daniel has bought Johnny’s son many things. Turns out that Daniel LaRusso’s generosity reaches into Johnny’s life like the tendrils of some primordial fucking monster, and Johnny doesn’t know what the fuck he is supposed with the directionless anger he’s left with.
He wonders if there’ll ever be a day when he isn’t this fucking angry. It’s not a rational thing, and he knows it. He knows he’s pacing like a caged animal, lashing out without knowing who put him in the cage in the first place. Or well, he does know; it’s just that life is a complicated bitch, and Johnny wishes his salvation wasn’t tied to believing that John Kreese can be better – but it is.
If Kreese can change, so can Johnny. If Kreese can be more than his shitty teachings, Johnny can break out of those same chains.
Thing is, Johnny’s already changed – he just didn’t notice, because it happened so slowly, through decades and decades. He hasn’t known much kindness, but whatever moment of connection he’s been blessed with; Bobby and the guys; Robby; Miguel; Carmen; Daniel, Daniel, Daniel… it’s shaped him and changed him more than he’d hoped.
Accepting that you’re not as damaged as you thought, is just as hard as accepting that you’re damaged at all.
Daniel LaRusso crashes Johnny’s date, and by now he’s not even surprised by how it plays out. Reserved voices, some barbed remarks, and then the walls come down and it’s easy. Easy to laugh, to steal glances, to sit opposite one another, to dance by each-other’s side.
By the time they leave the restaurant they’ve once again found some sort of peace, and when Johnny promises he doesn’t give a shit about waging any wars, Daniel pauses to look into his eyes. Johnny doesn’t know what he’s projecting – is scared he’s an open goddamn book at this point – but whatever Daniel finds, it’s enough to have him avert his eyes in that way he only does around Johnny. That dark gaze falls to the pavement, flittering back to meet Johnny’s eyes for a second, then down to his lips, and then down further.
Daniel holds his hand out, steady and insistent, and unlike every other time he’s touched Johnny without hesitation; this time he expects to be met halfway. It feels like a challenge. It feels like being goaded during a fight. Johnny grabs his hand and Daniel holds on to him tightly, fingertips pressing into the back of his hand.
“Good grip”, Daniel says, his voice unsteady. Maybe it’s supposed to be a taunt, but he just sounds giddy.
Johnny puts some proper strength into it, squeezing Daniel’s hand as tightly as he can. “Wish I could say the same.”
He’s all to aware of the roughness of his voice. How it drops slightly by the end of the sentence. Johnny turns away then, but as Daniel laughs exaggeratedly at his comment, he can do nothing but smile.
He doesn’t have to steal a glance at Daniel to know that those dark eyes watch him walk up to his car.
Just as easily as they fall back into peace, they fall apart.
Johnny loses more than he thought he could, and he’s not even worried about getting second chances anymore. He just wants to repair whatever he can.
Just as easily as they fall apart, they come together again.
After everything that’s happened, Daniel LaRusso shouldn’t drop everything at the sight of Johnny’s beat up face, but he does. One look at his bruises, and whatever tension’s left between them dissipates.
He’s soft around the eyes when he asks “what happened to you?”
By the time they get in Daniel’s car, Johnny knows that it’s too easy. He knows that they don’t have a good track record at this point.
Yet there’s something about him being in the passenger seat and Daniel being behind the wheel. Something about how easily he can fall asleep next to Daniel, and find some sort of respite from the shit he’s put himself through.
Daniel LaRusso buys him a juice, and after the man has thrown multiple cars his way, Johnny’s surprised to find that this is the gift that overwhelms him. It’s not that he particularly likes the taste of the drink, it’s just… different. In a good way.
Johnny does his best to sober up, and he wonders what life would be like if this was their baseline. He wonders if it’d be easier to get up in the morning if Daniel LaRusso drove him around and bought him disgusting green juices.
When they fight side by side it’s better and easier than it has any right being. Another horrible reminder of how good this could be if they just let it be good, for once.
The peace doesn’t last because it never, ever does.
When Johnny lays down to sleep that night, he tries not to think of what he would’ve done to that man unless Daniel had stopped him. He knows better than trying to force himself not to think of Daniel’s touch throughout the day. Easy at first, fingertips brushing over Johnny’s knuckles, grasping his hoodie to pull him close, and then rough. Holding him back, holding him down.
Johnny does try not to think about how he’s spent his life wishing for someone to pin him down. At this point he really should know better than to get Daniel mixed up in those sorts of fantasies.
At this point he should know that Daniel has a tendency to fuck off to Japan whenever shit gets real.
Thankfully the bastard has the decency to return this time.
Reconnecting with Ali is the best damn decision of his life. She gives him closure he didn’t know he longed for – closure he honestly doubts he deserves. There’s also something about, well, actually talking about his feelings. Actually, admitting he has feelings in the first place. He does it so rarely, he’d forgotten how cathartic it is to open up. Usually, he just relies on his face being an open book, and people catching on to what he means, so that he never, ever has to say it out loud.
