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Johnny Lawrence stood with a large pumpkin under his arm, glaring at the premature Christmas decorations as he waited for Dutch to get the keg through checkout. Fuckin’ hallmark shit, it crept closer every year, less than five days till Halloween and everywhere was already tinsel town. When he was a kid there had been cards just for Halloween and he’d always gotten one for his mom even when it was just them on their own and he’d had to hand-draw her one.
Maybe I’ll make her one this year, he thought. Money was a little tight right now and evidently, they didn’t even make cards like that anymore. Only occasionally was Johnny struck with the creative motivation to actually create something but now the image was clear in his mind: an owl with a heart shaped face and cartoony features against a big yellow moon ‘Happy Owl-o-Ween’. Yeah, that kicked ass, she’d love it, she loved owls.
He readjusted his grip on the pumpkin like it was a football, thankful that he did his lateral raises that morning because this sucker was heavy, just then Thriller came on the tinny speakers, instinctively he tapped his Adidas to the beat. He remembered staying up late to watch that video on MTV with the guys in Bobby’s living room with all the lights turned off. When his parents came home early and Bobby’s dad unexpectedly flung the door open they’d all screamed like the dancing zombies were coming to get them. Good times.
Just as Vincent Price’s laugh rang out over the tannoy, a redhead with a frizzy bob nearly bowled into him. He quickly swept his orange cargo to the opposite side. Smashed pumpkins were only well and good when they happened to other people.
“Oh sorry!“ she exclaimed.
Johnny just scowled, hoping that was enough to get the message across. The girl turned back to her friend and ignored him. Typical.
“Okay but are you dead set on your Scully and Mulder costume with Daniel, because I have the perfect green dress if you want to go as the Sanderson sisters with me, I just need to talk my friend Chrissie into—“
Wait, Daniel? Nah, it was probably a different Daniel.
“ ‘Manda listen, you’d be doing me a favour. I can't pull off FBI agent, I’d look like a used car salesman.”
Johnny turned his head so fast he nearly got whiplash. Of course, it would be his Daniel, well not his Daniel, they hadn’t made any proclamations except for the ones they had made. They weren’t boyfriends okay, that wasn’t— He cleared his throat.
“Hey LaRusso,” he said.
Dani—LaRusso turned to him and beamed like someone had lit a candle in his head.
“Hiya Johnny!”
The redhead regarded him with an all too knowing look that he did not care for one bit.
“Johnny this is the Jessica I’ve told you about and this is her cousin Amanda.”
“You all set for Halloween then?” asked Amanda.
He looked at her, confused, until she pointed at the obvious pumpkin under his arm.
“Oh yeah, totally.”
“Totally,” intoned Daniel.
Johnny sneered at him good-naturedly, wishing he had a hand free to give him a noogie.
Dutch appeared at his side, keg on his shoulder. He thwapped him playfully on the back to indicate their departure, before noticing the apparent audience Johnny had acquired.
“What’s up LaRusso,” said Dutch, by way of greeting.
“Are you guys having a party?” Asked the younger girl.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Depends, how old are you?”
Daniel rolled his eyes.
“Older than you were when you tried smoking that twig—“
“Hey you still owe me for that joint! I paid for it,” piped up Dutch.
“Well, then you were ripped off. It was like a spliff minus, it was nothing, it was crumbs. And it still took Johnny ten minutes to roll it!”
It was pretty hard to be not-boyfriends with someone when they said shit that made you want to smack them upside the head more often than not. Dutch was nearly falling over laughing, the keg wobbling precariously on his shoulder.
Amanda persevered.
“I’m only asking because you said you didn’t want to come to my dorm party…”
“Everyone there will be like ten years younger than me, I’ll feel like a creep.”
Johnny raised his eyebrows. Of course, his guy had coeds chasing after him.
“Daniel, they will not be ten years younger than you, my friends aren’t freshmen!”
“I still don’t know if he’s even going to dress up,” complained Jessica covertly.
