Archive of Our Own

If he had no other positive traits left in him, Johnny prided himself on the fact that he at least kept trying to grow out of the part of him that was ruled by and went wild under the force of jealousy, especially when it came to babes. He’d tried to make LaRusso’s life a living hell – and found it returned to him in spades – when it came to Ali. He’d punched more than a few guys who’d gotten handsy with Shannon right in front of him, like he was some kind of pussy who just tolerated that kind of thing. And maybe, when he really sat down and thought about it, there was a difference between trying to grow out of something and actually buckling down and doing it.

Johnny sat on the couch, thinking idly about onion rings, and he could hear Daniel fussing about in the bathroom with the door open – running water, shaving, putting on fucking cologne, which felt oddly out of place for a Saturday night.

When he came out from the bathroom, he was wearing a dress shirt and neat tan pants, and Johnny regarded him warily.

“Why are you making that face?” Daniel asked, his cool demeanor slightly dampened by what seemed to be nervousness.

Johnny took a sip of the Coors that sat in front of him on the coffee table. He’d impulsively chosen An Officer and a Gentleman and was suddenly, jarringly embarrassed to have been caught watching something that chicks liked so much. If Daniel noticed, he seemed rattled enough by something else to avoid mentioning it.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to, like, go play darts or something, but I changed my mind if you’re going to be dressed like that,” Johnny said dryly, not wanting to be seen at Mike’s with someone who looked like a fucking calculus teacher. “Why are you dressed like you invented the fucking internet?”

Daniel gave a brittle laugh. “That’s funny, Johnny,” he ground out slowly, taking a deep breath. “If you really must know, Amanda asked me to go to dinner with her tonight.”

The words landed heavily between the two of them, and Johnny’s chest suddenly felt tight, though he couldn’t really tell why. Maybe he needed to eat more than he thought, and definitely something greasy and with cheese. He blinked at Daniel, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Why?” he asked, and Daniel shrugged. “Didn’t you sign all kinds of shit for her already?” He suddenly felt proud of the righteous sense of anger he got when he remembered exactly what Miguel had told him about the environmental benefits of going paperless – why were kids even thinking about the future and shit so young, anyway?

Daniel shook his head. “No, we just thought – she just wanted to catch up, that’s all. I thought it might be nice.” Nice to catch up, Johnny thought in annoyance. It would be nice to catch up always ended up with his hand up some chick’s skirt in the bathroom of a dive bar, or at least making out in the backseat of his car. They didn’t make the back seats of cars as big as they used to, he thought, also in annoyance – a real shame, that shit was always hot.

After a few beats, Johnny assumed he must have been on the verge of glowering, because Daniel gave him an annoyed, prompting look.

“Catch up, huh?” he scoffed. “And you want to do that?”

“She’s my wife,” Daniel said defensively, and Johnny narrowed his eyes as though itching to comment rudely. “My ex-wife, okay?” Daniel corrected himself, seeming nervous for a moment before taking a short breath to gather his thoughts. “She’s actually the mother of my children.” Not that you would know anything about that, Lawrence. He hadn’t said it, but Johnny was sober enough to read into things that it was implied in sentiment.

Johnny held up his hands in defeat. “Hey, whatever.” His stomach was suddenly cramping, but maybe he was just hungry. He could still go up to Mike’s for mozzarella sticks – it wouldn’t be the first time, even if he had been looking forward to not being the drunk guy alone at the end of the bar eating shitty half price apps by himself. “You gonna be out late?” he asked, trying to keep the note of hopefulness out of his voice – and really, hopeful for what? He’d gone to bed more nights than not with his chin resting in the curve of Daniel’s neck, and even the thought of it made him blush. But why should he care about something like that?

“You giving me a curfew?” Daniel said. His voice was rough and slightly annoyed as he folded over the cuffs of his shirt.

“Sorry for being curious,” Johnny countered gruffly, trying not to sound invested. “Sorry for being surprised that you and your old lady are going out for, like, surf and turf or some shit.”

Daniel sniffed, looking snobby in a way that Johnny hadn’t quite seen from him recently, making him a slightly unwelcome intruder in the weird, mutual bachelor pad they’d cobbled together over the last several months.

“We’re going for sashimi, actually,” he said curtly. Whatever that was, it sounded fucking gross, Johnny thought, but didn’t remark on it because Daniel seemed excited at the thought, and he wasn’t a complete asshole, at least. “What are you going to do?”

Johnny shrugged. “Might go and get some nachos or something. It’s steak night at Mike’s, though.” The steaks were always paper thin and close to well done, but it wasn’t anything a generous splash of ketchup wouldn’t fix. The first time Daniel had seen him do it, he’d reeled with disgust and threatened to leave, though it did little to deter Johnny.

“Sorry to miss out on that,” Daniel said. He didn’t sound sorry at all.

There was an awkward pause.

“Well,” Johnny said finally. “Let me know how it goes.”

Daniel made a noise of agreement, and just like that, he was gone.

Really, Johnny supposed he should have expected this day to come, but that didn’t make things any easier to stomach. He wondered why his pride ached just as much as his lower back did tonight. He also supposed it wouldn’t be the first time he’d flown solo to the bar, and assumed it wouldn’t be the last either. He needed to blow off some steam, and it would be easier to do without a snob like LaRusso tagging along. There might even be chicks there.