Of course, Ali would be a calming presence for the both of them. Of course, talking to her would have Daniel catch Johnny’s eye with an unguarded gleam in that dark gaze. Spending an entire evening with the two of them, trying to keep his focus on Ali yet drifting; drifting to always find those bambi eyes on him – like they’re back in high-school, back in the diner, back on the road – gives him a sense of hope he really should know better than entertain.
“Merry Christmas, Johnny”, and of course Daniel would go for such a cheesy olive branch.
“Merry Christmas, LaRusso”, spills from his lips before he’s put much thought into it. He catches himself, raising his drink, hoping it adds some flare. When he finally says Daniel, the name rolls off his tongue in a way that has his pulse pick up, and he never wants to give this up again.
By now he should know that life never gets better without the universe immediately balancing it out by throwing the worst possible shit his way.
This time it’s different though.
It’s different, because when Johnny’s getting choked by Kreese in the dojo that was taken from him, Daniel LaRusso saves him. For the first time since they reunited, they, well, stay united. When they hold their first class together Johnny can still feel the phantom touch of Kreese’s grip around his throat, but when he finds himself slipping, he looks up and there’s Daniel; dark eyes already on Johnny, and not a hint of pity or judgement. It’s such a simple thing, but it reminds him that despite everything, they still stare at each-other like they did back in high-school.
Despite everything, Daniel still sees him.
It helps him breathe through the panic in a way he’s not been able to do on his own.
Johnny loses a dojo and gains a dojo; he wonders if this counts as Daniel gifting him the damn thing. He wonders what the fuck he’s supposed to give the man in return.
Maybe he could gift him collaboration and like, submit to Daniel’s style of teaching, but while Johnny’s grateful he’s not a damn pussy. Within the first week they find themselves grappling in the pond, after Daniel insisted they get on that damn weird-ass wheel thing. The students watch in silence as they try and drown each-other, and Sam looks like she’s having flashbacks to when Daniel kicked in the door of Johnny’s apartment.
There’s no need for them to worry though, because whatever change has snuck up on them, this time it sticks. Daniel dunks Johnny’s head under water, and when Johnny pulls him down under, they emerge drenched, coughing, but Daniel catches Johnny’s eye and he’s grinning – a heated gleam in his eyes.
It shouldn’t surprise him that teaching comes easy to them. Life has always been at its best when they allow themselves to be together.
Johnny prefers being at the dojo above all else. He drinks less. His mind is preoccupied. While teaching his kids, while planning stuff out with Daniel, there’s little room for him to spiral; for his mind to envision what Robby’s being taught – the fucking bullshit Kreese is feeding his son.
More often than not, Johnny lingers in the evening. As the weeks go by, so does Daniel, and Johnny doesn’t ask him why. He simply takes the company for what it is; enjoying the late-night talks, the reminiscing, drinking together. How they get caught watching karate videos online, hunched over Daniel’s laptop, arguing loudly about which techniques to incorporate in their classes.
“We should try that one”, Johnny murmurs, pausing the video. They’ve just watched a sequence where you kick the opponent in the chest, and quickly follow it up by sweeping their leg.
“You wanna spar now?” Daniel asks, his voice surprisingly rough.
Johnny looks at the time in the corner of the laptop screen. The numbers are tiny and he has to lean in and squint in order to see them. Daniel’s fingers are still on the keyboard; a fact Johnny doesn’t think about until he lets out a breath and Daniel’s hands twitch against the keys.
“It’s not too late to spar, old man”, Johnny says on a chuckle, sitting back up again.
When he steals a glance at Daniel, he finds that dark gaze already on him. Eyes wide, a single eyebrow raised.
“Johnny, the sun has set.”
“So, what? When does it not?” he rolls his eyes, opting to take a swig from his water bottle rather than standing up. He already knows this won’t be going anywhere, and so he’ll only allow himself to tease – nothing more. “Why don’t you wanna spar? Scared I’ll pin you to the mat?”
“Something like that”, Daniel mutters, shaking his head. “It just sounds like a recipe for disaster, you know? There’s no one else around.”
Johnny grins at him then. “Oh, it’d absolutely be a mess, Daniel, but I bet it would be fun, though.”
He can’t even tell himself he doesn’t intend for it to sound flirty. Johnny’s always been an open book to himself and others. The only times he’s managed to conceal anything he’s had to work hard at it.
Daniel doesn’t say anything. He stares at Johnny for a long time, and there’s a small smile at the corner of his eyes. Then he licks his lips, and it would seem absentminded if those dark eyes didn’t deliberately hold Johnny’s gaze.
“Sparring is reserved for classes, Lawrence”, he says, and there it is; there it is. Lawrence; said in that voice, rare enough that it feels like a pet name – something intimate.
