Chapter 5: Relax
Two days later, Robby and Johnny visit Mr. Larusso in the hospital
The ICU hallway buzzed with low beeps and hushed voices, smelling sharply of disinfectant and desperation. Johnny limped beside Robby, his sling awkward and bruises blooming angry purple across his temple. "You look like crap warmed over," Robby muttered, trying to sound casual as he eyed his father’s stiff movements. Johnny grunted, ignoring the pain radiating from his ribs with every step towards room 312. "Shut it," he rasped, his knuckles white where they gripped the IV pole he used for support. The harsh fluorescents reflected off the polished linoleum, making Johnny squint. He paused outside Daniel’s door, swallowing hard against the memory of Daniel’s blood-slick face in the rain. "You gonna go in or just stare at the door all day?" Robby asked quietly, nudging him. Johnny pushed the heavy door open, its hydraulic sigh loud in the sudden quiet. Inside, machines hummed and clicked around Daniel’s still form, tubes snaking from his arms and a ventilator breathing for him. His skin looked waxy and translucent under the dimmed lights, nothing like the vibrant man who’d roared at Johnny weeks ago about the ring. Robby shifted his weight, uncomfortable. Johnny’s breath hitched, the steady hiss of the ventilator filling the space between them. He shuffled closer to the bed, his IV pole rattling. "Hey, LaRusso," Johnny whispered, his voice rough with unspoken fear. He reached out slowly with his good hand, hesitated, then gently brushed Daniel’s limp fingers. "Still sleeping off that cheap shot, huh?" A faint tremble ran through Johnny’s hand. Daniel didn’t stir, his eyelashes dark smudges against pale cheeks. Johnny leaned in, the words choking him. "You better wake up... 'cause I ain't done yelling."
The steady hiss of the ventilator filled the heavy silence after Johnny’s rough whisper. Daniel remained terrifyingly still, his chest rising and falling only with the machine’s artificial rhythm. Robby shifted near the door, arms folded tightly across his chest, looking anywhere but at the bed. "Real productive yelling at a coma patient," Robby muttered under his breath, the forced casualness failing to hide his discomfort. Johnny didn’t turn, his gaze fixed on the pale, slack face, the raw scrape on Daniel’s temple stark against the white pillowcase. He carefully avoided looking at the bare finger where Daniel’s wedding band should have been. Rain streaked the window behind Robby, grey light washing the sterile room in a cold pallor. Johnny’s uninjured hand hovered near Daniel’s arm, trembling slightly, then finally settled with surprising gentleness just above the IV line taped to the back of Daniel’s hand. The skin felt cool, too cool. "Just wake up, okay?" Johnny rasped, the anger gone, replaced by a raw plea that scraped his throat. "Gotta... gotta tell you somethin' stupid." His thumb brushed lightly over Daniel’s knuckles. A faint twitch. Johnny froze. Robby straightened, eyes narrowing. Daniel’s eyelids fluttered weakly, once, twice. A low groan, muffled by the breathing tube, escaped his cracked lips. His eyes opened a sliver, unfocused, swimming in confusion and pain. They darted slowly, blearily, past Robby, past the machines, and finally locked, with immense effort, onto Johnny’s battered face inches away. Recognition flickered, then sheer bewilderment. His lips moved soundlessly around the tube. A choked, rasping gurgle escaped. He swallowed, agony flashing across his features. He tried again, the sound thin, dry, barely more than a whisper forced past the obstruction. “J-Johnny?” Daniel croaked. “What happened?” His gaze drifted down, landing on their hands, Johnny’s resting over his, then flicked with dazed confusion to the bare finger on his own left hand.
Johnny’s grip tightened instinctively over Daniel’s hand, rough knuckles brushing the IV line taped there. “WE GOT INTO A CAR ACCIDENT….” JOHNNY STARTED, the words thick and clumsy, his gaze dropping to the stark white bandage on Daniel’s temple instead of meeting his eyes.
Daniel blinked, confusion clouding his eyes, then sudden panic sharpened his gaze. The car, the rain, Johnny’s blood-streaked face screaming I love you too – it slammed back, raw and terrifying. “The tree…,” Daniel choked out around the tube, his voice a broken rasp, eyes wide with dawning horror, his free hand trembling as it instinctively sought the bare space on his ring finger. “You… the truck….” He swallowed hard, wincing, the memory of the impact, the shattering glass, Johnny’s desperate confession in the wreckage flooding him. “Everything,” he whispered, his voice cracking, raw with the weight of the crash and the truth finally spoken, his gaze locking onto Johnny’s with a mix of terror and something terrifyingly vulnerable.
