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chineseinkPage Forty-Two
Ouran Koko Host Club, Tamaki/Kyouya, PG-13, 1747 words
Kyouya and Tamaki don't quite see eye-to-eye about everything, including their sex life.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
7snogs theme #6: argument
Also for thekyouyatamaki chat at large, but particularly ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
splinteredfate because I think she prompted this (and the Fanfic IOU list didn't say differently). Finally, one more thing off that damn Fic IOU list!
Page Forty-Two
bymeitachi
The atmosphere of the host club was tense that afternoon, almost tangible, and even the customers could sense the hostility between the president and vice-president. Haruhi knew it had to be serious, then, because Kyouya would never risk losing profit otherwise, always ready to sacrifice for an amiable veneer that would keep the customers happy and placated…by force if necessary but by threats if possible.
Today he was sipping tea with two of his regular customers, calm but as warm and welcoming as an Arctic wind. His notebook had laid untouched by his side the entire afternoon and he had thus far carefully avoided looking at Tamaki four times, transferring his gaze instead to the girls at this side with thinly veiled grimness. He seemed oblivious to the soft, worried noises his customers were making, distressed but afraid to do anything because he was, after all, Ootori Kyouya, the unflappable Ice Prince.
Tamaki, on the other hand, was visibly upset and making no effort at hiding it, which was another clue to Haruhi that the matter at hand was far more serious than she had previously imagined. Tamaki hated to upset any of his customers, so fond he was of wooing them with his smile and charm, collecting swooning girls like autumn’s brightly colored leaves. The girls crowded around him were patting his back and stroking his hair and murmuring words of encouragement and support, but they too were at a loss. What had so distressed their prince and moved him to tears (besides another offhandedly brutal remark by Haruhi, of course)?
Haruhi was worried, as well, because the tension between the club’s respective “Mommy” and “Daddy” set the dynamics of the entire club off-kilter. The twins seemed more annoying than mischievous, more flamboyant than tempting; Mori seemed more useless than mysteriously quiet; and Honey seemed more childish and immature than winsomely cute. It wouldn’t do and Haruhi knew she had to put a stop to it because if she didn’t, profits would spiral downwards, and undoubtedly Kyouya would find some way to put it in her debt. She would also prefer that the club members get along, of course. It was better for their overall health. Anything that was good for their profit was good for their health because then Kyouya had fewer reasons to implement schemes that would earn that extra income.
Haruhi coughed delicately into her fist and approached Tamaki first because he was always eager to share his emotions; she should be able to discern the problem from speaking him to alone. (Not that she was afraid of Kyouya-senpai, no. She would just prefer…not to speak to him unless strictly necessary. She found that the more one spoke to Kyouya, the more blackmail material gave him.)
“Tamaki-senpai?” she asked, drawing his gaze up to hers from where he’d been gazing wetly at the ground, sniffling.
“Haruhi!” he cried as he flung himself from the sofa and dived across a miniature sea of concerned admirers to clutch at Haruhi like a lifeline. He sobbed into her uniform jacket, arms tight around her waist. “Tell Mommy that he’s being unreasonable! It’s not fair! He should listen to me! I’d be good and gentle and wonderful and—” The rest of his sentence dissolved into incoherent hiccupping sobs.
“Senpai!” Haruhi exclaimed, vaguely distraught at the crying boy clamped like a vise around her. She pushed at his shoulders. “Please stop making a spectacle of yourself.”
Another arm wound its way around her shoulders and Haruhi wondered a little desperately just when she’d become such a magnet for tentacle-like limbs. A flash of red hair slipped into her vision and then Hikaru was grinning slyly at her. “If our lord listened to such sane advice, he wouldn’t be himself,” he said with a smirk. He looked down at Tamaki and nudged him with the toe of his shoe. “Oi, tono,” he said.
Tamaki lifted damp eyes. “What?” he pouted. (Behind him, a collective sigh rose from the gaggle of girls on the couch.)