Still, he remembered the way that Daniel spoke to him in the quiet dim when there was no one around but the two of them to hear it. You don’t have to act like you don’t like it. It’s just me. As if that was supposed to be some kind of comfort to him. He’d acted like he didn’t like things for his whole life, and it wasn’t as though some geek who looked a little too at home in a tie was going to change that in the span of a few months, particularly a few nights where –

Johnny snapped off the TV, ready to get his mind a little foggy. He pulled on his denim jacket and found his keys on the counter. It would easier to walk, and he didn’t think Daniel would approve of picking him up downtown after he got a DUI or something despite his best intentions. No, Daniel wouldn’t like that one bit.

-

The bar was just the same as he’d left it last time, thankfully, though with that it brought the same clusters of guys who were younger than him but reminded him a little too much of himself for comfort. Of course, there were some chicks sprinkled in here and there, and he’d never miss the fact that their eyes would always drift toward him. At least he had some power here, where things still made at least a smidge of sense.

Steak night certainly hadn’t been a bust, either, but it wasn’t as much fun with someone staring disdainfully at him from across the table. Johnny shook the thought away when another beer arrived – draft, to his displeasure, but he certainly wasn’t one to be picky about alcohol.

“From the lady at the bar,” the waiter said as though that explained everything, and maybe it did. This was a language he could speak.

She was leggy and brunette and pretty and waved at him with a handful of fingers from across the room – definitely a language he’d grown fluent in over the years. She sent him another beer after he’d finished the first, and he assumed it was probably an invitation he would’ve gone ahead and jumped at the chance for.

I’m not stupid – I know it’s just us right now.

To be handed trust the way he had felt disingenuous, but then again, that was before Daniel decided he’d abandon a game of darts in favor of his ex-wife. Johnny inwardly bristled at the thought of it, even if it was growing increasingly soaked in the vapor of cheap beer. He forgot all about the last bites of his steak, and even he could admit it had started to feel tough around the edges.

Gathering a bit of nerve, he rose off the chair at the high-top he’d chosen in the corner. He sauntered over to the bar, knowing he wouldn’t have so much as flinched at the implication in simpler times. Guilt simmered in his stomach, but it felt misplaced. If LaRusso could play the game, so could he.

The woman was smiling, clearly playing for coy but failing miserably.

“Trying to get me drunk?” he asked casually, pasting on the cocky smirk that always seemed to creep naturally across his face. “Pretty forward of you, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” she said coolly, but held out her hand to take it. “Melissa.” He shook her hand decisively, motioning for the bartender to bring him another glass of swill. “You seemed bored.”

“Johnny,” he said simply. Simple was good. “Maybe there’s no one good to talk to in this place.” Good, he thought, play it cool, but don’t freeze. Kreese had said it to him once, roughened with cigar smoke, back in the day when a sensei’s word was as good as gold. It felt like a hundred years ago, and it probably wasn’t far from the truth. “Don’t suppose you want to prove me wrong though?”

Before Melissa could respond, there was an abrupt rush beside her, and some guy swept in up to the bar. He looked rough around the edges like his steak had been, like he was a few unfortunate choices away from having a fucking face tattoo or something. At least Johnny had never had the urge for that.

“This guy bothering you, Mel?” he asked, voice gravely with the weight of years lived and more than a few cheap well drinks.

“Maybe you’re bothering her,” Johnny butted in before she could even answer. The response probably didn’t fall under the heading of playing it cool, but his reflexes had failed him because of more than a few beers here and there.

“Pete,” Melissa interjected, but it was half-hearted. Pete regarded him with a withering stare.

“Maybe you ought to mind your own business,” the guy said sharply, and Johnny felt his nerves stand ever-so-slightly on end. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d apparently overstepped some dude’s unspoken boundaries, and he assumed it wouldn’t be the last. Johnny hadn’t come over looking for a fight, but such things were sure to find him, given his track record.

“Maybe I’m not the one who isn’t minding his business,” Johnny snapped. Melissa leaned away, sipping casually at some kind of fruity drink that deceptively had whiskey stashed in it. “Maybe you’re the one causing a problem, man.” He could sense the situation escalating but didn’t care enough to diffuse it because he knew he could be quick on his feet despite the beers.

“I’m not your man, man,” the other guy said, jabbing at Johnny’s shoulder, and maybe the gauntlet had been thrown down like some kind of dive bar King Arthur shit that wasn’t unfamiliar to Johnny. He shoved the rough guy back, paying no mind to the fact that his aching joints from weeks of laying tile had betrayed him and put him at a disadvantage.

He mentally prepared himself for a fight, but his mental odds of winning diminished when two other dudes approached. One of them did have a face tattoo, and it was a new level of winning a bar fight when a fucking face tattoo got introduced into the ring. Back in the day, Daniel LaRusso had had a pretty, mildly-blemished face, and definitely not one with a teardrop dripping from next to the eye.

“What’s up, Pete?” the guy with the face tattoo asked. “We got a problem here?”

“Fuck off, man,” Johnny spat before he could consider any myriad of consequences that came from getting confrontational with some guy who knew his way around a switchblade – however fucking cliché that might be.

Johnny didn’t have time to consider a snappy retort to whatever any of these motherfuckers might say before the first fist landed at his jaw, snapping his face handily to the side. He tasted blood in his mouth, and felt it dribbling down his face sooner than he would have liked in favorable circumstances.

“Son of a bitch,” he blazed, spitting the new mouthful of blood onto the floor, knowing it was probably enough to get him banned from the only place with decent quesadillas within walking distance of his apartment. “Try it again, fucking asshole.” He didn’t even know who had delivered the first punch, hoping it had been the biggest of the three just to get the shock of the hit out of his system.