Johnny swallows thickly, takes a deep breath, and then he puts on the most shit-eating grin he can muster. “Yes, sensei.”
Daniel stares at him with wide, unblinking eyes. For a moment it looks like he actually forgets how to breathe. Then he huffs a laugh, standing up. “Fuck you, man.”
“Fuck you too”, Johnny replies, cheerfully, following his example.
Locking up the dojo only takes a minute. They cleaned up hours ago, and now there are really no excuses to linger except for, well… and Johnny isn’t ready to take it there tonight. He’ll never be ready to go there unless Daniel is, and even then – Johnny wouldn’t want to insert himself in Daniel’s life if it came at the cost of ruining it. At this point he’s got quite a track record when it comes to making people’s lives worse by existing in their proximity and if there’s one thing he’s grateful for, it’s the fact that he somehow emerged with Daniel on the other side. That they somehow, despite everything, managed something good.
Maybe a week later, Daniel shows up at Johnny’s door in the morning. It’s not early early, but it’s still before 10AM, so Johnny feels justified in calling him an asshole for waking him up.
“I fucking knew you’d still be in bed”, Daniel says, walking through the door of Johnny’s apartment like this is a normal occurrence. “No wonder you always come speeding to the morning classes like you’re in a drag race.”
“Seriously Daniel”, Johnny mutters, heading to his bedroom because he does feel underdressed wearing only boxers around Daniel. “Don’t you know that drag racing these days is all about wearing wigs and shit?”
The lack of reply is enough to confirm Miguel definitely watches more reality tv than Sam does.
He exits the bedroom maybe a minute later, wearing a worn-out Bowie t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and finds Daniel pacing the hallway, fiddling with his car keys, too distracted to even make a snarky comment about how Johnny probably pulled his outfit from the laundry pile. Whatever’s up with him, it’s bad.
Johnny runs a hand through his messy hair, tilting his head before he speaks, a bit unsure of how to approach this. “So, did you come here just to catch me in my boxers or…?”
It’s just on the right side of shameless, and the crow’s feet at the corner of Daniel’s eyes deepen as a laugh is startled out of him. He shakes his head, nodding towards the door. “Fuck off, Lawrence. Let’s go prepare for class.”
Johnny follows him to the car, knowing this is not about today’s karate sessions.
Daniel stops by some snobby coffee place, and when he returns to the car, he hands Johnny a green juice, a coffee and a sandwich. Johnny eyes the offering with narrowed eyes. “Swear to god Daniel, if there’s some bullshit like a 63-degree egg on this toast…”
Daniel shakes his head, sipping his own coffee. “Don’t worry. There’s only ham on it, and I already put sugar in your coffee. You don’t have to remind me of your atrocious eating habits.”
“Then why did you get me the juice?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow.
“The juice is a compromise”, Daniel says, a lightness to his tone, but there’s a set to his jaw, and he doesn’t look at Johnny when he talks. “I gotta make sure you don’t get scurvy.”
“I drink orange juice”, Johnny scoffs, drinking his perfectly sweetened coffee. “I’m more likely to get rabies than scurvy.”
“Why rabies?” And Daniel turns to him now, eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed, and it’s honestly entertaining how easy it is to lure him in with the stupidest shit.
Johnny grins.
“Because I’m more likely to end up fighting a raccoon than stop drinking orange juice”, he states proudly, and it turns out to be the right thing to say, because Daniel snort laughs and shakes his head, looking slightly more relaxed.
“So”, Johnny starts, only managing a casual tone by keeping his eyes on the road. “What’s up?”
“What do you mean?”
Daniel tries for casual. He fails because there’s nothing casual about him, and never has been.
“You’ve been acting all irrational all morning.”
Daniel tilts his head, gazing at Johnny with wide eyes, and there's definitely a crazed gleam there now. “I’m never irrational.”
Johnny laughs, hoping it comes across as friendly rather than cruel. “We both know that’s not true.”
“Well fuck you too”, Daniel mutters, and for a moment Johnny lets him be. They’re close to the dojo now, and he’d rather not distract Daniel while he parks.
Soon enough, they’re parked in front of the dojo, and Daniel doesn’t exit the car. Neither does Johnny.
“For real though, Daniel.” He’s not exactly good at this whole… casual touch thing. Johnny is much too used to bridging the space between them by throwing punches, and yet… he places his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, slowly, gently. “What’s going on with you?”
It’s clear that Daniel steels himself, staring out the window for quite a while, but he doesn’t shy away from Johnny’s touch. If anything, it seems to ground him. “Amanda and I are getting a divorce.”
Johnny stares at him, his hand dropping awkwardly from Daniel’s shoulder, trailing down his arm. “Oh. Damn. Okay?”
“It’s been going on for a while”, Daniel says, licking his lips, shaking his head, smiling grimly now. “I mean, probably… probably since I couldn’t disentangle myself from this karate mess, you know?”