Daniel’s gaze remained locked with Johnny’s, the ventilator hissing between them, his eyes wide with the raw memory of the wreck, the blood, the desperate words shouted over the storm. "You said..." Daniel rasped, his voice shredded by the tube, his hand trembling under Johnny’s grip. "In the car... you said..." His breath hitched, a wet, painful sound, eyes searching Johnny’s bruised face as if confirming it wasn’t a dying dream. Johnny didn’t flinch, meeting that terrified vulnerability head-on, his own throat tight. "Damn right I did," Johnny growled, his voice low and rough but stripped bare, his thumb brushing Daniel’s knuckles again, the gesture small and fierce against the sterile hum of the machines. Robby shifted near the door, looking acutely uncomfortable, the rain streaking the window behind him a grey blur. Daniel swallowed hard, wincing, pushing past the pain, his focus narrowing solely to Johnny. With a ragged gasp, ignoring the pinch of IV lines and the rasp of the breathing tube, Daniel leaned forward, straining against the weakness, the pillows, the distance, and kissed Johnny – a desperate, clumsy press of cracked lips against Johnny’s bruised cheekbone, whispering against his skin, the words muffled but unmistakable: “I love you.”
Johnny flinched back as if burned, then slammed the call button with unnecessary force, the sharp ding cutting through the heavy air. "Nurse! He's messin' with his tubes again," he barked, his voice rough, cheeks flushed beneath the bruising, avoiding Daniel's gaze. "And quit movin', idiot, you look like hell warmed over."
Robby cleared his throat loudly, edging toward the door as Daniel managed a weak, pained grimace. "Gonna... grab a soda," Robby mumbled, already slipping out, leaving Johnny awkwardly hovering over the bed, the unspoken words hanging thick between them like the scent of antiseptic and the steady hiss of the ventilator.
The word hung in the cold air like a physical blow. Johnny stared, the cheap whiskey bottle forgotten in his grip, its neck slick with condensation. The polished confidence Daniel wore like armor seemed to crack, revealing something raw and jagged beneath. "Divorced?" Johnny asked, softly taken back. The mocking rage evaporated, leaving only stunned disbelief. Amanda LaRusso? Gone? The perfect picture shattered.
Daniel flinched, his jaw tightening. He looked away, towards the flickering neon of Giovanni’s sign, avoiding Johnny’s gaze. "Yeah," he rasped, the single syllable thick with unspoken pain. "Finalized last week." He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, shoulders hunching slightly against the night. "Turns out decades of pretending everything's fine... isn't actually fine."
Silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. The animosity Johnny had nursed for years felt suddenly hollow, pointless against the wreckage standing before him. Daniel LaRusso, untouchable success story, looked as lost and broken as Johnny felt nursing his whiskey in the decaying dojo. The shared failure was a strange, unwelcome intimacy.
Daniel’s gaze snapped back, dark eyes blazing with sudden, desperate heat. "You remember?" he demanded, his voice low and rough, stripping away decades. "That night? After Dutch’s?"
Johnny froze. The stucco wall. The rough hands. The choked gasps. The shame. "Yeah," Johnny breathed, the memory flooding back, visceral and immediate. "I remember."
Daniel closed the distance in two quick strides. Before Johnny could react, Daniel grabbed the front of his leather jacket, fingers digging in. "Do it again," Daniel hissed, his breath hot against Johnny’s face, smelling faintly of expensive scotch and despair. "Fucking do it right here."
The challenge, raw and reckless, ignited something primal. Johnny dropped the whiskey bottle. It shattered on the asphalt, the sharp tang of cheap bourbon joining the scent of exhaust and Daniel’s cologne. Johnny slammed Daniel back against the cold, gleaming hood of the Mercedes. Metal groaned under the impact. Their mouths crashed together – not tentative, not questioning, but a brutal collision of teeth and tongues fueled by decades of fury, resentment, and this sudden, shocking vulnerability. It tasted like desperation and stale beer and the bitter ashes of both their ruined lives.
Johnny’s hands were everywhere – wrenching Daniel’s tailored jacket open, fumbling with the buckle of his expensive belt. Daniel clawed at Johnny’s jeans, popping the button, yanking the zipper down with frantic urgency. "Fuck me," Daniel gasped against Johnny’s mouth, his voice ragged, breaking. "Like you did then. Hard."
Johnny spun him around, shoving his chest flat onto the Mercedes’ cold hood. He kicked Daniel’s legs apart. Spit slicked his fingers before he shoved them roughly against Daniel’s tight hole. Daniel cried out, a sharp, choked sound muffled by the metal. Johnny pressed in with two fingers, twisting, stretching him brutally. Daniel arched, hissing, pushing back against the intrusion. "Now, Johnny! Fucking now!"
Johnny lined himself up, his cock thick and aching. He shoved forward, burying himself to the hilt in one savage thrust. Daniel screamed, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the hood. Johnny didn't pause. He fucked him with punishing, deep strokes, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the deserted parking lot. Each brutal drive punched a gasp or a ragged sob from Daniel’s throat. Johnny gripped Daniel’s hips, fingers bruising flesh, pulling him back onto his cock with every piston-like thrust. The cold metal beneath Daniel contrasted violently with the searing heat engulfing Johnny’s cock. He reached around, grabbing Daniel’s hard length, jerking him roughly in time with his thrusts. Daniel shuddered violently, a low, guttural moan tearing loose as he came, spurting hot over Johnny’s fist onto the Mercedes paint. The clenching heat around Johnny’s cock tipped him over the edge. He came with a raw, animal groan, emptying himself deep inside Daniel with a few final, shuddering thrusts.