Fic: A Perfect Mistake
Wrote this little ditty a while back...<3 It's angsty, which is unusual for me, but I still like it...
Title: A Perfect Mistake
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Character(s)/Pairing: Implied KyouKao, TamaHaru, HikaRen
Summary: It was the last thing they expected to see--the last person they expected to meet--but, somehow, it all worked out in the end. Futuristic Fic!
Genera: Romance/HurtandComfort/Futuristic AU
Warnings: Implied sexual situations, abuse, LANGUAGE and general hatred toward OCs
Author's Notes: XD Only after writing this did I realize how many times I referenced the countless sexual rendevours that suddenkiss and I force Kyouya and Kaoru to go through in the middle of roleplaying XDD Oh, it was fun--especially when the blindfolds and handcuffs came into play AFTER writing it and before anyone else could read it...But...ehem...Anyway...Enjoy!
A Perfect Mistake
It was, in all honesty, one of the last things he expected to see when walking into The Host (a bar he favored not only for its high social mixings and vodka/soda drinks, but also for the irony of its name) late on a Tuesday night. One did not often see old high school classmates outside of organized reunions or, if they were important enough, dinner parties, but there was no mistaking the fiery red hair that belonged to the young man slouched woefully over the bar and looking worse for wear than Kyouya felt. And since it would be almost an inhumane thing to leave an old acquaintance alone when they obviously needed someone to talk to, the Ootori ignored his usual booth and instead wove his way through the crowd.
The closer he got, the darker the atmosphere and the surer he was as to who was looking forlorn on the stool. Kyouya was quiet, keeping his presence a hidden fact, until he was directly behind the younger of the Hitachiin twins and, placing a hand on his underclassman’s shoulder, he put his mouth directly at Kaoru’s ear before he could pull away and greeted, “I never expected to see you here, of all place.”
Kaoru jumped, spinning around on his stool and leaning backward, away from Kyouya. For a second, fear registered on his face, but after he recognized his old fellow host, he sighed shakily and adjusted the large, black sunglasses he was wearing. “Oh...Hey, Kyouya-senpai. I haven’t seen you in...well, almost a year.”
“Hello, Kaoru,” he responded easily, slipping into the bar stool next to him and motioning for the tender to bring them another round. This turned out to be nothing more than cranberry juice mixed with carbonated water. It was...good, but not what one was looking for when intending to get drunk. Indulgently, though, Kyouya asked, “What are you drinking?”
“A spritzer. Nonalcoholic.”
“Are you driving?”
“Yes.”
“No boyfriend to pick you up?” A subtle jive, accompanied by an even less than subtle smirk and a sip of the drink. His grey eyes shone challengingly from behind prescription glasses, watching Kaoru for his reaction to this remark. It was unpleasing.
“We broke up,” he said quietly, looking into the ripples of his drink.
“Oh.” Ah. “when?”
“Two days ago.”
“Who?”
“You remember that sort of pudgy kid from C-class in my year?” Kaoru asked and Kyouya raised an eyebrow. “His older brother.”
He nodded, attempting to act uninterested. Again, he rose the chilled glass to his lips and nursed to juice. “You seem interestingly cut up about this. Haven’t you talked to Hikaru, like you normally do?”
Kaoru shook his head in turn. “On his honeymoon. I don’t want to disturb them, and Renge insisted on some random tropical place where there’s probably no cell service anyway.” He forced a weak smile at this, but kept his eyes downcast and furiously twisted his fingers together, a tell-tale sign of self-hush with the red head.
The Ootori sighed, drank once more and then leaned onto the polished bar counter, taking care to avoid the peanut dish and gazed at Kaoru with a semi-bored expression that usually made idiots and ‘friends’ open up to him. “So...What happened?”
He was shaking his head. “It was a stupid thing to do. He was a real asshole-everyone said so-but we met at one of Mother’s fancy little country house get together and he kept telling me how pretty I was. I told him to fuck off, but...I dunno...” Kaoru tossed his hands halfway into the air, glancing at Kyouya and then returning his face downcast, finger-twisting pose. “And then he turned out to be every bit as much of a bastard as he was an asshole.”
“No worse than any of the people you would meet here, I assume.”
“But...he was a total loser-he cheated on me, lied to me, stole from me at one point, and worse of all, he said he loved me the entire time. And then, when I finally broke it off, he cried and ranted and yelled. You know what he had the gall to say to me?” Kyouya shook his head. "He said ‘That’s no worse than what that old ex-boyfriend did to you!’ But it was, it was on so many different levels because you never promised me anything, but he did.”
Kaoru was surprisingly straight-faced and composed this entire time, determinedly looking into the bottom of his glass and not crying. His cheeks were tinged pink by the dimmed light bulbs, and Kyouya was sure that if the sunglasses were removed, he’d be able to see the raw, reddish, dry and entirely blood-shot quality of his amber eyes.
“You’re right,” And when the Hitachiin looked up at him, Kyouya amended. “I never did promise you anything. Would you consider that made it easier when we decided to pursue different lifestyles?”
