Archive of Our Own ^beta

Before Johnny realizes the full extent of what’s happened to him, before he takes in his surroundings and gets a good look at his body and realizes that he’s entered one of those weird sci-fi movies Demetri and Hawk won’t shut up about, he notices how much better his body feels.

He blinks awake, squinting at the ceiling in an attempt to block out the early morning sunlight streaming in through the curtains. He feels like he’s floating on a cloud—has his mattress always been this comfortable?—and for the first time in God knows how many years, he actually feels rested. Refreshed. Which doesn’t make a damn bit of sense, seeing as he didn’t go to bed until it was 4 AM and he was three Coors deep into the Rocky marathon.

He should be exhausted, should be sore and stiff and irritable, but he feels like a fucking teenager again, awake and lively and like he could run a marathon. He shakes his head, chalking it up to a hangover, before he gets a good look at the room around him and does a double take.

And then he notices the knocking on his door.

“Johnny! Wake up, sweetie, you’re gonna be late!”

Johnny sits up with a start, feeling all the blood drain from his face and his heart begin to pound in his chest, because even after all these years he knows that voice better than anything else, hasn’t heard it in nearly two decades but still feels it curl around him like the embrace of an old friend. He feels a faint wetness begin to prickle at the corners of his eyes and he frantically scrubs at them, stumbling to his feet. He all but runs to the door and yanks it open, half afraid that he’s finally lost it and this is all some fucked up illusion in his mind.

But no, there she stands, young and healthy and beautiful as ever.

His mom.

“Mom,” he says, mouth gaping open uselessly, and his voice is a lot higher than he remembers it being—what the hell?

“Morning, honey,” she says with an easy smile. She reaches up to run a hand through his hair, and the gentle touch sends another wave of bittersweet grief through him. “Look at you. You’re getting so tall, I can’t believe it. And so strong, too.” She squeezes his shoulder gently. “Before long you’re not even gonna need me anymore.”

“Uh…Yeah,” he says weakly, feeling his insides twist and constrict in a painful vice. He’s fifty-something years old and he doesn’t think he’s ever stopped needing his mom.

Laura frowns, brushing the messy fringe off his forehead. When did his hair get so long? “Are you alright, sweetie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Johnny shakes his head, pushing away the obvious response to that because—well. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he thinks if he doesn’t get out of here soon he may do something stupid, like burst into tears. “I…yeah, I’m fine.”

She eyes him suspiciously for a minute and then sighs, leaning in to give him a quick hug. Johnny relaxes into the touch like he’s starving for it.

She pulls back and presses a quick kiss to his temple. “Well get going, okay? Aren’t you supposed to meet Bobby before school?”

“Bobby?” Johnny asks, puzzled, but before Laura can answer another voice chimes in, one that Johnny still hears in the back of his mind in all his darkest moments, every time he worries he’s not good enough. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Laura! You better not be up there talking to that worthless kid of yours!”

Just the sound of it makes Johnny’s blood boil, sends him spiraling back to his teenage years, all the hours spent desperately trying to win Sid’s approval and then, when that didn’t work, stay as far away from him as possible. It shouldn’t still hurt after all these years—and in a lot of ways, it doesn’t. Not in quite the same way, at least. It still claws at his insides, making him feel worthless and stupid and insignificant. But underneath that there’s an anger, a righteous fire kindled and waiting to burn bright.

Because Johnny’s not a kid anymore. And he may have his own doubts and insecurities, but he’s not worthless. He knows that. And even more than that, he knows that Sid’s a dick, has the hindsight to understand that the old bastard’s opinion doesn’t even matter in the grand scheme of things, because it’s just that: worthless.

He looks at his mom, and regardless of whether she’s a ghost or memory or some fucked up hallucination, the sadness in her eyes makes her look decades older. It makes Johnny’s heart sink in his chest, makes him wish he could just reach out and tell her that she doesn’t need Sid or his money to have value. To Johnny, she’s pure gold.

But naturally, the words don’t come—they never do when Johnny needs them to. Laura frowns and squeezes his shoulder. “Get going, okay?” She says, voice soft and tired, before she retreats down the stairs.

Johnny watches her go, staring stunned at the spot she had just occupied. His heart pounds in his chest, whole body keyed up with a nervous, frenetic energy that he can’t explain. He stumbles back into his room—his room, he realizes, exactly as it looked his senior year of high school, with his 80s band posters and navy blue bedspread and black headband thrown across his desk.

His already pounding heart thunders in his chest. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he’s suddenly very aware that he’s in uncharted territory, that no matter how familiar his surroundings are, he feels like an outsider, a foreigner, like he’s stumbled into a forbidden place he was never meant to be.

Finally, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror above his chest of drawers and freezes.

He is a fucking teenager again.

God, he’s really too old for this shit.

After he’s splashed cold water on his face, taken a frigid shower, and pinched himself no less than half a dozen times, Johnny comes to the conclusion that he is, in fact, stuck in the body of his teenage self.

He doesn’t know what to do with this.

He could freak out, and there is admittedly a part of him that wants to do just that. But freaking out’s for pussies, and Johnny Lawrence is no pussy; besides, he doesn’t think having a breakdown will improve his situation.

He has no clue how long he’s going to be stuck here, doesn’t even know why he’s here in the first place—he always thought time travel would be a more flashy affair, with lightning and flying DeLoreans and shit. Who the hell just goes to bed as a washed-up fifty-something and wakes up as a teenager?

The whole thing makes his skin crawl, gives him the chills and makes his hair stand on end. He doesn’t want to do the wrong thing and fuck things up, doesn’t want to interrupt the space-time continent or whatever. But in all honesty, part of him is intrigued by the idea of reliving his past, getting to do things over stop himself from making stupid mistakes.

He swings open the door to his closet and pulls on some clothes, an action that’s strangely comforting and familiar. And that’s when it hits him: mistakes. God knows he fucked up a bunch in high school—maybe this is the universe giving him a chance to redeem himself.

But redeem himself how, exactly? Johnny screwed up countless ways as a teenager—there’s a reason all his friends called him the Ace Degenerate. How the hell is he supposed to know where to start?

He huffs in frustration, shrugging on his old Chuck Taylors and favorite sweater from back in the day. He spots his red Cobra Kai jacket hanging up, clearly well-loved but not nearly as faded as it is back in the future, and pulls it on, too; he doesn’t know what exact date in the past he’s stumbled upon, exactly, but he figures the jacket had a consistent enough presence in his younger self’s wardrobe.

Once he’s dressed, he grabs his backpack from the floor by his desk, thankfully already packed—right, like he ever unpacked it and actually did homework—and makes his way down the stairs. May as well go meet up with Bobby before school, since apparently this is his life now—again.

He takes the main hallway that runs past the dining room, out of forgotten habit more than anything else, and doesn’t realize his mistake until it’s too late.

“Well, if it isn’t the karate king,” Sid sneers, peering up over his coffee and the morning paper to glare at him. Johnny pauses to stare at him.

It’s strange, in a way, to see the man who tormented him for so long looking healthy and youthful. Strange in more than one way, to be honest. It sends Johnny’s head spinning with a whirlwind of thoughts, ignites that familiar fear and feeling of inadequacy and disappointment.

But more than anything, it reminds Johnny that Sid’s human, just like everyone else. Johnny spent so many years building Sid up to be some kind of monster in his head, when in reality he’s just a small blemish on the grand canvas of life. And if Sid can dismiss Johnny as worthless, can look down upon him and torment him for no reason other than sheer spite, Johnny realizes with a startling clarity that he can do the same thing.

He decides, in that moment, that he’s not going to be afraid of Sid—isn’t going to let his young self, or future self, or any variations in between serve as Sid’s doormat anymore. The universe, for some reason, has given him a second chance. And goddamn it, he’s going to take it.

Johnny’s going to use this as an opportunity to better himself. He could give in, could roll right over and let Sid walk all over him, but he’s had enough of that for one lifetime. The old bastard isn’t going to have a hold over him anymore, repercussions be damned.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, you useless little punk?” Sid scoffs, squinting at him like he’s some kind of insect under a microscope. Johnny lets it roll right off his back.

“Yeah,” Johnny says flatly, narrowing his eyes. “You can fuck off.”

And then he heads out to the garage and takes off on his bike without another word.

The look of shock and blasphemy on Sid’s face as he walks away is one of the most satisfying things he’s ever seen.

He meets Bobby at the corner of Capistrano and Burbank two blocks from the school, their old meeting spot. How the hell he manages to remember that, he has no idea.

Bobby gives him a stiff look as he approaches. “Dude, where the hell have you been?”