Johnny nods, feeling like he’s a robot mimicking human interaction. His mind is absolutely blank, and his ears are ringing. “Don’t blame her for not putting up with that.”
Daniel sighs, but he doesn’t seem particularly offended. “At this point I think we’d be better friends than partners, and honestly? I’m looking forward to that. She’s amazing. I’d rather her be my happy friend than my sad wife.”
“Is she sad?” and Johnny’s asking the question before he thinks better of it. Once it’s slipped past his lips, he’s just thankful not to be immediately punched for it.
“I don’t know”, Daniel mutters, heartbreakingly honest. “And the fact that I don’t is the worst part.”
Well, shit. Johnny may have dealt with a divorce-type-of-thing, but it certainly wasn’t this brand of divorce. He sucks in a breath between teeth, glancing at Daniel. Maybe he’s hoping to find something written in his expression, but there’s nothing – no clue how to best navigate this.
“You’re a good dad, and it seems like you were a good husband”, Johnny starts, because that sounds safe and helpful and generic. It sounds too much like all of those things, in fact, and Johnny has never played into shit like empty platitudes. “But you know, Daniel, sometimes people just grow apart. Sometimes you wanna wage a karate war and your long-suffering wife wants to run her car empire in peace.”
For a moment Daniel just stares at him, eyes wide, lips parted – caught with something on the tip of his tongue that he’ll never actually say.
Then he bursts out laughing, doubling over in his seat, and it doesn’t exactly sound like a happy laugh, but well… it doesn’t sound sad either, so Johnny just waits for him to recover - all he gets in return is a sharp punch to his shoulder.
“Fuck off”, Daniel says, his hand on the car handle now, but he’s hesitating. He blinks once, twice, and then he sighs. “Thank you.”
“Happy to help”, Johnny quips immediately, punctuating it with a wink, because that somehow feels like a normal thing to do.
Then they’re out the car, heading for the dojo, and within half an hour they’re teaching kids how to aim their kicks high; it’s not exactly strike first, but definitely strike the face – hard. A compromise Johnny’s willing to make; he’s always been curious as to how Daniel’s so damn flexible with his high-kicks anyway. Especially these days. The guy is like damn cheerleader.
The next morning Daniel comes by to pick him up, and once again he buys Johnny breakfast. That’s how easy it is for them to transition into this new thing. After only a few days, Johnny’s even awake and dressed by the time Daniel’s knocking at his door.
About a week into it, Daniel tries to add tomato to Johnny’s sandwich, and Johnny throws it out the car window.
At least Daniel always gets the coffee right.
Half the time Johnny’s too tired to talk, but on those mornings, Daniel’s real good at just turning on the radio and humming along to whatever’s playing.
One day they tune into Born in the USA, and well, Johnny can’t help himself. The memory is too vivid, and while Daniel is behind the wheel and Johnny is in the passenger seat, it’s so very much like how it used to be way back then.
“I love this Patti Smith song”, Johnny says, as earnestly as he possibly can.
Daniel’s first reaction is to stare at him with something between annoyance and concern, and then, slowly, when he finally connects the dots, he bursts out laughing. “I can’t believe you remember that stuff”, he says as they’re pulling up to the dojo, but there’s something breathless to his voice. Something about the way his hands grip the wheel so very tightly.
Johnny stares at those hands for a few seconds; the knuckles almost white now. He remembers what they’d feel like against his jawline, his cheekbones, his nose. He’s probably been punched by those hands just as many times as Daniel has touched him gently, but with the way things are going, soon the gentleness will be all he knows, and the violence will be a memory. The thought has his heart flutter, and it’s not really a pleasant feeling; there’s a pain in his chest at the thought of changing so fundamentally. For decades they have been the same, and Johnny can’t imagine what they’ll be like on the other side of this. What life could be like if he one day wakes up not longing for Daniel’s touch because he already has it.
On a normal morning, dreadfully similar to all of the others, Johnny looks at the coffee in his hand and then Daniel, and then the damn coffee again. “I feel like I should get you something in return.”
“You don’t have to”, Daniel says, averting his gaze in that decade-old pattern of wanting to look but refusing to. “Besides, you did this for me all of the time, you know… way back when.”
It’s the first time any of them has mentioned that summer since Johnny, well… explicitly hinted at it, sure – but he never spelled it out quite like this.
Johnny nods, clearing his throat before speaking. “Yeah, but it’s been decades. You’ve more than repaid me.”
Daniel nods at first, but then he snorts a laugh, ending up shaking his head instead. “Gotta think about the inflation, man.”
“Shut up with that nerd shit”, Johnny mutters, stealing a glance at Daniel while he’s like this; flustered, but smiling – unguarded. “And let me buy you a beer sometime, or something?”
“This isn’t about you having to do something for me”, Daniel says, choosing his words carefully. “The same way it was never about that when we were young.”
