Chapter Text
It's Monday and Johnny is balancing on a toilet seat in the second-floor boys’ room.
One foot on each side of the bowl, he's alternating between sucking on a quickly dwindling joint, holding the smoke in his lungs for a couple seconds and blowing it out of the tiny window underneath the ceiling.
"Hey! Don't hog the weed." Jimmy complains wedged between the side of the stall and Dutch who's currently got his back turned to Johnny while sorting through his messenger bag.
Tommy is stationed outside the door on look-out duty and Bobby is too serious about his whole ex-degenerate thing to join the fun these days.
"Just a second." Johnny mumbles and takes another drag.
He closes his eyes, feels the burning of the smoke in his lungs and the humming of the building high underneath his skin and the back of his skull, tries to savor the way lightness spreads through his head.
But Johnny’s moment of peace doesn't last. It is interrupted by a squeaking sound that's so nasty, he almost drops the joint into the toilet bowl with surprise.
"Watch out!" Jimmy scolds and shoves Johnny off the toilet, wrestling the joint from his limb fingers as he climbs up to take his place.
Johnny’s buzzed brain takes a couple of seconds to make out the source of the noise but then he sees Dutch scrawling something on the stall door with a fat black marker.
"What are you doing, man?" he demands, annoyed.
"Just wait!" Dutch giggles the giggle of the truly stoned "It's gonna be awesome."
Johnny leans back against the stall and does what he's told, too lazy to argue or do much of anything else anyway, until Dutch puts down his last squeaking letter and steps back.
DANIEL LARUSSO SUCKS fat COCK!! the graffiti reads, with the "fat" kinda squeezed between "sucks" and "cock" like an afterthought.
Johnny stares at the statement for a long moment, then he and Jimmy say "What?" at the same time.
"Daniel LaRusso sucks fat cock." Dutch repeats and underlines his writing for good measure.
"I can read." Johnny says flatly and increasingly confused "But why?"
Dutch blinks first at Johnny and then at Jimmy who uses the opportunity to take another deep pull from the joint.
"It's funny because he looks like he does." Dutch finally offers like he's trying to explain a very simple thing to two very simple boys.
"I don't get it." Jimmy says.
Durch shakes his head at him and then gives Johnny an expectant look.
And the thing is Johnny kinda vaguely gets it, like… in a way maybe, but he's had too much weed to understand what that even means so he waves his hand at Dutch and says "Explain?"
"It's…." Dutch frowns and shakes his head again "He's got those lips, you know."
"Lips." Johnny repeats dumbly.
"Yeah!" Dutch growls, face darkening the way it always does when he talks himself into a fit of rage only this time there's something like desperation in it too "He's got those pink, pouty, cock-sucking lips."
There's a beat of silence in which a shockingly clear vision of Daniel’s lips appears in front of Johnny's inner eyes and hovers there, taunting him with the way they are gently parted like two petals of a rose.
Alright yeah, they sure do look soft and pretty and inviting, they sure do look like a dick would fit between them nicely. Johnny swallows at the thought.
"I don't know." Jimmy says then, and the image in Johnny's head scatters, leaving an insistent feeling of warmth in the pit of his stomach "I don't really look at other dudes' mouths I guess?"
"A mouth is a mouth!" Dutch bristles, balling his fists. "And a cocksucking mouth like LaRusso's is wasted on a guy who doesn't suck cock."
"Okay?" Jimmy shrugs "If you say so."
"If you say so." Dutch parrots his words, upper lip curled into a snarl, voice mocking, and then rants on "Yeah I fucking say so! Don't pretend you don't see it! Don't you… do you never wonder what those lips would look like stretched around your dick? Don't you just wanna grab his stupid hair sometimes and get him on his knees and shove it down his throat until he gags and chokes and drools?"
This time Jimmy is the one who almost lets the joint fall into the toilet as his eyes widen and his jaw visibly drops.
"Wow." Johnny breathes, feels how the lingering warmth in his stomach travels down and tightens into something hot growing under his navel.
He doesn't know what else to say, only knows that Dutch's words kinda slapped him in the face and knocked something loose in him that he didn't realize was there before.