Johnny blinks at him stupidly, brain stuck trying to process seeing Bobby Brown with a full head of hair for the first time in God knows how long. Hey, maybe he can convince him to use some kind of anti-balding shampoo—wait, would that seem too weird of a thing to bring up?

He looks good, young and healthy and exactly how Johnny remembers him from their days at Cobra Kai. But today he seems…tense, more jittery and anxious that Johnny remembers him being. It makes him a little uneasy.

“Johnny?” Bobby asks, insistent, and Johnny realizes he still hasn’t answered.

“Oh, uh…huh?”

Bobby’s expression shifts into one of concern. “Are you okay? You’re twenty minutes late.”

Johnny waves a hand, trying to brush it off. Shit, how did he talk when he was in high school? “Yeah, man, I’m fine,” he shrugs, and then, deciding to be as honest as he possibly can: “Got caught up with Sid.”

Bobby grimaces, gaze turning sympathetic. It’s the same look older Bobby gives him all the time, pity mixed with worry. It makes Johnny feel achingly small. “Was he…what’d you say to him?”

“Told him to fuck off,” Johnny says, aiming for nonchalant.

Bobby snorts. “Yeah, right.” But when Johnny doesn’t say anything further, his eyes widen and his face drops. “Seriously? No. No, Johnny, you didn’t.”

“I did,” Johnny grins, clapping him on the shoulder. “Who’s the degenerate now?”

“Johnny, you,” Bobby shakes his head, looking at him in disbelief. “Why? You know he’s not gonna let it go. Do you have a death wish or something?”

Johnny realizes, then, that Bobby is actually concerned—and you know, he probably has a right to be. He knows better than just about anyone just how awful Sid was to Johnny. But he’s also still a teenager, with limited experience and perspective. He doesn’t understand that a few years down the line, Sid’s spite and retaliation won’t even matter—what will matter is that Johnny stood up for himself.

Johnny doesn’t know how to explain that to him, doesn’t know how to convey the knowledge and growth given to him by thirty years of painful experience. All he can do is try.

He fixes Bobby with a pointed look. “Hey. Seriously, I’ll be fine,” and when Bobby still looks unconvinced: “Now he can’t walk all over me for the rest of my life.”

Bobby gives him a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Johnny sighs and knocks their shoulders together, a comforting little reflex from his teenage years. He’s missed this, he realizes suddenly, feeling strangely emotional. He’s missed the comforting familiarity, the soft touches and gentle contact. He never had a brother, but having Bobby in his life more than makes up for it.

“I’ll be fine, Bobby. Promise,” and for probably the first time in his life, Johnny means it.

Bobby sighs and nods, chewing on his lower lip. “Okay. I believe you. Just…if he tries to give you shit, you know you can come to my place.”

Johnny’s heart twists in his chest. Bobby’s always been too good to him. “I know.”

Bobby smiles and claps him on the shoulder. He looks off in the direction of the school, face turning stony again. “Guess we should get going.”

Johnny grabs his arm when he’s already halfway back on his bike. Bobby turns to look at him. “Hey, are you okay, man? You seem…nervous.”

He shrugs, looking down. His expression turns guilty. “I just…I feel bad about what we did last night.”

“Last night?” Johnny asks, confused, but his voice is lost in the roar of traffic and the sound of Bobby’s engine.

Johnny loses track of Bobby when they get to the school. He wanders the halls aimlessly, marveling a little at how similar yet foreign his surroundings are. It’s like he’s in forbidden territory, like he’s stepped into a memory he was never meant to revisit. Which is when he realizes, with a strange, sinking feeling, that he has no idea where he’s supposed to go.

Shit.

He racks his brain, trying to remember what his schedule was senior year, but comes up with nothing. Hey, he barely kept up with his schedule back then, how’s he supposed to remember it thirty years later? But he can’t very well go to the office asking, especially since it seems to be the middle of the school year. He scans the faces in the hallway, frantically looking for Bobby or Jimmy or anyone he could ask for help without looking like a complete idiot.

And that’s when he sees him just across the hall: Daniel LaRusso, not a day over sixteen.

Johnny’s heart does a weird little leap in his chest at the sight. He’s so tiny—Jesus, was he always that tiny?

Johnny’s brain feels kind of like it’s short-circuiting. It’s one thing to remember all the shit that happened their senior year, all the flying fists and heated rivalry and strange tension between them. But seeing it play out again, seeing scrappy little LaRusso live and in person after teaching a class with his middle-aged self just yesterday, is really fucking weird.

Johnny pauses in his thoughts to take in what the kid’s wearing—a plaid button up with camo pants. He suppresses a laugh, his brain stuck trying to reconcile this Daniel with the one he’s come to know so well, with his stuffy suits and expensive leisure wear and annoyed disapproval whenever Johnny so much as breathes the wrong way. It makes something twist deep in his chest, strange and warm and fond. Johnny doesn’t want to examine it too closely.

Things between the two of them haven’t been great, exactly, but they’ve been getting along much better than Johnny ever thought they would. He’d even venture to say they’re friends, as much as his teenage self—current self? God, this whole thing is a fucking headache—would mock him for it.

And Daniel—older Daniel—has been a lot more laid back around him recently. It’s refreshing. But he’s still closed off, guarded, a far cry from the hyper little punk he used to be—the one Johnny’s currently staring at across the hall. Even when Daniel does relax around him, lets himself joke around or say some teasing remark or roll into class five minutes late because Johnny’s got it, there’s a stiffness to him, an unspoken tension seeping into his every move. It’s like he’s always on guard, never able to truly relax and be fully himself.

Standing here watching little LaRusso, the confident, easy-going way he holds himself and the pleasant little Jersey lilt in his voice, Johnny can’t help but marvel at how he’s so much like the Daniel he knows and entirely different at the same time.

He wonders what caused the shift, and then suddenly remembers one of his latest conversations with Daniel. It was late, they were both a little drunk and had started talking, trading shy, nervous glances and personal stories they’d never admit to sharing in the daylight.

It was easier that way, somehow—to open up to Daniel and chase the weird, inexplicable force pulling them together, the one that made Johnny’s heart pound and face flush and stomach feel like it was swarming with butterflies—without ever fully surrendering to it. It made it a little easier to bear.

(Even though, by the timid, soft expression on Daniel’s face in the dim light, Johnny was sure he felt it, too.)

“Have you ever,” Daniel had started, looking strangely nervous. His hands went down to fidget with the hem of his shirt. “You know…been with men?”

Johnny had been just slightly caught off guard. He startled out of his daze, pulling his eyes away from Daniel’s hands to focus on the soft, questioning vulnerability in his eyes. “What? Oh, um. Yeah,” Johnny said, marveling a little at how easy it was to admit. He’d spent so many years trying to keep that part of himself closed off, but here was Daniel LaRusso, dragging it out of him with the barest lift of a finger. He guessed Daniel just had a way of making him vulnerable.

Daniel’s face had gone through a strange series of contortions at his response, a swirl of emotions: some unreadable, some clear as day. Together, Johnny had no idea what they meant.

He cleared his throat, watching Daniel closely. “I…have you?”

Daniel swallowed, eyes flickering to Johnny’s briefly before landing back on the ground. “I…yeah.”

Johnny took in the stiff line of his body, the tension in his frame, and frowned. “Did you like it?”

Daniel shook his head, staring very intently at the ground. Then, very quietly, he muttered: “It was awful.” Johnny’s stomach plummeted. “He…He was older, and I was really young and naïve, and I didn’t...” He let out a shaky breath, tentatively meeting Johnny’s gaze. “It was really painful.”

Johnny’s frown deepened. He felt a sudden rush of emotion, something warm and fond and protective with Daniel right at the center, a strange urge to reach out and shield this soft, broken, (beautiful) man from the rest of the world. Instead, he said: “Shit. I’m sorry, man.”

Daniel let out a humorless laugh. “It’s fine. I just…” He looked right at Johnny then, serious and longing. Johnny’s heart started beating faster. “I haven’t been able to. Since then, I mean. It still scares me. It’s not that I don’t want to, I just…I can’t.”

Johnny nodded, and maybe it was the beer or the exhaustion or just the sheer force of this thing between them, but he reached out and squeezed Daniel’s hand, subtle and real. Daniel squeezed back.

The conversation kind of died out after that, but thousands of unspoken words passed through the cool night air between them. Johnny only hoped they were the right ones.

Johnny blinks out of his daze to take in young Daniel’s face more closely. He’s sporting a black eye, the skin red and puffy and starting to swell, and some primal instinct begins to claw at Johnny’s chest.  

Daniel looks so soft, fragile and breakable and endlessly precious. Johnny can’t believe he ever thought it was okay to hurt him.