“I said I would!”
“Yeah but then you’ll have like two beers, before calling it a night and going home to watch whatever Halloween special is on like an old man.”
Daniel was clearly reaching his limit, so naturally, Johnny decided to push him over it.
“Come on LaRusso, you just need to get into the Halloween spirit.”
“Will this Halloween spirit be wearing a lycra skeleton suit?” he asked archly.
I’ll decide when he’s had enough!
Both men looked at each other with a certain level of discomfort then instantly changed their expression when they heard the double meaning in what he’d just said.
“Okay…” strained Dutch. “Listen, it’s an open invitation so you know where to find us.”
Johnny was grateful beyond words when Dutch tugged him away by the elbow. As they reached the car, his friend frowned suddenly.
“Shit man, what are we gonna do as costumes this year?”
“Well, sure as shit not skeletons otherwise LaRusso will set the old man on us, again.”
Dutch nodded seriously, then snapped his fingers.
“What about that game you and him are away playing?”
MK had genuinely done wonders for their… relationship, such as it was. If they had any highschool or current grievances they could take it to the virtual mat, because you can’t actually rip someone’s spine out when they tell you how to wash your own dishes but in this digital age, anything was possible. It was also good for arguments in general because if it went on for longer than a match they could check in and make sure they were actually on the same page. The first few times they’d actually been getting annoyed about the same thing but didn’t realise.
Dutch must have seen something in his expression because he doubled down.
“Dude, yes! You can go as Johnny Cage, it’s perfect!”
It was kind of perfect, but it was also… a little too easy, too predictable. He wanted to show LaRusso he’d changed, that he could be different. That he wasn't the same guy from highschool. And he thought he might just have the perfect way to show that.
…
Daniel didn’t know what the hell he was doing here, his suit was by no means Armani and he really did look like a car salesman. At least the mixtape in Johnny’s enviable sound system was solid. All 80s Halloween classics, real ones not just the stuff they played on repeat in department stores to gradually drive cashiers to madness.
SSQ, Pseudo Echo, Naked Eyes, Laura Branigan, KISS, Janet Jackson, good quality stuff.
There were a fair few people crammed into the apartment, most of whom Daniel didn’t know, friends of friends he assumed. He went to turn to Jessica only to realize she’d slipped off to the kitchen to get her cousin a drink. She'd shown up as Scully at least, so they were a dynamic duo for about ten minutes. It really sucked that if you were lonely once you’d be lonely for the rest of your life. He shook himself out of his funk. He scanned the room for a blond head and found two he didn’t intend to.
Bobby and Tommy seemed to be in matching black hoodies with the sleeves removed, the only difference being their outer vests which were blue and yellow respectively. Then he clocked the coloured disposable face masks they’d slung down in order to drink.
“Heya guys,” he attempted over the music.
Bobby gave him a big smile, his hair looking a little longer in the back than it was in the front, same with Tommy. Not that he was petty about such things but sometimes you had to take a receding hairline as a win when you could get it.
“Hey Daniel,” Bobby greeted him warmly.
Tommy just gave him a less-than-courteous nod.
“You guys all match huh?”
“Yep, haven’t done it for a while, but it was Johnny’s idea.”
“And mine!” Dutch cut in, as he appeared in a green vest, rubbing his nose in a rather tell-tale way that hinted at previous activities that involved inhaled substances.
“Why’d you guys make me be the most boring one,” complained Jimmy, plucking doubtfully at his grey vest.
“Because you’re an accountant, Jimmy, you’re boring,” replied Tommy.
“Anyway,” stressed Dutch, “it’s good LaRusso’s here because he can get Johnny to stop being such a wuss.”
“What?”
“He had this whole idea for his costume but then when people started arriving he totally pussied out and won’t come out of his room.”
Daniel grinned incredulously.
“Seriously?”
“Dude hasn’t even had one drink,” said Dutch, shaking his head like it was a grave injustice.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Daniel reassured.
