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1. The best part about moving to Los Angeles is going to the movies. They have movie theaters in Tulsa, obviously, but it feels like in LA there’s one on every corner. Kenickie’s family moves to LA in the middle of July when he’s 15, and he spends hours at the theater that summer. It’s harder to miss home when he’s tucked into the endless loop of movies, cartoons, and newsreels, projected onto a screen as big as a house and filling up his senses.
He gets a job at the concession stand so he can watch movies for free, which is actually how he meets Danny. School has already started, so he knows who Danny is - everyone at Rydell knows who Danny is - but Kenickie hasn’t exactly … talked to him yet. It’s not like he’s intimidated or anything, Danny’s just so cool. He and his friends basically live in the auto shop, and when they’re not there, they’re smoking behind the gym. Danny’s just a freshman, but he’s already strutting around school like he’s gonna own it one day. Looking at him makes Kenickie’s stomach turn over.
He’s sweeping up between screenings when he realizes there’s someone in the back of the theater. He squints into the hazy darkness, air still full of smoke from the last audience, but he can’t make out anything about the person other than that they are, in fact, a person. He continues making his way up the aisle, checking every few rows to see if he can see more clearly, when - shit.
The curl down the middle of the forehead is the first detail Kenickie can make out, but a second later the rest of the features slam into place. Kenickie feels his face burn and stomach clench at the same time, and he can’t fucking believe this is happening. He can’t fucking believe that the first time he talks to Danny Zuko he’s going to be carrying a broom and wearing striped pants. He does not have his heartbeat even slightly under control by the time he gets to the back row and says, “Hey.”
Danny is sprawled across two seats and looks for all the world as comfortable as if he were lying under a tree on a sunny day. His jean jacket is balled up where his head is propped against one armrest, his knees are comfortably supported by the second, and his feet in sneakers rest against the third. His eyes are closed, but he cracks them open in response to Kenickie’s greeting. He looks Kenickie up and down. He pauses on the striped pants before returning to Kenickie’s face. “Hey.”
Kenickie gives it a couple seconds. When he does not actually die of embarrassment, he realizes he needs to respond. He further reasons that saying “hey” again does not actually count. He hasn’t gotten farther than that when Danny says, “Kenickie, right? You’re in my gym class.”
All the words he knows immediately leave Kenickie’s head. Danny Zuko knows who he is. Danny Zuko saw him in class and knows who he is. Danny Zuko knows his name.
He nods. This is fine.
He tries to smile.
He thinks his mouth might be broken.
Danny raises an eyebrow, then seems to come to a decision, levering himself upright. “Take a seat,” he says, gesturing expansively at the chair where his legs used to be.
Kenickie sits. Danny starts talking. By the time the newsreel starts playing again, Kenickie’s managed to start talking back. At one point he makes Danny laugh and feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. He stays next to Danny all through the newsreel, the cartoon, and the day’s third showing of Rebel Without A Cause, which Kenickie’s already seen enough times that he’s lost count. This is the first time he realizes that the way his stomach feels when he looks at James Dean hanging out of a tree and smoking a cigarette is the same way his stomach felt when he realized the person in the back row was Danny.
Kenickie puts that knowledge away in the back of his brain. He can’t look at it right now. Jim Stark had better live it up, and if Kenickie holds very, very still, he can feel Danny’s knee pressing into his thigh.
2. Sonny’s got Putzie in a headlock and is punching him in the ribs, cackling and yelling, “Say uncle!” while Putzie flails around, trying to get him back. Pretty standard for 3 PM on a Thursday.
“Get ‘em, Putz!” Doody shrieks from the sidelines. Danny rolls his eyes, takes a drag on his cigarette, and passes it to Kenickie, who can at this point exchange a cigarette with Danny without fumbling at all, even when Danny touches him in the process.
Putz finally manages to escape, and kicks Sonny hard in his bad knee. Sonny yelps and collapses to the ground. “Asshole!” he yells at Putzie, who’s cackling with Doody.
“Did you see that, Zuk?!” Putzie yells. “Huh? Did you?” He’s grinning, looking puffed up as all hell and gunning hard for that pat on the head from Danny. Kenickie gets it, but watching the other guys scrap for approval always makes him intensely uncomfortable. At least he keeps a lid on it. He takes a long drag on the cigarette and elbows Danny. His turn.