“What page is giving you trouble?” Hikaru wanted to know.
Tamaki’s lip wobbled. “F-forty-two…”
Haruhi didn’t understand Hikaru’s sudden laughter or why Kaoru was leaning over the back of the sofa Kyouya was sitting at, head bent close to the older boy’s, whispering something rapidly, complete with hand gestures and smirking golden eyes. She blinked and shifted, but the extra limbs were still attached to her, leaving her a little at a loss as to what she should be doing with her own. “Er,” she said, “what are you talking about, senpai? If it’s schoolwork, I can probably tutor you…” She was a little doubtful about math but she was working on that, honest! Though she wasn’t quite sure why Tamaki and Kyouya would be fighting over Tamaki’s academics…or what Hikaru would know about it.
“I get it, I get it,” Hikaru chortled, talking over Haruhi. He winked down at Tamaki. “Get up, tono, and don’t fear. If Kyouya-senpai doesn’t want to do page forty-two, there are lots of alternatives. Kaoru and I really like page twenty, for instance.” He licked his lips suggestively.
“We already did that one!” Tamaki reported proudly. Haruhi exchanged baffled looks with the girls in the background. Maybe this was one of those “boy” things she’d never understand… She might have to ask her father later.
“Twenty-three was also good.”
Tamaki looked considering. “I don’t remember that one,” he confessed, but his eyes were dry and curious now under his golden bangs. He unwound his arms from Haruhi’s waist and slowly got to his feet. “Tell me more.”
Haruhi saw her chance for escape as Tamaki tugged Hikaru away to talk more about this textbook of theirs. She ducked free of Hikaru’s arm and backtracked as quickly as she could without tripping, and then turned around and found herself face-to-chest with Mori.
“Eep!” she said and fell back a step.
Mori’s hand shot out to grab her arm, steadying her. “Be careful,” he said.
“I’m glad Hika-chan and Kao-chan are helping out,” Honey said from his perch on Mori’s shoulders. His face was strangely contemplative as he rested his chin on Mori’s dark spiky-soft hair. “It shouldn’t be such a big deal but Tama-chan and Kyou-chan always make a big deal out of things. They really like drama. Kyouya especially,” he added thoughtfully, swinging his legs.
Haruhi stared at him in confusion. “Honey-senpai?” she asked. Kyouya? Drama? The idea didn’t compute in her head.
“He’s not as loud about it as Tama-chan,” Honey acknowledged, “but he definitely likes his drama. Sometime, I’ll tell you the story about how they met, okay, Haru-chan?” He was smiling again, perky.
Before Haruhi had a chance to answer, Kyouya’s sharp voice rang out through the room.
“Absolutely not,” he said, looking coldly furious.
All eyes swung towards his, wide in surprise and unease, from customers who were now clutching their skirts in distress to Tamaki, who had been wearing a more and more speculative expression as Hikaru talked to him in hushed tones, arm slung over his shoulder.
“Okay, okay, not page forty-two, ever,” Kaoru was backtracking, soothingly. He slanted an exasperated expression over to his twin, indecipherable to the rest of the occupants of the room, before placing a calming hand on Kyouya’s shoulder. “How about sixty-nine, then? I know it’s common but it’s a good place to start with: familiar ground, right?”
“What are they talking about?” Haruhi murmured, mostly to herself, but Mori chuckled beside her. When she glanced up at him, he didn’t say anything, leaving Honey to giggle and wink at her.
“Haru-chan will find out one day when everyone is too busy to kill anyone who tries to be your friend!”
That statement served only to confuse Haruhi further but as the entire afternoon had been one cryptic statement and action after another, she gave up altogether on divulging its hidden meaning. Perhaps, one day, she really would find out what it meant, when everyone was too busy to kill people who tried to be her friends. What a homicidal bunch she’d thrown her lot in with, she mused, but the deprecation was half-hearted because she loved them, craziness and blackmailing tendencies aside. Most of the time.
