Chapter Text
The party was loud, laughter and chatter bouncing off of the walls, the bass of the speakers sending vibrations through to your bones if you stand too close, the lights colourful and dim, the whole house smelling of beer and cigarettes.
Daniel still isn’t sure how he got here.
He doesn’t know how he was roped into this, just that he was. It’ll be fun! Freddy had claimed. Now that he’s actually here, at some random seniors house in Encino, standing awkward and alone, half empty cup of beer in hand, Daniel is partial to think otherwise.
He taps his foot along to the music slightly, shifting on his feet and looking at the floor.
What am I even doing here?
Only god knows. He shouldn’t have come.
“Hey, Daniel!” It’s not long before Freddy finds him again, smiling wide, too wide.
“Hey, Freddy. Look, I might just get outta’ here, man. You don’t gotta’ worry ‘bout me—“
“C’mon, Daniel! You can’t go now, party’s just getting started! Some guys are starting 7 minutes in heaven upstairs, you should come play! It’s harmless fun, you might not even get a turn.” Freddy pats his shoulder and Daniel sighs through his nose, his resolve slipping. He’s here now, might as well try to get some sort of fun out of it.
“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll play.” He puts on half a smile and Freddy huffs a laugh.
“That’s more like it.” He nods toward the staircase, people heading upstairs, some random couple making out on the railing. Daniel shakes his head and follows.
It’s slightly quieter upstairs, the music muffled, no longer loud enough to make you dizzy. It’s less crowded, too. A few rooms which the doors locked — Daniel hopes that they’re locked to keep people out, not because there are people in there — and a rather big communal space, some couches, fancy ass paintings with no soul hung on the walls. In the middle there’s a rather large crowd, people sitting in a circle on the floor, across the room is two doors leading to a closet.
Daniel follows Freddy, sitting down and filling a gap in the circle, and the first thing he hears is the obnoxious, snickering laugh of the one and only, Johnny Lawrence. Sitting right across from him of all places in the circle. Daniel looks at him for a moment, sitting next to Bobby Brown, beer in hand, grinning too wildly, sitting back too loosely. 100% drunk. Johnny looks over and Daniel snaps his eyes to the floor. He’s regretting this already.
Freddy nudges him, “see how many people there are? You won’t get picked. It’s fine.”
“How does this work, anyway? I mean, this looks more like spin the bottle.” Daniel asks, gesturing to the empty vodka bottle in the middle of the circle.
“Well, it basically is, but you spin the bottle and whoever it lands on you get locked in that closet with for 7 minutes.” Freddy shrugs, “the idea is that you make out in the closet. People spread rumours even if nothing happens.”
“…Fun.”
A guy — tall, dark hair, probably a senior — claps his hands twice, grinning, open beer bottle in his pocket. He clears his throat and rubs his hands together. “Okay! Who’s going first?” He looks around the circle. People start whispering, offering their friends up and laughing. Daniel glances at Johnny. Dutch is behind him now, shoving him lightly and laughing, whispering something to him and slapping his shoulder.
Johnny shakes his head and shoves Dutch, still grinning, then puts his cup in Dutch’s hand and sighs, laughing. “Fine, fine! I’ll start.”
Daniel watches. People clap and cheer him on. Johnny rolls his eyes, smiling wide. He’s has never seen him smile — aside from when he has been beating him to a pulp — it’s an odd sight. Johnny is definitely drunk.
Johnny leans forward and grabs the bottle, then looks around the circle before setting it down and spinning it. The whole crowd watches it carefully as it whirls around, slowing carefully, coming almost to a stop and then wobbling between pointing at the girl on one side of Daniel and Daniel himself. Dread fills his gut.
“Lawrence and LaRusso! Step right up!” The senior cackles, opening the doors to the small closet and smirking.
You have got to be kidding me.
Daniel looks up and meets Johnny’s eyes. His head is tilted, blue eyes twinkling in the low light with something only intoxication can give you. This is a disaster.
Johnny shrugs, smirking. “Game on.” He stands up, giving a little bow, and people start clapping, chatter picking up. He steps over and between people then into the confinement of the closet, leaning against the side wall.
The senior beams, turning and staring at Daniel. “Up you get, LaRusso.”
