#cksecretsanta22

His Decembers have really always just been another month.

Sid’s house was always decorated December 1st, all tinsel anywhere tinsel could be put and pinecones and green and red and the huge awful fireplace in the drawing room being the center of attention. A huge obnoxious wreath on the door and a decked-out tree even bigger than the man himself. At least one big stupid dinner with all of Sid’s big stupid friends. Johnny got presents on Christmas morning before he was sort of told to clear off and play with his new stuff so Sid and Laura could be alone for the day, but none of it ever felt like routine or tradition. It felt like stuff that just happened. Like being in a play in elementary school, being told what scene was next between each one because they were all dumb kids who couldn’t actually be trusted to know or remember. He was just going where he was supposed to be, no real idea or care what was coming next.

His holidays have always been like that since, although perhaps a little closer to the ones he’d shared with his mother, pre-Sid. No tree, no decorations, no dinners. Just observing the holidays through the actions of others in decorated shop windows and stuff being sold that they couldn’t afford. A treat, perhaps, on December 25th, as the one real mark of a “special” time of year, but ultimately letting it pass by like something on the other side of a window.

With Daniel and all of his traditions, such a thing is impossible.

Johnny wakes up on the 1st of December, some time nearer noon than Daniel seems to know how to get, to a scent he doesn’t recognise filling the pleasantly warm house. Venturing to the kitchen, half-asleep in his boxers and a threadbare t-shirt, reveals it as cookies - trays and trays of them, little roundish sugar cookie looking things doused in white icing and Christmas-coloured sprinkles.

“Christmas cookies,” Daniel clarifies, briefly glancing up and smiling when he notices Johnny stood watching. “They’re Italian.”

Johnny hums and approaches, swipes one up from the tray nearest him and eats it immediately. It’s…almond-y, soft like cake, still kinda warm. It’s good.

“Yeah?” he asks, still chewing. “What makes ‘em Italian?”

Maybe it’s the effect of the Christmas season that Daniel doesn’t admonish him - doesn’t even give him A Look - for his thievery. Or maybe he’s just finally used to it, but either way he simply keeps attending to the tray of cookies he’s still icing with a steady, experienced hand.

“The same thing that ties anyone and anything to a nationality.”

Johnny hums, wrinkling his nose briefly in consideration as he watches Daniel work. “Can’t be Italian if they were made in America.”

“I was made in America, Johnny.”

“Yeah, but—what, these cookies got a bloodline?”

Daniel laughs then - that beautiful, sincere laugh like Johnny amuses him now instead of just pissing him off, though Johnny’s sure he still does that plenty - and shakes his head.

“Just come help me ice these.”

Obediently, Johnny walks over, but wrinkles his nose again when he’s handed the weird, unwieldy plastic bag full of icing that tries to flip right out of his grasp and promptly explodes a glob of icing onto the counter when he grips it hard to compensate.

“I’ve never iced cookies before,” he decides to admit before he fucks it up entirely. Daniel’s putting his oven gloves on with his back to Johnny - the cute red tartan pair Amanda got him.

“What, you never helped your mom when you were a kid?” he asks, distracted.

“My mom didn’t bake, LaRusso.”

Any other time, Johnny’s sure that sentence and bitter tone would earn him one of those godawful looks from Daniel, and follow-up questions. Daniel’s always trying to learn more about Johnny’s childhood where he can, but as it is he’s thoroughly engaged getting yet another tray of cookies out of the oven and safely onto the overcrowded counter.

“Jesus. Are you baking for the whole of California?” Johnny asks, grateful for the out. Daniel grits his teeth in playful bashfulness.

“No, just half of New Jersey. I’m sending these to family,” he says, gesturing to a few of the completed trays. “…And the kids are all getting some. And Amanda, Chozen, Jessica…”

Johnny huffs a laugh as a smile grows on Daniel’s face. “Yeah, alright, my mistake.”

Daniel leans over and shoves Johnny in the shoulder to direct him back to the tray of uniced cookies in front of him. “Look, I’m not seein’ much icing goin’ on over there. You gotta do it before they get too cool or—“

“Okay, okay!”

They don’t turn out good. Johnny’s icing is a disaster, all lumpy and uneven, some drowned and some barely grazed - and his sprinkle application goes about as well, but when he says he’s done Daniel comes over and looks at them and smiles like the sun, all eye crinkles and dimples, and suddenly Johnny forgets about everything his childhood was filled with instead of baking as Daniel kisses him hard on the cheek.