He had hoped he wouldn’t be called on his bluff but was proven wrong when he was knocked to the floor by the first man without ink on his face. He tried and failed to get back on his feet but struggled under the force of a flurry of kicks from whoever still stood over him. When Johnny hit the floor, he felt his pride bruise first. Son of a bitch, the angry voice in his voice sneered – and it sounded a lot like Kreese, if he was being honest. Maybe he was out of his depth. People didn’t fight how they used to, he noted dimly as he was kicked repeatedly in the ribs and face.

Maybe someone had decided to take mercy on him – fucking pussies – and the kicks stopped. Outmatched, Johnny noted dismally. He knew there were bruises blooming all over his stupid, old body.

“Get the fuck out of here!” the waiter yelled, sweeping in while still impressively balancing a tray of Cobb salads. “ – and if you even think about taking this shit in the parking lot, we’re calling the fucking cops.” One of the guys – the ones with tattoos on his face – had the decency to hold his hands up as if in a truce Johnny hadn’t agreed to. “Go home. Jesus Christ.” It was as though Johnny had been handed permission to sulk home with blood pouring down his face and bruises blooming over his ribs, like that was some kind of wussy concession.

The walk home was a trudging, limping one. He sighed, finding the apartment empty – as he should have expected, he noted blearily – and quiet. At least the latter was a small comfort while he ashamedly licked his wounds.

He flopped down into his empty bed, head already pounding a little. Johnny dimly noted he might’ve been concussed, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from dozing off without uneasiness.

-

“What happened to you?”

The voice was as sharp as the sunlight, and Johnny ground his face against the pillow. When he opened his eyes, it was lightly covered in drool, and had a small, puddle-shaped splotch of rust-colored something smeared by where his mouth had come to rest. He groaned, hoping the pain in his voice didn’t sound as loud as it felt when it came from deep in his chest.

Daniel stood by the bed, arms folded in disapproval as he regarded the graceless way Johnny lay facedown and starfished in the middle of the sheets.

“Good morning,” Johnny muttered, laughing grimly against the bedclothes.

“I leave you alone for one night –” Daniel scoffed. Johnny’s limbs felt unbearably stiff, still encased in denim and flannel that he probably should’ve shrugged out of before bed. “A fight?” He didn’t need to ask but did anyway. Johnny nodded against the sheets. He knew his face was swollen – could feel every millimeter of it. “You look terrible.” He could hear Daniel step closer. “ – and you smell almost as bad.”

“Sorry for offending you,” Johnny tried to sneer, but it came out muffled and vaguely pathetic instead. “I wasn’t even that drunk last night.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to justify himself, somehow suddenly a little self-conscious about what Daniel thought of him.

“Drunk enough to start a fight that got your ass kicked,” Daniel pointed out.

Johnny snorted sheepishly. “Those guys started it – I would’ve done it anyway.” And it was true, unfortunately, and they both knew it. Fighting was a second language he’d learned early on and never grew out of, for better or for worse.

Despite the fact that his face was mashed against the stained pillowcase, he could feel Daniel rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you go and take a shower? It’ll make you feel better and it’ll make me feel better for not having to smell you.”

“Shut up,” Johnny mumbled, though there was no bite to it. He rolled over onto his side to try to obey and make an effort to get out, and let out a sharp gasp of pain when his bruises were jostled into a new position. It was vaguely humiliating to be seen in pain – this was different than the way he came home with bruises on his knees and a persistent ache in his back from working. It was wholly different to show pain from defeat. “Fuck.” He could hear Daniel rummaging in his dresser for sweats and a t-shirt.

“Let me help you,” Daniel suggested, voice gone a little softer in a way that made Johnny feel pitied, almost small. They worked together to bring him up to his feet, despite the fact that it hurt, and he staggered to the bathroom with Daniel’s hand at his lower back.

When they passed the short distance to the bathroom, Johnny studied himself in the mirror. His face was bruised and swollen on the left side – an angry mess of reds and purples – and there was a small cut on his lower lip and one on the bridge of his nose. He’d had worse, but it turns out fights hurt a hell of a lot worse when you got older. Daniel ran the water, letting it warm up.

Johnny began to strip off his clothes, starting with his shirt.

“Jesus,” Daniel blurted, seeing Johnny’s torso painted with abrasions, particularly over his ribs and back. “They kicked you, huh?”

“Not my finest moment,” Johnny agreed, feeling embarrassed by the prospect of giving out all the gory details about his defeat. “Guess I was talking to some other guy’s chick. She started it though. Guy had one of those teardrop tattoos – I probably got off easy, huh?”

Daniel seemed to have lost interest in the details, a funny, furrowed look plain across his face. He was quiet as Johnny kicked off his shoes and socks and pants, leaving them in an untidy pile on the floor. Johnny felt exposed, standing here fully naked while Daniel looked buttoned up and stuffy in all of his clothes. Daniel stuck a hand underneath the stream of the shower, testing its heat.

“Can you stand?” he asked. Johnny nodded as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ll stay to make sure you don’t fall.”

“Want to look at my ass, LaRusso?” Johnny teased gruffly, trying to diffuse the feeling of being babied and fussed over. “Fucking creep.”