He shrugged. "I guess, but I’ve near exactly had a good break-up to compare it to.” He held up a finger. “There was that exchange student from England, and he ended up obsessed with me. Nekozawa’s cult friend who ended up obsessed with Hikaru." Two fingers, then three. “That kid from the public school Haruhi would have gone to who outed me to my parents before I caught him screwing my maid. The really neon-red-haired model who messed up Mother’s fashion show after we broke-up. Then that three second relationship with a guy who ended up being an adult film maker and-“ And Kaoru continued to recite what sounded like every relationship in his utterly miserable love life, from women to men, and by the time he needed a second hand to count them all on, he’d stopped keeping track.
And all the while, Kyouya listened intently with drink in hand. It was interesting, especially when the redhead failed to mention their poorly thought out and rather extensive and scandalous rendezvous. So, when it seemed that Kaoru was just broaching the subject of the latest disaster, he cut across him smoothly. “So, where does this relationship fall on a scale of say, one to twelve...?”
“Higher numbers better? Negative seven.”
“What about ours?” No hint of curiosity what-so-ever in his voice; he could have been commenting on the weather.
Kaoru paused, seemingly deep in thought and leaving them in silence just long enough for it to become awkward before saying, haltingly, “I would have to say three, but trust me, senpai; you were my favorite mistake.”
Having no response for that, Kyouya raised a hand for another refill and insisted, “I haven’t been your senpai for years, now.”
“And you never were my mother, but that didn’t stop me from calling you it.”
This was true, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Together they settled into a comodarable silence, each drinking in turns, glancing around or thrumming their (perfectly manicured) nails on the wooden counter top. Although, however long they were willing to let it be unapproached, something was festering under the surface, something heavily pregnant that would screw them over if they talked about it, and also if they didn’t. Silence reigned.
And then their drinks were gone, and two things happened at exactly the same time.
Kyouya began to talk, broaching the topic of Haruhi, Tamaki and the little boy they were expecting in late November. Kaoru stood up, murmuring that he should probably leave the bar to people who actually intended to get drunk, and reached up to brush a stray lock of hair back into his bangs, only succeeding in knocking his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose.
He stooped, almost immediately; to snatch them, but Kyouya was faster. He caught the black lenses, heard and intake of breath and a hiss, and straightened up to see Kaoru lower a hand from his left eye. A very, very dark eye with a barely healed cut above his brow and an obviously swollen incline starting from the corner of his eye. The green and brown were obviously only just beginning to blossom to their full bruising potential, and even the sight of such injuries (especially on a face that was usually associated with beauty and perfection) were enough to make Kyouya want an ice pack.
Kaoru snatched the sunglasses, and jammed them back to cover the marks, but not before their eyes connected and he knew that Kyouya knew.
“What happened-“
“Nothing.”
“Kaoru...” a low, reproachful tone.
“Nothing, alright? Just drop it, senpai.”
“You can’t think I’d buy that crap, do you?” He reached out a hand to take the glasses again, or else brush his bruise, but the younger man jerked away defensively.
“I-I walked into a door.”
“When?” And now he was losing patients and becoming condescending. “The same night of your break-up?”
“N-no!” They glared at each other for a second, and then Kaoru dropped all defensive tones and tried to appeal in a new fashion, even managing a small, half-smile. “Look, okay, we broke up. What’s done is done, and plus, he didn’t mean it, and I’m fine!”
“This seems to be a new low for you; covering for someone else...”
“Drop it-“
Kyouya stood up, and held onto Kaoru’s upper arm in a semi-possessive manner, tossing a few bills onto the counter before dragging Kaoru toward the door. “You are a horrible liar. You are anything but fine..” It had been a long time since such emotions were brought to the surface, and it felt a bit odd for both parties, but not entirely unpleasant. “Now, come with me. I’m taking you home.”
“But my car-“
“Tomorrow.”
“And I don’t think you know my new address...”
“Who said anything about your home?”
The cold air outside was refreshing, but hit the men’s senses like a gunshot after the warm, alcoholic smell of the innards of the bar. Kaoru shivered, and Kyouya pushed them in the direction of his Rolls Royce with all the more haste. Before the brunette could all but shove him into the black siding of the car, they stumbled and opened the door for himself; Kyouya only let go of him to buckle his seatbelt and then slam the door.
He’s being so possessive! Kaoru mentally objected, glowering at the brunette though the tinted windshield as the Ootori moved around to his own door. Almost as protective as he was of Tono in school...Do I really come across as that pathetic?
The ignition started and together they rolled out of the darkened parking lot in determined silence, Kaoru unwilling to break it and Kyouya finding no need to.
Street lights and neon restaurant signs flashed by the windows, providing momentary distractions for both driver and passenger. Anger welled in Kaoru, bubbling over at fact he’d been practically kidnapped, the discovery of his dirty little secret, and generally everything that Suzuki Akira had done to him. Strictly speaking, it was feelings and silences like this that had lead to his outburst and fight with his ex, and it felt entirely too similar being here again. Only...Kyouya was not his boyfriend.