Daniel rubs a hand over his face, groaning. He pulls himself up, glaring at Freddy, who just shrugs, and then starts toward the closet, the senior ushering him inside and then making a grand gesture of slamming the doors and locking them inside.
“Seven minutes!”
The closet is almost completely dark. Daniel can just make out the shape of Johnny’s jaw, eyes narrowed as if assessing a threat, lips curled into a smirk.
They stand across from eachother, knees bumping in the small space. Daniel looks at the floor. And for a moment, there is silence.
“LaRusso.”
“…Johnny.”
Johnny taps his foot to the hum of the music downstairs.
“You ever played 7 minutes in heaven before?” He nudges Daniel’s foot with his own.
Daniel chooses not to reply. This might as well be the longest seven minutes of his life.
“Well, typically, people.. makeout, in 7 minutes of heaven. Basically the whole point ‘a the game.”
Kill me now.
“So I’ve heard.”
Daniel slouches more, not daring to look at him. Johnny straightens up, shuffling closer, not that there is much room too. He leans in a little closer.
“What’s ’a matter, LaRusso?”
Daniel watches Johnnys fist clench at his side, then he brings his hand up, brushing Daniel’s jaw.
Why is that making his heart skip?
“You scared?”
Now that gets his attention.
Daniel looks up, brown staring into blue, brows furrowed.
“I ain’t scared ‘a you, Johnny.”
He watches Johnny’s expression change, and he waits for the impact of the punch.
“Christ, how much did you drink?—“
It knocks the wind out of him, breath sucked away in pure shock.
Because Johnny Lawrence is kissing him.
Warm lips are pressed to his own, fingers are hooked in the loops of his belt, tugging him closer.
And Daniel might just die. Because now he’s kissing him back.
It’s hot and messy and uncoordinated, all teeth and way too much tongue, tasting of beer and teenage regret with a hint of weed. Daniel’s mind? Cleared completely. Not a single thought. He’s threading his hands through Johnny’s hair, tugging without concern. Johnny’s got one hand on the back of Daniel’s neck, the other under his shirt.
Johnny pulls back to breathe, and Daniel catches sight of his smirk, loud and proud. Daniel sucks in a quick breathe, “this isn’t some fight you’re tryna’ win, you c’n slow down—“
“I don’t do slow, LaRusso. Thought you’d know that by now.”
Daniel opens his mouth to quip back, and Johnny takes away his chance, pressing his lips quickly against his, tilting his head and pressing Daniel hard against the wall.
A noise slips from Daniels throat, one that he knows will bite him in the ass later, and he feels Johnny pause for a second, and then pull back, grin, and latch his mouth to Daniels neck, kissing and sucking lightly, all teeth.
Daniel actually gasps. Gasps. He knows he will never live it down; and he can’t find it in himself to care. His head tilts back as if on instinct, back arching toward Johnny hands tugging at anything they can hold to get him closer.
He groans. “I hate you, Lawrence.”
Johnny hums, biting gently at Daniel’s neck. “I’m glad.” Daniel lets out another sound he swears he will never repeat. Johnny pulls back slightly, still leaned close, hands still roaming.
“You’re hot, LaRusso.”
A shiver trails down Daniel’s spine.
“Careful. That’s not an insult.”
Johnny grins. “Shut up, twerp.”
Daniel leans closer, tilting his head, and just as their lips brush—
“Time’s up!” The doors of the closet swing open, and for a moment everything freezes.
Daniel can feel the weight of the rumours. The whispered words, the muffled laughs, the yelled slurs and pointed fingers.
He shoves Johnny off of him, not looking at anyone in the crowd outside of the closet watching them, jaws dropped, whispers already echoing. He makes a beeline for the stairs, walking as fast as he can, blocking it all out.
He gets to the bottom of the stairs and shoves through the groups of people drinking, dancing, oblivious of the fact that he just made out with his sworn enemy — he’s not being dramatic, they’re literally enemies — oblivious to the fact that he feels like he cannot breathe.
“LaRusso, wait up!”
Johnny’s voice bounces around his mind, and he considers waiting, turning back, talking to him, but— Jesus, what was he thinking?
He finds the front door and quickly pushes outside, taking a long breath of the cool air as if to reset his system, and then starting the long, cold walk back home.
“LaRusso—“ Johnny’s voice dies as he stands in the doorway, watching Daniel disappear around the street corner.
He’s so fucked.