He remembers, in retrospect, that he spent a good portion of senior year tormenting Daniel and beating him up. But seeing the bruises firsthand, seeing the traces of pain and fear marring the beautiful canvas of his face—the face that saved him from Kreese’s chokehold; the face that was damn near willing to commit murder for him; the face that sometimes if he’s willing to admit it, he dreams about waking up next to, about holding and kissing and never letting go—sends an awful, gnawing rush of guilt through him that threatens to consume his entire being.

A guilt that is only cemented when little Daniel spots him staring, freezes, and promptly retreats in the opposite direction.

Johnny sighs and watches him go, heart sinking in his chest. He knows Daniel’s forgiven him—present day Daniel. (At least, he thinks he has—they haven’t actually talked about it). But this Daniel, with his wide brown eyes and gawky limbs and crooked little teeth, still views Johnny as some kind of predator. It makes his heart hurt.

Johnny knows, suddenly and without question, that he has to make amends. Demetri would probably give him some lecture about screwing with all that wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey bullshit, but he doesn’t care. For some unknown reason, the universe has given him a second chance, and if he can take that chance and use it to undo all the shitty, stupid mistakes he made back then, he’ll do it in a heartbeat.

“Johnny! Hey, come on man, you’re gonna be late for pre-calc,” A voice interrupts suddenly, and he turns to see Jimmy standing there next to him. Johnny can’t help but stifle a laugh—Jimmy had always been the most concerned about school out of them all.

He nods absently, gaze drifting back to the spot Daniel had just disappeared from. Jimmy taps him on the shoulder.

“You good? What are you looking at?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Let’s go,” and he follows Jimmy to fail yet another math class.

Going to high school again as a virtual fifty-year old is really fucking weird.

Weirder still is sitting around a lunch table with the seventeen-year-old versions of your friends, listening to them talk about karate and girls and useless teenage boy drama like no time has passed at all.

Johnny tries to listen and stay invested—really, he does. But then he sees Daniel across the cafeteria, sitting next to Ali and talking animatedly despite the bruises marring his face, and he can’t bring himself to focus on anything else.

He learned, thanks to the blackboard in his first class, that he’s apparently landed in late September 1984, so he knows the tournament can’t have happened yet. But he still doesn’t know what has happened, doesn’t know how far his rivalry with LaRusso has progressed. Can’t figure out which of his petty, brutal misdemeanors are responsible for little LaRusso looking like he got mugged and beaten in an alley last night.

“Ow!” He yelps when sudden pain seizes his foot. He turns to glare at Bobby. “What the hell was that for?”

“What the hell is this for?” He says, gesturing vaguely at Johnny. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for five minutes.”

Johnny frowns, eyes flickering to meet Bobby’s look of disapproval before landing on little LaRusso again. He’s smiling at Ali now, whole face lit up in that cocky, smarmy little grin that Johnny recognizes all too well. His chest squeezes at the sight. “Sorry.”

Bobby frowns, watching him carefully. “Johnny, are you sure you’re okay?” He questions, face softening a bit. Then, so only Johnny can hear: “This about Sid?”

Johnny shakes his head. “No, no, I told you it’s fine,” he reasserts, fidgeting with the edge of his cafeteria tray. At Bobby’s insistent look, he sighs. “It’s just…Did I do that to LaRusso’s face?”

The whole table goes silent.

“Johnny, you don’t remember last night?” Bobby asks, sounding stunned and stricken and even a little guilty. Figures he’d become a priest. “When we…”

“Ran the little punk off the road,” Dutch finishes, smile equal parts gleeful and manic. Johnny wants to punch it right off his face.

Johnny’s stomach drops. He remembers—oh, he remembers. And he hates himself for it.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Bobby frowns. He knocks his knee against Johnny’s under the table in a gesture that’s meant to be reassuring; in reality, it only makes Johnny feel worse. Because he could’ve had that with LaRusso. If he hadn’t been so stupid and jealous and hard-headed, maybe they could’ve been friends way back then—now. Maybe they could’ve avoided thirty years of bitterness and spite and jealousy, could’ve stopped throwing punches long enough to find some common ground.

And that’s when Johnny gets it: it’s not too late. He’s got all the time in the world.

He sits up abruptly from where he’s slouched over the table, startling Tommy and Jimmy out of their conversation. He doesn’t know how he’s going to sell this, but he’s got to try. He owes Daniel this much.

“Look, why don’t we lay off LaRusso for a little bit?”

If they were gaping at him before, now they’re speechless. They exchange glances, eyes flickering between Johnny and each other warily.

Tommy speaks up first. “But Johnny, I thought you hated him?”

“Yeah,” Dutch says, propping an elbow on the table lazily. “He’s so scrawny and weak. And such a loudmouth,” He drawls, like he hasn’t been yammering on about God knows what for the last twenty minutes. Johnny rolls his eyes. “You want us to just leave him alone?”

“Yeah,” Johnny says, insistent. “I do.”

The five of them lapse into an uncomfortable silence.

“I’m with Johnny,” Bobby says finally, looking thoroughly convicted. “Daniel never did anything wrong. I feel bad being so awful to him.”

“Me too,” says Jimmy, shifting a little in his seat.

Tommy frowns down at the table for a minute before he looks up. He sighs. “Johnny has a point. The guy doesn’t seem that bad. Maybe we could ease up a bit.”

Johnny and Dutch stare each other down, each waiting for the other one to break. Finally, Dutch relents.

“Fine. I’ll leave the little bitch alone.”

Johnny feels like he can breathe for the first time in thirty years.

Now that he’s gotten the Cobras to agree to his cease-and-desist order, Johnny sets out for the other, harder part of his redemption tour. He spots Daniel talking to Ali in the courtyard after school, rickety old bike in tow, and thinks: may as well get this over with.

Ali sees Johnny approaching and narrows her eyes at him. Daniel remains oblivious for a good while, chattering on endlessly in that Jersey accent that okay, gun to his head, Johnny always thought was kind of cute. Johnny steps up to them, leaving some distance so that he doesn’t make Daniel uncomfortable.

Daniel notices him then and visibly stiffens, voice trailing off. His hands twitch at his sides.

Johnny looks at him in what he hopes is a non-threatening manner. “Hey, LaRusso. Can I talk to you?” He asks, willing his voice to sound sincere. He doesn’t think it works—he’s never been great at confrontations that don’t involve his fists.

Ali’s glare turns deadly. “Why, so you can give him another black eye?” And Johnny knows he deserves it, but it still stings.

He brushes it off and shakes his head, looking directly at Daniel. Daniel holds his gaze, brown eyes wide and full of skepticism and fear. The bruising looks even worse up close, and it just makes Johnny feel more guilty. “What? No, I swear. I just…please?”

Something in Daniel’s face softens, just slightly. He bites his lip, watching Johnny with an unreadable expression.

Ali grabs his arm and tugs gently, still glaring at Johnny. “Come on, Daniel. You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine,” Daniel says in a rush of breath, eyes still trained on Johnny’s face. “We can talk.”

Johnny’s heart leaps in his chest. He clears his throat, trying to calm down. He has one chance to make it up to Daniel, to apologize and try to erase a lifetime of bullying and fighting and jealousy. He can’t screw this up. “Yeah? Great.”

“Yeah,” Daniel replies, shifting awkwardly on his feet. He turns to Ali. “Uh—catch up with you later?” Daniel says, and even though Johnny can tell he’s aiming for nonchalant, it still comes out weak.

Ali spares him a wary glance before she sighs and retreats, but not before giving Johnny a death glare and very intently running into him on her way past. Johnny tries not to smile—he knows he deserves it.

His attention turns back to Daniel when the guy clears his throat, looking at him nervously.

“What do you want, man?” He asks, fidgeting with the handlebar of his bike. Those big brown eyes are blown even wider than usual in fear, and it sends a fresh wave of guilt coursing through Johnny.

And what does he want, exactly? That’s a loaded question, one he doesn’t even begin to know how to answer. He wants to apologize, for starters. To tell little LaRusso he’s sorry for being such a dick and that if he could just erase all of it, he would. But even further than that, he wants to get a chance to know Daniel—this Daniel. To see how senior year could’ve played out if he hadn’t had his head so far up his ass. To see if they could’ve been friends, way back then—now. To see if maybe they could’ve gotten along, could’ve found some common ground rather than resorting to fists and violence.

But it seems no matter what body he’s in, Johnny still manages to suck at words.

He raises a hand in surrender. “I…” God, where does he even start? “I…I just wanted you to—I mean, I—”

“Look, are you having a stroke?” Daniel quips, sounding equal parts pissed off and amused. God, he’s such a little punk—there’s the Daniel he knows. “Or did you just come over here to kick my ass again?”