“I don’t need to go to your house,” he snapped suddenly, and feeling an unprecedented wave of hatred and bitterness run though his body, Kaoru continued cruelly, “There is nothing you can do to help me, anyway, and no reason to try. last time I checked, you still didn’t do something unless there was a hidden merit in it for you.”
Kyouya did not respond, and continued to look at the road. Taking this in stride, Kaoru continued his rant.
“Even when we were dating-wait, no; fucking-it was always so fucking calculated with you. I do not need your pity now, and I don’t want it.”
“Do you have any idea where we are?” Kyouya asked calmly.
“What?” Kaoru, in turn, looked out the window and scowled. “No, I don’t.”
“Then I don’t suggest you get out of the car, and I am not turning around.”
“I-“ And then he fell silent, sulking, not wanting to see but ultimately feeling Kyouya’s vindictive and triumphant smirk. Kaoru coughed, and then looked into his lap, feeling the silence become uncomfortable. He took a few seconds to calm himself, and then tried again. “...I remember (fucking) your office...Nice view...You still have it?”
“No, I got a promotion.”
“Oh...Well, I liked the desk.” He glanced out the window. “I remember your bed, too...Still live in the same place?”
“I moved.”
“Ah...” The conversation was dying. Kaoru tried yet another tactic. “So...you still have those S&M fantasies?”
The car screeched as Kyouya jammed on the breaks so hard and so suddenly that the other cars on the road had to swerve and honked their horns violently. The Ootori seemed slightly stricken, but he easily let up on the break and began driving again. Kaoru smirked.
“So...Is that a yes?”
“I have never done anything of the sort.” His tone was guarded and dethatched; his buttons being pushed quite excessively.
“Ah, but you used to. And, my, did you have quite the mouth...Did telling me all the things you wanted to do to me get you off?”
‘Shut up.”
“I was just asking.” Smirking, Kaoru reached up and removed his sunglasses, figuring that Kyouya had already seen the darkened bruises and that there was noting left to hide. Besides-goading him required eye contact. “Handcuffs...Silken blindfold...C-“
“We’re here.” The car pulled to a stop in front of a large, white modern house with a flat roof and large windows with bay curtains drawn. Kaoru gawked at the establishment for a second, shocked at how similar and yet different to the original Ootori mansion it looked.
Kyouya got out of the car to cross around the front and held open the door for the red head. This time, Kaoru took it upon himself to unbuckle his seatbelt before following the Ootori up the front walk. He waited while the lock was fumbled with, and then strolled into the flat.
It was nice, with a pleasant wood and white theme, hard floors and dark furniture. A large flat screen was hung above the fire place in the living room that the entry way opened into, and in a corner of the room, and entire wall had been devoted to bookshelves and what seemed like financial journal’s This, for no other reason than ‘it just did’, interested Kaoru, and while Kyouya kicked off his shoes and hung his coat, the Hitachiin crossed to the shelve and ran his finger along the leather-bound spines of each book.
“...You got more boring,” he drawled. “Whatever happened to the novellas and Shakespearian screenplays? All you have is...Almanac 2007...Almanac 2008...Almanac 2009...”
“I apologize that my current literary collection is not up to par with your reclusive ideals of me,” Kyouya responded sarcastically as he moved to the wine cabinet. He selected a fancy red and brought the bottle and two glasses to the couch and coffee table.
“I’m not saying that I’m not surprised, it’s just boring.” Kaoru left the library shelve and settled on the couch as well, sitting close enough to Kyouya to be compatible but far enough away to make it slightly awkward and guarded.
Kyouya poured them each half a glass, murmuring something about “much more classy than getting drunk in a bar” before proffering one to the Hitachiin, who took it without saying a word. Attending many fancy wine tastings had changed the simple pleasure of drinking fine wines. Now, Kyouya brought the glass to his nose, sniffed, swilled for color, and then sipped it cautiously. Kaoru just drank it. For a full two minutes, they nursed the red liquid alternatively in steady, awkward silence.
“So...” Kaoru tried, watching the whirlpool created in the wine’s depths as he copied the swill. Something about the whole scenario seemed familiar and comfortable, and that was puting him on edge. “So...You’re not trying to seduce me, are you?” he asked sarcastically with a hint of real superstition and waggling eyebrows.
Instead of even considering giving an answer, Kyouya reclined on the sofa, rubbing the corners of his eyes under his glasses frames. “What is it I can do to make you feel better?”
And Kaoru, in turn, opened his mouth to decline the offer with venom or else leer out a slutty come-on. But nothing came out, and he bit his tongue, casting his eyes downward, shamefaced.
Kyouya tried a different tact. “What would Hikaru do if you were to tell him?”
“Rant,” the red head sighed in bitter-sweet remembrance. “Endlessly. He’d make good points and then I’d start crying and he’d hug me, swearing he’d kill anyone who makes me cry.”
“I have no intention of killing your ex,” Kyouya drawled. “But...” The hand not holding his glass twitched, and Kaoru’s amber eyes darted toward it, looking surprised.
“What?”