“I saw you both acting like assholes,” Danny says, taking the cigarette back from Kenickie. “But yeah, I guess you won that one.”
“Ha!” Putzie yells, doing finger guns at Sonny, who’s made his way to a sitting position and looks enraged. “Gotcha, fucko!”
Danny rolls his eyes again and mutters under his breath, “At least they’re not fucking with the car.” He stubs out what’s left of the cigarette, claps Kenickie on the arm, and says, at a normal volume, “Boys, me and Nick are gonna go. We’ll catch you assholes later.” He turns and starts walking away to a chorus of whining behind him.
“C’mon, Danny!” yells Sonny from the ground.
“Sorry children,” Danny tosses over his shoulder. “Daddy has to go to work. Make sure you brush your teeth before beddy-bye.”
They turn the corner and enter the auto shop through the loading dock. Danny takes his jacket off, leaving him in just a white undershirt, and starts looking for his tools. Kenickie’s stomach does that thing again, but at this point it happens so often that he barely notices.
Danny looks over his shoulder and, seeing Kenickie just standing there, starts laughing. “What are you staring at, asshole?” He says it in a totally different tone than he was using outside with the guys. His voice is softer, and he’s smiling in a way Kenickie’s pretty sure he’s only ever seen when they’re alone. “Come on, get over here and help me look.”
Kenickie gets.
He’s not sure how much time passes, Danny on his back staring at the undercarriage and Nick handing him tools or holding a flashlight as needed. He’s just as good a mechanic as Danny, but when they’re working together, he likes this more. He likes being helpful. He likes that he can watch Danny without it seeming weird.
“I’m not sure what Joey’s gonna do,” Danny says. His foot is braced against Nick’s knee. Nick likes that too. But Danny’s talking about his brother, who just got out of the joint (for robbing a candy store, of all things), and Nick does actually care about what happens with Joey. Joey’s always been alright. “He might try to get a job sweeping up at one of the bars downtown, I don’t know. Wrench?” He takes the wrench Kenickie hands him and his grease-covered hands disappear again. “It’s kinda scary, you know?” He stills, seems to be thinking. “He just did a dumb fucking thing, just being an asshole, and now … ” He starts moving again. “Anyway, I’m not sure what he’s gonna do.”
Kenickie chews it over, then says, “You think it could happen to us?”
Danny stills again, but this time he rolls all the way out from under the car, brow furrowed. “The fuck you talking about, man?” he asks. Kicks Kenickie lightly where his foot still rests on his knee.
Nick shrugs, pulls a little farther into himself. He’s been thinking about it is all. He’s never robbed anyone, but he was getting into some stupid shit before his family moved to LA. He’s been suspended from school a few times, been on the verge of getting expelled at least once. He doesn’t think he’s a bad kid, but he doesn’t think Joey’s a bad guy either, and he went to jail. So.
“I dunno,” he mumbles, avoiding Danny’s eyes. “Just …. I dunno.” He reaches for the smokes in his jeans pocket for lack of anything else to do with his hands, but Danny stops him before he gets there, grabbing his wrist. Nick’s head jerks up like it’s on a damn string.
“Nick,” Danny says steadily, looking right at him, fingers leaving grease marks on his wrist. “We are not gonna end up like my brother. Okay? You and me, we’re gonna be great.” He grins, and Nick reluctantly feels his mouth curve up in spite of himself. “We’re gonna be great,” Danny repeats, and hauls himself up to lean against the side of the car, shoulder pressed tight to Nick’s. He nudges him once, hard. “Now light that thing before one of us dies of old age, huh?”
3. He is so fucking high.
Kenickie has no idea how Danny scored the weed off Joey, but it’s potent as shit, and he is goddamn fucking high as hell.
“I am goddamn fucking high as hell,” he says.
Danny snorts. The sound travels slowly across the foot of space between them, or at least it seems to. They’re laying on the floor of Joey’s apartment because sitting up has become way, way too difficult.
Kenickie rolls onto his side until he’s facing Danny, who’s already on his side facing him.
“Nick,” Danny says. His eyes are really blue.
Kenickie holds out the joint. He misjudges the space between them and almost gets Danny’s lips with the cherry.
Danny grabs it out of his hand before Kenickie can injure him with it and, laughing, stubs it out, saving the rest for later. “I think you’re done,” he says.
