Family night at the LaRusso house gains a few new members. Daniel's POV, third person limited.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Karate Kid or Cobra Kai. I'm not making money from this. I'm just a fan.

A/N: Thank you so much for following this story. I appreciate every comment. It's been a fun experience, and I'm sad it's almost over. The last chapter will be posted next Wednesday, although there's a good chance I'll write a "Season 3" sequel.

Chapter Twelve:

Family Night

"God, I can't believe we have to do this," Anthony whines. He throws his chest dramatically down on the dining table.

"Well, you do," Daniel says, voice firm.

"For once, I agree with Anthony," Sam grumbles. She drops her chin into her palm. "Aisha wanted to go to the movies tonight. And I'm stuck here."

Amanda and Daniel exchange a look, and he knows his wife's not up for it either, but she being a trooper.

"Seriously Dad, Sunday family nights? What are we, Mormon?" Anthony says. "Next you're going to be fitting us in magic underwear."

"Let's just try it this once. That's all I'm asking. If it's horrible, we'll go back to living as strangers in the same house."

Dramatic, Sam mouths to Amanda and he sees Amanda nod at their daughter.

Alexa is off, every family member's phone is in a fruit bowl on top of the fridge, out of reach and on vibrate.

Daniel heads over to the kitchen counter and scoops out the homemade ice cream from the ice cream maker. It's chocolate chip pistachio, which he thinks, after secretly observing his son these past few days, are some of Anthony's favorite flavors. It's honestly hard to guess Anthony's favorite foods, since he eats everything indiscriminately.

He's had too little time for his family since opening Miyagi-do, and Anthony's got the brunt of it. At least Amanda is with him at work, and Sam is with him at the dojo. On Monday, when Anthony'd sarcastically pretended not to know who he was, Daniel had realized that he was falling into the same old schema of putting Anthony on the back-burner. Because it was easier, because his son has always been so damn difficult, because a thousand other things needed to be addressed, because Anthony would finally shut up when he played his video games. He's an obnoxious, entitled, spoiled brat. And a kid doesn't get like that without a parent's contribution. Or in Daniel's case, a lack of contribution.

So Sunday evenings are family nights. Even if not a single one of them wants to be there. Including himself.

He starts scooping out bowls of ice cream for everyone while Amanda is reading the instructions to the board game, her eyebrow cocked in ironic amusement. He's lucky she's humoring him.

"Mice and Mystics. That sounds stupid," Anthony says. He tosses a die up and down in his hand.

"It's a role-playing game," Daniel says as he drops the bowl of ice cream in front of his son. "You like role-playing games."

"Yeah, online." Anthony shovels a huge scoop into his mouth, and it's kind of grotesque. "Hey Dad, this is surprisingly not horrible," he says with his mouth full.

"Gee, thanks," Daniel answers, rolling his eyes.

But then a second later, "Wait, did you make this because pistachio's my favorite? I didn't know you knew."

And Daniel doesn't know whether he's ashamed of his past failures, or proud of his recent effort. Probably ashamed. He's always known Samantha's favorites. And he's always made a point of making them for her. He's going to do better now. "Of course I knew, buddy," Daniel lies.

Anthony shrugs and downs another scoop.

Amanda starts explaining the rules and Sam is setting up the board. Anthony is playing with two of the mice figurines, and Daniel is fairly sure his eleven-year-old son is putting them inappropriate poses, 69ing the mice right there at the table. "Hey, I want to be the bad-ass thief mouse," Anthony interrupts as Amanda goes over the character descriptions.

"I wanted to be thief," Samantha complains.

"I called it first!"

"Are you two kidding me?" Amanda says, slamming down the rule book. "Sam, you're seventeen. It's a board game with mice."

Sam at least looks shamefaced. "Fine," she says. "I'll be the healer, Tilda or whatever."

"Obviously your father is the wise, magical Gandalf mouse," Amanda says.

"Thanks, sweetie," Daniel says, smugly. He takes a bite of ice cream. "I'm glad you recognize the ancient wisdom and sacred traditions I'm passing down." He says it sardonically, but he kind of means it, too.

"Oh, don't thank me. I just said that because you're old," Amanda teases.

o - o - o - o - o

They're hilariously awful at the game. They keep forgetting the rules, and arguing over them, and it's been an hour and the cockroaches keep defeating them and they haven't gotten past the first chapter. They're actually having fun. To the surprise of them all. Daniel doesn't have to use his stern voice once, which is good, because he sucks at it. (Admittedly, he's getting better at it.) Sam and Anthony are clashing their figures together, pretending they're in the midst of a light saber fight when a sharp pounding shakes the front door.

"Seriously?" Daniel groans.

"I'll get it," Amanda says.

"It's okay, I got it." Daniel's knees actually hurt when he gets up – he's really getting old, isn't he? – and he makes his way to the front door begrudgingly. If it's another Jehovah's Witness or a political canvasser, Mr. Miyagi is going to be very disappointed in how he's about to use his karate.