Kyouya was not looking at him, but shifted so that his arm rested on the back of the couch, exposing his side and the inside of his tensed shoulder. Kaoru stared-practically gawked-for a moment and then let out a shaky laugh.
“You’ve got to be joking.” And Kyouya shrugged. Kaoru started to laugh, even as the sound became nervous and compulsive. “E-eheh, eheh, that’s so uncharacteristic of you, senpai. I-eheh-you don’t have to. I-I mean...” And here all words failed him.
Kyouya did not move. “Are you going to accept my offer?”
And he finally stopped issuing the wheezy cackle, staring at his upperclassman intently as he shifted closer ever-so-slowly. And then they were arm to side, and Kaoru could feel the bespectacled brunette’s expanding lungs, subconsciously matching his own breaths with that of his companion as he leaned (ever-so-slowly) into Kyouya, resting the side of his face on a bony, warm shoulder.
It wasn’t necessarily a hug, or even a hold, but the tensed action was more casual, non-sexual, non-violent and no-strings-attached physical contact than the younger of the Hitachiin twins had had in the last month, and more than the youngest Ootori had had in almost a year and it was...awkward. But in a nice way. Kaoru focused on their breaths, closing his eyes and moving his nose to press into the fabric of Kyouya’s shirt, inhaling the familiar smell of clean cloths and of spicy cologne; it was comfortable and close, and he pressed even closer until he felt the spice making his eyes sting.
And the next thing either of them knew, the red head was clutching the front of Kyouya’s shirt and he was bawling uncontrollably, but quietly, into his shoulder while the brunette, in turn, patted Kaoru’s shoulder, biting his tongue to prevent spewing those sweet-nothings Tamaki had favored so much in school (things like “it’s okay” or “no one can hurt you now” or “I’ll protect you”).
A wet patch had appeared in the woolen grey sweater by the time the sobs subsided into hiccups, and from there into silent, steady breathing. Kyouya dared not move, figuring that the other man had fallen asleep on his chest-cried out and tired in general-and was loath to jostle the warm body.
And then, muffled by a mouth pressed into the groove of his collar bone, Kaoru murmured, “You’re good, Kyouya-senpai.”
“Oh?” and Kyouya raised a delicate eyebrow. “How is that?”
“Usually,” Kaoru sniffed. “Usually, Hikaru has to yell and shout for a while to get me like this, and then he leaves when he thinks I’m asleep...” A pause and then, “I’m sorry. I got your top wet.” And he made to pull away, only to find the arm around his neck did not loosen like a snake to allow him to retract.
“I’ll just bill you for the dry-cleaning,” he said in a serious tone.
“Do you...do you want me to leave?” Kaoru looked down, and somehow he exposed his weakness and vulnerability in his unwillingness to look Kyouya in the eye while he said it. “I can go...”
“Your car is back at the bar, and the cabs that run this late at night-“ and he motioned toward a wall-hung clock that established that it was already half-past-three in the morning “-are hardly ever reliable or safe.”
Still looking at Kyouya was an intent stare, Kaoru leaned closer until he was leaning on the brunette Ootori again-this time completely comfortable and relaxed and intimate in a distant way-and then he smiled and brought his feet up on the couch under him. “Thanks, Kyouya-senpai...”
A hum of agreement, and then: “There was one thing that I never understood; despite you claiming that it was just force of habit.”
“What?”
“Why you insisted on calling me that-‘senpai and even ‘sama’ or ‘dono’ on occasion-even when we were alone.” Kyouya moved a hand to Kaoru’s hair, pressing his head closer while playing lazy patterns in his hair.
A moment of silence, and then: “I...well, before we started playing that whole ‘dating’ or ‘friends-with-benefits’ game, it was because Hikaru and I placed you in the same rank as Tono-above us. While we played, it was because it was too weird to consider myself as an equal to you. And then, after, it was because I considered you much more worthy of any honorifics I could give you...And I don’t know why...”
His eyes were closing, lids heavy over glazed and slightly blood-shot orbs, and Kaoru continued to breath in that oh-so-calming smell that was Ootori Kyouya, and with every exhalation that ruffled the hairs at the nape of the other’s neck, he felt as if it cleansed him of the heavy, weighted and sickly-sour feeling he’d felt ever since the monumental break-up. It relaxed him, and however alien that felt recently, it was nice. Kaoru was close to sleep now, and Kyouya removed his glasses, disregarding the fact that sleeping on the couch was often uncomfortable, and set them aside.
He leaned closer, resting his head on top of Kaoru’s reddish-brown tresses and sighed, closing his own eyes just as his mouth flew open of its own accord and quietly whispered something that was neither sweet nor a nothing. “I...missed you.”
And then Kyouya was shocked slightly when he received a response from a figure he thought sleeping. “I...loved you...And I’m glad I did. You know-“ and Kaoru yawned, “-proves that I...uh...don’t always have bad tastes...”
“Yeah...I do believe you’re right,” he smiled ever-so-slightly and closed his eyes without adding, ‘and I’m incredibly pleased...happy, that you are’ and the end.
