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Johnny Lawrence hates the country club. All its shiny plates and shitty food and snooty rich people in their fancy-ass clothes, most of the hot babes only hot because of thousand dollar dresses and crazy amounts of makeup. And he hates it because it reminds him. Reminds him that he lost, that he gave this up. He used to have it, but he doesn't have it anymore - and he doesn't want it, either. Life sucks and sometimes shit happens. Lotta the shit being mistakes.
And Johnny knows that he's made plenty of mistakes.
One of them was coming here, and the other is tracking Daniel LaRusso around the room. The guy is there with his super hot wife mingling with people, talking and laughing and shaking hands. Great. Gross and ridiculous. Meanwhile Daniel isn't fully comfortable in the country club, even now. He's sort of stiff, projecting himself like he's meant to be here, like the way he tells his customers they're meant to buy a car. It's the salesman persona. Johnny sees what he does and thinks "wow, twerp kinda looks like he belongs here..." He shakes his head, gulps some drink and laughs mirthlessly. "Well he does, least more than I do - anymore”
Meanwhile Daniel's trying not to sweat out his suit. And he turns his head and pulls at his tie. Looks over at Johnny in his white suit that Daniel just haD to say something about the second they saw each other (it actually looks good on him, but there's no friggin way he'd ever tell Johnny that).
Because he still belongs here. Because he grew up here, this is where he's from, Daniel thinks "after everything, he still looks goo- he looks like he belongs here. Meanwhile I'm the poor kid from Jersey who's playin' dress up in a suit.”
And soon enough he can't handle it. It feels like the light and noise and people are pressing in around him. He does his best to smile at Amanda before pressing her arm and taking his drink and- leaving. He moves quick, hopefully not running, and not staggering outside, but he does make it outside. And with a heavy breath and slight shake of his head, at himself and at the evening, he says out loud at the exact same time as he hears another voice speak up, low and familiar:
"Ah, man- I hate these things."
"I hate these fuckin' parties.”
After which Daniel jerks a sharp glance to the side and catches sharp, intense blue eyes. He shakes his head and says "Johnny" softly, laughing a little.
Johnny sardonically smirks and raises his glass to the other in a manner that's definitely him being a smartass. "Really LaRusso? You're the toast of the fuckin place, shaking hands, kissing babies,"
"I'm not- it's not like I'm running for office or somethin', Johnny."
"No? Well why d'you hate it in there so much, huh?”
"You think I'd be here if it weren't for Amanda? Not likely," he putters a laugh, twisting to look back at those tall doors. "She belongs in there more than I do.”
Johnny blinks. "You ever tell her? That you don't?” You were willing to make it in here for a girl before too, he thinks. Only what looked like a gallon of spaghetti an' sauce is what stopped you.
And me.
Daniel looks at Johnny, raising one brow. There's a small swipe of his hand at the building as he says, "What, and ruin this for her? If I gotta wear a suit an' tie and talk to a billion people about my business, that's fine. S'the small talk that gets me." The part where he's meant to tell everyone how great his life is, how perfect his family is, the part that is a lie in places like these.
Johnny's brows rise. "What you don't like talking about your nice house, two kids, picket fence kinda life? It's not all it's cracked up to be, huh?” He shrugs a shoulder. "At least you got something to say, if I'm asked it's oh yeah- my son's mother, I never married her, she's out in a bar with a different guy every night, meanwhile I'm a laid-off handyman living over in Reseda."
"Ha-ha," Daniel provides with a flat look. Then, letting the derision subside as Johnny says his piece, he replies, "Well, I think it took me a while t' realize things aren't always what they seem behind that fence, y' know...? Had ta be on the other side, I guess." He takes a sip from the glass he still holds, eyes catching the road now, pondering.
"Damn right," Johnny says with a nod. "I was on both, one side then the other and back on one." He sighs. "Both can suck for different reasons." He glances over at Daniel and then keeps his eyes on the other, seeing the way he fidgets and tugs at his tie. And then he sighs, downing the rest of his drink and putting down the cup before striding over to stand in front of Daniel. "Here, lemme fix this -" he reaches out and deftly undoes the knot in Daniel's tie, carefully pulling it out of his collar and then unbuttoning his topmost shirt button. "There, now ya won't look like you're suffocating."