After the host club had shut its doors on its first unsuccessful afternoon since its opening, and after Haruhi had bid her goodbyes to her friends, Mori and Honey following her out, Hikaru handed Tamaki a heavy book. “I know you have your own original copy, tono,” he said, “and you should remember that this one’s only on loan ‘cause Kaoru and I are trying out some videos right now, but here, take a look at this. These are the ones I was saying earlier. They’re bookmarked with the red.”
“Make sure to look at some of the ones marked in blue,” Kaoru was saying to Kyouya, “because the red ones are the ones that’ll have him doing all the work to make you feel amazing, which is pretty good, of course, but if you hate page forty-two, then you’ll like the blue ones. You get to be control even from the bottom. It’s hot to make him writhe and beg.” His breath was heavy and warm by Kyouya’s ear, his smile curling with a smug knowledge that had even Kyouya slightly flushed.
“Interesting data,” Kyouya murmured, a small smile appearing on his face in response. “Thank you for the advice, Kaoru. Your aid will be noted.”
“Anytime,” Kaoru promised before drawing away. He shared a wicked grin with Hikaru and silently they disappeared from the room, hands tangling before the door shut behind them, Hikaru already pressing Kaoru across the hall and into the wall.
Tamaki and Kyouya were left in the Third Music Room, eyeing each other, a well-worn and nearly priceless copy of the Kama Sutra in Tamaki’s hands. The tension hadn’t decreased since early afternoon but it had changed now, charged with something more electric.
Haruhi never quite understood what textbook the twins had been discussing with Tamaki and Kyouya but she was pleased to see the next afternoon that the fight was over, though she worried briefly over the bruise peeking out from under Tamaki’s collar and the stiff way Kyouya was walking. Hikaru and Kaoru were in fairly the same condition, however, so she dismissed it as another one of those inexplicable “spoiled rich boy” things she would probably never understand.
--
Started/Finished: 11.14.2006
--
Notes: Bah. I don't know what I was going for but I'm pretty sure I missed it. I'm going to, um, go finish studying for my tests now.
Ouran Koko Host Club, Tamaki/Kyouya, PG-13, 1747 words
Kyouya and Tamaki don't quite see eye-to-eye about everything, including their sex life.
For
7snogs theme #6: argumentAlso for the
kyouyatamaki chat at large, but particularly splinteredfate because I think she prompted this (and the Fanfic IOU list didn't say differently). Finally, one more thing off that damn Fic IOU list!Page Forty-Two
by
meitachiThe atmosphere of the host club was tense that afternoon, almost tangible, and even the customers could sense the hostility between the president and vice-president. Haruhi knew it had to be serious, then, because Kyouya would never risk losing profit otherwise, always ready to sacrifice for an amiable veneer that would keep the customers happy and placated…by force if necessary but by threats if possible.
Today he was sipping tea with two of his regular customers, calm but as warm and welcoming as an Arctic wind. His notebook had laid untouched by his side the entire afternoon and he had thus far carefully avoided looking at Tamaki four times, transferring his gaze instead to the girls at this side with thinly veiled grimness. He seemed oblivious to the soft, worried noises his customers were making, distressed but afraid to do anything because he was, after all, Ootori Kyouya, the unflappable Ice Prince.
Tamaki, on the other hand, was visibly upset and making no effort at hiding it, which was another clue to Haruhi that the matter at hand was far more serious than she had previously imagined. Tamaki hated to upset any of his customers, so fond he was of wooing them with his smile and charm, collecting swooning girls like autumn’s brightly colored leaves. The girls crowded around him were patting his back and stroking his hair and murmuring words of encouragement and support, but they too were at a loss. What had so distressed their prince and moved him to tears (besides another offhandedly brutal remark by Haruhi, of course)?