He moved through the throng of bodies as Duran Duran played.
I’m on the hunt, I’m after you.
Eventually, he made it to Johnny’s bedroom door, marked by a poster of some war movie he’d never seen, Iron Eagle, huh.
Daniel rapped on the door when he got no response, he knocked a little harder.
“FBI open up!” he joked and quickly regretted it as soon as several heads whipped around to him.
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
The door clicked open. Daniel quickly slipped inside. He’d not actually been within the realms of Johnny’s bedroom before, their forays into heavy petting and inexperienced handjobs had mostly involved neutral spaces like couches. They were still a little nervy with each other. The sight that met his eyes in the half light of a green lava lamp certainly didn’t help matters.
He was kind of glad Johnny hadn’t worn crop tops in highschool, he didn’t know what he might’ve done. To be fair, it was skin-tight athletic wear. It wasn’t his fault that he’d had to take a long, deep, very guilty look.
Once he’d picked his jaw off the floor he felt he could attempt speech again.
Johnny tugged awkwardly at the hem of his crop top, which in all honesty, only made it pull tighter. Nope, speech might not be possible yet.
“Quit staring, LaRusso,” Johnny grumbled, glancing away, cheeks visibly dark even in the eerie green glow.
Daniel raised his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes refused to leave Johnny’s form. He tried to distract himself, glancing around the room, but it was hopeless.
“What, can’t a guy appreciate a Halloween costume?” he risked.
“You look like a dork,” Johnny shot back, finally meeting his gaze. Upon seeing Daniel’s visibly flustered state, the corner of his mouth turned up. “What’re you supposed to be, a tax collector?”
“Very funny.”
The crop top just barely hid his ribs, exposing a good stretch of muscle, God those abs. What a weird little collection of muscle he’d had abs for about a week of his teenage years but that was just his freak metabolism, Johnny had worked for his. Daniel stifled a sigh, shrugging off his coat, trying to sound casual.
“Man, it’s boiling in here.”
Johnny had a particularly devilish expression on his face that did not bode well for Daniel. Maybe he’d been expecting to get laughed at but Johnny’s fucking thighs in those dark green yoga pants was no laughing matter. He found himself pulled into the orbit of Johnny’s bed. Slender fingers hooked around his tie, giving it a playful tug, bringing him closer and sending a shock through him.
“You gonna talk, LaRusso, or just look at me all night?”
“Oh, I’m looking,” Daniel murmured distantly, “I mean—“
Johnny snickered. His hand released his tie and drifted down across Daniel’s chest.
“I like the suspenders. Almost make you look respectable,” he added as he thumbed the strap, giving it a little snap.
Whatever Daniel thought about Johnny’s outfit couldn’t possibly be voiced within the proximity of (mostly) polite society. Deranged thoughts such as, I want to tear a hole in your spandex pants and fuck you through it, were echoing around his head like a broken record.
“Do you… like mine?” Johnny asked, insecurity creeping back in.
“Like it? Johnny, you look amazing.”
Johnny preened before his smirk turned dangerous once more. His hands shot out, grabbing Daniel by the waist, pulling him roughly onto his lap. Sometimes he forgot, or tried to, that physically Johnny was stronger, broader, larger generally. His hands nearly spanned Daniel’s waist. It drove him wild.
“I always liked being bigger than you, LaRusso,” Johnny confided, hands pawing at Daniel’s lower back, inching southward. “Still remember how scrawny you were back in high school. And now…” he trailed off pointedly.
Just because he liked it didn’t mean he had to put up with it.
“And now what? What’s that supposed to mean Ms Lawrence!”
That was a little too mean perhaps, he should probably apologize while he still had the chance. Instead, Johnny yanked his tie hard until their lips crashed together in a hungry kiss.
Daniel’s hands fumbled through Johnny’s hair before they connected with the familiar rough texture of a black headband that he’d somehow missed in the low lighting.
