Other prompts are in the works, but this character study of sorts has been on my mind for a minute. We always call Johnny a dumb himbo (because he is) so I wanted to address it with a drabble of slight hurt/comfort fluff

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Daniel's laid out on the dojo floor on his stomach, his rolled tank shirt baring nothing of any eye-catching importance. But he's wearing those red biking shorts, the ones Johnny swears are an inch too short and half a size too tight and he shouldn't be wearing them in public. Well. Miyagi's dojo isn't public, but even so.

Daniel Larusso's ass is distracting to a poor, helpless senior hoping to graduate this year. But Larusso isn't paying poor Johnny any mind, eyes drawn to his math homework.

Johnny sighs and focuses back on his English work, where he's editing his analytical essay on some piece of poetry. There's not even enough 'meat' to the essay, really. He couldn't pick up on enough of the deeper meanings, and the stuff he did pick out was scrawled in furious red pen by the teacher. Obvious, it said. Do try to think a little more in depth, Mr. Lawrence.

Johnny looks up again at his boyfriend-of-sorts, Daniel. He could think of a thousand better things to do than edit an analytical essay on some dumb poetry, and half those things end up with Daniel in his lap, kissing any thoughts away with that ability he has to welcomely and happily muffle his mind.

Daniel's humming comes to a halt as he meets Johnny's eyes, frowning a little at the look on his face. "You alright?"

Johnny nods, and that's almost that until he shakes his head. And he can feel Daniel's eyes on him, and it won't stop until he just spits out what's been nagging at him. "Larusso," he says, and he hates how vulnerable and watery his voice sounds. Honestly. It's just a couple words. It's not like a question, ongoing and unanswerable for years.

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

Daniel's face softens, but he looks sad, and Johnny hates that he was the cause. "Johnny," Daniel replies, his voice a gentle, wispy cloud on a winter's day. He comes over, hands on Johnny's arms, moving up to his shoulders before reaching their resting place at cupping his cheeks. "Sweetheart. No, of course I don't think that you're stupid."

Johnny sighs, putting down his notebook and laying down on the squishy dojo mat. Daniel remains above him, combing his hands through Johnny's hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Johnny relishes the feeling; hardly anyone touches him this way, soft and affectionate with no expectations. But Daniel's sure to expect something from him, and Johnny's sure to let him down somehow.

"You're always saying things about me that aren't true," Johnny says, and he suddenly finds his eyes a little wet, straying in fascination with the wall so as not to look into Daniel's eyes. 

"What do you mean?" Daniel asks.

"You don't think that I'm stupid, but I'm obviously lagging in everything school-related. You call me sweetheart when you know that I'm an asshole. I mean, come on, do you even know me?" Johnny sighs, and it's a stupid question because of course. Of course Daniel knows him, can read him better than anyone, which was one of the reasons why he'd wanted to beat him up in the first place.

"The version of yourself that you hate is a stranger to me," Daniel replies, and at first, Johnny thinks he's spouting some ancient Miyagi old-people-talk. "I know that school isn't your strong suit, and you are...a bit of an asshole sometimes, but you've grown a lot over these past few months. You try to hide it, but I think you're sweet. I would never say something about you that wasn't true." Daniel takes the essay from Johnny, frowning at the expanse of red ink. "You're having a hard time with poetry?" he asks, not a hint of condescension in his voice.

Johnny just nods and shrugs. "It should be really easy, but I just can't pick up on all that inner-hidden-layer bullshit."

Daniel gives Johnny a thoughtful look, then goes and rifles through his bag, returning with a sheet of notebook paper. "Give this a read?"

Johnny looks down, familiar with Daniel's neat, unique scrawl, and reads:

I wanna fall in love with you like a moment

like the beach always knows the waves will come

not crashing, or thrashing, or wrecking about

(though they may, some day, in some way)

but waves nonetheless, answering and natural and given

I wanna fall in love with you like a moment

drinking cheap lemonade you mix into beer as if you're a genius mixologist

feeling your arms around me as I read, or watch TV, as if your arms were made for it

what did you do, before holding me?

I want to see your moments

bittersweet and loving, those everlasting moments as you laugh with your friends

they're stoned, don't you know?

but they won't forget,

and you won't forget.

because it's your moment, and I want more than anything for it to be mine too

ours

I wanna fall in love with you like a moment

everlasting, ageless, and unforgotten to time

Johnny's sat up now, and he reads over some of the lines again, unsure what to make of it before his eyes focus on Daniel. "I didn't know you wrote poetry," he says finally.

"I don't," Daniel replies, and he smiles like he's made a joke. "There's just the one...what can you tell me about it?"

"Well..." Johnny looks back over the paper, not reading, just admiring Daniel's handwriting. The lines are already settled like a pleasant memory in his mind. "Hopefully it's about me, unless you're spooning up to someone else with a bunch of stoner friends."

Daniel laughs and shakes his head, brushing Johnny's hair away from his eyes. "Nope, just you..."

"I know the parts about us having fun with the Cobras, I was there, but...the part about the waves is sticking out." Johnny reads over those lines again, nibbling a little on his bottom lip. "It's like...the waves are natural and given, and not thrashing, but only sometimes...it's like...you know we'll fight sometimes, but you want a long, trusting relationship. Right?"

Daniel smiles and nods. "The meaning behind poetry isn't always clear, and oftentimes it's purposely ambiguous. You'll never know what it's like for another person unless you live in their head, and poetry is one of the ways people do that, it's how they...show the world what it's like in their head."

Johnny nods, scanning over the page. "We have all these moments together...well, sometimes I'm having fun with my guys, and it just clicks, how much I love them, even if they're a bunch of idiots. Is that the kind of moment you're talking about?"

Daniel nods again. "Those times on the beach, or in my car, or in the dojo...I said it's how I want to fall in love with you, but it's how I already have. The realization struck me, the night after..." he blushes. "Well. After one of those moments, I realized just how sweet and smart you are. You figured it all out, and I didn't have to tell you at all. I think you're more in tune with it than you realize."

Johnny spared a look towards his essay, slashes of red ink like a murder scene, before his eyes lock on Daniel's. "Some of those people are really pretentious with their poetry, though."

Daniel laughs, a smile staying on his lips. "Yeah, they really are. Just look through the bullshit and find what's really there, I know that you're capable."

"Thanks, Larusso." Johnny murmurs, and Daniel smiles, standing to go back to his homework before Johnny grabs him by the hips, maneuvering him into his lap. Daniel raises his eyebrows, trying and failing miserably to look inconvenienced, but he's too busy looking amused.

And when Johnny kisses him, he can tell Daniel's not the least bit annoyed, and he can tell Daniel meant every word of affection murmured from his lips.

("Sweetheart. I know you're capable.")

They would have time for homework later, for now they were having an everlasting, ageless, unforgotten moment.

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I say that as if they were doing anything of any lasting significance rather than just making out, whatever it's fine

y'all are getting a two-for-one update this valentine's, because I'm gonna die alone. can someone tell me to work on schoolwork please? thanks

~mw