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On January 1, Johnny is awoken a few minutes before 8 to the sound of his phone blaring at an ungodly volume. Silently, he curses Miguel—you miss a couple calls, and suddenly you’re banned from keeping your phone volume anywhere below 75 percent.
Granted, Johnny knows that he could change it if he really wanted to—or make the kid do fifty push-ups on his knuckles for barring him in the first place—but it’s kind of nice knowing that someone cares that much, so he lets it slide. That doesn’t stop him from being annoyed, though.
Bleary-eyed, head pulsing with a dull throb, he rolls over and grabs his phone, grumbling when he sees the name on the screen. Damn you, LaRusso.
“What?”
“Good morning to you, too.” God, he can hear the smarmy look on Daniel’s face. “Listen, I was wondering if we could meet up sometime this afternoon to go over lesson plans for the week?”
Johnny frowns. “Isn’t it…New Year’s Day?” he grumbles, his previously muted headache hitting him with a renewed force. “You’re tellin’ me you don’t have plans? Why the hell are you even up this early?”
“It’s not that early.” There’s a beat of silence, just too long to be inconspicuous; Johnny waits. “Amanda took the kids to visit her mom for the weekend. My ma’s in Newark. The dealership’s closed. So my choices are you, or sit here until Louie figures out I’m alone and drags me out to a bar where I’ll probably end up having to bribe some slimy cop not to arrest him again.”
Johnny bites his lip, brain stuck processing the first part of that sentence. “And you chose me?” He grins, a strange feeling twisting in his chest at that: smugness, mixed with something else that he doesn’t quite recognize or want to think about this early in the morning. “Never thought I’d see the day, LaRusso.”
“God, if you’re gonna make it a thing, then never mind,” Daniel groans, but Johnny’d bet his life that the guy is smiling on the other end up the line: that crooked little half-smile he gets when he’s amused but doesn’t want to admit it. “Look, I’m bored outta my mind over here. It’ll just take an hour or so. Promise. Don’t tell me your day is too booked up to spare an hour.”
“Watch it, Newark. For all you know, I have loads of plans,” Johnny huffs, trying not to think about the fact that his plans for the day are a repeat of his plans for the past several days: sleeping ‘til noon; staring at the walls of his apartment and trying not to think about how profoundly depressing this time of year is; contemplating whether to take up his open invitation at the Diaz’s or stay pent up where he can’t ruin anyone’s holidays with his own sour attitude.
It's not that he’s some kind of Scrooge. He just…doesn’t get the whole holiday thing. He never has, at least not since his mom died. He doesn’t understand why the whole world has to grind to a halt, everyone spending a couple weeks pretending to be grateful for what they have, only to return to the lies, betrayals, and politics of their everyday lives as soon as the holiday magic fades. Not to mention all that New Year’s resolution bullshit—right, like anyone sticks to those for more than a week.
The whole season feels hollow, artificial, and Johnny doesn’t want any part of it. It’s not his brand. But there’s something almost hopeful in LaRusso’s voice, and Johnny has to admit that getting out of this shitty apartment for a while sounds pretty good—even if it means spending the day with LaRusso.
“…I guess I can squeeze you in,” he concedes, half-regretting it as soon as the words leave his mouth. He’s not one for superstitions, but starting the year off with this guy? That can’t bode well.
“Great! I’m already over at Miyagi-Do. Can you be here in 30?”
“45,” Johnny counters, just for the sake of arguing. He sits up, legs thrown over the side of the bed. “And we’re still working on that name, LaRusso.”
“Whatever you say, John,” Daniel replies, smirk evident in his voice. Johnny groans as he hangs up the phone, then trudges over to his closet, wondering just what he’s gotten himself into.
Before Johnny can even knock, the dojo door swings open to reveal LaRusso, looking wide awake and happier to see him than Johnny thinks he has… ever. But beneath his cheery expression, there’s a weariness, almost reminiscent of the look in his eyes when all that shit went down with Terry Silver; not quite as manic, though, just…dull. Resigned. It’s more than a little unsettling.
“LaRusso,” he says, cordial but cautious.