“Wait… is this the one from high school?” Daniel chuckled, tracing it to the knot at the back of his head, Johnny scowled, batting his hand away.
“So what if it is.”
“It’s cute.”
Johnny huffed a laugh, as he glances down at his own outfit.
“Yeah?”
Daniel took the plunge and leaned into it.
“Didn’t think you had the nerve for drag.”
Johnny’s face flushed.
“I’ve got plenty of nerve, LaRusso,” he muttered, hands clamping down on Daniel’s hips, fingers splayed wide and warm over his thighs.
Suddenly the world tilted.
…
Johnny took a deep breath. He’d had a nearly whole week to think about this. He’d watched a lot of porn. Gay stuff. These were the lengths he’d been willing to go to. A lot of it involved a freaky amount of blond and brunette couples, the blond was usually the one getting it rather than giving it. Which had made him feel a little weird and a lot turned on.
God, he loved the way they were different physically—LaRusso almost folded into him, light and compact in a way that made Johnny feel huge.
The other man gasped when Johnny palmed his ass through his slacks. LaRusso flushed, a beautiful dark red against his tan skin, his hands pressing into Johnny’s chest, as he rolled them over so LaRusso was pinned to the mattress.
LaRusso gave him a warning glare, which was cute but not necessarily something he wanted to push too far.
Johnny smiled wolfishly, getting a good look into LaRusso’s big dark eyes before he slid down to his knees and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as those baby browns got even bigger.
Through the door, he could hear Cold Hearted by Paula Abdul playing.
He exhaled heavily as his hands settled on LaRusso's thighs as he peered up at him, trying not to lose his nerve as his palms smoothed up LaRusso’s inner thighs, before tracing the outline of his erection. He was stalling, he knew that but the way LaRusso was eating him up with his eyes was a sign he’d was probably doing okay. Johnny felt his resolve solidify—he was gonna show LaRusso how much he wanted this. No more playing it cool. He leaned forward and rubbed his face against the seam of the fabric.
Instinctively LaRusso’s hand reached out, fingers threading through his hair, and Johnny practically melted, leaning into the touch. He started slow, nuzzling close, watching the way LaRusso’s jaw clenched, the little hiss he let out as Johnny’s tongue dragged over through the fabric. There was something thrilling about seeing LaRusso like this, tense and breathless.
“Oh…okay,” he breathed, clearly a little surprised.
The hand in his hair tightened, guiding him a little closer, urging him on.
Johnny finally got LaRusso’s pants open, leaving the suspenders where they were, the feeling of the now familiar length against his palm was oddly comforting, that LaRusso wanted this just as bad. He leaned forward, lips brushing the tip, feeling it twitch under his mouth. He kissed his way along the length, enjoying the way LaRusso’s breathing picked up, his hips jerking just a little.
Then he took LaRusso’s cock in, sliding him past his lips and letting his tongue swirl over the head like he’d seen in All-American Boys, a little groan escaping before he could help it. He had been worried the minute it hit his soft palate, he’d gag or choke and maybe freak out but he didn’t really have to take him too far in for LaRusso to love it. Not to mention, it was kind of embarrassing how hot this was, how much he loved the taste of him, the weight of him filling his mouth. But LaRusso was the one going to pieces so who was winning really?
At that little spark of competitiveness, he let himself go slack, opening his mouth wider as LaRusso’s hips began to move, thrusting in and out slowly, his hand still gripping Johnny’s hair, guiding him, the praise spilling out with each breathless gasp.
“Just like that,” LaRusso murmured, voice rough, “fuck, that’s good, you’re so good.” His voice cracked on the last part, and Johnny felt a thrill run through him.
He was vaguely aware of Poison blaring through the plywood and mentally patted himself on the back for making good use of such a kickass mixtape.