Kenickie hums. He’s pretty sure he’s smiling. He’s not really in touch with what his body is doing right now.
“Nick,” Danny says again. He reaches across the space between them and puts his hand on the side of Kenickie’s face.
Kenickie grins even bigger. “Zuuuukooooo,” he sing-songs, which is definitely, definitely a good idea right now. Nick is full of good ideas. “What are you doing, Zuuuuukoooo?”
Danny’s smiling that soft smile. His Nick smile. Nick loves Danny’s Nick smile. “I’m just really glad we’re friends,” Danny says.
Nick starts laughing.
Danny looks - hurt? - and starts pulling his hand away, and shit. Nick claps his hand down on top of Danny’s, which is roughly equivalent to slapping his own face, and now he’s laughing harder. “No,” he sputters, “no, Zuk, wait - wait - ”
He finally gets himself under control, but that’s when he realizes that he’s basically holding Danny’s hand, which is basically cupping his cheek.
He doesn’t move. He just stares at Danny, who’s staring back at him. Danny’s fingers start to move very, very gently under Nick’s own, stroking back and forth over his cheek.
Nick still doesn’t move. His eyes slip closed. Danny’s fingers keep moving back and forth.
When he wakes up, Danny is snoring and has his denim jacket over his head.
4. It probably wouldn’t surprise most people to learn that Kenickie loves Betty Rizzo. It’s for real, too - legit, balls-to-the-wall, step-in-front-of-a-bullet-for-you love. What would surprise them is learning that he realizes he loves her after the first time he comes in her mouth, when she looks up from where she’s sitting between his legs, wipes her mouth, and said, “The name’s Betty, Nick.”
He grins his trademark douchey smile and says, “Sorry babe, what’d I say? You know how it is, it can be hard to remember in the moment.” He rolls over to light a cigarette, grabs one for her, too.
When she says, “Zuk,” his mind goes horribly, perfectly blank. He knows, with overwhelming certainty, that every second he stays silent is further proof that she’s right, but he can’t seem to make himself move, let alone deny it. All he can do is lay there, mind ringing like a struck gong, and wait for whatever Rizz is going to do next.
The last thing he expects is for her to make her way up the bed, put an arm around his shoulders, pull him into her chest and light both their cigarettes with her free hand. She takes a long drag on hers, exhales, and says very matter-of-factly, “Why don’t you tell me how long you’ve been in love with Danny, Nick?"
She’s holding his cigarette right up to his lips. He manages to take it from her and take a drag, but he still hasn’t remembered how to talk - if he had the first idea what to say, which he doesn’t - when she tilts her head down to meet his eyes. "Nick,” she says softly. “Hey. My dad’s an alcoholic and a deadbeat. My mom’s just an alcoholic. And my big sister lives in New York with two babies, two jobs, and a 35-year-old named Stu who she says they had a good day when all he did was hit her once. So you’re a queer? You’re far from the biggest fuck-up in my life.”
They stay together. It’s Rizz’s idea, actually. Everyone already thinks she’s a slut, but if they think she’s Kenickie’s slut, they’ll leave her alone. They both get plausible deniability and good company, Rizz gets to avoid dealing with boys so she can focus on her grades and get into a good college (“Radcliffe maybe,” eyes far away and voice hopeful), and Kenickie gets to hide behind her reputation.
He loves her so much sometimes that he doesn’t know how he keeps it in his chest. He loves her so much that he thinks it might be enough. She’s beautiful. They have sex sometimes. He even comes.
But when he comes, it’s not her face he’s thinking of, her soft curves and wide-open smile. It’s not her name in his mouth, pressing against the back of his teeth. It’s never enough.
5. Nick spends the summer of 1958 fiercely hating Sandy Olsson, Australia, kangaroos, and the beach. When summer ends and Sandy’s supposed to go back to Australia, he’s so fucking happy that he’s practically bursting with it, plans for his and Danny’s car exploding out of him like so much confetti. The thing his stomach does when Sandy turns up at Rydell in September is utterly unlike the thing his stomach does about Danny.