“Johnny,” Daniel greets, ushering him inside. “How’s it going? I haven’t seen you—”
There it is. “Listen, if you’re about to say that you haven’t seen me all year, I’m gonna stop you right now before I kick your ass.”
Daniel visibly deflates, but quickly forces his expression back into a smile. “Yeah, yeah.” He shakes his head, leading Johnny to the small table inside the main house that has become their lesson-planning spot. “This won’t take long—I just figured we could go ahead and get a jumpstart on things.”
“And you decided that at the ass crack of dawn because…?” Johnny asks, settling in across from him.
“It’s not that early,” Daniel grouses, fidgeting with one of the stupid little clicky pens he insists on bringing to these meetings along with a notepad and highlighters, like they’re some kind of actual professionals and not high school rivals who spend most of their lessons doing more bickering than actual teaching. “Figured you’d be up anyways—don’t you usually go for a run in the mornings?”
“Not always.” Johnny shrugs, though it usually is always. He just…hasn’t felt like it the last couple of days. “And it is a holiday.”
“Right,” Daniel drawls. “Thought you’re—what was it you said at the Christmas party—‘not a holiday guy?’”
“I’m not. Doesn’t mean I don’t take an excuse to sleep in when I see one.” Daniel looks unconvinced, but Johnny really doesn’t wanna go into a whole spiel about his holiday moping right now.
“And what about you?” Johnny deflects, gesturing vaguely at Daniel’s put-together yet somehow still-ruffled appearance. “Figured you’d be all over New Year’s.”
“Not this year,” Daniel says, and though he doesn’t elaborate, the words feel strangely gloomy. “Now c’mon, let’s get down to business.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Johnny concedes, dropping the issue for now, though he can’t help but feel a twinge of something almost like concern about the hollowness in Daniel’s voice, the strange sadness in his eyes. Right, that’s ridiculous—since when does he give a shit about LaRusso’s feelings? It’s not like they’re friends now, even if they are more civil than they used to be. There’s no reason for Johnny to go poking around in Daniel’s business.
Pushing his thoughts aside, he stares down at the table blankly as Daniel opens his notepad and starts scribbling, yammering off some vague explanation of another one of his weird kata techniques that he wants to teach the kids.
Johnny halfway listens, feeling strangely antsy—he’s not the kind of guy who can plan stuff. If it was up to him, he’d just go with the flow and teach the kids whatever comes to mind, but LaRusso has to have a plan—even if said plan is extremely convoluted and involves chores, meditation, or some deep, layered philosophical lesson. Or all three—which it does, more often than not.
Whatever. Since they started planning stuff out, Daniel hasn’t been on his case nearly as much as he was at first, so Johnny figures he can suffer through a couple boring hours a month. And it does allow him to make sure the kids are learning a good balance of badassery and—whatever it is LaRusso teaches them. Which brings Johnny back to the present: Daniel hasn’t mentioned offense once since they’ve been here, and Johnny’s not about to let that slide.
He opens his mouth to argue, but as he glances back up at Daniel, every coherent thought in his brain skids to a halt. Daniel has on a pair of glasses now, thin black frames perched delicately on his nose, brown eyes somehow even wider behind the lenses. Shit, since when do his eyes look like…that?
“John?” Daniel’s voice filters in through the chaos in his brain. From the look on Daniel’s face, Johnny gets the impression that this isn’t the first time his name has been called.
Johnny blinks, hopelessly distracted. “Yeah?”
“Think I lost you for a minute there,” Daniel chides, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You alright?”
Johnny’s mouth goes dry as Daniel’s brow creases a bit. He nods, trying his best to seem unfazed. “Since when do you wear glasses?”
“Huh? Oh, these?” Daniel laughs, oblivious to Johnny’s ongoing crisis. He raises one hand to fidget with them, and Johnny’s eyes can’t help but track the movement. “Reading glasses. My Christmas gift from the kids. It’s their, er, not-so-subtle way of telling me they think I’m blind.”