The more LaRusso bucked into his mouth, the hotter Johnny felt, something heady filling his veins, making him feel lightheaded. It was dizzying, intoxicating, even, like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than sucking LaRusso’s dick. His mind felt pleasantly blank except for LaRusso's scent and the way his body moved under him, helpless and responsive. No one had said anything about how great this felt, like it was all some big gay conspiracy and they were keeping it to themselves. Or maybe the eponymous they that had occupied Johnny’s every thought to make sure he didn’t turn out a sissy had conspired together to make sure guys never found out how fucking awesome it felt to suck dick otherwise they’d all be doing it.
It struck him then that LaRusso was suspiciously quiet. He flicked his eyes open and saw that the other man had his free hand clenched to his mouth as he bore down on his knuckle. A quietened LaRusso, all because of him.
“Johnny…” LaRusso’s voice was a hushed moan.
He hollowed his cheeks, giving it his all until LaRusso was shuddering, gasping. Johnny braced himself, taking him as deep as he could, not pulling back, ready for him. Even still was a bit of a shock as he spilled into Johnny’s mouth. More than he expected but Johnny swallowed, again and again, feeling LaRusso shudder, holding onto Johnny’s hair until his fingers finally went slack. He kept his mouth on him even as LaRusso began to whimper— he was allowed to be a little mean —sucking lightly just to tease.
Eventually, LaRusso pulled him away by the hair, his scalp tingling all over, and brought him up into a rough kiss. His hands explored every curve, every ridge of exposed muscle with an intensity that bordered on worship. LaRusso’s hands made a grab for his chest, which still made him jump even though he should be used to it by now. Vaguely he was aware of lasting taste of cum, which he honestly didn’t hate as much he thought he would.
A hand brushed over his abs, sliding lower, until it was resting against the bulge in Johnny’s tight pants.
“Jesus, you’re hard,” praised LaRusso, “c’mere.
Before he knew what was happening, LaRusso had manhandled him into the center of the bed. Slight hands grabbed him by the hip and hoisted him into place. He loved that manipulation of gravity shit LaRusso did, he loved it even more in this context.
LaRusso was looking at him with something hungry in his eyes. His hands dipped lower, past his dick and pressed against his ass through his too tight pants. Johnny’s brain short-circuited.
His panic must have shown because LaRusso eased off.
“Want me to stop?” He whispered.
Johnny shook his head. He wouldn’t let himself be scared, he could take it.
LaRusso smirked again, dark eyes glinting, as slid his fingers into Johnny’s mouth, pressing against his lips. “Suck,” he ordered softly.
Johnny knew how to do this at least, sucking Daniel’s fingers into his mouth, feeling them slick with spit, maybe he was orally fixated? LaRusso’s free hand palmed his chest comfortingly, and honestly, he’d be happy to just do this for a while, if not for the fact that his cock was so hard it hurt.
Finally, the hand that had been tormenting his nipple, took firm hold of his waistband and yanked it down to the midpoint of his thighs, making his quads look in all honesty fucking great. LaRusso certainly thought so if his wolfish expression was anything to go off.
It was probably stretching the spandex to hell though.
“LaRusso,” Johnny complained, trying to hold onto whatever pride he had left, “you’re gonna ruin my pants.”
The other man laughed a little hysterically, his eyes flashing. “Yeah. You don’t know how much I want to—”
He pulled back and took a deep inhale grounding himself. Honestly, Johnny kind of wanted to see what he was like off the leash.
LaRusso unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and rolled them up. It was prissy, but kind of hot, like the suspenders. LaRusso caught his gaze and grinned, eyes dropping down to Johnny’s crotch.
“Really, commando? What, didn’t want panty lines?”
They were gonna have to talk about this Ms Lawrence Shtick because it made his guts squirm in a cocktail of shame and anger but more importantly, it made him painfully horny, but that was for another time. He made an attempt to shove LaRusso a bit before he got any ideas.
Clearly, it was too late for that, as LaRusso grabbed his wrist, and pinned it to the bed. He kept Johnny in place as he continued to torment him with slow, languid strokes. He felt his back arch, a moan escaping his lips.