He throws himself into rebuilding Greased Lightning because working on the car is the only time Danny acts like himself again. He fights with Rizz, lashing out because he hurts all the fucking time now and she’s the only person in his life who knows why and there’s no one else he can show any of it to. He calls her a slut, tells her she’s never going to get away from LA and her drunk of a mother, and she hisses that she’s glad he couldn’t fuck her most of the time or else she might have gotten knocked up with his faggot kid. He gets blind drunk for a solid week, stumbling into school around noon when he goes at all, and winds up at her house late Saturday night, sobbing hysterically and telling her how sorry he is. When he wakes up the next day, hung over beyond anything in his experience, Rizz is already awake, sitting up and staring at where the blanket covers her knees. When she sees him stirring, she says fast, “Nick. Nick, I’m so sorry about what I said last week. I didn’t - you know I didn’t mean it, I was just so - ” She cuts herself off, looking at him anxiously.
He groans, pulls her into him, kisses the side of her head. He loves her. He needs her to stop talking. But he’s a little better, after that.
He starts to let himself hope again when Danny and Sandy are on the outs. Then Sandy shows up at the carnival in clothes that look painted on, and when Nick sees the way Danny looks at her he thinks his throat might be closing up permanently. He watches her rub her cigarette out with the toe of her platform, and he knows it’s over.
+1. Rizz doesn’t go to Radcliffe. She goes to Barnard. It’s all the way across the fucking country, which suits Nick fine. He follows her.
They get an apartment off campus and he gets a job as a mechanic. She finds out about a bar downtown for guys like him. He goes a couple times, so nervous he thinks he’s going to puke, but he figures out pretty fast how things go. Looking how he does, it’s not like guys aren’t interested and don’t make their interest real fucking clear. But it’s still illegal, and it’s too fucking risky. After the third time he has to outrun a cop with his dick still out, he decides to give it a rest.
They don’t go back to Los Angeles until Rizzo’s finished her freshman year. They’ve been in town 36 hours when Nick breaks and goes to Danny’s parents’ house. They tell him Danny has a mechanic job, got a place with his brother, give him the address. Nick waits until 6:30 before he heads over. It’s 6:57 when he knocks.
Danny opens the door, and the shocked look on his face when he sees Kenickie is straight out of the cartoons they used to see at the movies. Nick bites his lip and brings his hand up, scratches the back of his neck. Tries not to look at Danny, tries not to smile to split his face. Basically fails at both. “Hey, Zuk.”
“Nick,” Danny breathes. Moves aside. Lets him in.
The apartment’s only a half step up from the one he and Danny got stoned in two years ago. Nick sits in a chair that looks like it’d collapse in a stiff breeze and says, “Your brother home?”
“No,” Danny manages, “he works nights, what are you doing here?”
Nick ignores him. “What happened to Sandy?” He’s not doing anything, saying anything, until he knows what’s what.
“She moved back to Australia in October, Nick, what the fuck - ” Danny cuts himself off when he sees Kenickie stand.
The thing is this: Kenickie may have quit fucking around with guys in New York pretty fast, but he figured out a couple things doing it. And the biggest thing he figured out was that there wasn’t a guy in the world who looked at him the way Danny used to and didn’t want to get in his pants. Maybe Danny’ll deck him for this, but Kenickie’s pretty sure he won’t.
He crosses the room until he’s standing right in front of Danny. Then he says, “Got a cigarette?”
Danny, stupefied, reaches in his pocket for a pack of smokes. Pulls one out, lights it. Passes it to Kenickie, who takes a long drag, then passes it back. Sharing a cigarette is second nature to them. It’s easy, comfortable. Because the other thing is this: Kenickie’s about as sure as he can be that Danny wants him, but that doesn’t make him want to puke any less.
They smoke, facing each other standing up in the main room of Danny’s shitty apartment, no more than eighteen inches between them. They pass the cigarette back and forth until it’s gone.
“Kenick,” Danny starts again, but Kenickie lifts his hand to cup the side of Danny’s face just like Danny did to him on the floor of his brother’s old apartment, and Danny’s mouth snaps shut. Kenickie can almost hear his teeth click. His eyes go huge, but Nick doesn’t miss the way he presses into his hand.
“Punch me if you need to,” Nick says, and he closes the distance.
Danny doesn’t punch him.
After, in Danny’s bed, sweaty and wrung out and with Danny’s portable fan pointed directly at them but doing very little to offset the heat of the July evening and their bodies, Kenickie passes Danny one of his own cigarettes dug out of the pocket of his jeans.
His hand is shaking.
Some things you never get over, he guesses.