“Already seen it. It’s okay I guess,” Daniel retorted calmly, making Johnny snort, but he felt hot all over. At least when he stepped in the shower, he could blame it on the steam and hot water. He yanked the shower curtain closed, glad for at least a small shred of privacy to protect his dignity. Johnny soaped his body and hair efficiently despite the fact that it hurt to lift his arms, but he seemed not to have any serious injuries, all things considered – just sore beyond belief. Washing his face stung the worst, and he watched the rusty blood pour off his face to circle the drain.

When he was done, he switched the water off and opened the curtain, only a little surprised to find Daniel still waiting on the other side of it as promised. He wordlessly pulled a towel off the hook on the back of the door – his own, which was worlds softer than any of the ones Johnny owned for himself. Instead of handing it to Johnny, he began rubbing it through Johnny’s hair to dry it.

“You don’t have to - ” Johnny tried to protest, but Daniel shushed his abruptly and wordlessly. He knew it was best to comply when Daniel got insistent like this, and he chose to be quiet to match Daniel. Daniel turned him around to face the mirror but reached around to start wiping away the droplets of water still sliding down his bruised torso.

His face was set and intense as he watched Johnny’s face for any expression of pain as he dried him. Johnny winced as Daniel brushed the towel over his ribs – though it was mostly because he was skittish about the idea of it possibly hurting more than a sharp rush of pain – and Daniel laid an apologetic kiss to the curve of his shoulder. It was a tenderness Johnny felt he didn’t deserve – not with the way he’d gone out and fought last night like he thought he was still in his twenties or some shit. It was embarrassing.

Daniel’s hands drifted lower, drying the thatch of his pubic hair, and Johnny flushed a little, trying not to get turned on by being touched there under these circumstances. Daniel kissed his shoulder again, moving to dry his back.

When he had finished, he hung the towel up and helped Johnny step into his pants. If he noticed Johnny was half-hard under the attention, he had the decency not to say anything.

“Lift your arms up,” Daniel instructed. Johnny took in a quick breath at the soreness of the motion but obeyed. He was feeling better already, or at least a little less pained. “That’s it,” he praised, pulling on Johnny’s shirt for him. He moved to rummaging in the medicine cabinet, tipping out two ibuprofen into his hand.

“ – gonna take more than that,” Johnny pointed out, knowing his tolerance for substances wasn’t exactly kid shit. Daniel regarded him with a withering stare and gave him two more, filling a glass of water for Johnny and passing it to him. Johnny had never been good at taking pills, but choked them down with water nonetheless.

He yawned, suddenly feeling like it had been a massive effort to get himself out of bed, even with Daniel’s help.

“Why don’t you go back to bed for a bit?” Daniel suggested. Johnny wasn’t sure when LaRusso had gotten this accommodating, and he passingly remembered the guy was a fucking dad. He’d probably taken care of a sick kid more times than Johnny could imagine, and he felt guilty deep down that he couldn’t say the same for himself.

Johnny wanted to protest, but the idea was too enticing. “You coming too?” he asked, trying not to sound hopeful or needy.

Shaking his head, Daniel laid a hand in the center of his back to guide him back into his bedroom. “Nah, I’ve got some stuff I need to work on before Monday. I can do it from here, though.” Johnny didn’t speak, unsure whether or not it would come out with disappointment in his voice, and he couldn’t exactly bear the idea of showing his cards that easily right now.

When they were back in the bedroom, Johnny sagged onto the mattress, laying out on his back. Daniel pulled the comforter up and over him from where it had gone kicked down around his feet in the middle of the night.

“How did it go with Amanda last night?” he blurted, still enough sleepiness in his voice to soften the edges.

Daniel was quiet, trying to figure out what exactly to say. “Comfortable,” he settled on, finally.

“Hmm,” Johnny acknowledged, his chest aching a little. Maybe it was just the bruises. He felt himself fading a little nonetheless.

“Johnny.” Daniel’s voice was starting to sound a little far away. Johnny made another half-awake sound of acknowledgment, though this one was even less present. “You know things are still over, don’t you?” To his credit, Daniel’s voice didn’t sound too terribly sad. Perhaps that was a good thing.

“Right,” Johnny said, feeling the knot in his chest loosen a little bit.

Daniel chuckled quietly. “Go to sleep, Johnny.” He lightly laid a kiss in the center of Johnny’s forehead, ignoring the places that hurt. It was nice to be fussed over, at least a little bit, Johnny noted dimly, but hoped he wouldn’t get too used to anything that would make him feel like a fucking pussy.

-

The sun was beginning to set when he woke up, and he immediately felt startled when he tried to do the math on exactly how long he’d been asleep. He cursed quietly, feeling soreness in his limbs that had thankfully faded since earlier in the morning when Daniel LaRusso had acted like some kind of weird beginning-of-a-softcore-porno nursemaid. But really, maybe the idea of that wasn’t the most unappealing thing he had ever experienced.

He rolled out of bed, rubbing at his unharmed eye with the heel of his hand and ignoring the other one.

Daniel was sitting on the couch, scratching something out on a legal pad that he hunched over on the coffee table. Sixteen Candles was on television.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Johnny grumbled. “You fucking girl.” His voice didn’t seem to startle Daniel, who rolled his eyes.

“Don’t knock a classic, Sleeping Beauty,” he said easily, scooting over to one side of the couch so that Johnny could join him.

“You think Jake Ryan was dreamy, LaRusso?” Johnny teased, collapsing gracelessly on the sofa and putting his feet up on the table. He supposed he should have gotten a beer before he sat down to get comfortable but knew he could force Daniel to the next time he stood up.