Somehow, both of them knew everything would be okay.
Title: A Perfect Mistake
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Character(s)/Pairing: Implied KyouKao, TamaHaru, HikaRen
Summary: It was the last thing they expected to see--the last person they expected to meet--but, somehow, it all worked out in the end. Futuristic Fic!
Genera: Romance/HurtandComfort/Futuristic AU
Warnings: Implied sexual situations, abuse, LANGUAGE and general hatred toward OCs
Author's Notes: XD Only after writing this did I realize how many times I referenced the countless sexual rendevours that suddenkiss and I force Kyouya and Kaoru to go through in the middle of roleplaying XDD Oh, it was fun--especially when the blindfolds and handcuffs came into play AFTER writing it and before anyone else could read it...But...ehem...Anyway...Enjoy!
A Perfect Mistake
It was, in all honesty, one of the last things he expected to see when walking into The Host (a bar he favored not only for its high social mixings and vodka/soda drinks, but also for the irony of its name) late on a Tuesday night. One did not often see old high school classmates outside of organized reunions or, if they were important enough, dinner parties, but there was no mistaking the fiery red hair that belonged to the young man slouched woefully over the bar and looking worse for wear than Kyouya felt. And since it would be almost an inhumane thing to leave an old acquaintance alone when they obviously needed someone to talk to, the Ootori ignored his usual booth and instead wove his way through the crowd.
The closer he got, the darker the atmosphere and the surer he was as to who was looking forlorn on the stool. Kyouya was quiet, keeping his presence a hidden fact, until he was directly behind the younger of the Hitachiin twins and, placing a hand on his underclassman’s shoulder, he put his mouth directly at Kaoru’s ear before he could pull away and greeted, “I never expected to see you here, of all place.”
Kaoru jumped, spinning around on his stool and leaning backward, away from Kyouya. For a second, fear registered on his face, but after he recognized his old fellow host, he sighed shakily and adjusted the large, black sunglasses he was wearing. “Oh...Hey, Kyouya-senpai. I haven’t seen you in...well, almost a year.”
“Hello, Kaoru,” he responded easily, slipping into the bar stool next to him and motioning for the tender to bring them another round. This turned out to be nothing more than cranberry juice mixed with carbonated water. It was...good, but not what one was looking for when intending to get drunk. Indulgently, though, Kyouya asked, “What are you drinking?”
“A spritzer. Nonalcoholic.”
“Are you driving?”
“Yes.”
“No boyfriend to pick you up?” A subtle jive, accompanied by an even less than subtle smirk and a sip of the drink. His grey eyes shone challengingly from behind prescription glasses, watching Kaoru for his reaction to this remark. It was unpleasing.
“We broke up,” he said quietly, looking into the ripples of his drink.
“Oh.” Ah. “when?”
“Two days ago.”
“Who?”
“You remember that sort of pudgy kid from C-class in my year?” Kaoru asked and Kyouya raised an eyebrow. “His older brother.”
He nodded, attempting to act uninterested. Again, he rose the chilled glass to his lips and nursed to juice. “You seem interestingly cut up about this. Haven’t you talked to Hikaru, like you normally do?”
Kaoru shook his head in turn. “On his honeymoon. I don’t want to disturb them, and Renge insisted on some random tropical place where there’s probably no cell service anyway.” He forced a weak smile at this, but kept his eyes downcast and furiously twisted his fingers together, a tell-tale sign of self-hush with the red head.
The Ootori sighed, drank once more and then leaned onto the polished bar counter, taking care to avoid the peanut dish and gazed at Kaoru with a semi-bored expression that usually made idiots and ‘friends’ open up to him. “So...What happened?”
He was shaking his head. “It was a stupid thing to do. He was a real asshole-everyone said so-but we met at one of Mother’s fancy little country house get together and he kept telling me how pretty I was. I told him to fuck off, but...I dunno...” Kaoru tossed his hands halfway into the air, glancing at Kyouya and then returning his face downcast, finger-twisting pose. “And then he turned out to be every bit as much of a bastard as he was an asshole.”
“No worse than any of the people you would meet here, I assume.”
“But...he was a total loser-he cheated on me, lied to me, stole from me at one point, and worse of all, he said he loved me the entire time. And then, when I finally broke it off, he cried and ranted and yelled. You know what he had the gall to say to me?” Kyouya shook his head. "He said ‘That’s no worse than what that old ex-boyfriend did to you!’ But it was, it was on so many different levels because you never promised me anything, but he did.”
Kaoru was surprisingly straight-faced and composed this entire time, determinedly looking into the bottom of his glass and not crying. His cheeks were tinged pink by the dimmed light bulbs, and Kyouya was sure that if the sunglasses were removed, he’d be able to see the raw, reddish, dry and entirely blood-shot quality of his amber eyes.
“You’re right,” And when the Hitachiin looked up at him, Kyouya amended. “I never did promise you anything. Would you consider that made it easier when we decided to pursue different lifestyles?”