"Johnny?" Daniel says. And this can't mean anything good, him showing up like this again, looking drained. At least he can't smell alcohol on him. "What are you doing here? You couldn't have called first?" he asks as he opens the door, even though that's probably not a terribly considerate thing to say.

"I called ten times," Johnny snaps. "Then Robby called Sam and Amanda and nobody answered." And then Daniel remembers the phones on top of the fridge, and the Motown they'd started blaring halfway through the game. There's no way they'd hear a vibrate. Johnny doesn't give him time to explain though. "Robby started getting all worried so here we are – you know kids these days, with their dyslexic anxiety or whatever."

"Robby was worried, huh?" Daniel says with a lifted eyebrow.

"This is more of an in-person sorta conversation, anyway, so it's good we dropped in on our way to uh…dinner," Johnny answers, carefully skirting Daniel's attempt at getting him to admit an iota of concern. "Glad to see you're not dead."

"Coming from you, that's practically a compliment." Daniel smirks. And by his shifty-eyed stance, there was absolutely no way Johnny was on his way to dinner. Johnny Lawrence was actually worried about him. The world is a strange place indeed.

"We're having a family night. Cell phones are off."

Johnny's mouth curls into a grin. "Family night? What a bunch of dorks."

"Do you want to come in?"

"The boys are in the car, and I don't want to interrupt," Johnny says. "But the reason I was calling… Kreese is gone. For good. I thought you should know. He left town last night." Johnny pulls his hand through his hair. Instinctually, Daniel checks it. His knuckles are untouched. So he didn't beat the man out of town.

"So, uh…I'm gonna go. Have fun with your kids." Johnny turns to leave, as if he didn't just give Daniel life-altering good news, and Daniel grabs his arm.

"Wait!" Daniel exclaims. "Hold up. How is that possible? Are you sure he's gone? For good?"

Johnny nods. "For good."

Daniel's mind is churning with flashing images of the man who turned vulnerable kids into menacing bullies, who manipulated him against Mr. Miyagi and psychologically screwed him up just to get revenge over a trophy. The man Johnny used to idolize, the man who choked out his star pupil over second place. He thinks about his past, and he thinks about the kids in the Valley and he's overwhelmed with relief.

Daniel may have looked wimpy growing up, but he always had to come up to bat, always had to face his enemies head on to feel any sense of closure. He never shied away from conflict, even the fights he couldn't win. And as much as he still wants to punch the lights of Kreese, as much as he wants to be (and expected to be) the champion in another bad guy show-down, now that it's over, he's okay with the fact it never came to that. More than okay. For the first time, Daniel doesn't feel the need to be the hero. He's just glad the man's gone. He's glad that he can find some peace. That Johnny can find some peace.

Maybe this is what Mr. Miyagi was trying to teach him all along.

Daniel tries to gather his thoughts, control the surge of surprise and joy that's telling him to pull Johnny into a hug. Fuck it. He throws his arms around Johnny anyway. "That's great, man. That's great."

Johnny pats his back awkwardly and pulls out of the hug. "Yeah, it was crazy. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."

"No. No way. Tell the boys to come in. Honey!" Daniel calls behind his shoulder. "We've got company!"

Johnny shrugs, even though Daniel can tell he wants to come in, and waves his hand to the boys in the car. As Robby and Miguel make their way to front door, Daniel cringes. "Christ. He fought Hawk, didn't he?"

"That stubborn idiot doesn't listen," Johnny groans, but Daniel can hear the affection beneath the annoyance.

Miguel looks worse the closer up he gets. And Daniel can't help but flicker through more flashbacks to his own teenage years – the boy in the secondhand clothes, the kid from the wrong side of the block with the wrong accent and wrong skin tone. Miguel's eyes shift nervously from Johnny to Daniel, and Daniel puts a hand on his shoulder. "Kid, you've gotta stop showing up to my house looking like this."

Miguel quirks his mouth up in something that's almost a smile. "I'll try not to bleed out on your sofa this time."

Daniel squeezes his shoulder and pulls him in to a tentative half-hug, and surprisingly, Miguel accepts it. "You gotta take better care of yourself. Now get on in there and eat some ice cream," he says as he shoves Miguel through the door.

Robby tucks his hair behind his ear, shy and embarrassed. Halting the affection he's grown to show him whenever his father's in sight. "Hey, Mr. LaRusso."

"Please tell me you didn't have anything to do with this, did you Robby?" Daniel asks, Jersey accent coming out full force at the start of a parental scolding.

"I saved the day," Robby jokes. "If by saving the day you mean calling my dad to come save our asses."

"Come here." Daniel opens up his arms, in the warm, easy-going affection that comes naturally to him, and that Robby's used to be so resistant to in the beginning. After a moment's hesitation, the boy steps into his arms and squeezes him back, and it strikes Daniel as odd that it doesn't strike him as odd that he's just hugged Johnny Lawrence, his prized student, and his son back to back. That they're joining the LaRussos for family night. That in some odd twist of fate, the word family isn't too much of stretch.

Amanda enters the room and skids to a halt, taking in Miguel's face in horror. "Is that kid's nose broken?"