Daniel laughed under his breath. “You’re the one who knows his full name, Johnny,” he challenged, recapping his pen and setting it down on top of the legal pad, abandoning both entirely. “I ordered tacos.”

At the first mention of food, Johnny’s stomach growled insistently, and he felt thankful for what had put Daniel in such a charitable mood today.

“Fuck yeah,” he said, leaning back against the couch cushions and laying a hand over his neglected belly. He paused quietly, watching Molly Ringwald on television for a few minutes – she was hot in a weird theater geek kind of way, he decided. “But really – your night was better than mine, right?”

There was a long pause before Daniel hung his head, laughing in slight disbelief. “I’m not the one with the bloody pillowcase, am I?” he asked baldly, and Johnny knew he’d asked a stupid question. “No, it was – it feels like going to dinner with an old friend now, that’s all.” He was quiet, wanting to put the subject to bed and walk away.

Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know. I just didn’t know if it would make you feel like - ” He cut himself off abruptly, though he knew he’d already crossed into nosy-for-no-fucking-reason territory despite the fact that he didn’t want to admit he cared. He’d abstractly known why girls liked to gossip, but this felt different.

There was a strange look on Daniel’s face – it looked open, and almost caring, and Johnny knew then that maybe he had looked stupid and insecure for some reason. It was embarrassing.

“I told you earlier – it’s over.” He held up his hands as though for emphasis. “She and I have to work out our relationship for the kids, even though we’re going to do that apart.” Daniel sighed heavily. “They don’t deserve to have two parents who hate each other.” Johnny wasn’t sure he’d ever had an actual conversation about relationships with a rational adult, and thought back to the many times he’d told friends, I don’t know, man, just stop calling her back. The thought made him feel like an asshole.

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed, feeling lower than he had last night, thinking about Robby tonight even though much of the time he tried not to. Suddenly he wished he would have been self-indulgent and stayed in bed.

“You’re thinking loud tonight,” Daniel pointed out after a few minutes. Johnny shrugged. Play it cool, but don’t freeze. He knew they were past that now. “Stop thinking so much.”

He nodded, without the energy to argue. Daniel shifted closer to him, brushing a little at the hair on his temples with patient fingertips. Johnny tried to relax, faltering restlessly under the attention. Daniel kissed his forehead, and Johnny tilted his head, seeking his lips. When their mouths met, Johnny let out a quiet, surprised hiss, having forgotten about his injured lip.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Daniel warned.

“I’m not a pussy,” Johnny argued. “I’ve had worse.”

Daniel didn’t make any effort to continue the argument, kissing him lightly again in an effort not to hurt him any more than necessary, and certainly not wanting a mouthful of his blood. He combed his fingers lightly through the hair at the top of Johnny’s head, continuing to kiss him patiently. Johnny sighed a little, wishing Daniel would push harder.

There was a sharp knock at the door and Daniel broke away, clamoring to his feet. Tacos, Johnny remembered distantly, though he could’ve waited to eat now, personally, in favor of the welcome distraction of Daniel’s mouth.

They ate in a tense silence, as though something was going unsaid between them. Luckily, Daniel knew Johnny’s preferences well enough to order chicken tacos that were just meat and cheese and mild salsa, and definitely no green shit in the way.

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk to other women when you go out,” Daniel said, chewing slowly, and something unfamiliar made Johnny feel startled, cornered, even. Ever perceptive, Daniel noticed immediately – of course he did, the asshole – and jumped in to hurriedly clarify: “I mean, if this what it got you.” Daniel gestured to his own face as if to mirror the bruises on Johnny’s – as if he could forget.

Maybe you shouldn’t live it up on the town with your ex-wife, Johnny wanted to sneer, but remembered the earnest way Daniel had talked about co-parenting with Amanda in the way Johnny wished his parents would have. It would’ve been better than his dad walking out the door never to acknowledge his mother and Johnny himself ever again. He the snide comment die on his tongue, thankfully before he could bring himself to speak it.

“You just don’t want me to get my ass kicked so you have to be my fucking nurse,” Johnny shrugged.

“Well, it is a total pain in the ass,” Daniel agreed, a slight smile creasing his features. Johnny liked the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he was genuinely happy. He was quiet for a moment, so quiet Johnny almost didn’t dare to breathe. “It’s just – you know, you don’t need to, you know.”

It sounded a lot like going steady, but Johnny didn’t dare bring that up, knowing it would make him blush to hear himself say anything even remotely close to the idea out loud.

“Sounds like you think I’m too old to be out in the game,” Johnny said, trying to sound off-handed.

“Something like that,” Daniel agreed. It was as if he knew that he had tiptoed outside of Johnny’s comfort zone as far as he was going to get today and had decided to reel himself back in. Johnny was grateful.

They finished eating in silence, and Daniel took both of their empty takeout containers into the kitchen trash and returned with two beers. Johnny held his in his hands, slow to open it in a way that wasn’t typical for him.

“It wasn’t fun without you anyway,” he said finally. “ – going out by myself, I mean.”

“Well, yeah,” Daniel agreed, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You got your ass kicked.”

“There was more than one of them,” Johnny protested. “And you of all people should know just how much I don’t like getting sucker punched,” he added, unable to resist the urge to needle at Daniel.

For a moment he thought he could see regret on Daniel’s face, but if he had, it was gone as suddenly as it had come. After that, Daniel’s hand rose, ruffling his hair slowly and drifting further downward to trail his fingers over the unharmed side of his face. It almost felt like an apology, even if it had no words attached to it.