He shrugged. "I guess, but I’ve near exactly had a good break-up to compare it to.” He held up a finger. “There was that exchange student from England, and he ended up obsessed with me. Nekozawa’s cult friend who ended up obsessed with Hikaru." Two fingers, then three. “That kid from the public school Haruhi would have gone to who outed me to my parents before I caught him screwing my maid. The really neon-red-haired model who messed up Mother’s fashion show after we broke-up. Then that three second relationship with a guy who ended up being an adult film maker and-“ And Kaoru continued to recite what sounded like every relationship in his utterly miserable love life, from women to men, and by the time he needed a second hand to count them all on, he’d stopped keeping track.
And all the while, Kyouya listened intently with drink in hand. It was interesting, especially when the redhead failed to mention their poorly thought out and rather extensive and scandalous rendezvous. So, when it seemed that Kaoru was just broaching the subject of the latest disaster, he cut across him smoothly. “So, where does this relationship fall on a scale of say, one to twelve...?”
“Higher numbers better? Negative seven.”
“What about ours?” No hint of curiosity what-so-ever in his voice; he could have been commenting on the weather.
Kaoru paused, seemingly deep in thought and leaving them in silence just long enough for it to become awkward before saying, haltingly, “I would have to say three, but trust me, senpai; you were my favorite mistake.”
Having no response for that, Kyouya raised a hand for another refill and insisted, “I haven’t been your senpai for years, now.”
“And you never were my mother, but that didn’t stop me from calling you it.”
This was true, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Together they settled into a comodarable silence, each drinking in turns, glancing around or thrumming their (perfectly manicured) nails on the wooden counter top. Although, however long they were willing to let it be unapproached, something was festering under the surface, something heavily pregnant that would screw them over if they talked about it, and also if they didn’t. Silence reigned.
And then their drinks were gone, and two things happened at exactly the same time.
Kyouya began to talk, broaching the topic of Haruhi, Tamaki and the little boy they were expecting in late November. Kaoru stood up, murmuring that he should probably leave the bar to people who actually intended to get drunk, and reached up to brush a stray lock of hair back into his bangs, only succeeding in knocking his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose.
He stooped, almost immediately; to snatch them, but Kyouya was faster. He caught the black lenses, heard and intake of breath and a hiss, and straightened up to see Kaoru lower a hand from his left eye. A very, very dark eye with a barely healed cut above his brow and an obviously swollen incline starting from the corner of his eye. The green and brown were obviously only just beginning to blossom to their full bruising potential, and even the sight of such injuries (especially on a face that was usually associated with beauty and perfection) were enough to make Kyouya want an ice pack.
Kaoru snatched the sunglasses, and jammed them back to cover the marks, but not before their eyes connected and he knew that Kyouya knew.
“What happened-“
“Nothing.”
“Kaoru...” a low, reproachful tone.
“Nothing, alright? Just drop it, senpai.”
“You can’t think I’d buy that crap, do you?” He reached out a hand to take the glasses again, or else brush his bruise, but the younger man jerked away defensively.
“I-I walked into a door.”
“When?” And now he was losing patients and becoming condescending. “The same night of your break-up?”
“N-no!” They glared at each other for a second, and then Kaoru dropped all defensive tones and tried to appeal in a new fashion, even managing a small, half-smile. “Look, okay, we broke up. What’s done is done, and plus, he didn’t mean it, and I’m fine!”
“This seems to be a new low for you; covering for someone else...”
“Drop it-“
Kyouya stood up, and held onto Kaoru’s upper arm in a semi-possessive manner, tossing a few bills onto the counter before dragging Kaoru toward the door. “You are a horrible liar. You are anything but fine..” It had been a long time since such emotions were brought to the surface, and it felt a bit odd for both parties, but not entirely unpleasant. “Now, come with me. I’m taking you home.”
“But my car-“
“Tomorrow.”
“And I don’t think you know my new address...”
“Who said anything about your home?”
The cold air outside was refreshing, but hit the men’s senses like a gunshot after the warm, alcoholic smell of the innards of the bar. Kaoru shivered, and Kyouya pushed them in the direction of his Rolls Royce with all the more haste. Before the brunette could all but shove him into the black siding of the car, they stumbled and opened the door for himself; Kyouya only let go of him to buckle his seatbelt and then slam the door.
He’s being so possessive! Kaoru mentally objected, glowering at the brunette though the tinted windshield as the Ootori moved around to his own door. Almost as protective as he was of Tono in school...Do I really come across as that pathetic?
The ignition started and together they rolled out of the darkened parking lot in determined silence, Kaoru unwilling to break it and Kyouya finding no need to.
Street lights and neon restaurant signs flashed by the windows, providing momentary distractions for both driver and passenger. Anger welled in Kaoru, bubbling over at fact he’d been practically kidnapped, the discovery of his dirty little secret, and generally everything that Suzuki Akira had done to him. Strictly speaking, it was feelings and silences like this that had lead to his outburst and fight with his ex, and it felt entirely too similar being here again. Only...Kyouya was not his boyfriend.