Haruhi was worried, as well, because the tension between the club’s respective “Mommy” and “Daddy” set the dynamics of the entire club off-kilter. The twins seemed more annoying than mischievous, more flamboyant than tempting; Mori seemed more useless than mysteriously quiet; and Honey seemed more childish and immature than winsomely cute. It wouldn’t do and Haruhi knew she had to put a stop to it because if she didn’t, profits would spiral downwards, and undoubtedly Kyouya would find some way to put it in her debt. She would also prefer that the club members get along, of course. It was better for their overall health. Anything that was good for their profit was good for their health because then Kyouya had fewer reasons to implement schemes that would earn that extra income.
Haruhi coughed delicately into her fist and approached Tamaki first because he was always eager to share his emotions; she should be able to discern the problem from speaking him to alone. (Not that she was afraid of Kyouya-senpai, no. She would just prefer…not to speak to him unless strictly necessary. She found that the more one spoke to Kyouya, the more blackmail material gave him.)
“Tamaki-senpai?” she asked, drawing his gaze up to hers from where he’d been gazing wetly at the ground, sniffling.
“Haruhi!” he cried as he flung himself from the sofa and dived across a miniature sea of concerned admirers to clutch at Haruhi like a lifeline. He sobbed into her uniform jacket, arms tight around her waist. “Tell Mommy that he’s being unreasonable! It’s not fair! He should listen to me! I’d be good and gentle and wonderful and—” The rest of his sentence dissolved into incoherent hiccupping sobs.
“Senpai!” Haruhi exclaimed, vaguely distraught at the crying boy clamped like a vise around her. She pushed at his shoulders. “Please stop making a spectacle of yourself.”
Another arm wound its way around her shoulders and Haruhi wondered a little desperately just when she’d become such a magnet for tentacle-like limbs. A flash of red hair slipped into her vision and then Hikaru was grinning slyly at her. “If our lord listened to such sane advice, he wouldn’t be himself,” he said with a smirk. He looked down at Tamaki and nudged him with the toe of his shoe. “Oi, tono,” he said.
Tamaki lifted damp eyes. “What?” he pouted. (Behind him, a collective sigh rose from the gaggle of girls on the couch.)
“What page is giving you trouble?” Hikaru wanted to know.
Tamaki’s lip wobbled. “F-forty-two…”
Haruhi didn’t understand Hikaru’s sudden laughter or why Kaoru was leaning over the back of the sofa Kyouya was sitting at, head bent close to the older boy’s, whispering something rapidly, complete with hand gestures and smirking golden eyes. She blinked and shifted, but the extra limbs were still attached to her, leaving her a little at a loss as to what she should be doing with her own. “Er,” she said, “what are you talking about, senpai? If it’s schoolwork, I can probably tutor you…” She was a little doubtful about math but she was working on that, honest! Though she wasn’t quite sure why Tamaki and Kyouya would be fighting over Tamaki’s academics…or what Hikaru would know about it.
“I get it, I get it,” Hikaru chortled, talking over Haruhi. He winked down at Tamaki. “Get up, tono, and don’t fear. If Kyouya-senpai doesn’t want to do page forty-two, there are lots of alternatives. Kaoru and I really like page twenty, for instance.” He licked his lips suggestively.
“We already did that one!” Tamaki reported proudly. Haruhi exchanged baffled looks with the girls in the background. Maybe this was one of those “boy” things she’d never understand… She might have to ask her father later.
“Twenty-three was also good.”
Tamaki looked considering. “I don’t remember that one,” he confessed, but his eyes were dry and curious now under his golden bangs. He unwound his arms from Haruhi’s waist and slowly got to his feet. “Tell me more.”
Haruhi saw her chance for escape as Tamaki tugged Hikaru away to talk more about this textbook of theirs. She ducked free of Hikaru’s arm and backtracked as quickly as she could without tripping, and then turned around and found herself face-to-chest with Mori.
“Eep!” she said and fell back a step.
Mori’s hand shot out to grab her arm, steadying her. “Be careful,” he said.