Johnny leaves it at that, because how could he not? How could he think of something smart enough to say to counter something like so profound?
During the afternoon class they once again end up in the pond, and Johnny is painfully aware of two things. The first thing is that Daniel absolutely tripped them up on purpose, because they were doing well for a while there. The second thing is that he can feel the searing heat of Daniel’s gaze when he emerges from the water, trailing his chest, his throat, his lips, before finally meeting Johnny’s eyes. This hunger should feel like something new, but Johnny knows very well that it isn’t.
In the evening neither of them lingers after class, and both of them know why. Daniel lets the radio play during the drive home, and it’s not exactly uncomfortable, but the air between them is charged. Johnny taps his foot against the floor of the car, his eyes trained on the road ahead, and he finds himself thinking that this too is something he recognizes.
He wonders if this is how Daniel would feel back then, as Johnny drove him home; if this is why he’d so often stare at the road – because the temptation to stare at the person behind the wheel is overwhelming. Johnny sneaks glances now, because how could he deny himself this? Daniel, illuminated by the streetlights, his striking profile and bright eyes. His hands on the wheel, relaxed in the way only an experienced driver is; the grip hardening as he notices Johnny’s eyes on him.
When they reach Johnny’s apartment Daniel wraps an arm around the back of Johnny’s seat, as he leans back to look out the rear window. At first Johnny snorts, because it’s such an old man thing to do. Then he catches himself, because they’ve been here before, and well… this is something Johnny used to do.
It shouldn’t feel intimate because these days they are often this close, and closer still, but Johnny can do nothing but stare at him. Take in the crinkle between Daniel’s dark eyebrows; the way he’s focusing incredibly hard on making parallel parking seem effortless. The moment stretches on, because Daniel’s parking is anything but effortless, and Johnny let’s his gaze wander up Daniel’s arm; the stretch of blue fabric over his bicep, shoulder, the top buttons of his shirt left undone, giving way to tan skin and sharp collar bones. In every way they’ve changed, there are so many ways in which they remain the same, and Johnny can’t remember the first time his gaze lingered on the smooth skin of Daniel’s throat.
The car comes to a stop, and Daniel shrugs his shoulders with a shiver, sitting back in the driver’s seat, visibly trying to relax. His hands are on the wheel though, his grip hard, and he looks like he expects Johnny to quickly get out of the car.
Of course, him being so obvious about it has Johnny want to remain seated. He’s found that there’s nothing that pushes Daniel’s buttons quite like Johnny just… imposing his presence.
Daniel’s tapping against the wheel with his thumb, though, breathing stressed and eyes unfocused, and something about the way he holds himself looks like he’s readying himself for battle. Whatever’s going on with him, Johnny clearly isn’t the opponent this time, and what can he do but choose to be kind?
He exits the car, offering something like a salute. “Good night, Daniel.”
The gesture is odd enough to catch Daniel off guard, and he grins, all teeth and crows-feet, his eyes still wistful. “Good night, Johnny.”
Johnny watches him drive off into the night, and it feels like it carries a sort of finality. As he goes to sleep that night, he thinks that maybe he’ll have to drive himself to the dojo in the morning.
That maybe the debt from the past has been repaid, and he’ll need to buy his own breakfast from now on.
Except he tries to sleep through his alarm the next day, only for Daniel LaRusso to show up like clockwork, knocking insistently on his door. Johnny’s barely conscious, wearing only yesterday’s boxers, but at least Daniel looks equally worse for wear. There are dark circles beneath his eyes and his shirt is wrinkly – it might actually be the shirt he wore yesterday… and the day before. Johnny does a double take. The thought of Daniel not keeping up with laundry is apparently enough to not only wake him the fuck up, but also have him gawk like a schoolgirl.
“What?” Daniel finally says, voice tired but eyes gleaming.
Johnny shakes his head, pressing the palm of his hands to his eyes. “Nothing. Fuck. Let me get dressed.”
He only gets a hum in reply, and then they go about their routine as if nothing has shifted. Daniel buys him his coffee and sandwich, and the only thing that’s different from any other morning is that maybe, just maybe, Daniel is less subtle about watching Johnny on the drive over to the dojo.
Maybe, Johnny follows his lead, taking the lingering, dark gaze as an invitation.
Maybe, they spend the day circling each other, something new – something charged – between them.
At the end of the day, Johnny is proud that he kept things professional in front of the kids. He also reminds himself to check with Miguel what everyone’s saying in the group chat. It’s the only way to know for sure. The students have proven to be insufferable gossips – all of them – and Daniel refuses to punish them with push-ups.
By the end of the day, it’s just the two of them. The dojo is cleaned up, and there’s no need to stick around, and yet – they do.
Daniel is pacing the room, Johnny leaning against a door frame, waiting patiently for him to spill whatever’s on his mind.
Finally, Daniel turns to him. ”We signed the papers yesterday.”
Johnny blinks, once, twice. “As in… divorce stuff?”