Johnny shakes his head. He’s not gonna let Daniel get under his skin—not this time. He’s going to make this right. “No, it’s—about that. I wanted to…apologize.”

Daniel’s eyebrows shoot up on his forehead. “Apologize?” Johnny’s heart hurts at how genuinely surprised he sounds.

He nods, eyes flitting around nervously for a minute before landing on Daniel’s face. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve been a real dick and I’ve been taking out all my issues on you, and you don’t deserve that, so. I’m sorry.”

As wide open as Daniel’s emotions usually play across his face, right then they may as well be written in a foreign language. Johnny can feel his heart pounding in his chest, stomach clenching nervously as Daniel seems to think it over. His eyes sweep over Johnny in a scrutinizing manner. Johnny can only hope he looks sincere.

“Please say something. Anything,” Johnny says after a while.

Daniel huffs out a laugh, sounding a little exasperated. “All of a sudden you want to apologize?” He asks, brow raised in amusement. He doesn’t sound mean, though; in fact, he sounds almost curious. Like he’s trying to figure Johnny out.  “What gives?”

Johnny blinks at him, feeling weirdly vulnerable. He shrugs and tries to play it off. “Nothing. I just…I feel bad, man. Really. I wanna make it up to you.”

Daniel chews on his lip, bouncing a little on his feet as he thinks it over. Johnny watches him with bated breath.

“You are a dick,” Daniel says finally, squinting at him, like he’s scrutinizing his face for any trace of insincerity. “This doesn’t change that. But…thanks. It means a lot.”

Johnny feels the weight of thirty-four years of guilt lift from his shoulders. He breathes out a sigh of relief and lets himself smile, shifting a little closer to Daniel. “Really? Thanks, man, I—you don’t know what that means to me.”

And yeah, little LaRusso doesn’t know—not really. But he gives Johnny a tentative smile and waves it off all the same.

“Did you maybe wanna hang out sometime?” He asks suddenly, and Johnny blinks at him in surprise.

“You want to hang out?”

“Why not?” Daniel shrugs. Despite his laid-back delivery, he looks a little nervous. Almost like he’s afraid it’s a trap, that Johnny will say no and laugh at him and go back to kicking his ass seven ways from Sunday. It only makes Johnny more determined to prove him wrong.

“Look, in case you’ve forgotten, I don’t really have any friends at this school.” He narrows his eyes, and Johnny frowns. Right. “You’d be making it up to me.”

“Okay,” Johnny says, without a moment’s hesitation. “How about this afternoon?”

Daniel pauses to scrutinize his face another minute, searching for any trace of trickery or deceit. When he comes up with nothing, he smiles, this one not tentative but crooked and teethy and genuine. Johnny’s heart twists. “Okay.”

Johnny doesn’t quite know what it is—he thinks maybe spending time teaching all of Miguel’s dorky friends has rubbed off on him, or maybe he’s just gotten soft in his old—young?—age—but he’s stunned to find that little LaRusso doesn’t annoy him at all. No longer does Johnny find himself reeling with the temptation to strike out and wipe the grin right off LaRusso’s face. In fact, the kid’s kind of adorable—not that Johnny would ever voice that aloud.

Johnny doesn’t know what it is, but he’s just so…cute. Sweet. Innocent. Just the sight of him makes Johnny’s heart feel like it’s about to burst.

That first afternoon, they end up at Golf N Stuff, and it’s the first time during the whole ordeal that Johnny really feels like a kid again. Little LaRusso is pretty tense at the beginning, but after a few rounds of Pac-Man and skeeball—which he absolutely destroys Johnny at, by the way—he loosens up. They laugh and goof around and tease each other, but not meanly, not in the same hateful way they did for so long; this teasing is comfortable, familiar, and it makes Johnny beam with pride to think that he did that. He made Daniel LaRusso laugh and joke around and smile—a real smile.

Speaking of, his smile is fucking adorable. His front teeth are just slightly crooked, something Johnny guesses future Daniel got fixed, but he finds it strangely endearing. Every time he smiles, it seems to light Johnny up from the inside out, making him feel warm and fond and strangely…protective? Huh.

Johnny never realized just how much he and LaRusso have in common: both only children, both raised by single mothers, both growing up in shitty apartments living paycheck to paycheck. The realization sends a bittersweet feeling coursing through Johnny, makes him think that maybe, if he’d gotten his shit together sooner, they could’ve seen the common ground between them and learned together to cope with the loneliness that can bring. Maybe they could’ve been friends all along.

But they’re friends now, even if it took Johnny a while to get there, and it feels so good to finally be able to say that.

And they are friends—good friends. After that first afternoon, they start hanging out on a regular basis. Johnny seems to be stuck in 1984 for the time being, so he figures what better to do than spend time getting to know LaRusso—this LaRusso, the one his teenage self stupidly thought he knew but in reality never knew at all. 

And it’s fun. They study together after school—Johnny really tries to make a decent effort at high school this time around, but since he hasn’t sat in a classroom in God knows how long, and barely paid attention when he was actually a teenager, it’s hard. But Daniel helps him, because the kid is smart—he’s so fucking smart. And he does it without a second thought, just shakes his head fondly and smiles at Johnny and helps him figure out what he’s doing. 

Apparently, they like a lot of the same music, too—Springsteen and Speedwagon and the works. Johnny offers to let Daniel borrow his tapes and Walkman sometime—something he knows for a fact his younger self never would’ve done—and Daniel lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. It sends a rush of warmth fluttering through Johnny’s chest, makes him beam with pride to realize that he’s finally caused Daniel LaRusso to feel something other than pain and terror. He did that. And it feels so good.

So the two of them get closer, going from casual acquaintances to close friends. Daniel eventually starts sitting with him at lunch. The first day Johnny invites him, the rest of the Cobras sit there gaping at the pair of them like they don’t know what to make of it, but eventually they come around. Hell, even Dutch seems to become invested in Daniel’s lunchtime ramblings—and really, who wouldn’t fall prey to little Daniel LaRusso and his adorable Jersey accent?

And little LaRusso talks all the time, too—even more so than his future self that Johnny knows so well. He’s an endless chatterbox of information, speaks so fast sometimes that Johnny can barely keep up, but Johnny doesn’t mind it—it gives him a chance to just listen, to really get to know Daniel better.

Daniel tells him all about his life, about growing up in Jersey and playing soccer and training with Mr. Miyagi, something Johnny’s glad to find his time travel nonsense hasn’t screwed up. He knows the man is such an integral part of Daniel’s world—both this Daniel and the Daniel from his own time—and he’s glad that their relationship has managed to stay intact. He guesses that sometimes the universe has your back like that.

So yeah, Johnny may not have planned on getting sent back to 1984 to make amends with Daniel LaRusso, but he’s pleased to find that he doesn’t mind it. At least for the time being.

And then Halloween rolls around.

Johnny remembers his own Halloween 1984, darkness and screams and Daniel’s blood on his hands clouded by Johnny’s own rage and spite. He remembers scrawny limbs going limp beneath his fists, pained gasps shuddered out against a cold chain-link fence, and above all else, a fierce determination to hurt the other boy halted only by Miyagi’s intervening.

Johnny remembers that night, that awful, horrible, brutal night, and looks at the boy beside him, of whom he’s come to feel endlessly fond and protective, and feels bile rise in his throat.

He can’t let Daniel go through that again. He won’t. Johnny’s going to make sure of it.

He’s going to do everything in his power to make it up to him, even if this Daniel is blissfully unaware of the fate that befell him in that past timeline. He’s going to give Daniel a Halloween night to remember, but not out of terror or fear. He’s going to give him the night he deserves.

The only thing is: Johnny’s not really sure how to make it up to him, isn’t sure where exactly he should take Daniel to keep him safe and warm and out of harm’s way. He finds himself thinking about it constantly, going over various options and plans in his head. He mentions it to Bobby once, who promptly raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, telling Johnny to stop overthinking it because come on, man, it’s not like it’s a date.

And no, it’s not a date. For some reason, the stakes feel even higher than a date. But Bobby—this Bobby—can’t understand that.

Still, Johnny knows above all else that he’s not letting Daniel anywhere near that dance. Johnny’s really not in the mood to relive that, and he wants to keep Daniel as far away from the pain of the past as possible. And little LaRusso says he doesn’t really care about going—Johnny makes sure to ask. Shit, this does feel like a date.

Eventually, Johnny settles on taking Daniel to the beach—the same beach where they first met. He didn’t get the chance to rewrite their train wreck of a first meeting, but he figures he can at least attempt to make a new memory in the setting. Plus Daniel’s eyes had absolutely lit up with joy when he brought up the idea.