“I don’t need to go to your house,” he snapped suddenly, and feeling an unprecedented wave of hatred and bitterness run though his body, Kaoru continued cruelly, “There is nothing you can do to help me, anyway, and no reason to try. last time I checked, you still didn’t do something unless there was a hidden merit in it for you.”
Kyouya did not respond, and continued to look at the road. Taking this in stride, Kaoru continued his rant.
“Even when we were dating-wait, no; fucking-it was always so fucking calculated with you. I do not need your pity now, and I don’t want it.”
“Do you have any idea where we are?” Kyouya asked calmly.
“What?” Kaoru, in turn, looked out the window and scowled. “No, I don’t.”
“Then I don’t suggest you get out of the car, and I am not turning around.”
“I-“ And then he fell silent, sulking, not wanting to see but ultimately feeling Kyouya’s vindictive and triumphant smirk. Kaoru coughed, and then looked into his lap, feeling the silence become uncomfortable. He took a few seconds to calm himself, and then tried again. “...I remember (fucking) your office...Nice view...You still have it?”
“No, I got a promotion.”
“Oh...Well, I liked the desk.” He glanced out the window. “I remember your bed, too...Still live in the same place?”
“I moved.”
“Ah...” The conversation was dying. Kaoru tried yet another tactic. “So...you still have those S&M fantasies?”
The car screeched as Kyouya jammed on the breaks so hard and so suddenly that the other cars on the road had to swerve and honked their horns violently. The Ootori seemed slightly stricken, but he easily let up on the break and began driving again. Kaoru smirked.
“So...Is that a yes?”
“I have never done anything of the sort.” His tone was guarded and dethatched; his buttons being pushed quite excessively.
“Ah, but you used to. And, my, did you have quite the mouth...Did telling me all the things you wanted to do to me get you off?”
‘Shut up.”
“I was just asking.” Smirking, Kaoru reached up and removed his sunglasses, figuring that Kyouya had already seen the darkened bruises and that there was noting left to hide. Besides-goading him required eye contact. “Handcuffs...Silken blindfold...C-“
“We’re here.” The car pulled to a stop in front of a large, white modern house with a flat roof and large windows with bay curtains drawn. Kaoru gawked at the establishment for a second, shocked at how similar and yet different to the original Ootori mansion it looked.
Kyouya got out of the car to cross around the front and held open the door for the red head. This time, Kaoru took it upon himself to unbuckle his seatbelt before following the Ootori up the front walk. He waited while the lock was fumbled with, and then strolled into the flat.
It was nice, with a pleasant wood and white theme, hard floors and dark furniture. A large flat screen was hung above the fire place in the living room that the entry way opened into, and in a corner of the room, and entire wall had been devoted to bookshelves and what seemed like financial journal’s This, for no other reason than ‘it just did’, interested Kaoru, and while Kyouya kicked off his shoes and hung his coat, the Hitachiin crossed to the shelve and ran his finger along the leather-bound spines of each book.
“...You got more boring,” he drawled. “Whatever happened to the novellas and Shakespearian screenplays? All you have is...Almanac 2007...Almanac 2008...Almanac 2009...”
“I apologize that my current literary collection is not up to par with your reclusive ideals of me,” Kyouya responded sarcastically as he moved to the wine cabinet. He selected a fancy red and brought the bottle and two glasses to the couch and coffee table.
“I’m not saying that I’m not surprised, it’s just boring.” Kaoru left the library shelve and settled on the couch as well, sitting close enough to Kyouya to be compatible but far enough away to make it slightly awkward and guarded.
Kyouya poured them each half a glass, murmuring something about “much more classy than getting drunk in a bar” before proffering one to the Hitachiin, who took it without saying a word. Attending many fancy wine tastings had changed the simple pleasure of drinking fine wines. Now, Kyouya brought the glass to his nose, sniffed, swilled for color, and then sipped it cautiously. Kaoru just drank it. For a full two minutes, they nursed the red liquid alternatively in steady, awkward silence.
“So...” Kaoru tried, watching the whirlpool created in the wine’s depths as he copied the swill. Something about the whole scenario seemed familiar and comfortable, and that was puting him on edge. “So...You’re not trying to seduce me, are you?” he asked sarcastically with a hint of real superstition and waggling eyebrows.
Instead of even considering giving an answer, Kyouya reclined on the sofa, rubbing the corners of his eyes under his glasses frames. “What is it I can do to make you feel better?”
And Kaoru, in turn, opened his mouth to decline the offer with venom or else leer out a slutty come-on. But nothing came out, and he bit his tongue, casting his eyes downward, shamefaced.
Kyouya tried a different tact. “What would Hikaru do if you were to tell him?”
“Rant,” the red head sighed in bitter-sweet remembrance. “Endlessly. He’d make good points and then I’d start crying and he’d hug me, swearing he’d kill anyone who makes me cry.”
“I have no intention of killing your ex,” Kyouya drawled. “But...” The hand not holding his glass twitched, and Kaoru’s amber eyes darted toward it, looking surprised.
“What?”