Because the image of Daniel’s lips is back with a vengeance and impossibly more vibrant than before. Johnny tries not to imagine their silky texture brushing the crown of his cock and a pink little tongue teasing the underside of it as he feeds it into Daniel’s mouth and fails.
The heat spreads, rises to his collar and makes his dick twitch with interest where it’s trapped down the leg of his pants. Johnny doesn't dare to move or breathe when he feels it. He just watches Dutch glaring at the two of them with some sort of angry defiance.
Jimmy too is silent for a moment but then he puts the joint down on top of the toilet tank and shifts uncomfortably.
"I don't know Dutch isn't that kinda…uh… " he starts tentatively.
"No! Fuck you, don't you dare call me a fag!" Dutch's face twists into a mask of rage like he's just been waiting for this and has been ready to snap since the moment he realized his joke didn't land "He deserves it! He fucking deserves to get his mouth fucked for what he did! That smug little bitch!"
There's a second where it looks like Dutch is about to tackle Jimmy off the toilet when he takes a threatening step forward, his face crimson with anger and his whole body tense and vibrating like a bowstring.
But then he throws himself around and against the stall wall with a howl and kicks it so hard the entire segment shakes.
"Dutch, calm down!" Johnny tries to reach out and touch the other boy's shoulder but his friend slaps his hand away and then drives his fist against the wall for good measure.
"I wanna cum on his face." Dutch groans, sounding pained, his shoulders shaking.
Johnny's face feels hot, his jeans are too tight suddenly. It's like Dutchs despair is contagious, and it takes all of Johnny's self-restraint not to press the heel of his hand against his filling dick to find some much-needed relief.
He wonders if Dutch feels like that every time he looks at LaRusso and if so, what that would say about himself.
The moment stretches on, awkward silence building between the three boys.
Through the haze in his brain Johnny starts thinking they should've just laughed it up when they had the chance. They should've just went 'haha that'll show LaRusso' or something.But things have been different since the tournament, the world is not the same, they are not the same and neither is Daniel and Dutch's words scratch off the deceitful layer of normalcy to reveal something underneath Johnny never thought he'd have to face.
Johnny has no idea what it is about LaRusso that makes everything he knows fall apart slowly as soon as the boy touches it and a wave of helplessness and sympathy for Dutch surges through him. But before he can act on it, before he can say something, he is saved, at least for the time being, by the slam of the bathroom door opening and then closing when Tommy storms in.
"The hell is with that noise? You assholes wanna get caught?!" he hisses as he squeezes into the stall with them, shouldering Johnny out of the way.
"It's fine. Dutch is just having a reaction to the weed." Jimmy says quickly and waves it off, passing what is left of the joint to Tommy.
It doesn't escape Johnny that he looks pretty glad about Tommy's intervention and if he's honest about it, he can relate. On all levels.
Johnny clears his throat.
"Yeah. We're not buying from that guy again, right buddy?" he says, turning towards Dutch and slapping him on the back while trying to adjust himself discreetly with the other hand.
Dutch just nods, tendons in his jaw jumping as he grits his teeth. Johnny thinks maybe the corners of his eyes are a little wet. He can almost taste his shame, an acidic tang somewhere in the back of his throat, but he can’t touch it. He can’t do that to Dutch, Johnny knows.
"Whatever." Tommy grumbles "Just don't drag me down with you, you idiots."
He takes the joint and switches places with Jimmy.
Johnny gladly takes the chance to book it out of the stall before the others can notice that he's sporting a half-chub in his Calvins. Tomorrow, he can pretend like none of this ever happened.
"I have to get something from my locker." he shouts over his shoulder on his way out, hoping his face isn't red enough to give him away. "See you guys in class."
Johnny makes it to his locker just in time for the bell telling him recess is over and hastily grabs his largest binder for strategic placement. He kinda prides himself on his manly assets in the downstairs department because girls like it and guys envy him but that also means that he's definitely too big to hide what's going on behind the zipper of his jeans right now. He silently curses Dutch for his out-of-hand imagination when he heads down the hallway to his next class.
One boring lesson is enough to get Johnny's rampant libido back under control but the mental image of Daniel on his knees in front of him, lips firmly closed around his length, sucking him down and looking up at him with dark, watery eyes, haunts Johnny for the rest of the day.