Fic: Hand Holding~KyouKao
Title: Hand Holding
Rating: PG
Fandom: Ouran
Pairing: KyouKao
Summary: He wants to hold hands. You don't. A childish fight insues. 2nd Person.
Disclaimer: I do not own, sadly...*wails*
Hand Holding
Let’s hold hands, he insists sweetly, ghosting fingers over the back of baby smooth skin, joints and veins.
No, you reply simply, and the touch vanishes.
Why not? You recognize the minor distain and tad bit of hurt in his tone, but it doesn’t bother you. You shrug.
It’s impractical. Holding hands proves nothing. It’s true and that’s beside the point. You don’t want to be touched, really-nothing good ever comes of it.
He huffs, and blows a disgruntled breath out of his mouth. But it’s sweet.
I don’t like sweet things. This conversation is impractical to you, but to him it’s a game; see who loses and who wins.
Not in the literal sense. And you like me. He’s got a point, but you won’t give him one.
But I don’t like holding hands. Kaoru reclines on the Host Club couch, exhaling again and stretching both hands behind his head in a relaxed repose. You’ve won? He seems to be giving up.
Fine.
Fine?
We won’t hold hands.
Really? Your tone is skeptical, and your tongue presses to the underside of your teeth in distaste. Your hand rotates on the pen you clasp and the ink seeps into the white and blue-lined paper of your notebook, forming light and neat calculations that will somehow improve your quality of life.
Really. Kaoru repeats. In fact, we don’t even have to touch anymore. Ever.
Such a childish person he is, no matter if he’s more mature than his older counterpart. If Hikaru was an unaware child, Kaoru was a purposeful brat. His arms had gone from relaxed to folded tightly across his chest, and his legs had crossed-a sign of physical chastity. He’s glaring at you a bit, sucking on the inside of his cheek, and if he had been any younger the tantrum would already be underway. That’s not what I meant.
Oh? The Hitachiin sounds like a scorned woman, missing only the red lipstick and heavily shadowed eyes. What did you mean, then? Tell me.
You’re calmer than he, but this notebook is distracting you from him, and vice versa. I meant nothing more than I do not believe holding hands is a vital part of this relationship. It is not an incentive against you, and not a personal insult. You shouldn’t take it as such.
He seems to understand-his eyes do-but the boy won’t give up on this. It’s moved from motivational fighting to sulking lightly. Kaoru turns his back on you by the slightest degree and slouched unattractively in a way that made his bangs flop cutely into his eyes, destroying his carefully parted distinctive feature. It is too personal, he mumbles cutely.
Explain, you entice.
I want to. You don’t. His lower lip is jutted out in an over exaggerated pout-one in the same with the one he uses during the hosting hours with his twin. You’ve never seen it directed at you.
And why do you want to? You’ve given me no reasoning. He hasn’t, but do you really need it?
I...It’s just...I just...You know! He’s turned to face you now, pout gone for a replacement of compelling employment. It’s just what couples do. His hands are fisted in the material of his Ouran pants, but they seem to forcibly relax after he’s said this, the he flops back onto the couch, upper body slightly inclined towards you.
Are we a couple? Has he considered the two of you that from the beginning?
A look of incredulity spreads across the previously-pouting and his jaw goes slack. I...what...Kyouya! Of course we are! Did you doubt that!?!
Just his expression is enough to make you snort out a little laugh, and you raise a hand to pat his head, a gesture that quickly turns into you running your hand through his hair. Kaoru unconsciously leans into you and his eyes flutter closed for a second in peaceful bliss, only to snap open a second later and glare at you.
What are you playing at? He accuses. No touching unless it’s hand holding.
Tell you what, you reason. This weekend, at that Commoner Expo that Tamaki doesn’t know about yet, but will undoubtedly drag us to, I’ll hold your hand.
His face softens and takes on smile you love to see, weather you’ll admit that or not. All day? He pushes, and you rebuke.
No, but...
Half the day?
Sure.
And thus you’re allowed to touch him again.