"Oh, don't worry," Johnny says as he wrestles Miguel's hair and shoves past him into the house. He doesn't bother to take his shoes off. "I popped it back into place last night."

o - o - o - o - o

Daniel's leaning against the countertop, watching over everyone as he waits for the kettle to whistle. He's already taken out the tins of matcha powder, loose-leaf rooibos for Amanda, and English Breakfast for Johnny. He can't imagine Johnny drinking tea, but he'd shrugged his shoulders when Daniel offered.

Robby's playing Fortnite with Anthony, and it warms Daniel to see how well they're finally getting along. They're leaning in toward the TV as if they were engaged in real-life action and shooting insults at each other over their shoulders, which Daniel instinctually wants to correct, but they seem to be having a good time with it, insults and all. Robby's a good kid, seventeen years old and taking the time out to play with a chubby middle schooler.

Johnny and Amanda are hanging out at the dining table, which still bears the ruins of the board game. He doesn't know what they're talking about, but Amanda is laughing and rolling her eyes, so Johnny has probably said something so absurdly bigoted and out of touch that there's nothing you can really do but laugh.

He's not pleased about Samantha and Miguel, off in their own little corner, Miguel perched up on the arm of an easy chair, Sam leaning on the wall beside him. They're talking quietly to themselves, and he doesn't approve of the way they're looking at each other, like they're the only people in the room. She reaches out a hand to trace the blue bruise spreading from the center of his face and the now slightly crooked bridge of his nose.

He can't believe that boy took his daughter to Golf n' Stuff, it's too surreal. What were the odds that Miguel would take his daughter exactly where he took Ali all those years ago? Only two months ago, Daniel would've forbidden Sam to even speak to Miguel, but now… He's not happy about it. But he wouldn't be happy about any guy looking at his little girl like that. Johnny's updated him on what's going on at Miguel's home, and the kid has it rough. Daniel was too much of a hothead himself for meditation in the beginning, so he can overlook that hiccup. Miguel's okay.

Daniel takes the kettle off the burner and pours the tea. At the comforting scent of matcha, there's a small pang of grief that Mr. Miyagi isn't here to see this. He feels like he's come so far in such a short amount of time. He'd been so wrapped up in his business, in his obsession with finances and success, that he'd forgotten about the importance of the small things – hanging out with his wife and kids on the weekend, the casual comfort of friends stopping by uninvited. He carries the cups over to the table and takes a seat.

Johnny takes a gulp and makes a face.

"I offered you an espresso instead, you know."

"This is fine," Johnny says. "I'm taking etiquette lessons from Amanda." He pokes out his pinky and Daniel chuckles.

"I'm not sure I make the best Miss Manners," Amanda says. "I've been known to add tequila to my tea."

Watching his wife and his former rival/ enemy/ current business partner/ friend-thing banter, Daniel's relief is palpable. He's drawn away from the moment by the sheer overwhelming sense of contentment. He hadn't realized it, but in these past few years, an underlying sense of doom had been creeping up on him, a feeling that'd never fully surfaced because he'd kept himself so busy. Underneath his salesmanship and his cheery smile and his constant pushing for more out of life, was a fear the world would hurt his kids, that everything he'd built would fall apart.

Truth is, the world's still as brutal as it's always been, even with Kreese out of the picture. This one small win doesn't make the existential dread of parenthood disappear. It doesn't save the planet. But it renews Daniel's faith anyway. He can make the world a better place. Even if it's just in his household, in his dojo, in the Valley.

There's a shout from the other end of the room and Daniel tenses. Already, something has happened to destroy his brief moment of peace. He turns, and sees the shouting is Miguel on his phone, speaking fast in Spanish and gesturing dramatically. The boy rushes to his feet and jumps up and down as he screams, his fragile condition forgotten. And the relief returns, because it's not a shout of pain or danger, it's a shout of victory. Some private victory Daniel knows nothing about. Miguel clicks the phone off and says something quietly to Daniel's daughter. She wraps her arms around him and they're celebrating together.

Johnny's standing up, pushing his chair back with the back of his knees. Miguel sees his sensei move toward him from over Sam's shoulder. Tears of joy are streaming down his cheeks. He shouts something to Johnny – Daniel doesn't even think the kid knows he's still speaking Spanish, he's so overcome, but Johnny seems to get it, and runs to the boy.

Daniel, as removed as he is from the situation, feels a vicarious joy at another victory. It doesn't matter that the victory isn't his. What matters is that Johnny pulls Miguel into an embrace, lifting the kid off his feet (which has to hurt, considering the state he's in). What matters is his daughter catches him looking at her, and instead of shooting him a frustrated glare, she smiles, and her eyes crinkle, so he knows it's real. What matters is that Robby and Anthony have abandoned the controllers and are roughhousing, and Anthony's laughing at the top of his lungs as Robby demonstrates over-dramatic karate moves and they knock over the papasan chair. What matters is Amanda takes his hand under the table and moves it onto her lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. They're both wisecrackers, so sarcastic with each other that sometimes they forget the importance of tender moments that require no irony.

Daniel puts his arm around Amanda, and everything is right with the world. Or at least, everything is right with his world. And that's enough.