They keep a few of that batch, shared between the two of them and eaten right there in the kitchen by the counter, stood all close together and giggling like they’re doing something sneaky. Daniel insists they’re not as good as the ones he used to make with his Ma, even promises that he’ll ask Lucille to send some so that Johnny can have some “real” ones, but Johnny tells him honestly that they’re good. Daniel credits Johnny’s icing and decorating technique with making them special, so the rest of that batch - “our batch”, Daniel calls them - are divvied up into cute, expensive glass tupperware containers - with matching lids! - to go to Amanda, Sam, Anthony, Robby, and Miguel.

Their family, Johnny realises. They made cookies for their family.

“I’ve never done that before,” he mumbles.

“Done what?” Daniel asks, clicking the lid into place on Sam’s container. It’s pink, with little flowers on it, like a little girl’s lunchbox. Miguel’s and Robby’s, piled on the side, have blue splotches of paint and little cartoon lions respectively. Amanda and Anthony’s are next up - leaves and cartoon game controllers. Johnny remembers buying them all, some time soon after he and Daniel had moved in together. Picking which one from the store’s selection fit each person.

“I don’t know,” Johnny says, suddenly a little overwhelmed by the big feeling taking root in his chest. “I was talkin’ about the cookies again, but…All of this.”

It doesn’t really make sense. Too disjointed to really be a thought, but Daniel looks up at Johnny like he understands. Bumps their shoulders together.

“I’ll take more of your firsts,” he says. Johnny snorts.

“I was being wholesome for once!”

“You were, you were,” Daniel grins, “But I mean it. We’ll do more stuff. Got the whole of December to go.” He neatly clicks the lid onto Anthony’s box of cookies and piles it on top of Sam’s. “We go ice skating on the second Saturday.”

“Never done that either.”

“It’s a learning curve.”

“Always is.”

Daniel smiles. Amanda’s box joins the pile atop Anthony’s, and finally Daniel’s hands settle on Johnny’s waist, thumbs running gently back and forth over the worn fabric of his t-shirt. “I’ll teach you,” he promises. “And then when we go next year, you’ll be a pro.”

And for the first time in his life, Johnny’s looking forward to the rest of the holidays. Looking forward to next year’s.

“You’re helping me bake next year too.”

“That mean I have to get up early?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh.”

And, if he’s being honest, it’s not just those things keeping him up at night, it’s also that ever since Jimmy’s been around, Johnny has had no time for him, everything’s “Jimmy this, Jimmy that.” and Daniel is sick of hearing that name, sick of seeing Johnny smile bright as the sun every time he sees him and laugh at all the man's stupid, stupid jokes like they’re the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard. God, He sounds like a jealous boyfriend, and they’re not even dating! But…what’s so great about Jimmy? Why him? Why not Daniel?

What makes it even worse is that Johnny has been living with Daniel for over a month, which has somehow made him fall more in love with the blond.

Daniel drags a hand down his face with a groan, laying his head back against the chair, he desperately needs to shower. He looks over to where Johnny is soundly sleeping on the couch, he looks peaceful like this, quiet unlike when he’s awake, Daniel still wonders how someone so pretty can be so very obnoxious.

Daniel stands up reluctantly and heads to the bathroom, woozy with exhaustion, and looks in the mirror when he gets there; he looks like a zombie, with his sunken eyes, chapped lips, and pale face, people have been telling him all day that he looks sick. He feels sick, not just with exhaustion, but jealousy too.

He sighs, then heads over to the bathtub, plugs the drain, turns on the water, and pours in his lavender bath salts, the scent already making him feel a little more relaxed.

He lets the bath fill up a little more than halfway, then quickly strips off his clothes and puts them in the hamper, before getting in the tub; the water is the perfect temperature, just on the border of too hot, and steamy

He closes his eyes and sinks down deeper into the tub, sighing contently, idly running his fingers through the water, and resting the side of his head against the wall.

He feels so relaxed, more than he has in days, and as he slowly falls asleep, he tells himself he’ll only rest his eyes for one more minute.

He sinks deeper.

----------------------------------------------------------

Johnny startles awake, desperately gasping for air, panic coursing through his veins, the ghost of arms tight around his neck, and the feeling of his lungs burning for oxygen haunting him. He had that nightmare again, the one about Kreese choking him in the dojo, with Robby laying on the floor a few feet away from them. It always goes as it did in real life, except this time Daniel doesn't save him. He stands there and watches, looking down at him with a cruel smirk that Johnny has never seen on his face before.