And it’s fun—some of the most fun Johnny’s had during his weird time travel version of a midlife crisis. They kick around a soccer ball for a while, and it turns out little LaRusso wasn’t lying—the kid’s pretty great. After that, they trade karate moves—Daniel hasn’t learned much from Miyagi yet, but he’s getting there. Johnny can see traces of his future self’s kata and gracefulness in the clumsy, uncertain way he moves, and it brings a smile to his face, that same warm, fond sensation blooming deep in his chest that he feels so often around Daniel now.

Still, he can’t help but teach Daniel a little offense, just to see how he does with it. And as it turns out, Daniel LaRusso can strike pretty fucking hard when shown the right moves. It makes Johnny absolutely beam with pride and satisfaction; Daniel grins at him in return.

But eventually they tire out and settle in on the blanket Johnny brought. Daniel kicks back on his elbows as he continues his rambling about his ma’s mac and cheese—"seriously, Johnny, it’s the best, I could eat that stuff by the ton” –and Johnny can’t help but laugh because when compared to his future self’s snobby rich taste, the fact that little LaRusso is so easy to please is hilarious.

“What?” Daniel asks, face twisted in a cute little pout.

Johnny just smiles and shakes his head. “Nothing, man. I’ll have to try it some time.”

Daniel lights up. “Yeah, totally! Just wait, Johnny, you’re gonna love it, trust me, I…” And he continues rambling, but Johnny doesn’t really listen; no, he just watches; watches the way Daniel flaps his arms around excitedly; watches the easy, animated smile on his face; watches the way his eyes gleam when he looks at Johnny, full of happiness and fondness and maybe, if Johnny looks closely, a trace of something deeper, something that maybe Daniel hasn’t even picked up on yet.

And Johnny thrills at the realization that Daniel’s happy. It’s Halloween 1984, one of the most guilt-ridden nights of Johnny’s life, and Daniel LaRusso is sprawled out next to him on the beach, safe and content and happy as a clam. He did that.

And Johnny won a lot of tournaments in his day, but this is by far his greatest victory.

Daniel pauses in his chattering and Johnny frowns at the silence. “Are you okay?”

Daniel nods, hunching in on himself a little. “Yeah, it’s just a little cold.”

Johnny notices for the first time that Daniel’s wearing short sleeves—that blue Chargers jersey that haunted Johnny’s dreams for the better part of thirty years—and sighs. No wonder he’s cold.

He shrugs out of his flannel and drapes it over Daniel’s shoulders, smiling a little to himself at how small it makes him look. God, he’s so fucking cute. Daniel meets his gaze with a shy smile, tugging the fabric around him more tightly.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, LaRusso,” Johnny smirks. Daniel leans over to give him a playful shove and Johnny just laughs, stretching out on the blanket next to him.

They settle into a comfortable silence, no sound between them but the quiet breeze rolling over the water. Daniel curls up close to him, not quite touching but not leaving as much distance as he normally would. He keeps flashing him a soft, secret little smile, lip between his teeth like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. Johnny’s chest clenches with a phantom tremor of that thing he feels around Daniel—his Daniel—that terrifying, breathtaking, overwhelming feeling he gets whenever the two of them catch a quiet moment together.

But this is different. It’s not the heady, passionate, romantic—yeah, Johnny Lawrence is a romantic, so sue him—thrill he gets around older Daniel. This is softer, fonder, a protective hum of energy that compels him to do everything in his power to keep the boy next to him safe.

Daniel dozes off, head drooping onto Johnny’s shoulder, and that feeling surges forward tenfold. Johnny smiles and shifts a little closer, gazing down in awe at the soft, innocent planes of the other boy’s face bathed in moonlight. He can’t quite put into words what it does to him, to see his former rival look so young and carefree and pure. All he knows is that right now, he wants to hold him and never let him go.

It starts to get late, sky darkening over the waves, and Johnny sighs. Even the best moments can’t last forever. He nudges Daniel’s shoulder gently to rouse him.

“Wha?” Daniel murmurs sleepily, blinking up at him. Johnny smirks in amusement at his sleep-ruffled gaze.

Daniel’s face reddens in embarrassment as he seems to take in his surroundings. “Shit, did I fall asleep? Sorry, man.”

Johnny grins, knocking his shoulder gently. “Don’t worry about it.”

Daniel smiles shyly in return and then yawns, stretching a little. Johnny sits up and reaches out a hand to tug Daniel along. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Daniel’s face reddens even further, to Johnny’s slight confusion, but he stands and helps Johnny roll up the blanket and collect their stuff. Together they make the trek up the dark beach back to the car.

Daniel’s mom is working late, so Johnny walks him up the steps to his apartment. He knows he’s being way overprotective, overcompensating for his past violence probably a little too much, but Daniel doesn’t seem to mind. That is, until Johnny turns to head back down the stairs.

“Hey, um. Johnny?” Daniel calls.

Johnny turns back to see him hovering outside the door to his apartment. He looks more fidgety than normal. “Yeah?”

Daniel looks at him with big brown eyes, wide and shining with emotion. “Johnny, I…I had a good time tonight.”

Johnny can’t help but smile. He feels a sudden rush of fondness for the boy in front of him so strong it threatens to take his breath away. “Yeah? Me too, LaRusso.”

Daniel smiles back, all crooked teeth and crinkled eyes and pure happiness, and Johnny’s heart squeezes in his chest. He knows now, without a doubt, that he’s changed LaRusso’s life for the better; has changed his own life for the better; has torn away the hate and bitterness of their rivalry and covered it with this sweet, fond, breathtaking thing that he can’t imagine life without.

They’re friends now, he realizes suddenly, standing there as Daniel LaRusso beams at him in the moonlight. They’re friends. And God, it feels so good to finally say that.

“Johnny, I,” Daniel starts, eyes flitting down nervously. Johnny frowns and lets himself step a little closer.

“Yeah?” Johnny catches the scared look in his eyes and bumps his shoulder gently. “Hey. You know you can talk to me, Daniel.”

Daniel’s eyes widen even further and he just stares at Johnny for a bit, something unreadable and intimate swirling in his eyes. Johnny’s heart thunders in his chest.

And then Daniel practically throws himself at him, grabs him by the neck of his shirt and crushes their lips together.

And it’s…it’s weird. Johnny will admit to having fantasized about kissing older Daniel, but doing it with his teenage self, even if Johnny’s kinda sorta (not really) a teenager too, is really fucking weird—the ghost of the kiss he’s spent decades dreaming about a few timelines removed. It kind of makes him feel like a perv, even though they’re technically the same age.

But damn, little LaRusso is insistent. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, Daniel’s obvious inexperience bleeding through, but he’s so into it that Johnny decides to humor him for a minute.

Daniel slows down to gasp in a breath and Johnny manages to gently push him away, blinking at him in stunned surprise. “Jesus, LaRusso, what the hell?” It comes out harsher than he intends, and he regrets it immediately.

Daniel’s face drops, shifting into a look of hurt and upset. Johnny curses himself inwardly. Here he goes, hurting LaRusso even when he’s trying not to. Those brown eyes shine with held-back tears as they watch him, thin shoulders hunching inwards in an attempt to put up walls.

“You—you don’t…oh of course you don’t, who am I kidding?” Daniel shakes his head, letting out a humorless little laugh. Johnny’s heart sinks. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Daniel, I—”

“Oh, forget about it,” Daniel waves it off, Jersey accent surging in thick, but Johnny can tell by the way his voice wavers that he’s more upset than he’s letting on. “Please, just let it go, man. I’m…God, I’m such an idiot, I can’t—”

“No,” Johnny interjects, stepping forward to grasp him by the shoulders. He needs to make this right, thinks he’d do anything to wipe that dejected, despondent look off Daniel’s face. And he thinks that maybe, in some strange way, he does feel the same way—not for this Daniel, but for his older counterpart that he knows so well; thinks that maybe, deep down, his teenage self may have felt it, too.

So many emotions swirl through Johnny at that moment, complex and intertwined and impossible even for him to understand. But at the center of it all, Johnny knows one thing to be true, knows it more deeply than his own bones: he cares about Daniel LaRusso. He cares about Daniel LaRusso so much, it’s almost dizzying at times. And right now, Daniel LaRusso needs reassurance, needs comfort, needs to know that he’s not alone—and he isn’t alone.

He’s got Johnny. And Johnny’s going to do everything in his power to make sure Daniel knows that.

Daniel watches him like his entire future hinges on Johnny’s words. “I do, Daniel—I do,” he says, thumb wandering up to brush away the few tears that have managed to escape. Daniel’s eyelashes flutter at the touch.

“You do?” He asks, sounding so, so small. Johnny’s heart clenches in his chest.