Daniel huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Yes, Johnny, divorce stuff.”
And what’s there to say to that? Johnny can do nothing but nod, trying to think of something smart and helpful to offer, and coming up with nothing. “What do you need?”
Daniel’s eyes are so wide. His gaze trails down the plunging neckline of Johnny’s gi, then lingering on his bare arms, before finally snapping to his face. “What I need?”
“Yeah”, Johnny says, proud of how steady his voice is. “Do you need to punch something? Cry? Get wasted?”
Daniel’s quiet for the longest time, and his gaze doesn’t feel as heavy, because his mind is clearly miles away. Then, finally, he sucks in a deep breath, meeting Johnny’s eyes, lips twisting into a smile – a challenge. “... I could spar.”
Of course, Johnny would agree to anything at this point; especially when it’s something he’s been longing for as much as this. Still, now that it’s actually happening, he finds himself wondering if they’ll be able to spar without the past tainting it. Wondering if sparring could ever be the start of something new rather than the continuation of their tumultuous history.
Still. He’s not about to reject Daniel LaRusso. Especially not when he looks at Johnny with heated eyes and takes a stance on the mat, waiting for Johnny to get close.
Johnny remembers that there was a time when he thought that their conversation would flow like sparring – like fighting. Now, well, maybe there’s something to the concept of changing with age, because now he catches himself thinking that their sparring flows like conversation.
It’s not about defeating the other, not anymore; it’s about the flow; it’s about not wanting it to end. He can see Daniel gradually relax – how there’s something soft at the corner of his eyes, a curve to his lips in an almost-smile. This isn’t about Daniel wanting to be beaten up, it’s about wanting to be seen, and man if that isn’t something Johnny knows what it’s like to chase.
He’s pretty sure that there was a time when Daniel specifically chased the feeling of fighting; chased something about the hurt, the challenge. It’s something that they might talk about in the future, but the future isn’t now, and this moment – the moment that he prolongs beyond what seems reasonable – has no need for words.
There’s only the push and pull of gentle touch. No punch is meant to land; no kick is meant to connect; it flows like dancing; reminders of what they could do to each other, but choose not to.
Johnny finds himself wondering how long they could possibly keep this up.
Then Daniel sweeps his leg, and honestly, the poetic justice is well deserved.
He loses his bearings, finding himself staring up at the roof of the dojo, and the next second Daniel is upon him, straddling him. Those warm hands circle Johnny’s wrists, holding his arms above his head, holding him down. Fuck.
He doesn’t know what to do but breathe through it, hyper-aware of all the ways their bodies touch – of all the ways they don’t.
“Earth to Johnny”, Daniel says, breathless, and he’s smiling so widely.
Johnny blinks up at him. “Hi”, he finally says, dumbly.
Daniel grins down at him, licks his lips without breaking eye contact. “Hi”
This might be how Johnny Lawrence fucking dies, with Daniel LaRusso on his lap, melting beneath his touch.
He flexes one of his arms, and Daniel easily lets him go. The fight has left them, if it was even there to begin with, and so, Johnny reaches up, a hand cradling Daniel’s face. “Fuck. You’re beautiful”
“This is why we can’t spar, Johnny”, Daniel says, all smiles, leaning into the touch. “It makes us fucking stupid.”
He chuckles at that, thumb trailing Daniel’s cheekbone, thinking that this is probably the first time he’s touched Daniel this gently. “It’s fun though, right?”
“Yeah.”
And man, Daniel’s voice is dark, heady, and Johnny really wants to follow this wherever it might lead. Preferably not on the floor that has his back hurt like a bitch, though.
“Do you want a drink? I’ve got beer hidden here somewhere”, he murmurs, all too aware of how Daniel stares at his lips when he speaks.
His question is met by an eyeroll, and then Daniel has stood up, offering a hand to pull Johnny to his feet. “Of course you do.”
The beer is lukewarm, but it’s not like this is about the beer at all. They sit down on the deck, overlooking the garden, sipping the shitty, bitter alcohol, shoulders bumping.
Johnny doesn’t need much liquid courage to put his hand on Daniel’s leg.
That’s all it takes. Daniel’s gaze falls to Johnny’s hand on his knee, and then snap to his face. Seconds later he’s leaning in, and Johnny barely has the time to meet him half way.
Daniel LaRusso kisses like he argues. All fiery temper, but soft around the edges. His lips are chapped, and he presses chaste butterfly-kisses to the corner of Johnny’s mouth, his chin, and finally, finally, his lips.
Johnny thinks he could lose himself to this. That maybe they need to close the dojo for a week, because this is the only damn thing he wants to spend the next couple of days doing. Then he can feel Daniel smile against his lips, and the next moment he’s pulled away, laughing.
“Thought you were all about striking first”, he giggles, and Johnny stares at him, the messy dark hair, the gleaming eyes, and he’s not even pissed off at the comment.