Daniel screws up his face, his hands having gone up the moment Johnny approached. Amusement dances in his eyes as Johnny steps back one. "Oh - you wanna hold my hand while I finish my drink too?" he jests, letting his free arm fall at his side, not waiting for an answer– if he even gets a reaction– before he downs the rest of his as well. Wringing his lips out between his teeth with a soft, breathy grunt, he stares down at the glass before he too lets that arm rest at his side.
Johnny snorts. "Why, you want me to hold your hand?” And then, whistling at how quickly Daniel knocks his drink back, he says "well damn, I mean I'm sure I still could, unless you wanna go back in there and perform for the crowd," he nods towards the light and sound inside.
Daniel raises his free hand, palm down as he pushes at air. "I'm not askin' you t' hold my hand," he dismisses with a chuckle, rolling his head in a shake. He almost barks out a solid laugh at Johnny's description, like the whole damn place is a circus. Hell, it might as well be– a very dressed up one. "But," he inclines his head in a shrug, eyes watching the ground but not seeing, "if you wanted t' talk a bit longer, m'not opposed to it." His eyes find Johnny's and he actually does roll his shoulders this time. "Air's kinda nice." And with a bit of a cheeky grin, "Not as stuffy.”
Johnny cocks an eyebrow and his eyes sparkle as he smiles. "Wow, I think you just gave me a compliment, LaRusso," he chuckles. "Or you hate it here even more than I do.” Because, as he stops chuckling, dropping his eyes and shifting a little, it's got to be that the guy hates it. He still hates Johnny or at least has so much beef with him that... Johnny shakes his head slightly, he needs to snap out of whatever pussy pity-party he's currently having. It's just because of this place, he figures, and being here with Daniel LaRusso again.
This earns Johnny the biggest eyeroll from the smaller man. "Of course you'd take it that way," he sighs. He bends to set his glass down, freeing up his hands, one of which gestures at the blond. "Sure, Johnny, it was a compliment." And though it sounds exasperated, he's not really focused on Johnny's words to decide if it's truly something to linger on more than he needs to. Anything to carry on the conversation that doesn't have to do with the country club.
Johnny nods before he stands and then rocks on the balls of his feet. He finds he can't stay still up here. But there are steps and the course... "Y'wanna go for a walk?" He hears himself ask, and almost swears. Stupid, he can't leave for that long; well Daniel can't. Johnny himself, no one will miss him. He doesn't belong here anymore. Never really did; it was Sid's money that got him in here in the first place, after all.
Daniel raises his chin, or rather his head, just a bit, following Johnny's movement. He doesn't miss the relief he feels at the idea of leaving this building far behind for the night, but - he remembers Amanda. Still chatting away, probably wondering where he is, or maybe she's figured he's duking it out with his old school karate rival outside and if she walks out to confront them, it'd be a whole other thing to explain to the club.
Luckily, it's nothing dramatic like that. Not this time. Johnny's just going for a walk. Asked him if he wanted to as well. And, like the dumbass he is, not asking where or how far, and not caring to know, says, "Alright," and then also rises to his feet.
Johnny freezes for a split second. He didn't expect LaRusso to agree, to go for it; but hell, he didn't expect the guy to want to talk to him, or even let him come close enough to take off his tie, which Johnny still holds, he realizes. "Alright. Oh, here, LaRusso," as they both walk down the steps, Daniel a little behind him, Johnny puts out his hand and offers the tie back. "Didn't actually want to take it, you just looked like a fish on a hook. Tied up an' miserable," he gets to the bottom of the stairs, turns towards the edge of the course and the sidewalks that stretch along and around it, and waits for Daniel.