Johnny wasn’t sure who leaned in first, just knowing that he was kissing Daniel again, slowly and surely, patient as though not wanting to hurt himself or make Daniel feel guilty if he did so by accident. He did know that he was the one sighing contentedly, unable to help it even though it embarrassed him. Johnny had never wanted to be soft, not one to agonize over flowers and chocolates and talking about his fucking feelings or anything close to it. It wasn’t his fault that LaRusso knew where there were faults in his armor. He’d always been a meddlesome little twerp.

“Will you let me take care of you, baby?” he asked quietly, and Johnny had grown more and more used to how good the word sounded when it was directed at him, even if it was fucking weird too. “Let me make you feel better?”

“It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” Johnny lied.

Daniel laughed quietly, getting to his feet and offering Johnny a hand to help him up on his own. He pulled their bodies together, clearly taking pains not to hurt the area above Johnny’s ribs that was violently black and blue. He studied Johnny’s face for a few minutes, maybe trying to map out just how to take things further, or maybe just to stare like a fucking creep. Either way, he smiled, and Johnny found himself copying the motion in return.

“Want to go in there?” Johnny asked hesitantly, looking in the direction of his bedroom. He’d been trying to keep it tidier and hoped Daniel might notice and give him credit for it. Daniel nodded, heading that way without further conversation.

When they made it into the bedroom, neither of them made any motion until Johnny finally felt self-conscious, taking a seat on the bed. Daniel joined him, and there wasn’t any more time to pause. Daniel sealed their mouths together, kissing him deeply and coaxing down into the sheets. His hand drifted lower down, splaying almost possessively over Johnny’s belly. The warmth of his skin felt good where he touched Johnny. He pulled away to studying his face again.

“What?” Johnny asked, close to letting his tone snap.

Daniel shrugged, nowhere near as self-conscious as Johnny would feel if he had been caught staring. “I was just thinking about how good you look, even with that pretty boy face all banged up.” And Johnny had been called a pretty boy more times than he could even begin to count in his life, but he’d never downright shivered from it, even when it came from hot chicks at the beach or wherever he managed to meet them.

“Shut up,” Johnny groused, though he secretly hoped Daniel would do no such thing. Even the way that Daniel was looking at him was making him hard, and Johnny arched up to kiss him again, tracing in the hair at the base of Daniel’s skull. “Will you – ” He cut himself off, falling silent abruptly.

“Will I what?” Daniel asked, probably knowing but still wanting to make Johnny squirm, or maybe just to be sure.

“Touch me?” Johnny blurted gracelessly. Sounding needy was the worst thing he could imagine, and he felt his cheeks flush. Daniel smiled against his mouth, letting his tongue wander. He took a deep, shuddering breath, enjoying the way that Daniel let his hands drift down Johnny’s sides to rest on his hips. He broke away.

“I will, as long as you tell me if anything hurts.”

Johnny huffed in frustration. “It won’t. I’m fine.”

“Johnny,” Daniel said warningly. “Humor me.” Johnny found himself losing the will to fight, and he nodded defeatedly. “Good boy.” Johnny breathed in quickly, sharp and thrilled, and laid his own hands at Daniel’s hips. Daniel smiled at his reaction, rubbing their bodies together through the layers of their pants. “Like that, huh?”

It would be useless to protest, so Johnny merely nodded, knowing he’d been found out. Things just felt different when Daniel did them and said them, and sometimes Johnny simply allowed himself to hold on for the ride.  

Still, he didn’t mind helping the ride barrel along a little, adjusting painfully to lift and push his shirt up, exposing all of his skin, blackened and otherwise. Daniel sucked in a small, alarmed breath, but he leaned down instead of offering some type of platitude about not wanting to hurt Johnny and nipped lightly at the skin over his heartbeat. Johnny panted, feeling goosebumps break out over his skin despite the growing, insistent heat in the room.

“ – gonna go slow with you; make sure you feel so good,” Daniel murmured against his chest. Johnny would taunt him for his mushiness if the thought of it didn’t make him feel so good already. “ – wanna make you feel so good you forget that you got your ass kicked so badly.” His grammar was good, even when his voice was rough, like the mark of a man who had been to more than just a handful of classes in a beachside community college.

“Fuck you,” Johnny gritted out, but only moved to pull Daniel in closer by his belt. Daniel chuckled lowly, dipping his head again to lick a patient circle around Johnny’s nipple before teasing it with the points of his teeth. Johnny moaned, involuntarily rolling his hips up against Daniel. “If you really want to make me feel good, you’ll try not to be an asshole.”

“I make no promises,” Daniel offered. He backed away just long enough to pull his own shirt off, and Johnny admired the unblemished expanse of his skin. When he returned, he sucked another bruise in the center of his chest, marring the tan skin just above his sternum. “This one’s mine.” It seemed only fitting that Daniel would want to the be the next one to leave a mark of his own.

“Yeah,” Johnny said hoarsely, not exactly sure what he was agreeing with. “Yeah, yeah.”

Daniel smiled, running a gentle hand up Johnny’s chest, admiring the way his flesh felt in his hand.

“I like making you fall apart.” Johnny felt a flush building in his chest up to his shoulders and further, but he made no move to argue – it would be futile, he supposed. “ – and you like it too.” Still, he made no move to argue, tilting his head back so Daniel could nibble at the front of his throat. His blood felt too hot from his body, boiling too close to the skin, and he let out a wet, panting breath.