“I’m glad Hika-chan and Kao-chan are helping out,” Honey said from his perch on Mori’s shoulders. His face was strangely contemplative as he rested his chin on Mori’s dark spiky-soft hair. “It shouldn’t be such a big deal but Tama-chan and Kyou-chan always make a big deal out of things. They really like drama. Kyouya especially,” he added thoughtfully, swinging his legs.
Haruhi stared at him in confusion. “Honey-senpai?” she asked. Kyouya? Drama? The idea didn’t compute in her head.
“He’s not as loud about it as Tama-chan,” Honey acknowledged, “but he definitely likes his drama. Sometime, I’ll tell you the story about how they met, okay, Haru-chan?” He was smiling again, perky.
Before Haruhi had a chance to answer, Kyouya’s sharp voice rang out through the room.
“Absolutely not,” he said, looking coldly furious.
All eyes swung towards his, wide in surprise and unease, from customers who were now clutching their skirts in distress to Tamaki, who had been wearing a more and more speculative expression as Hikaru talked to him in hushed tones, arm slung over his shoulder.
“Okay, okay, not page forty-two, ever,” Kaoru was backtracking, soothingly. He slanted an exasperated expression over to his twin, indecipherable to the rest of the occupants of the room, before placing a calming hand on Kyouya’s shoulder. “How about sixty-nine, then? I know it’s common but it’s a good place to start with: familiar ground, right?”
“What are they talking about?” Haruhi murmured, mostly to herself, but Mori chuckled beside her. When she glanced up at him, he didn’t say anything, leaving Honey to giggle and wink at her.
“Haru-chan will find out one day when everyone is too busy to kill anyone who tries to be your friend!”
That statement served only to confuse Haruhi further but as the entire afternoon had been one cryptic statement and action after another, she gave up altogether on divulging its hidden meaning. Perhaps, one day, she really would find out what it meant, when everyone was too busy to kill people who tried to be her friends. What a homicidal bunch she’d thrown her lot in with, she mused, but the deprecation was half-hearted because she loved them, craziness and blackmailing tendencies aside. Most of the time.
After the host club had shut its doors on its first unsuccessful afternoon since its opening, and after Haruhi had bid her goodbyes to her friends, Mori and Honey following her out, Hikaru handed Tamaki a heavy book. “I know you have your own original copy, tono,” he said, “and you should remember that this one’s only on loan ‘cause Kaoru and I are trying out some videos right now, but here, take a look at this. These are the ones I was saying earlier. They’re bookmarked with the red.”
“Make sure to look at some of the ones marked in blue,” Kaoru was saying to Kyouya, “because the red ones are the ones that’ll have him doing all the work to make you feel amazing, which is pretty good, of course, but if you hate page forty-two, then you’ll like the blue ones. You get to be control even from the bottom. It’s hot to make him writhe and beg.” His breath was heavy and warm by Kyouya’s ear, his smile curling with a smug knowledge that had even Kyouya slightly flushed.
“Interesting data,” Kyouya murmured, a small smile appearing on his face in response. “Thank you for the advice, Kaoru. Your aid will be noted.”
“Anytime,” Kaoru promised before drawing away. He shared a wicked grin with Hikaru and silently they disappeared from the room, hands tangling before the door shut behind them, Hikaru already pressing Kaoru across the hall and into the wall.
Tamaki and Kyouya were left in the Third Music Room, eyeing each other, a well-worn and nearly priceless copy of the Kama Sutra in Tamaki’s hands. The tension hadn’t decreased since early afternoon but it had changed now, charged with something more electric.
Haruhi never quite understood what textbook the twins had been discussing with Tamaki and Kyouya but she was pleased to see the next afternoon that the fight was over, though she worried briefly over the bruise peeking out from under Tamaki’s collar and the stiff way Kyouya was walking. Hikaru and Kaoru were in fairly the same condition, however, so she dismissed it as another one of those inexplicable “spoiled rich boy” things she would probably never understand.
--
Started/Finished: 11.14.2006
--
Notes: Bah. I don't know what I was going for but I'm pretty sure I missed it. I'm going to, um, go finish studying for my tests now.
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