“Oh really?” Johnny laughs, feeling a little lighter. He lifts his middle finger. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Hilarious,” Daniel deadpans, rolling his eyes. “They’re just for reading. I don’t even really need them. But you order one wrong thing at a restaurant, and suddenly you’re stuck wearing these. Kids think they know everything.”
Johnny smirks. “Tell me about it.”
“It wasn’t even my fault!” Daniel gripes. “The font on the menu was this weird cursive shit, and the lighting was really dim—"
“God, I hate that,” Johnny grouses. “Dunno why everyone thinks they’ve gotta do that now. Low lighting should be reserved for bars and movie theaters. And, like, funeral homes.”
“Right?” Daniel says, exasperation tinged with appreciation in his voice, like he can’t believe the two of them are seeing eye to eye on something for once. Johnny knows the feeling all too well. “You get it.”
Johnny feels himself smile—a real smile, for once. “Yeah, I do.” That same weird feeling from earlier—one that he’s felt quite often lately, if he’s honest—tightens in his chest, something not quite camaraderie and not quite affection.
Hold up, affection? Screw that—Johnny doesn’t feel anything for this guy. They’re rivals—well, ex-rivals—constantly straddling a line between spiteful and civil that seems to get blurrier with each passing day. But that’s all. Johnny doesn’t know why he’d even consider anything else.
It’s the glasses. They must be messing with his head. It’s not his fault LaRusso has some weird, hot librarian thing going on now.
Wait, hot?
“Alright, I’m getting a beer,” Johnny announces, standing abruptly, trying his best to push his mini-crisis to the back of his mind. “We’ve been at this long enough. You still keep it in that drawer in the fridge?”
Daniel nods, raising a brow. “Thought you didn’t like my light beer?”
Johnny looks at him, pointed. “You got any other options?”
“No.” Daniel frowns, eyes wide and unsure behind his glasses. Fuck, if Johnny thought he looked like a wounded deer before… “We’re not done planning yet, though.”
“C’mon, we’ve been at this long enough,” Johnny insists. “It’s New Year’s—don’t tell me you wanna spend the whole day holed up writing lesson plans?”
Daniel bites his lip, that odd tension from earlier creeping back into his shoulders. Man, Johnny’s really gotta get to the bottom of that. “I mean—not really…”
“Then c’mon,” Johnny claps him on the shoulder, heading toward the fridge. “I think there’s a Die Hard marathon on.”
Two hours later, notepad forgotten on the kitchen table, a few empty beers between them, they’re sprawled on the loveseat in the house’s small den, chatting idly over the TV. And it’s…nice. Johnny still can’t help but be surprised every time he and Daniel spend more than a few hours together without breaking something or trying to maim each other, but it’s been happening more and more lately. Johnny’s not sure if he’ll ever quite get used to it, but he doesn’t hate it—not at all.
Seeing LaRusso relaxed like this is the most surreal part. The guy is normally wound so tight, that frenetic energy he emanated when they were kids softened by time but always there, lingering just below the surface. But at times like this, when they both put down their fists and let themselves be not just civil, but something that could almost be considered friendly, that tension fades away. And Johnny can’t help but feel a certain type of way every time he sees it.
Tonight though, there’s something different. That odd heaviness that Johnny picked up on when he arrived earlier hasn’t quite faded from Daniel’s eyes. He has loosened up—and foregone the reading glasses for now, to Johnny’s relief and disappointment—but he still seems like he’s carrying some burden. And though Johnny hates to break the lighthearted, companionable air between them, he needs to know why. Not cause he, like, cares, or anything, it’s just…
(Fine, maybe he cares a little bit.)
He turns to look at Daniel, one arm propped on the couch in a manner he hopes comes across as casual. “Why did you call me today, man?”
Daniel blinks, a flicker of something passing over his face. “Huh? To go over lesson plans…”
“Don’t give me that,” Johnny interjects. “You and I both know lesson plans could’ve waited. Why did you really call me?”
“I just…” Daniel frowns, chewing on his bottom lip. Johnny doesn’t think he imagines the faint redness in his cheeks. “Being alone sucks, okay? I’m not used to it. I grew up always having family around during the holidays, and this is the first holiday season since Amanda and I…” He shakes his head. “I just…wanted to be around someone.”