Daniel, taking the tie and holding it in his fist as he steps rapidly behind Johnny, his dressy shoes making a chalky sound on the stairs, lets out a breath when he reaches the bottom. He hadn't really noticed Johnny had taken it, really, and now that it's in his hand, it almost stings, a physical reminder of the uptightness the patrons held in that building. And for the life of him, having become comfortable with wearing suits– actual suits and not the embarrassing frilly one from school– he doesn't know why he throws it, or flings it at Johnny, letting it fall over the other's head. In order to save face, he retorts with a bigger smile, though his brow is a bit taut, "WhO looks like a fish–.... Johnny Lawrence. I seem to remember you comin' outside first.”
"Yeah but I look cool, like Scarface," Johnny smirks, pulling the tie off his head and then, not knowing why he does it, he ties it around as if it's his headband, letting the ends fall down the back of his head.
This actually startles a laugh from Daniel that tickles his chest and he brings up his pointer finger for a moment. "WOW." He grins, because that's all he can manage to say. With a few headshakes, he starts past Johnny at a slow pace, arms swinging, still beaming.
"You know I'm right, LaRusso," Johnny says, following him. "Pacino is a badass, and so'm I.” He's made it up to stride beside Daniel, and looking over, he winks at him before picking up the pace.
"Yeah, in your dreams, Johnny," he tosses over his shoulder, feeling Johnny steadily catching up. Visions of Johnny with a gun comes to mind– headband, suit and all bravado. He can't for the life of him imagine him letting loose a single shot but he wonders for just a moment if a young high school boy would've pulled that off if he could. Probably would've preferred it over the skeleton bones ironed onto an all black bodysuit, knowing Johnny. Knowing Johnny– huh.
"You're not as violent," he imparts after a bit.
Johnny snorts. Not violent? What- "Wait, after all the crap I pulled," on you, his eyes add as he jogs to get in front of Daniel, staring at him. "You don't think -" what the fuck, why is he having trouble TALKING now? But he swallows, eyes falling and then rising back to Daniel's, he adds "Really?”
"Hey," Daniel's pitch rises, and he's raising his hands to placate even if he shows no sign of fear. "I said not as violent, Johnny, relax." Then, swinging his arms down to his sides, "Hell, you probably could still kick above your head if y' wanted to, right?" He seems almost amused at the whole thing, still smiling, pointing sharply with both index fingers at Johnny and dropping his arms again in an arch, adding "I'm almost pOsitive.”
"Heh. You bet your ass I can, LaRusso- hYAAA!" He spins away from the other and does a kick just to prove it. Even as somewhere inside is buzzing this little bit that says, I don't want to be violent for no reason. "I kick ass when I have to, I have to be strong. But strength isn't same thing as violence, or at least it shouldn't be. Kreese was violent..." His voice drops low as he says that, internally adding: not me. But then he thinks about throwing Daniel down the hill, about kicking him against the fence ... about the times he's fought and bloodied up guys and himself, and he has to swing his hands once, twice to try to block out those things.
Daniel watches Johnny's display and, though the other man is facing away from him now, memories come flooding back, unrelenting. Those sharp cries and a scowling face, that swinging foot and fierce jabs destined to hit if Daniel didn't have some semblance of an ability to block... His gaze flickers across Johnny's stance, and he fidgets, echoes, tone lilting: "Right. Kreese was violent..." 'Not you though?' hangs in the air.
Johnny's shoulders drop, and he heaves a breath of air. "Yeah," his voice is rough, almost a growl. He clenches and opens both fists at his sides, once, twice. "He taught us there's nothing else. He trained us like soldiers." Spinning to face Daniel, feeling a burning in his eyes, Johnny continues "but we weren't soldiers, we were KIDS. We didn't know how wrong we were... I didn't know until he told me to sweep your leg. After you were tough enough to come back, after he forced Bobby to-" Johnny shakes his head. "I was," he changes his words, shifts focus. "Hell I know I was, and I still - I don't want to be, though. Kicking ass is just about protecting yourself. Proving yourself. And teaching that to other people so they don't get pounded on and pushed down their whole life. I've been learning that from these kids," Johnny blinks his eyes, not quite able to look directly at Daniel. "And I've taught them that-" he clears his throat. "In life there's gray areas. And in the gray areas, that's where -" he closes his eyes tight, breathing heavily. He knows LaRusso will probably have a field day with this, but hell- "instead 'a violence, we c'n show mercy.”