"This is what you deserve. You know that, right?" he had said, kneeling down next to Johnny. "Don't fight it. Nobody will miss you anyway."

Johnny wipes the sweat off his forehead and looks over at the clock, which is shining "7:03" in bright red. Daniel should be home. 

He stands up and walks upstairs to Daniel's room and knocks; no answer. He opens the door, pausing at the sound of running water, thinking about leaving and giving Daniel privacy. It's just as he's about to turn around and leave that he notices water leaking from the cracked open door of the bathroom; he immediately runs over and slams open the door.

The entire bathroom floor is covered in water, spilling from the overflowing bathtub. Why the fuck is the faucet still on? He trudges through the water to turn it off, and goes pale, panic and dread filling him once again when he sees Daniel, fully submerged and motionless.

He wastes no time, and grabs Daniel, pulling him out of the tub, laying him on his back, and tilting his chin up. He puts his ear up to Daniel's chest; a heartbeat, faint, but thankfully there. He looks at Daniel's pale face for a moment, before pinching Daniel's nose closed and covering his blue, cold lips with his own, blowing air into his mouth.

Johnny nearly cries in relief when Daniel begins coughing, hacking up water violently. Johnny sits him up and pats his back hard.

"There you go, man, you're alright," he says soothingly, letting Daniel rest against him when he finally stops coughing.

"Wha-what happened?" Daniel wheezes, gripping Johnny's hoodie tight.

"You tell me. I came in here and the floor was soaked, and you were just...laying there," Johnny explains, rubbing Daniel's back absentmindedly, gently.

Daniel clears his throat weakly. "Guess I fell asleep..." 

Johnny slaps Daniel over the head. "Yeah, I know why! It's because you've been working too much just so you can avoid me." 

Daniel pulls away and rubs his head with a wince, opening his mouth as if to dispute that claim but just breaks into another coughing fit.

Johnny sits up and reaches to grab a towel, putting it over Daniel's lap. "I really thought you were dead, Daniel."

Daniel adjusts the towel hurriedly as if only just remembering that he's stark naked. "I'm sorry, okay? Just go so I can get dressed." he chokes.

Johnny scoffs and stands up, grabbing Daniel's clothes off the counter and handing them to him. "No way, I'm staying in here to make sure you don't keel over and die suddenly. 

Daniel glares up at him and takes the clothes, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Can you drain the bath, please?" he asks, holding onto the rim of the tub as he tries to stand up.

Johnny grabs his hand and helps him, putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady on his feet. "Sure, but while I'm doing that, I want you to tell me why the hell you've been avoiding me,"

"I haven't! The dealership has just been really busy lately, not everything is about you, Johnny," he exclaims defensively.

Johnny unplugs the drain and turns to look at him pointedly. "No, it hasn't. Wanna know how I know that? Because Amanda told me! Said she was worried about you and asked if I knew what was going on. Just spill it, LaRusso, you want me to move out or something?"

"I-" Daniel starts, then cuts himself off with a sigh, dropping his shoulders as he slips on his pants. "I don't want you to move out. It's just... ever since Jimmy came back around, he's all you talk about, and- and I'm sick of hearing it."

"What? So I'm not allowed to talk about My friends now?"

Daniel scoffs. "Please, with the way you act around him, I'd guess you two are more than friends,"

Johnny raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "You have a problem with two men being together, Daniel? Is that it?" Johnny challenges.

"No! I just wish you were with me, not him!" Daniel blurts out, then widens his eyes, blood draining from his face.

Johnny drops his hands. "What?"

Daniel grits his teeth. "Just forget it." 

Johnny sniffs and looks to the side. "I wish I were with you too," he murmurs.

"Stop messing with me, Johnny."

Johny sighs exasperatedly, then walks up to Daniel, grabs his face, and kisses him.

Daniel gasps, which just allows Johnny to slip his tongue inside his mouth, swirling his tongue around his.

Daniel moans, chasing Johnny's mouth when he pulls away.

"Still think I'm messing with you?"

Daniel shakes his head, stunned. Johnny gives him a small, almost sweet smile.

"Me and Jimmy aren't even together, dickhead. Don't avoid me like that again, I thought...I thought you were sick of me," Johnny swallows and looks down. "I was scared."

Daniel frowns empathetically, pulling Johnny in for a hug. "I'm sorry, I promise I won't."

Johnny rests his head on Daniel's shoulder. "Good. Now let's get you to the hospital like we should have done ten minutes ago," he says, grabbing Daniel's hand and dragging him out the door.