“How would I even do that with a kiss? You want me to fucking bite you?” he manages, his voice rough, and it’s not like he cares about that, because Daniel visibly shivers when he speaks.
“Maybe”, Daniel says, grinning, and then he’s leaning in again, and this time Johnny is ready. A hand tangling in Daniel’s hair he pulls him close, angling him into the kiss, licking along Daniel’s bottom lip before teasing with his teeth.
Maybe the weirdest thing about kissing Daniel LaRusso is that kissing him doesn’t change anything between them. That night Daniel drops Johnny off at home, and they part with a chaste kiss.
In the morning Daniel waits for him outside, honking the horn of his car like they’re teenagers heading to school. Everything proceeds exactly like normal, until they’ve stopped for breakfast, and Daniel won’t take his eyes for Johnny for even a second.
Johnny sips his coffee, trying not to grimace at how it’s warm enough to scald the roof of his mouth. “What?”
“I, uh” and Daniel shakes his head, a sheepish smile on his lips. “If I kiss you now, I won’t be able to focus during class.”
“That sounds like a you problem”, Johnny says, smirking, punctuating the sentence with a wink.
Daniel just shakes his head, huffing a laugh. “Fuck you, Lawrence.”
And Johnny doesn’t kiss him, because believe it or not, he does have self-control when it matters.
Most nights Johnny still goes to sleep thinking of Robby, worry swirling in his brain and clouding everything else.
He still reaches out, looking through the text messages he’s sent and the little note saying when they’ve been read. At least Robby is still reading them. Somehow, these days, that fact doesn’t feel like rejection, but hope.
It’s not that life is easy, suddenly, but living is definitely easier now.
Even on his worst mornings, Daniel picks him up like clockwork. Gets him coffee, and when conversation doesn’t come easy, there’s a gentle hand on Johnny’s knee instead. A warm touch to ease him into the day.
A warm touch he often imagines traveling further up his leg.
He knows that it’s probably good to take it slow. Knows that the last thing they need is to get impulsive about something volatile. It’s not like neither of them has the best track record with impulsiveness.
Turns out he doesn’t have to worry much about how to go about this. The thing between them has been decades in the making – it’s anything but a new relationship. They fall together easily, matching the other as effortlessly as they’d do on the mat.
Daniel grows bolder by the day; stealing kisses in-between classes; ambushing him in the bathroom and crowding him against the wall. It’s intoxicating, and Johnny has spent the past thirty years being overwhelmed by Daniel LaRusso, but never quite like this.
They’re in his apartment one night. It’s a Saturday, so they know they’ll be able to sleep in. It’s not even like Johnny’s made an effort; he bought them pizza and a few cases of beer, and put on a movie. Truly, he should make fun of Daniel for being easy, but well, how could he when all he ever wanted is for Daniel to push him against the kitchen counter and kiss him like he can’t survive without Johnny’s breath in his lungs?
For a while, it’s good. It’s beyond good. Daniel’s hands are in his hair, blunt nails scratching at his scalp, fingers tangling in his locks and pulling on just the right side of painful. Johnny gasps into the kiss, hands resting on Daniel’s hips, and he’s about to pull him closer when Daniel’s hand is by his throat. The touch is gentle, but the memory that flashes through Johnny’s head is anything but.
The last thing Johnny wants to do is pull away, but the memory is visceral, so while he pushes through it, there’s a tension to his shoulders, a set to his jaw. It only takes a split second for Daniel to notice. He leans back, only a few inches, those warm eyes attentive as they search Johnny’s features. “What’s up?”
Johnny doesn’t say anything, but he glances down at the hand by his throat, and Daniel follows his gaze.
“Oh”, he says, a silent gentle thing. Immediately, he moves his hand to Johnny’s shoulder, but then he’s stood there, silent, and as the silence drags on his gaze hardens considerably. Johnny watches that fiery anger he knows so well burning hot through Daniel once again, and honestly? Johnny is so used to being the instigator of it that it takes him a while to realize that Daniel isn’t angry with him. No. Daniel’s mind is far away now. Perhaps in that parking lot all those years ago, or much more recently; when he was seconds from beating Kreese to a pulp.
“Hey”, Johnny says, his voice rough, because Daniel is furious, practically seething on his behalf, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. “Earth to Daniel?”
There’s nothing. Daniel looks like he’s seconds from getting into his car and going over to Kreese to straight up murder him.
“Danny?” The nickname is enough to capture his attention – perhaps because it’s the first time Johnny’s ever used it.
As their eyes meet, the fight leaves Daniel with a shaky breath. “Sorry”, he manages, but part of him is stubborn, not sounding sorry at all, and in that moment, Johnny is struck by the realization that he’s definitely in love with this short-fused Jersey boy.
He reaches for one of Daniel’s hands, the palm soft in Johnny’s calloused grip. Even in the dim light, he can see the scarring across Daniel’s knuckles. Remnants of his own hell; the way it has lingered, and the way it has healed over time.
