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“Can you believe we’re really doing this?” Daniel asked.
It was eight o’clock in the evening, and they were sitting outside in the Miyagi-Do garden. Johnny had salvaged two patio chairs from a yard sale, and suggested they go out and have a couple of beers. Daniel had said yes. It was peaceful, quiet—not a single sound except for the distant murmur of water tumbling over rocks.
“Yeah, who would have thought two years ago that we’d be joining dojos?” Johnny’s voice rasped through the silence.
It had been going surprisingly well. Not to say they hadn’t had their own set of hiccups at first. Fighting over lessons plans, clashing over teaching methods. There had been a few shouting matches, coupled with reckless sparring sessions.
But three months later, Daniel could safely say they’d settled into a routine that was both easy and comfortable. Like all they’d needed to do was to get the thirty-five year rivalry out of their systems, before realizing they could actually get along.
Now, Johnny raised his bottle of beer, and took a long pull. Daniel watched his throat work, a steady flutter of muscles as he swallowed slowly. He’d finished his own drink ten minutes ago, and was slightly buzzed, his skin flushed with warmth.
“It was a good class today,” Daniel said.
Johnny placed the empty bottle on the grass, and sat back with a smile on his face.
“Did you see the way Bert took out Demetri with that front-kick?”
Daniel chuckled. “Yeah, that was pretty impressive.”
“Man, you should have seen the kid when he first started. He was a little twerp, almost afraid of his own shadow.”
“Hmm,” Daniel said, shifting his gaze toward the sky that had turned a rich indigo hue. “I think he has a crush on Sam.”
“Bert?”
“Yeah,” Daniel said, thinking back over the week. There had been signs, little nuggets here and there. “He goes all shy and quiet whenever she’s around.”
“Pff,” Johnny said, stretching his legs and splaying them wide. “Pussy move. I thought I’d taught him better than that.”
Daniel leaned sideway and punched Johnny in the shoulder.
“Ouch,” Johnny said, jerking back. He raised a hand and rubbed his shoulder gingerly. “What happened to your no offense, only defense bullshit?”
“It doesn’t apply to assholes like you.”
Johnny’s jaw went slack for a few seconds. Then, his face broke into an amused expression.
“What’s the matter, LaRusso?” Johnny asked, his eyes twinkling. “You worried Bert will make a move on your girl?”
Daniel scoffed, and released the tension from his body. “I don’t need to be worried.”
“Why’s that?”
“She knows how to stand up for herself. Also, pretty sure Miguel would kick his ass if he tried anything.”
Johnny let out a low laugh, and the warmth of it made Daniel’s body prickle with pleasure. “Yeah, Miguel probably wouldn’t take it too well.”
“Remember that fight with Mitch?”
“Don’t even get me started on that.”
“Who knew we’d be caught up in so much teenage drama?” Daniel asked, before sighing. “Hopefully, it’ll all quiet down before the Tournament.”
Like a light switch, Johnny’s smile dimmed. Daniel wasn’t surprised. Lately, any mention of the Tournament seemed to have that effect on him.
It made Daniel’s heart ache.
“Hey, come on,” Daniel said, straightening up in his seat. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Everything’s gonna work out.”
Johnny hummed, but he wasn’t paying attention anymore. He was staring off into the distance, his eyes unfocused.
“We’ll get Robby back,” Daniel said in a harder voice.
For a moment, he thought that Johnny wasn’t going to answer. He seemed lost in thought, like he was replaying a memory in his mind. Finally, he shook his head. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Daniel said, clenching his fist. His fingers itched with the need to reach out and touch—he returned his focus to the conversation. “We’re going to win this Tournament. Once Kreese and Silver are out of the picture, it’ll be easier for us to get to Robby.”
Johnny chewed the corner of his lip, as he mulled over Daniel’s words. Daniel watched the perfect white of his teeth gleam in the darkness.
When Johnny turned toward him, his eyes snapped up.
“You think?” Johnny asked, and the vulnerability in his voice took Daniel’s breath away.
“Yeah, Johnny,” Daniel said softly, and then thought fuck it. He reached out and wrapped a hand around Johnny’s wrist. “I really do.”
Johnny didn’t say anything for a while. He just looked down at Daniel’s hand with a small crease between his eyebrows. Was Daniel being too forward? Too daring? After a while, when Johnny still hadn’t spoken, he started to feel self-conscious. He was about to pull back, when Johnny covered his hand with his own larger one.
He looked up, and their eyes connected. Time seemed to stretch out, as they stared at each other. Daniel’s stomach tightened at the warm heat of Johnny’s palm, the calloused fingers that were pressed softly against his skin.
Then, something happened.
Slow as molasses, Johnny’s eyes moved down to Daniel’s lips, pausing there, before traveling back up. Daniel stayed still, not daring to move.
Another moment passed, and Johnny swiped a thumb over his knuckles, gentle as a feather, before releasing him. He leaned forward and grabbed another beer from the cooler, cracking it open on the side of the chair. Daniel sat back in his own seat, suddenly feeling bereft.
“Did you watch the game yesterday?” Johnny asked.
His tone was normal, and did nothing to betray what had just happened. Daniel didn’t answer. He stared down at his lap, watching the way his wedding ring glinted in the low light.
Johnny knocked their knees together.
“Daniel,” he said softly.
Daniel blinked out of his daze. He peered up at Johnny, met with soft blue eyes. He let out a breath and forced his shoulders to relax. “I can’t believe the Mets lost 3-5.”
Johnny’s lips quirked into a smile. “Yeah? Tell me about it.”
So, Daniel did.
Johnny’s knee stayed a warm and heavy weight against him the rest of the night.