He could feel Daniel’s eyes raking over him, and felt grateful when he took action, pushing Johnny’s sweats down with a roughness that betrayed his earlier sentiments. He licked his palm sloppily, and the sight of Daniel’s pink tongue moving across his own skin made Johnny groan and shift restlessly until Johnny wrapped his hand around the length of him.

Johnny made a helpless sound, listening intently to the sound of Daniel’s hand moving wetly up and down his cock. He shivered, knowing that tonight there was the promise of more. Daniel had assured him over and over again that he wouldn’t hurt him, but his nerves still stood on end in anticipation of the way he might make him feel otherwise. Daniel kissed him hard, working his cock diligently.

“Are you going to fuck me?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“I will if you want me to,” Daniel breathed immediately, letting Johnny pull his belt open and toss it aside to the floor with a metallic clatter. “If that’s what you want, you know I’ll do it for you, baby.” If nothing else, no one could question Daniel on the depths of his generosity.  

Unable to find his voice, Johnny jerked his head up and down insistently, almost in time with the way that Daniel had begun to stroke him faster. The increase in pace made him fasten his teeth into his lip where it had bitten, and he released the sore spot with a gasp.

“Let me hear you,” Daniel encouraged, watching Johnny kick his pants away when he still felt too restricted. “You sound so hot.”

The words were reassuring enough, and Johnny let out a quiet, pleased noise that sounded desperate to his own ears. Sex felt different with Daniel – as stupid as it felt to admit it – like all of his nerves were burning at once leaving him with no choice but to ignore how close he always was to unraveling. Faintly, he wondered if it could have always been like this if they both hadn’t been so goddamn stupid. The thought of what he’d been missing out on all the time might an ache that wasn’t physical build in his chest, and he kicked it aside as quickly as possible. Sex was sex, until it wasn’t – fucking lame.

Daniel’s fingers creeped downward for a moment, touching one light finger to his entrance between the jumble of their legs. Johnny sighed openly, wanting Daniel inside.

“It seems like that is what you want,” Daniel murmured, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. “Want me inside?”

As much as he wanted to tell Daniel to shut the fuck up and do something, he nodded again, fighting to spread his legs wider.

“Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Johnny complied, writhing a little. “I’ll tell you if that’s what you want to hear.”

“It is.” Daniel’s tone was earnest as ever, and Johnny assumed that that was how he’d gotten so far in life, with lots full of cars to sell and piles of money to spend – only to find himself here, in a slightly run-down apartment, divorced and with power over the person he had spent years hating more than anyone in the world.

“Maybe not too hard,” Johnny conceded embarrassedly, wincing a little as Daniel’s hand brushed one of several bruises over his ribs. “I mean – maybe that’s okay today.” Maybe it’s okay if you’re gentle with me. He tried not to feel sick to his stomach about the implication of wanting it that way, but it went to the wayside as Daniel kissed him patiently, pushing his own pants down deftly with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Johnny’s cock.

“It’s going to be okay – it’s going to be really okay,” Daniel assured him, and Johnny wondered what made a person so easily confident but decided not to question it. It wasn’t worth questioning how Daniel was always able to bring him to his knees, one way or another. “Would it be easier with you on your front?”

Johnny shrugged. He’d never really thought about it. “Maybe, but - ” He didn’t dare tell Daniel he wanted to see his face when he came – it was a mushy ass bridge too far, and he worried Daniel would tease him for all of a sudden getting all touchy feely, like some chick who might want to cuddle afterward. “Nah, this way is fine,” he concluded, trying to sound like he’d given it no thought, hoping to close the book on that particular negotiation by chasing Daniel’s lips.

After a few moments, Daniel pulled away, already slicking his fingers. Things were moving fast despite the languid gentleness of it all, but Johnny didn’t mind. His thighs trembled where he tried to hold himself, hoping to look open and inviting. He supposed he succeeded, enjoying the way Daniel traced the rim of him with a wetted fingertip, kissing the whimper out of his mouth.

“I’m going to open you up, baby, and then I’m going to fuck you nice and slow, and hard,” Daniel promised, sliding one finger cleanly inside of Johnny without waiting to tease him. “I’m going to fuck you, make you feel so good, make you come all over yourself. I know you love it.”

Johnny moaned openly, feeling himself in the beginning stages of unraveling as Daniel crooked a searching finger inside of him before pushing another in alongside the first. He let out a raw noise when Daniel found what he had been searching for, and the tremble in his thighs only got sharper. Daniel smiled, taking Johnny’s hand and curling it around his own cock so that Daniel had more space to work. He pinned Johnny’s legs apart with a firm hand on one of his thighs, undoubtedly all too aware of the way he was shaking.

And really, Johnny did love it – it would be pointless to argue with him.

Daniel fingered him slowly open, almost teasing now that he was inside, but all to eager to consume the breathy, choked noises Johnny made as he kissed him. Johnny broke away, looking down where he could feel Daniel pressed against him, rubbing his cock up and down.

“I want you,” Johnny admitted. “I can – you don’t have to wait anymore.”

Upon the admission, Daniel rewarded him by circling his prostate with two practiced fingertips, tearing a ragged cry out of Johnny’s chest. Johnny thrashed, looking for more of the sensation even though Daniel still held him down. Johnny felt embarrassed to realize that Daniel holding him firmly in place only made him harder, his blood roaring loudly in his ears. His mouth had gone dry under the force of his heavy, desperate breathing.

After a few more passes of Daniel’s fingertips, Johnny finally made a move to shrink away despite how much he relished in the feeling.