This is who they are now. Not exactly who they used to be. Irrevocably changed, yet still just... Daniel and Johnny. Two hot headed dumbasses incapable of staying out of each other’s orbit.
As Johnny brings Daniel’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles, he’s breathing normally again, and he can feel Daniel’s gaze on him, heated, wanton.
Moments later, Johnny’s walked them over to the couch, as carefully as he can manage considering they’ve already had a few beers. By the time they’ve made their way through his messy apartment, he doesn’t need to tell Daniel to take the lead, no; he’s pushed onto the couch cushions, and Daniel straddles him. Like this, the man is a goddamn vision; his hair a mess, his lips kiss stung, his eyes impossibly dark, and the top buttons of his shirt undone.
Johnny grabs at his collar, pulling him down for an open-mouthed kiss, moaning into Daniel’s heat. He spreads his legs, giving Daniel the space to settle against him, for them to lay flush against each-other – for Johnny to chase friction against Daniel’s thigh.
“I can’t believe I’m dry humping Johnny Lawrence”, Daniel murmurs suddenly, breathless, awestruck by the situation he’s in.
They break apart, and Daniel looks absolutely mortified, as if he did not expect to say that out loud. Johnny just looks up at him, attempting a smug smile and knowing he’s failing, because his heart is racing and he knows he’s an open book; always has been; especially in front of Daniel LaRusso.
Instead of trying to say something, he reaches for Daniel’s hands. Holds them gently and entwines their fingers; then he guides them above his head, until Daniel is pushing him down on the couch.
Johnny holds Daniel’s gaze, and then he rolls his hips. It’s enough to break Daniel out of whatever internal turmoil he was going through. The next moment he’s all over Johnny, holding him down with a bruising grip as he kisses the breath from his lips. Johnny has never been this turned on in his life, and yet, the only thing in his mind is the thought of how goddamn much he loves Daniel LaRusso. How this is beyond what he’d ever hope for, and how he can’t fucking believe that this is something he gets to experience again and again and again.
These days their everyday routine is breakfast, classes and dinner, and in-between there’s so many stolen moments the kids probably have an entire new group chat strictly for sensei make-out gossip.
They usually spend the evenings at Johnny’s place. Daniel will bring takeout, and they’ll inevitably forget to eat it.
On this particular day, Daniel comes over, but this time he’s brought a boombox. As he walks through the door he gestures with the thing, waving it around like it weighs nothing. “I got this off ebay, you don’t wanna know how much it cost. Apparently, it’s a collectors thing now.”
Johnny follows him into the living room, watching as Daniel sets the thing up. “And you bought it… why?”
And Daniel doesn’t say anything. Instead, he holds up a cassette tape. The sticker on it is faded, and so is the plastic. Still, Johnny would recognize that damn thing anywhere. When he speaks, his voice is strained, but it’s all he can do not to tear up then and there.
“You still have it?”
Daniel nods, his smile so fond, but his eyes are misty. “Yeah. I put together a playlist so I can listen to it on my phone, but this… this is different.”
For a moment they just stare at each-other, and then Daniel puts the tape in the boombox. He doesn’t press play, though.
“I… I didn’t wanna ask about it”, Johnny admits, finally. “I didn’t know what answer I was hoping for.”
Daniel bites at his bottom lip, glancing between Johnny and the play button. “I listened to it on the plane, and I fucking cried like a baby.”
For a moment, Johnny just stares at him. “Okay… wow.”
“I was so fucking angry you couldn’t tell me any of this shit to my face”, Daniel says, shaking his head, but he doesn’t look angry now. “I felt like I’d missed out on something important, and it was easy to blame you, but I blamed myself too.”
Johnny clears his throat, glancing at Daniel’s finger where it rests on the play button. “What… was I trying to tell you?”
Daniel rolls his eyes at that, snorting a laugh. “Oh, I don’t know, Johnny? Do you think any of this was subtle?”
“I don’t know”, he says, so easily remembering all the thought his teenage-self put into this mixtape, so easily feeling that wordless desperation and hope. “I worked on it for weeks, and there was a lot I didn’t know how to say back then, so I don’t know. I hoped you’d hear the songs the same way I did.”
Daniel smiles at him then, a soft, warm thing that has his eyes sparkle. “I did. I still do.”
Then he presses play, and as The Touch start playing, neither of them can keep from laughing.
They’ve already fucking sparred; they’ve kissed; they’ve done so much more than kissing, but this, this is when Johnny knows it’s real. They’re on a new path now; they’re so much further than they’ve ever gone before.
The world has changed and they’ve changed, but at the core of this is something that lives forever, and soon enough, Johnny will be brave enough to say these things through other means than touch and music. Maybe Daniel will beat him to it – the bastard seems to have a tendency to strike first when it comes to matters of the heart.