#daniel larusso interactions [miyagidos]

[bitelikeaneagle]

@miyagidos​

Johnny fished around in his pockets for his key to no avail, the blond not realizing Daniel still had them. Carmen needed to be dropped off for a late shift at her work, and Johnny managed to have one too many drinks paid for to drive himself. Amanda took her car and drove Carmen while Danny took Johnny's and drove the blond home. The brunet's car still sat parked at Johnny's place anyway. The intention had always been to end up back in his apartment with Daniel, but Lawrence hadn't expected to go home in his passenger's seat. Even so, the man only teased Daniel on the way back.

By now, Johnny forgot that Danny had brought him a present at the beginning of the night, "Think I left the keys at the..." No, they couldn't have driven here without the keys. They weren't at the bar, "...in the car." He turned on his heel to go back, eyes scanning the ground in case they fell out somewhere.

[bitelikeaneagle]

His hand gripped the phone more tightly, Johnny squinting at the shifting words on the screen. [cause you’re drinking] The new and old empty, tan-labelled cans stared back at him from the table as the glass of amber-colored not-beer suddenly weighed heavily in his hand. The blond scoffed softly, lowering the phone to his lap and tapping it against his thigh, toes numbly flexing in his socks. Thought he knew him, huh? Thought he could just throw accusations around? Why did LaRusso always act like he existed on some higher moral plane?

Johnny blinked slowly, bringing the glass to his lips as he threw a glance to his own distorted reflection in the blank television screen. A flash of memory threaded and faded behind his eyes: tugging Daniel onto his chest, arching his back, pressing their lips together in nothing but his boxers. Sick. That was sick. His stomach turned, whiskey sloshing in his hand echoing how he imagined his insides sounded. Johnny closed his eyes, but his fingers remembered pinning down Daniel’s hips. They’d had their clothes on. Well, some clothes on. Kind of. The blond frowned, tapping his phone harder against his thigh. What was his problem? What the fuck was he doing? He wasn’t some pansy-ass f*g. Even thinking the word made Bobby’s scolding echo in his head, but he wasn’t. He didn’t need anyone thinking he was one, either. Not Daniel. Not Amanda. Because he wasn’t. Just because LaRusso felt good didn’t mean shit. Besides, he wasn’t the one whimpering against another man’s neck. If this evidenced anyone as a f*g, it was…

No, even like this he felt a surge of guilt in his chest for the thought. There was nothing wrong with Daniel liking both. Then, why did the blond care so much that he himself didn’t?

He downed the rest of the glass in one sloppy motion, grasping the phone more firmly to enter letters with his opposite pointer finger: [don’t see whythats a problem]. A pause. [Look if you want to talk come here i’m turning my phone off don’t want to textnymor]. He hit the power button once briefly, but nothing happened. [Bobby messaging me and don’t want towhydont people call anymore.] He couldn’t remember how to turn the damn thing off. Fucking Daniel. [Robbydoent call either]. LaRusso gave him the phone when Johnny broke his last time. He smacked it against the table as if the motion would help. [Bobbydows but]. The prick probably made the phone unable to turn off somehow. Probably told his car to block it or some shit. Dickhead. [Dontneed a sermon]. He pressed the power button again, grip tight, holding it, and the phone indicated he should swipe across the top of the screen for it to power down. Where was that option before? The screen finally went black, and he tossed the phone into the void between the couch and table.

Johnny pushed himself to his feet, blinking again as the world spun softly around him, thoughts flung away like children off a playground’s merry-go-round.

@miyagidos​

[bitelikeaneagle]

@miyagidos​

                                                              “—nerd.”

[bitelikeaneagle]

Johnny waved his right to a speedy trial in an attempt to put off his second court date as long as possible, but nevertheless it fast approached. Defending himself proved challenging given these guys were assholes and Johnny barely remembered the fight he’d initiated with them. They must have had it coming, but the court didn’t seem particularly fond of Johnny dragging one of them through the window after they’d left the bar before him. His legal consult told him claiming self-defense would definitely not be an option. They hadn’t been seriously injured, so it wouldn’t be considered aggravated battery, but that didn’t rule out aggravated assault and battery. Johnny already swore up and down he wouldn’t stomach anger management or AA in lieu of a prison sentence. Not that AA wouldn’t be easy to get through; they would sign his card if he went and didn’t talk, but to hell with spending time doing something so useless.

Granted, jail would be worse. Shit, maybe he would sit through the meetings.

He’d lost the fight, and they’d beaten him up too. Served the fuckers right, though, with them also potentially facing charges for the encounter. In the best case, they would request to drop their charges against each other and just let the ones the state pressed and already charged Lawrence with stand: public intoxication, willful destruction of property. Those were givens. The other two guys would get off without anything in that case, so it would be in their best interest too. Did they really want to fuck him over that badly? In the worst case, his skills would be considered a deadly weapon and tip the charges toward a felony instead of a misdemeanor. That distinction was what pushed this to have more than one court date. He hoped to argue that despite his skills being lethal, he had been drunk and they’d already gotten him on the ground by the time the police came. Right? Johnny thought he remembered that. He stared down at the letter with the day and time on it, counting from today (Friday) to then (Wednesday) in his head.

There were only five days left. He should have told LaRusso sooner. Johnny slipped out of the car, having arrived earlier than he typically would to tell the man. Not mentioning it made it feel less like an issue, but with the date so soon there was little choice. He stepped into the dojo, “Hey, I won’t be here on Wednesday. So, if you were looking for a time to teach them that balancing shit still, that’d be a good day for it.”

@miyagidos​​

[bitelikeaneagle]

[ @miyagidos​ sent [ nightmare ] for your muse to wake mine from a nightmare ]

Just his hand twitched first, and then his entire body shifted against the couch, Johnny wracked with a familiar ache from his head to his toes, making his brain fuzzy and stomach heavy. He wiped his face with his hand, automatically reaching for his unfinished glass of whiskey. Johnny preferred to start the morning with something lighter than that to ease the hangover down more gently (at least, he felt it did), but he hadn’t planned on staying over all fucking weekend, so he hadn’t brought anything of his own. In fact, he’d been vehement about leaving that first afternoon, but passed out here in the end both nights now. He knocked back the swallow remaining in the glass before forcing himself to sit up. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the lights were still on. Why was he still here?

Daniel apparently never made it to his bedroom, instead passed out on the recliner some feet away. He should leave. Why was he still here? It wouldn’t be difficult to grab his clothes from the dryer and disappear, but the movies were kind of fun, and LaRusso hid from jump-scares like half his girlfriends used to. Pretty funny. Noises caught his attention suddenly, eyes snapping to Daniel as it slowly became obvious he was having a nightmare, probably about that stupid clown movie he’d picked. Johnny stared for several seconds, bouncing back and forth between checking on him and leaving him alone. In the end, the blond settled on a happy medium: throwing table-chocolate (read: chocolate he’d bitten once and placed on the table specifically to annoy Daniel) at him. The first piece missed, but the second hit him square on the forehead, “Hey man, the clowns gonna get you? Wake up.” His own voice made his head hurt.