Shit, point LaRusso.
“C’mon,” Johnny whined, “Fuck, Daniel, c’mon.”
LaRusso cocked his head at him. Like he was considering giving Johnny what he wanted.
His hand, still wet with spit and pre-cum, made itself known between his cheeks. Just stroking at first, soothing the tense muscle there. Clearly, LaRusso had been doing his own research. LaRusso's fingers began to toy with Johnny’s entrance, pressing firmly before pushing inside—just a little at first. Johnny gasped, his body flinching at the sensation. He had never felt anything like this before, never had anyone touch him like this, never even done it to himself.
Daniel chuckled softly, still teasing but in a softer, gentler way now. “You alright there, tough guy?”
He nodded tightly.
LaRusso hummed into Johnny’s neck, pressing a kiss to his flushed skin. Then he kissed a line up his jaw. Okay, this was getting a little condescending.
“I can take it,” he urged.
To his annoyance, LaRusso pulled away.
“Do you have any lube? Because otherwise, this is the speed we’re going.”
Johnny huffed, shimmied over to his bedside and threw a visibly squeezed tube at LaRusso, who regarded him with a raised eyebrow. He’d been very thorough in his research, okay?!
LaRusso slicked his hand and then seemed to deliberate again, Johnny was about to ask him what the hell the problem was now? Before the other man leaned forward and pulled his crop top up so it was hitched at his armpits, the elastic digging into his pecs.
He looked down at his chest and back at LaRusso curiously.
“What, you wanna watch my tits bounce?”
LaRusso was suspiciously quiet.
Before he could interrogate him any further about it. LaRusso’s fingers were back, a little chilled but sliding so much easier. Pressing closer, easing inside. Until it seemed like his body just swallowed them up, one then two. Johnny’s mouth fell open, gasping obscenely.
LaRusso slowed his movements, but only to grind his fingers harder against Johnny’s insides, stretching him open.
"Look at you,” Daniel murmured, sounding genuinely awed. "You’re so fucking hungry for it."
"Fuck—" Johnny started, but the words were lost as LaRusso's fingers found something inside him that sent a jolt of pleasure so intense through his body that he almost came right there. His muscles were tightening as if he might break apart from the inside. It felt very fucking weird. But confirmed his worries about the blowjob conspiracy, because why wasn’t everyone doing this as much as humanly possible!?
“Fuck…fuck,” he whined, voice reaching a nearly unrecognisable pitch.
LaRusso's free hand found his cock again, achieving some quite frankly impressive multitasking. Johnny’s body shone with sweat in the lurid green glow of the lava lamp. He felt like the babe from Re-animator.
“Jesus, you’re so beautiful,” LaRusso insisted.
His voice had turned soft and breathy with praise, as he pressed deeper, rubbing that spot again.
Johnny felt like his body was on fire. Sweat beaded at his temple around where the headband was snug.
“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?” LaRusso asked, a little rough around the edges as he stroked and fucked Johnny with the same intensity he had in every fight they’d ever had. Johnny’s breaths came faster and faster as LaRusso continued, “You look so damn good. You get dressed up just for me?”
Johnny brain felt like it had been rendered into melted wax so there was no point deceitful. He nodded, as he scrunched up his eyes, the twin sensations realigning his inner workings.
He let go. All the walls he’d built up, all the fears and worries, they fell away in Daniel’s hands. With every gentle murmur, every stroke, LaRusso was igniting something inside him. Johnny felt his whole body tense, his breath catching as his release hit him, intense and shuddering, spilling over his stomach as LaRusso held him through it.
Johnny gripped him tightly, feeling weirdly frayed.
“Don't leave," he muttered before he could stop himself, voice hoarse.
LaRusso smiled down at him, brushing his hair out of his eyes. His hand came up to the back of his head and unfastened the knot of his headband, freeing it, before he kissed his sweat damp forehead.
“As if I would.”