Kyouya was not looking at him, but shifted so that his arm rested on the back of the couch, exposing his side and the inside of his tensed shoulder. Kaoru stared-practically gawked-for a moment and then let out a shaky laugh.
“You’ve got to be joking.” And Kyouya shrugged. Kaoru started to laugh, even as the sound became nervous and compulsive. “E-eheh, eheh, that’s so uncharacteristic of you, senpai. I-eheh-you don’t have to. I-I mean...” And here all words failed him.
Kyouya did not move. “Are you going to accept my offer?”
And he finally stopped issuing the wheezy cackle, staring at his upperclassman intently as he shifted closer ever-so-slowly. And then they were arm to side, and Kaoru could feel the bespectacled brunette’s expanding lungs, subconsciously matching his own breaths with that of his companion as he leaned (ever-so-slowly) into Kyouya, resting the side of his face on a bony, warm shoulder.
It wasn’t necessarily a hug, or even a hold, but the tensed action was more casual, non-sexual, non-violent and no-strings-attached physical contact than the younger of the Hitachiin twins had had in the last month, and more than the youngest Ootori had had in almost a year and it was...awkward. But in a nice way. Kaoru focused on their breaths, closing his eyes and moving his nose to press into the fabric of Kyouya’s shirt, inhaling the familiar smell of clean cloths and of spicy cologne; it was comfortable and close, and he pressed even closer until he felt the spice making his eyes sting.
And the next thing either of them knew, the red head was clutching the front of Kyouya’s shirt and he was bawling uncontrollably, but quietly, into his shoulder while the brunette, in turn, patted Kaoru’s shoulder, biting his tongue to prevent spewing those sweet-nothings Tamaki had favored so much in school (things like “it’s okay” or “no one can hurt you now” or “I’ll protect you”).
A wet patch had appeared in the woolen grey sweater by the time the sobs subsided into hiccups, and from there into silent, steady breathing. Kyouya dared not move, figuring that the other man had fallen asleep on his chest-cried out and tired in general-and was loath to jostle the warm body.
And then, muffled by a mouth pressed into the groove of his collar bone, Kaoru murmured, “You’re good, Kyouya-senpai.”
“Oh?” and Kyouya raised a delicate eyebrow. “How is that?”
“Usually,” Kaoru sniffed. “Usually, Hikaru has to yell and shout for a while to get me like this, and then he leaves when he thinks I’m asleep...” A pause and then, “I’m sorry. I got your top wet.” And he made to pull away, only to find the arm around his neck did not loosen like a snake to allow him to retract.
“I’ll just bill you for the dry-cleaning,” he said in a serious tone.
“Do you...do you want me to leave?” Kaoru looked down, and somehow he exposed his weakness and vulnerability in his unwillingness to look Kyouya in the eye while he said it. “I can go...”
“Your car is back at the bar, and the cabs that run this late at night-“ and he motioned toward a wall-hung clock that established that it was already half-past-three in the morning “-are hardly ever reliable or safe.”
Still looking at Kyouya was an intent stare, Kaoru leaned closer until he was leaning on the brunette Ootori again-this time completely comfortable and relaxed and intimate in a distant way-and then he smiled and brought his feet up on the couch under him. “Thanks, Kyouya-senpai...”
A hum of agreement, and then: “There was one thing that I never understood; despite you claiming that it was just force of habit.”
“What?”
“Why you insisted on calling me that-‘senpai and even ‘sama’ or ‘dono’ on occasion-even when we were alone.” Kyouya moved a hand to Kaoru’s hair, pressing his head closer while playing lazy patterns in his hair.
A moment of silence, and then: “I...well, before we started playing that whole ‘dating’ or ‘friends-with-benefits’ game, it was because Hikaru and I placed you in the same rank as Tono-above us. While we played, it was because it was too weird to consider myself as an equal to you. And then, after, it was because I considered you much more worthy of any honorifics I could give you...And I don’t know why...”
His eyes were closing, lids heavy over glazed and slightly blood-shot orbs, and Kaoru continued to breath in that oh-so-calming smell that was Ootori Kyouya, and with every exhalation that ruffled the hairs at the nape of the other’s neck, he felt as if it cleansed him of the heavy, weighted and sickly-sour feeling he’d felt ever since the monumental break-up. It relaxed him, and however alien that felt recently, it was nice. Kaoru was close to sleep now, and Kyouya removed his glasses, disregarding the fact that sleeping on the couch was often uncomfortable, and set them aside.
He leaned closer, resting his head on top of Kaoru’s reddish-brown tresses and sighed, closing his own eyes just as his mouth flew open of its own accord and quietly whispered something that was neither sweet nor a nothing. “I...missed you.”
And then Kyouya was shocked slightly when he received a response from a figure he thought sleeping. “I...loved you...And I’m glad I did. You know-“ and Kaoru yawned, “-proves that I...uh...don’t always have bad tastes...”
“Yeah...I do believe you’re right,” he smiled ever-so-slightly and closed his eyes without adding, ‘and I’m incredibly pleased...happy, that you are’ and the end.
Somehow, both of them knew everything would be okay.