“Yeah, Daniel. You just surprised me, is all,” he says. It may be a half truth, but he knows that little LaRusso needs to hear it. Against his better judgment, he leans in to press a chaste kiss to Daniel’s lips. The smile Daniel gives him when they break apart damn near takes his breath away.

Daniel lets out a breathless laugh. “God, Johnny, I—God,” and he leans in to capture Johnny’s lips again. Johnny smiles against his lips and lets Daniel lead the way, wanting anything that happens to be on Daniel’s terms; he’s doing this for him, and him alone. So when Daniel deepens the kiss, swiping at Johnny’s lower lip insistently and all but devouring his mouth, Johnny opens for him gladly, albeit with slight hesitation.

He doesn’t want to take advantage of the situation, doesn’t want things to get too far without Daniel understanding the full scope of everything. But at the same time, he wants to reassure him, wants to make him feel good and content and happy. So he toes a thin line, letting Daniel explore his desires for now while making a mental note to put a stop to it if things start going too far.

But then, when Daniel pulls back to pant against his neck, breath hot and wet against Johnny’s skin, Johnny’s entire perspective shifts. Because Daniel presses up against him, clinging onto his collar like it’s the only thing keeping him steady, and gazes at him with a look of pure adoration and wonder. He grinds against Johnny’s thigh, an almost unconscious reflex that, based on the dazed look on his face, he doesn’t really understand. But Johnny understands.

“God, Johnny, please—I need you,” Daniel begs, brown eyes wide and pleading and so, so trusting. And then, quiet and meek as a mouse: “I…I love you.”

Johnny’s heart swells and feels dangerously close to bursting. He looks at the boy in front of him as if he’s seeing him for the first time. His immediate instinct is to say no, to tell Daniel that they can’t do this, that he doesn’t understand what he’s saying. And normally, Johnny would do exactly that—right, like anything about this is normal. But he remembers older Daniel’s face talking about his first time, the fear and guilt and self-hatred that crept over him, and Johnny throws all sense of caution to the wind.

The boy in front of him is nothing but pure and innocent, and he deserves the absolute world. He doesn’t deserve his first time to be full of pain and regret. He deserves a gentle touch, needs to learn that sex can be soft and intimate and good.

And if Johnny can give that to him, he will. He thinks he’d give him anything.

One thing Johnny knows how to do is use his body. He’s always been adept at the physical aspect of relationships, has never had to think hard when it comes to making his partners feel good. That ability has only become refined through the years, has only sharpened and expanded, diminished only by his waning stamina that comes with getting older.

But now, he’s the fittest and strongest he’s ever been, young and active but with all the knowledge and experience he’s gathered through the years. He knows just what to say, what to do, to make Daniel’s first time beautiful and pleasurable and gratifying, and he’s in a body that’s more than capable of doing it. And he will do it, if it’s what Daniel wants.

But he has to be absolutely sure.

“What do you want, LaRusso?” Johnny asks, hands wandering down to gently curl around his thin waist. He looks him directly in the eyes. “I’ll give you everything you want. I just need you to tell me.”

Daniel blinks at him, dazed and breathless and wide open. His eyes flit down, face flushing a brilliant red, before he finally meets Johnny’s gaze. He bites his lip. “Johnny, I…I just,” he swallows, shifting in Johnny’s grasp. “I wanna feel you.”

Johnny nods and lays a soft kiss to his temple. He swipes a thumb over his lip. “How do you wanna feel me?"

Daniel’s blush only deepens. He ducks his head against Johnny’s shoulder, like he’s trying to hide out of shyness. He doesn’t respond.

“Daniel,” Johnny coaxes, a hand coming up to run through his hair. He knows Daniel doesn’t want to say it out loud, but he has to know. He has to be certain this is what he wants. He leans down to murmur in Daniel’s ear, so soft only he can hear it: “Do you want me inside you?”

Daniel’s lips part around a soft mewl, weak and needy and pleading. Johnny feels him nod against his shoulder and smiles to himself. He can work with this.

“Shh, come on. Let’s go inside.”

Daniel nods weakly and turns to open the door, but he’s still half-hanging off of Johnny and trying to grapple at his chest, so he stumbles a bit. Johnny catches him and lifts him up into his arms, cradling him against his chest.

“Johnny, wha—” Daniel huffs petulantly, but he goes silent when he gets comfortable in Johnny’s arms. Johnny smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“You were saying?”

“Shut up,” He says. He reaches out to swat Johnny’s chest, face flushing a brilliant red.

Johnny laughs and carries him inside. He sits him down once they’re in Daniel’s room, kicking the door shut behind them and turning the lock just in case. He doesn’t want to chance Lucille bursting in and tainting Daniel’s first time with a whole different kind of trauma.

He turns back to where Daniel sits on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with his tattered comforter. Johnny takes in the nervous hunch of his shoulders and frowns; maybe this is a bad idea.

“Daniel, are you sure about this? You know we don’t have to.”

Daniel gives him a weak smile and nods. “No, Johnny, I’m sure,” he says. “It’s just, I…”

Johnny sits next to him and squeezes his hand gently. “Yeah?’

Daniel blushes, eyes flitting down as he avoids Johnny’s gaze. “Johnny, I…I’ve never…”

Johnny’s heart clenches in his chest. He realizes, suddenly, that it isn’t enough for him to want to make Daniel’s first time good—he has to. This boy, this soft, pure, innocent boy, who trusts Johnny so deeply despite all the shitty things he put him through, deserves the absolute world.

He raises a hand to softly brush the hair out of Daniel’s eyes, smiling a little as the other boy leans into the touch.

“I know,” he replies, and at Daniel’s puzzled look, he shakes his head. Shit. “I mean—it’s okay. I’ll show you. We can go slow.”

Daniel looks at him then and gives him a shy smile. “Yeah?”

Johnny smiles and leans in to kiss his forehead. God, he’s such a cutie. “Yeah.”

Daniel leans into the touch, body going lax against Johnny. Johnny holds him up easily.

Their lips meet again in another kiss, this one deeper and more heated than the last. Daniel presses up against him, panting into his mouth like he’s trying to breathe the same air. Johnny holds him tight, content to let Daniel explore and move at his own pace. Eventually Daniel settles in his lap, hands coming up to link around Johnny’s neck.

“Have you done this before?” Daniel asks when they break apart, still sounding a little timid.

Johnny runs a hand through his hair, gentle and reassuring. He doesn’t really know how to answer that, doesn’t know how much of the truth he should give away. He wants to use his background and knowledge to show Daniel how good it can be, to show him that he should never have to settle for something painful. But he also doesn’t want Daniel to feel bad for his own lack of experience.

“I…let’s just say I have a little experience,” he decides on, aiming for nonchalant.

Daniel frowns and looks at him curiously, bottom lip stuck out in a pouty expression. Johnny has to fight back a smile at the sight—there’s the little punk he knows. “With who?”

“It’s…no one,” he shrugs, trying to wave it off. When Daniel still looks upset, he frowns, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “Hey. It doesn’t matter. I’m doing it with you now.”

Daniel’s face softens, brown eyes wide and full of the absolute adoration only a teenager in love is capable of feeling. Johnny’s heart clenches in his chest, that same weird, fond emotion swirling through him again. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of Daniel’s mouth, hair brushing against his cheek as he pulls back.

Daniel’s lips part around a silent gasp. He squirms around a little in Johnny’s lap, hands grappling uselessly on Johnny’s shirt, like he wants to take things further but doesn’t even know where to start. Johnny just smiles and takes Daniel’s hands in his own, bringing them down to the hem of his shirt.

He tugs gently and Daniel gets the memo, pulling it the rest of the way over his head. Daniel just stares at him for a minute, eyes roving over Johnny’s chest with a look of awe and hunger.

“Like what you see, LaRusso?” Johnny teases, just to lighten the mood. Daniel rolls his eyes and hits him playfully, but Johnny can tell he’s fighting back a smile.

“Yeah, maybe I do, Lawrence,” he chides. He bites his lip. “Seriously, who looks like that?” He gestures vaguely at Johnny, and Johnny laughs, shaking his head. He remembers all the hours he put in as a teenager trying to look good. It seems so trivial now, but he remembers it weighing heavily on his mind at that age, that overwhelming desire to fit in.

Evidently little LaRusso feels the same way, because his gaze turns shy and self-conscious. Johnny frowns and takes his hands again, helping him tug his own shirt off. He ducks his head into the crook of Johnny’s neck, face burning.

“Hey,” Johnny says, coaxing. He lifts Daniel’s head off his shoulder, making him meet his gaze. He’s not going to let him feel bad about this, isn’t going to let Daniel’s insecurities get in the way of him feeling good. “You’re not too bad yourself, LaRusso.”