Daniel blanches. Even if he feels warmth drawing to his face because of the alcohol, he's struck, frozen in place. Johnny's talking, and he's taking in the words like an ice cold shower. Listening while also deaf. Brutally, over his own screams, buried in the past, buried because he can't think about it, comes Bobby's desperate cries, his pleas as he holds onto him as pain carves into Daniel like a hot knife.
Daniel– Daniel, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, man, I didn't mean it...! Listen– listen to me, I'm sorry!!
Still Johnny speaks, reserved, almost wary. Sensitive, if Daniel found the word. And he's shuffling, not quite flaky but - jumpy. Nervous. And he's powering through anyway. He mentions the kids, mentions what he's teaching them, what they've taught him in turn. And all he can see, with that stupid tie wrapped around Johnny's head, nerves and all that he can now see plain as day, is a seventeen year old Johnny Lawrence. His heart squeezes and he can only stare, brow furrowed as a sour taste rises in his throat, a somber look flashing in his eyes. This man is trying to turn his life around... and he - Daniel, he–
Johnny feels like there's an echo in his ears, a sound like words spoken but heard under water.
His throat feels tight, it hurts as he tries to gasp, as he hears that voice
Who's the loser now? I can't hear you!
And then, more recently, felt that arm around his windpipe again. His skin feels cold now, clammy. Fuck. He tries to breathe, tries to stand solid. But he feels his body tremble and he tries to clear his throat, desperate to swallow.
Daniel's gaze slices through the air, lasering in on Johnny the instant his karate rival stops talking. He takes a step forward.
Johnny's been teaching these kids mercy and he hasn't seen it. All he's taken note of is the violence, when things have gone wrong, and he'd instantly spin it on Johnny, say he knew he'd never change.
Another step.
But when has anything ever gone as planned? Daniel's track record isn't exactly the cleanest either. He knows that... He remembers the blood on his fingers striking wood, the pain but the brief thrill he felt at the idea of letting the other guy have it, so he could have even an inkling of the pain he'd felt. So why - why is he so deadset on—... Dammit.
He's been doing this all wrong.
A bit emboldened, Daniel strides over to Johnny, still cautious, voices ringing in his ears, in his head, in his heart. Bobby, Mr. Miyagi, hell... even himself.
Daniel, I'm sorry!
Daniel-san, lie become truth only if person want to believe it.
Okay. Okay, man. Now we're even, huh?
And it's the damnedest thing, Daniel coming face to face with Johnny now. He thinks on Johnny's comment, about the soldier, glares up at that tie as it stands in for all that Cobra Kai represents, and he tugs it off of Johnny's head in a swift motion. Holding it fast in a grip, without even a second to think, he moves his other arm to hook around Johnny's back, pulling him in for a small yet firm embrace, planting his chin to Johnny's shoulder.
Johnny's legs are buckling, he can feel them. He can feel nothing else but heat and pain and he can't breathe- and then his head jerks as Daniel LaRusso stands in front of him. Daniel has wrapped, hooked an arm around him, but not to hit or throw him down, no he's got his chin on Johnny's shoulder and he's - he's holding onto him. He's giving him a hug.
And Johnny exhales at the feeling of it. His breath explodes out and he gasps, feeling cold tracks dripping down his face as the horrible heat starts to subside, as his trembling legs brace his body upright once more and he barely hesitates before flinging both of his arms around Daniel and clutching onto his back.
There's the smallest instance of surprise that crosses Daniel's face, his eyes widening just a tad, but he says nothing, bowing his head so he's pressed his face a little into Johnny's shoulder. He blinks down at the sidewalk behind him, searching for something to say yet coming up empty. He doesn't know what would fix them, fix this. But maybe this can serve as a small step? He has no clue. It doesn't help that he's definitely starting to feel a bit of a buzz. Maybe that's why - that's why he felt so sad when he saw Johnny's lost expression. That's why he feels crushed now, not because of Johnny's iron grasp, but the shaking... He's never personally felt that shaking before– perhaps, something close, something bitter comes to mind if just for a moment, but no.