Something deep in Johnny’s chest twists, recognition and understanding tinged with something almost like sorrow. Isn’t that how Johnny’s been feeling for the last…God, how many Christmases has it been now? Too many. And while Johnny knows his experience isn’t exactly the same, he also understands that loneliness is a heavy burden to shoulder.
“I get that,” Johnny says, hoping he sounds sincere. “Holidays are like that when you get older, man. You just…run out of people to spend them with.”
Daniel’s eyes go wide and sad. “Yeah, I guess.” He frowns, fidgeting with the arm of the couch, and for a moment, Johnny worries he’s made things worse—it wouldn’t be the first time.
“Look, I didn’t mean…” Johnny scratches the back of his neck nervously. What the hell does he mean? “I just…I’ve been there before, man. My mom used to go crazy for the holidays, even when we were dirt poor. The first year without her…” He swallows, glancing away. “I didn’t even wanna get out of bed. It sucks not having your people around.”
Johnny looks back up, and Daniel’s expression has shifted: still somber, but almost knowing, now. “That’s why you don’t like the holidays?”
Johnny shrugs, trying to play it off. “Part of it. I mean, you know me—festive’s never really been my thing. But after my mom died—and things with Shannon and Robby went south—I just…I haven’t really cared. Figure it’s better to just keep to myself.”
Daniel goes quiet then, and Johnny can almost hear the gears turning in his head; can just imagine what he’s thinking. Part of him hates himself for being so open and sharing so much—if LaRusso starts pitying him, he doesn’t think he can take it. But in a strange way, it also feels kind of nice to get this off his chest. Especially because—and he’d never say this out loud—he’s realizing that Daniel gets him, in a way that no one else ever has. They may be polar opposites, but parts of them are deeply intertwined, and Johnny is slowly learning to stop running from that.
“What if we don’t have to?” Daniel asks. Johnny blinks out of his daze to glance at him, confused.
“Huh?”
“Keep to ourselves.” Daniel looks at him with intent. “Maybe the holidays don’t look how they used to. Hell, maybe they never will. But that doesn’t mean they have to be bad, does it?”
Johnny frowns, thinking that over. Maybe Daniel has a point. All these years he’s walled himself off, kept to himself instead of trying to fill the void that threatens to swallow him every time the holidays roll around—better to stay at home, dreary mood contained somewhere it can’t tarnish other people’s good spirits.
But today—today hasn’t been half bad. It’s been…nice, actually—the nicest holiday Johnny can recall in a while. And he has Daniel to thank for that.
“You, uh…you still didn’t answer my question.” Johnny looks at him, curious, heart pounding inexplicably. “You could’ve called anyone today. Why’d you pick me?”
Daniel’s lip twitches into a ghost of an exasperated smile, cheeks tinged a faint red. “Do you really need me to spell it out for you, John?”
Johnny’s heart thunders then, and at that moment, he registers just how close they are. Daniel shifts closer, and Johnny follows, drawn to him as if by some invisible force. And maybe it’s the beer, or their shared bittersweet spirits, or merely this thing they’ve been dancing around for years—decades, really—coming to fruition, but suddenly it’s so easy for Johnny to lean in and close the distance between them.
It's not a perfect kiss, not some mushy, fairytale ending, but it’s perfect for them, laced with promise and hope and mutual understanding—that maybe, just maybe, this kiss will be the first of many. And maybe, from this moment forward, the holidays won’t be marked by all they’ve lost, but everything—and everyone—they’ve gained along the way.
They break apart, grinning like idiots, but neither speaks, as if afraid to fracture the blissful moment they’ve landed in. But like earlier, Johnny can tell that Daniel is chomping at the bit to speak, so he raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothin’,” Daniel says, a sly smile on his face.
“I can hear you thinking over there.”
Daniel bites his lip, coy. “It’s just that…my ma always says whatever you do on New Year’s, that’s what you’re gonna be doing the rest of the year.”
Johnny smirks. “Oh? You got a problem with that?”
Daniel grins and grabs him by the collar, dragging him back in. “Nah.”