“Yeah, right,” Daniel huffs sarcastically, shrinking in on himself a little.

Johnny shakes his head. “I mean it, man. You look good,” he says, taking in the expanse of tan skin laid out before him. He idly wonders how older Daniel would look, if his skin would be so soft and untainted; if he’d shy away from Johnny’s gaze, or if he’d eagerly put himself on display. He likes to think the Daniel he knows would open up for him without a second thought, wouldn’t feel the same inadequacies and vulnerabilities of his younger self, but he knows that’s not the case.

But it can be—it will be—if Johnny gets this right.

He steels himself and leans in to nip lightly at Daniel’s collarbone. He can almost feel the way Daniel’s breath catches in his throat, the way his whole body goes still at the touch. He starts to suck a mark, just hard enough to bruise but still gentle. His main goal here is to make Daniel feel good, to show him that his body is desirable and worthy and beautiful. He feels Daniel start to arch into his mouth and preens with satisfaction.

“What…oh…what are you doing?” Daniel pants, already breathless.

Johnny smiles against his skin. “Showing you how gorgeous you are.” His lips travel further across Daniel’s chest, leaving a vast array of marks that stand out starkly against his tan skin. He wants Daniel to look into the mirror tomorrow and feel loved, cherished, worth it—and he knows that by the time he’s done with him, he will.

He trails further down, tongue laving across one of Daniel’s nipples. Daniel lets out a pleased little hum that quickly turns into a yelp when Johnny’s teeth graze lightly over sensitive skin.

“Johnny!”

Johnny pulls back just enough to smile up at him. “Good?”

“So good,” Daniel breathes.

Johnny hums and resumes his actions, making sure no inch of Daniel’s skin goes untouched. Daniel quickly dissolves into a writhing mess, soft whines escaping his lips as he squirms in Johnny’s lap.

“Johnny, please,” He whimpers, hips jutting into Johnny’s thigh. “Please, I need more.”

Johnny finally decides to take pity on him. “Okay, okay,” he soothes, kissing him quick. He takes Daniel’s hands and brings them down to the waistband of his jeans. He tugs once, looking up at him for permission. “Is this okay?”

“God yes,” Daniel whines, fumbling with the zipper. Johnny helps him slip out of his jeans, tossing them to the side. He lifts Daniel out of his lap, laying him back against the pillows. Daniel blinks up at him with half-lidded eyes.

Johnny smiles and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. His hands settle on Daniel’s waist, tracing the waistband of his underwear. “Yeah?” He asks. He knows he’s probably being overly cautious, but he wants to make sure Daniel knows how important consent is, that he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do.

“Yeah,” Daniel breathes, shivering a little under Johnny’s fingertips. Johnny slowly, tentatively slides them down his long legs. Daniel’s eyes flutter shut when they’re all the way off, face turning into the pillow out of shyness.

Johnny gives him some space, leaning back on his elbows to just take in the miles of soft tan skin on display before him. He runs a gentle hand down the length of Daniel’s arm, relishing in the way Daniel doesn’t pull away from the touch.

“God, you’re beautiful,” He murmurs, almost reverent. And he isn’t even lying—the boy sprawled out before him is nothing short of a beauty, the picture of innocence and wonder and awe laid bare against soft cotton sheets. It makes Johnny feel strangely emotional.

Daniel’s cheeks flush red and he shakes his head. “Shut up, I am not.”

Johnny reaches down to cup his cheek, holding his gaze directly. He needs Daniel to get this. “Hey. I mean it. You deserve the world, LaRusso. Don’t you ever let anyone give you any less.”

Daniel looks at him with a soft intensity in his eyes that takes his breath away.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, doubt creeping into his tone.

“Yeah,” He says, and when Daniel leans up to kiss him he doesn’t fight it.

Things quickly dissolve into a hazy blur of kissing and touching. Daniel manages to wrestle Johnny’s pants and underwear off, and oddly enough that seems to spur him on, seems to make him more comfortable with the whole thing. He’s still shy, touches still soft and tentative and exploratory, but he doesn’t shy away when something feels good, doesn’t bite his lip to stifle his moans.

And he moans a lot. Johnny guesses he should’ve figured as much, seeing as the kid never shuts up, but he still can’t help but be slightly amused. Amused and a little proud, because he wraps a hand around him and Daniel whines, clear and broken, bucking weakly into Johnny’s grasp.

Daniel turns into a shivering, writhing mess under his grip, overcome by so many sensations he’s never really felt before. Johnny beams with pride to know that he’s making Daniel feel that way.

But when Johnny swipes a thumb against his hole, gentle and teasing, that’s when Daniel really breaks. “Fuck me,” He pleads, voice high and needy, bordering on a whine. “Fuck me, oh, God, Johnny—please fuck me. I need it so bad. I need you to fuck me, need to feel you—“

“Shh, okay,” Johnny says, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “I will, Danny. I will. I’ve just gotta get you ready first.”

“Ready?” He asks, face scrunched up in a cute little frown.

Johnny nods, rubbing soft circles against Daniel’s back. “Yeah, Daniel. Do you trust me?”

Daniel blinks at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Yeah. I trust you.”

Johnny’s heart feels like it’s about to burst.

“Good. Just open up for me.” He reaches down to gently knock Daniel’s knees apart. Daniel gasps out and shudders at the touch like a live wire, legs splayed open beneath him.

Johnny sees the wide open, vulnerable look in his eyes and kisses him, soft and reassuring. “Hey. It’s okay.”

Daniel nods. Johnny is painfully aware of how innocent he is in that moment, of how clueless he is to what he’s asking for, what he wants, what he needs, and it almost makes him feel guilty for stripping that innocence away.

But then he remembers how much worse it could be—will be—if he doesn’t, and he knows that he has to. He has to make this good.

He has to give him the first time he deserves.

He dips a slicked finger in, soft and tentative. Daniel’s breath catches on a startled oh.

“You okay?” Johnny asks, stilling his finger.

Daniel nods, trembling a little beneath Johnny’s grasp. “I…yeah.”

Johnny kisses him softly, one hand coming up to card through his hair while he tentatively works him open. He goes slow, almost achingly so, but he wants to make sure it doesn’t hurt. He wants to make sure Daniel feels good.

After a minute, Daniel’s hips start moving weakly, like he’s trying to seek out more but doesn’t quite know how. Johnny smiles and lays a soft kiss to his neck. “Feel good?”

Daniel nods, whimpering when Johnny nips at soft skin.

“Can I add another?” Johnny asks, watching him carefully.

“God yes,” Daniel moans, hips bucking a little in affirmation. Johnny smiles and slips another slicked finger inside.

Daniel’s eyes flutter closed at the intrusion and he lets out a whine that borders on pained. Johnny stills immediately and shushes him, reaching down to gently palm at his dick while he gets used to the feeling.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’ll feel good, I promise. Just let me in.”

Daniel mewls and shivers a little. He’s so, so tiny in Johnny’s arms.

Eventually he starts to work his hips back, squirming beneath Johnny’s grasp. Johnny tentatively starts to move his fingers, crooking them just so, searching.

Daniel’s face creases in a frown. He opens his mouth like he’s about to ask Johnny what he’s doing, to tell him to get on with it, when suddenly he yelps, high and breathless and needy.

Johnny smiles in triumph and zeroes in on that spot, rubbing gentle circles that are just soft enough to not be overwhelming while still turning Daniel to liquid.

“Johnny,” Daniel whimpers, entire body trembling now. Johnny brushes against that spot again and he cries out, hands grappling for purchase on the sheets below him. “Johnny!”

Johnny slows down, not wanting to end this too soon, not wanting Daniel to come before he actually fucks him. He wants to make sure it’s as pleasurable as possible for him.

“Johnny, wha—oh,” Daniel moans, clenching around his fingers. He blinks at him in hazy surprise. “What was that?”

Johnny grins. “Feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” Daniel mewls, hips twitching against the mattress in search of more. “So good, Johnny, fuck, get in me already.”

Johnny smiles a little to himself at how needy Daniel is, at how thoroughly wrecked and disheveled he already looks. After this, he’s never going to settle for less, is never going to accept anything other than the pure, overwhelming pleasure he deserves. Daniel’s entire perspective on sex and intimacy is about to be flipped upside down, and Johnny’s ecstatic to be the catalyst for it.

He slips his fingers out, pressing a soft kiss to Daniel’s neck when he whines at the loss. He slicks himself up and is back in an instant, only this time it’s his dick pressing at Daniel’s entrance.

Daniel goes eerily still beneath him and Johnny pauses, swiping a soft thumb across his jawline. He wants to be sure one last time.

“Ready?” He asks, watching the way Daniel’s eyelashes flutter, brown eyes wide and dark.