Never this.
Johnny makes the smallest sound, dropping his face, his streaming eyes against LaRusso's dark suit jacket for the tiniest moment. And then he turns his head towards him, knowing - for everything before, and hell, even for this - "I'm sorry," he says, voice breaking slightly with these stupid goddamn tears, but he swallows and says again "'M sorry, LaRusso. Daniel." For so much. So fucking much, this isn't on anyone but him for allowing Kreese to come back, to show up again, to take over the dojo. He can't believe he's been so stupid, that he's being so stupid, still - but he meant it, teaching the use for mercy. Because the world is made of many shades of gray, and honestly he kinda thinks he and LaRusso are standing in one of those gray areas.
Daniel knows it's the alcohol. They wouldn't be this close if they weren't trying to kick each other's teeth in. He could easily hold it over his head– 'Is THE Johnny Lawrence actually crying?' much like a schoolyard taunt– but the idea really sucks for some reason. Maybe it's because even against Johnny's buzz that he's sure he must have, he knows there's sincerity. Daniel feels it every time he makes a low blow and instantly regrets it, sees it in the way the blond's expression hardens, crashes, but they could never find the common ground to mend it.
A series of words and accusations would ordinarily be prepared for something like this. He'd been hoping for a moment to say it's not very easy to forgive, that Johnny had every part in what happened between them, as– as he did. And that's what has him hesitating now. They both know that already. Rehashing it does nobody any good, and of course his wife's ever reasonable voice rings true. That this, what he and Johnny have, it's crazy. Crazy to let something that happened over three decades ago hang over them like a phantom. And like a strong root whispering to its branches, a few words come to mind.
Sometime what heart know, head forget.
Daniel presses his lips into a tight smile, but it's hidden in Johnny's shoulder. He tightens his grip on his tie, digging nails into his palm. "I'm - sorry, too," he chimes in after a minute. "I've been a jerk... You've been doin' right by those kids an' I didn't wanna see it." I know you've messed up. We all do. It's easier to feign ignorance, feel like the world is out to get you and that you're just defending yourself. He swears he can hear a hypothetical hiss from Johnny, telling him to 'get real, LaRusso.' His jaw jumps. Let it go, he scolds himself, like a mantra. Just let it go.
"You're not like Kreese," Daniel reminds him, as he's always done, to separate his villains as if he weren't actually lumping them all into one box. However, he continues, "You're not a bad guy... m'sorry for insinuating– for telling you... that you were– that you'd even come clOse to being like him." Brushing his hand just a bit along the other's back and patting it gently, he finishes, hoping that what he says even remotely gets across what he means, "It's alright, Johnny. It's over.”
Johnny wants to bark out a laugh, bitter as he hears yeah, right, like this'll ever be over echoing in his head, the words from the guy in front of him when he'd been training Robby... Somebody's gotta be there for him.
Johnny jerks his head in half a shake and feels the tears continue. Maybe even come harder. Fuck.
"Yeah. You sure, LaRusso, because -" every time he's close to Kreese. Every time someone mentions their fight in the All Valley. Every time the guy who's - who's HUGGING him right now - says the problem is Cobra Kai "...I wanted this t' be different," he murmurs into the other's jacket before shifting so his chin rests on top of LaRusso's shoulder. He still feels the tears fall and swears at himself inwardly for being a pussy. Guess it doesn't matter what you wanted, a snide voice taunts in his head. What matters is what happened. "Hell, I wanted to-" save Cobra Kai "make it into what I usedta believe it was," he almost whispers. What it was for him when he first started when he was twelve. A safe haven. "A badass thing to do." A place to find, to make friends. And yet somehow... Somehow he's closer to, or he knows more about his old enemy, this guy - his old rival, Johnny's head amends, even as he sniffs and knows he's doing nothing to actually stop his own tears. What a baby, he hears a voice in his head scoffing at him. Yeah, well. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe he just is. As much as he tries shutting those words out, still he hears You lost, you're a loser!