“Fuck me, please,” he whispered tremulously, ready and aching and dripping all over his hand. “I want it bad.”

Mercifully, Daniel slid his fingers out to focus on getting himself nice and slippery. Johnny tried to catch his breath but failed miserably as Daniel moved to line himself up. He had given up on reassuring Johnny it wouldn’t hurt, knowing Johnny was already far gone enough to not care anymore at the possibility of it.

Daniel kissed him gently as he pushed inside past the tight ring of Johnny’s hole. Johnny’s mouth fell open, but Daniel only took it as an opportunity to kiss him harder. Johnny instinctively pulled him closer, the chests touching. It hurt when Daniel leaned against the sore places marking him up, but it only served to add a delicious edge to the heat of Daniel moving inside of him.

“Oh god,” Johnny moaned shakily. “God, Daniel.” He wouldn’t beg, not just yet, but it wasn’t far off already. Daniel gave him a long moment to adjust to being filled up, but then slowly began pressing in and out. Johnny’s head tipped back, baring the long line of his throat so Daniel could kiss up it back to his mouth. “Fuck.”

“You feel so good,” Daniel agreed, pulling Johnny in closer with a practiced hand at his hip. “ – always so fucking tight for me.” On a particularly hard thrust, Johnny let out a desperate cry, beginning to jerk himself off again. “Tell me it’s just for me.”

“Y-yeah,” Johnny blurted without thinking. “It’s just for you.”

“Nobody else knows how to fuck you the way you like, do they?” Daniel ground out possessively, thrusting deeper still, and Johnny cried out again. “Tell me, baby.”

He could feel his face flaming hot, red and splotchy with exertion and a shame he was surprised to find he enjoyed so much. “N-nobody else could fuck me the way I like it,” he confirmed, hearing the unsteadiness in his voice. He wondered if Daniel was thinking about Johnny out there, wandering in and out of bars and risking talking to strangers who might either hurt him or – even worse – take him home for the night.

“You’re so good,” Daniel murmured, still slowly moving in and out, and Johnny’s belly felt hot and tangled way down low. “You feel so good.” He carded his fingers through Johnny’s hair, kissing him with a slow tenderness that felt downright romantic. To his surprise, it made Johnny shiver rather than feel grossed out, and he sought out another kiss when Daniel tried to lean back to look at him.

Daniel fucked him for what felt like an eternity – or at least Johnny wished it was that long – and he could feel the strain of holding himself back beginning to make him falter. His skin felt too tight and too hot, and there was so much heat in and around him that Johnny knew he was at the edge.

“ – love this, baby,” Daniel whispered in the spot below his ear, quiet in a way that made Johnny wonder if he’d heard him correctly. Their eyes met, and Johnny felt ashamed at the way his mouth fell open into a small, broken moan.

“I’m so close,” Johnny whimpered out, knowing deep down that what Daniel had said had only made his release more imminent. “Please – can I - ” he stammered, as though Daniel might deny him.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Daniel encouraged, lacing his fingers with Johnny’s to move up and down the dripping length of his cock. “I want to watch you come.” Maybe Daniel had asked him to roll over on his front as a test, and Johnny was distantly glad he’d insisted on it this way.

It was all the confirmation Johnny needed, and he jerked his head back as he came all over himself and Daniel’s hand, unable to control the coordination of his limbs. His chest heaved, all the breath suddenly gone from his lungs. Daniel kissed him deeply, only lasting a few more thrusts before coming inside of him.

They took their time catching their breaths before Daniel rolled off of him, paying special mind to Johnny’s bruises instead of collapsing down on him and running the risk of making him cry out in pain and interrupting his afterglow.

“Was that okay?” Daniel asked when he could steady his voice out a little.

Johnny smiled dazedly up at the ceiling. “You got a filthy fucking mouth on you, LaRusso.”

Bashfully, Daniel chuckled. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “No, I guess you didn’t,” Johnny agreed, realizing suddenly that he hadn’t let go of Daniel’s sticky hand and found himself without the desire to do so anytime soon. “I told you that you wouldn’t hurt me,” he pointed out triumphantly.

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Like you’d tell me if I did anyway.”

Johnny could suppose that was true but had too much pride to agree with LaRusso just yet. “I told you – I’m not a fucking pussy.” Even if it was misplaced now, that pride was still in his voice. “Nah, I’d have told you. It was good.” It was more than good, but his pride would definitely hold that one back. Daniel brushed a pleased kiss against his lips, almost chaste save for the fact that Johnny’s come was drying on their hands.

“Shower?” Daniel suggested, ever-fussy about the mess.

“I took one earlier,” Johnny protested. Daniel made a disgusted face.

“Don’t be gross,” he objected, nudging Johnny gently on his unbruised shoulder. “We can keep each other company.”

Johnny felt unsteady on his legs but followed Daniel into the bathroom, watching him putter about and move to start running the water.

“I, um,” Johnny began uncertainly, not sure whether or not bringing up Daniel’s earlier request was girly or not. “There’s really no point in going out alone,” he finally said. “Like, they probably banned me from Mike’s for the fight, y’know.”

There was a quiet pause between the two of them, fraught with implication, and Daniel smiled at him, suddenly open.

“Should’ve banned your ass for putting ketchup on their steak in the first place,” Daniel pointed out, stepping into the shower and beckoning for Johnny to join him.

They kissed in the spray until it ran cold. They’d split a high water bill, Johnny reminded himself. He allowed himself to feel at ease for tonight.