Daniel meets his eyes and nods, and if he’s nervous at all he doesn’t show it. “Ready.”

Johnny nods and pushes in, slowly and carefully. Daniel’s lips part around a silent gasp. His eyes flutter shut.

Johnny reaches down to stroke him with one hand as he continues to sink in, trying to distract him from the discomfort. Even stretched out, the warm, tight heat of Daniel clenches around him like a vice, his body unsure what to do with the intrusion. Johnny imagines how painful it would be for him if he were more forceful, how painful it must have been, and his blood boils.

He’s going to make Daniel feel so good. He’s going to fuck him nice and slow and teach him never to settle, that sex is supposed to feel good and pleasurable.

He’s going to rock this kid’s world.

Johnny stays still inside him, holding Daniel and murmuring soft reassurances in his ear while he gets used to the feeling. Daniel’s eyes are squeezed shut, his lips parting around quiet mewls. Johnny runs a hand through his hair.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re doing so good. Just open up for me. I’m gonna make it so good for you, Daniel,” he soothes, and Daniel whines, clinging onto him like a lifeline. After a moment, Johnny looks at him tentatively. “How do you feel?”

“Full. So full,” Daniel moans, breathless and overwhelmed. Johnny smiles and kisses him softly.

“Shh, I know,” Johnny says. “It’ll feel good in a minute, I promise.”

“It already does,” he whimpers, ducking his head shyly against Johnny’s neck. Johnny can feel his face burning, realizes that he’s embarrassed, and frowns.

He places a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Hey. Don’t be shy, Daniel. Just let yourself feel good.”

Daniel mewls, shivering at the contact. Johnny reaches down to tilt his head gently, eyes fluttering open to meet Johnny’s gaze with a dazed expression. “Okay,” he mumbles.

“That’s it,” Johnny smiles, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re doing so good. Can I move?”

Daniel nods eagerly.

Johnny goes slow, rocking into him at a leisurely, languid pace that has Daniel whimpering for more. Johnny kisses him softly to swallow his moans.

Finally, Johnny brushes against that spot and Daniel all but screams, clinging onto Johnny like a lifeline.

“Johnny,” he whimpers, hands grappling for purchase on Johnny’s back. “I—fuck—oh God.”

Johnny smiles, zeroing in on that spot with every thrust. “Yeah, that’s right. Let yourself feel good.”

And Daniel does.

And it’s not what Johnny’s dreamed of—no, his dreams usually center around his Daniel, older but still unbelievably gorgeous, coming apart beneath him. But this is even better—because he’s making Daniel feel good, changing his world view and expectations with every thrust. He can see Daniel’s mindset begin to change, can see his sense of pride and self-worth begin to bloom into what he deserves, what he was denied all those years because of some stupid prick who took advantage of his innocence.

Johnny can see Daniel falling apart and rising again from the ashes under his touch, new and breathtaking. And it’s beautiful.

“Fuck,” Daniel whimpers, a look of pure pleasure written on his face. He isn’t even trying to get more now, is just lying there and taking what Johnny gives him. “Johnny, please, I—I’m gonna”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Johnny says, coaxing. He reaches down to wrap a hand around him and pulls a few soft strokes. “You’re doing so good, Daniel. Come for me.”

“Johnny!” he screams, falling apart on a broken sob. His whole body goes taut beneath Johnny, clenching tightly around him before going pliant, limp and relaxed against the sheets. Johnny smiles and holds him through it.

“Shh, that’s it,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He pulls out when Daniel starts to shiver from overstimulation, reaching down to give himself a few quick strokes before coming into his hand—he can’t help it, he’s in the body of a horny teenager.

He collapses next to Daniel, cradling his shuddering body close to his chest. He brings one hand up to gently pet his hair.

“Johnny I…fuck,” Daniel pants, turning to stare at him in dazed wonder. “That was so good. Is it always that good?”

Johnny preens, knowing without a doubt that he’s accomplished his goal. When Daniel tells the story of his first time years from now, it won’t be full of pain and regret, but young love and passion and absolute pleasure. The story he deserves, the one he deserved all along.

“Not always,” he admits, cuddling Daniel closer still. He fixes him with a careful look. “But it should be.”

Daniel nods, nuzzling his face into the crook of Johnny’s neck. They fall into a comfortable silence, no sound between them but that of their shared breathing and Daniel’s creaky ceiling fan spinning idly. The space between them is warm, safe, and Johnny thinks he could spend the rest of time right here and be perfectly content.

But there’s still one thing he has to be sure of.

“Daniel?” He asks in the quiet stillness of the room.

Daniel blinks up at him with sleepy, dazed eyes. “Yeah, Johnny?”

“Promise me you won’t ever settle,” he says, holding him close to his fast-beating heart. At Daniel’s puzzled look, he adds: “In the future, I mean. If this doesn’t last forever. Promise me you won’t ever let anyone give you less than what you deserve.”

Daniel gives him a tired, bashful smile, and nods against his chest; Johnny can just imagine his unspoken ‘yeah, yeah, whatever.’ But Johnny has to hear it.

“Promise me, Daniel,” he repeats, almost pleading, and Daniel must see something in his eyes because he nods again, gaze serious.

“Okay,” he murmurs, nuzzling Johnny’s cheek. “I promise.”

With that, Johnny finally lets himself relax, closing his eyes as he holds Daniel close to his chest. He doesn’t know which of them drifts off first, or even how long it takes, but he does know one thing: he could stay here in this moment for all the rest of time.

He wakes up late the next morning, the warm heat of another body pressed snug against him, skin to skin. He sighs and nuzzles closer, relishing the comforting softness for a few moments longer before he opens his eyes.

He sits up immediately, squinting in confusion at the room around him. It’s somehow eerily familiar yet completely foreign to him, like he’s stepped into a room he’s visited before but can’t quite place.

He feels weight shift on the mattress next to him and turns. Johnny’s mouth gapes open and his heart damn near stops in his chest because that’s Daniel—like, adult Daniel. His Daniel. With his crow’s feet and fuller body and little spots of gray at his temples that he hates but Johnny secretly loves.  His Daniel.

“Mornin’, handsome,” he slurs, a sideways grin on his face.

Johnny blinks at him, stunned. He is suddenly very aware that they’re both very naked, and he goes a little dizzy, not quite panicking but somewhere on the brink. What the hell?

“Are you okay?” Daniel asks, brow furrowing in concern. Those brown eyes look at Johnny with such a fond, adoring expression that he feels almost shy, like he’s stumbled into a private moment he was never meant to be a part of. But he’s here, he’s part of it, and he’s never been more confused in his life.

“I…yeah,” he says dumbly, vaguely aware that his voice is deeper. He looks down at his hands, roughed up and calloused from decades of manual labor. So he is back in 2021, apparently. Good to know.

But that doesn’t explain why he’s in bed with Daniel, not the younger version of Daniel he’s spent the last few weeks with but his older counterpart. And it certainly doesn’t explain why there’s a wedding band on Johnny’s left ring finger.

He swallows thickly, blinking at Daniel in confusion. “We…we’re married?”

“Last time I checked,” Daniel says with a grin, nudging him gently. His tone is teasing but there’s an undercurrent of concern, like he’s trying to figure Johnny out. “Are you sure you’re okay, John?”

Johnny nods, staring at Daniel’s face, and suddenly he can feel a shift, memories he can only assume are his own slowly filtering into the corners of his mind: Daniel, sitting next to him at graduation, linking their pinkies together when no one else was paying attention; Daniel, eagerly tugging Johnny through a secondhand shop to pick out a hodge podge of furniture for their first apartment; Daniel, beaming with pride as Johnny showed him the space he rented out for his first dojo; Daniel, holding their daughter in his arms the day they brought her home, the picture of contentment and bliss; Daniel, racing home from the dealership and getting down on one knee the second it was legal, beaming at Johnny with love and adoration and a lifetime of happiness that all started when Johnny came up to him after school one day and apologized for being a dick.

Johnny gazes at the man next to him, feeling overwhelmed and relieved and every emotion in between as he realizes that he gets to spend the rest of his life with this man; this stubborn, infuriating, beautiful, incredible man who just a few short weeks ago Johnny couldn’t even admit he had feelings for. He gets to spend his life with him, all because the universe saw fit to give him a chance shot at redemption.

He guesses that’s what Demetri meant about messing with the space-time coordinates or whatever, that making changes to the past can also have a profound effect on the future. Maybe he should be concerned, maybe he should be scared that so much in his world has been rewritten, but Johnny can’t bring himself to care. Because he’s got Daniel LaRusso, now and forever, and he’s never letting him go.

“Yeah,” he says, flashing Daniel a smile. “Yeah, everything’s great.”