Daniel's quickly finding that a miserable Johnny Lawrence is not something he finds satisfaction in. Knocked down a few pegs, sure. But completely wrecked? Broken and bloodied?
Oh, god - what happened to you?
He wrinkles his nose, wanting more than anything for Johnny to suck it up like he always does, so they can go back to their stubborn, unhelpful normal. Not for the sake of dismissing the guy's feelings, not like he has– but Johnny's subdued behavior digs into his chest and wrenches the air out of him. He doesn't like this. He wants Johnny to stop, to work through it at a blinding pace that isn't possible for anybody, but he doesn't move an inch.
"Yeah," Daniel's voice cracks, the hand to Johnny's back fastening to his white jacket. He doesn't think he can unpack the rest of all the blond says so he just adds, "M'sure.”
Johnny withdraws his head from Daniel's shoulder to look in his face now, eyes still swimming, tear tracks on his cheeks, damn. He traces the guy's face for anything disingenuous in his expression, but - just like his voice, it's... sincere. Daniel LaRusso has always been sincere, and honestly, Johnny still has no idea what to do with that.
He could say his gaze dropping to Daniel's mouth is him not believing the words that just came out of it, but a lurch in the region of his stomach, a clench inside his chest tells him that isn't it. He suddenly - he wants to kiss the guy, and so, thinking about how stupid this is and being sure Daniel's going to lose all this - this flash of niceness anyway, Johnny moves as quickly as he can, bringing his lips to the guy's cheek and then dropping head down against his shoulder once again. Maybe he can play it off as an accident, or from being drunk...but he misses the mark and his face now pretty much presses into the side of Daniel LaRusso's neck.
Oh, shit - this is gonna fuck everything up.
The leaner man flinches in Johnny's arms, hands unclenching, tie nearly slipping through his fingers. His heart thuds once against his ribs, just once it seems, and it might as well be at a standstill along with his breath. That wasn't an incidental brush or drunkenly swiping one's face as if their head is full of lead. No. Johnny– Johnny Lawrence, just—
He swallows hard, all at once irritated at how the alcohol has left his mouth so dry. No, he's jumping to conclusions, he says internally, daring to cast his eyes to the side in Johnny's direction. Relax, LaRusso. It's not like you were hoping for it– why'd you assume it was anything bUT an accident? He resumes, albeit tentatively, his soft reassuring brush at Johnny's back. Jumping to conclusions, he thinks.
Johnny holds his breath, feeling Daniel jerk and freeze, and then he still brushes his hand against Johnny's back again...and Johnny feels so much shame crash into him. His face is burning, and he wants so much to shove himself away, to shove LaRusso away and snarl that he doesn't deserve this- his kindness, especially not after doing THAT, what the fuck?! But he was the one who asked to go on this damn walk in the first place, LaRusso came with, Johnny got overwhelmed like an idiot, and that's - that's all this is. That's all it's gonna be, at least, because he isn't going to screw up anybody else's life, or- or marriage. No, he's just gonna torment himself, he thinks. Which fuckin' figures.
Ultimately Daniel is the first to pull away, hand making the quickest clap and hold to Johnny's arm before he steps back. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he then places both hands on his hips, rocking from one foot to the other and casting a look back to the club. Back to Amanda.
"Should probably be headed back," he murmurs, "you comin'?"
"Yeah, yeah. I uh-" clearing his throat, sniffing and swiping at his face with the side of his hand, Johnny's eyes rise to Daniel's as he says "hey-" I'm sorry for that. Sorry for wanting it, sorry for making things weird, sorry for... Hell, he's already SAID sorry, but all he does is look at LaRusso with that in his eyes and nod at him. "I'm comin'."
Daniel jerks his head up in a half nod, then sweeps his body in a spin and starts for the stairs, only briefly catching his hand to the scrub at the back of his neck.
And Johnny, Johnny takes a split second to breathe and settle his shoulders. And then he follows.