Ouran High School Host Club > Fanfic/Drabbles > Some Princes Become Kings (Part 9)
Title: Some Princes Become Kings (Part 9)
Author: Kagaya Chou (my deviantART account is used more than my LJ account)
Characters/Pairing: Ohtori Kyouya + Suoh Tamaki
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1000 (10 drabbles, Kyouya-centric at odd numbers; Tamaki-centric at even)
Summary: A hundred reasons between them, each worth far more than a hundred words.
Warnings/Spoilers: A bit of speculation mixed in with information on what happened to Tamaki’s mother. Tamaki being himself, alone again with Kyouya... More making out... Hm, this one came easier than the last two, probably because it’s easier writing two characters rather than four ^_^ I hope the smidgen of French in there is all right, and that Kyouya sounds more like himself, ‘cause Tamaki gets so overwhelming...
Disclaimers: Ouran High School Host Club is by Bisco Hatori, but this piece of fan fiction belongs to me. I am also using the list from Manga Art Challenge: 100 Themes as inspiration. The actual challenge requirements seem to be for manga artwork, rather than fan fiction, but I made my own challenge out of it, that’s all.
Crossposted: kyouyatamaki, ouran_fanfics, ouranhostclub
[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 10 ]
Some Princes Become Kings (Part 9)
081. Pen and Paper
"I think... you made a good impression on my old man," Tamaki remarked in the car. His voice was strangely soft.
Kyouya eyed the bulky white envelope that Yuzuru had pressed into Tamaki's hands before they all parted.
Mon petit[1] Tamaki, the elegant black calligraphy read.
Looking out the window, he replied, "I certainly hope so."
"Don't worry," Tamaki sighed. "Dad didn't offer us any help when I mentioned our club, so I know he knows you'll be good for me..."
Kyouya didn't want to ask about "their club" in the car.
"Aren't you going to open that?"
"Open-? ... Yeah."
082. Can You Hear Me?
Inside the envelope, Tamaki found a small stack of photographs, and pages and pages of beautiful, flowing script.
The willowy woman present in each photograph had a gorgeous smile, and radiant eyes that shone like purple pearls. Her flaxen hair was long and lovely, spilling over her shoulders and down her back in gentle waves. But most importantly, her skin had a healthy glow. She was out and about, not sick in bed.
"Kyouya..." Tamaki whispered. "Kyouya? Look!"
When the black-haired boy turned back towards him, Tamaki handed him the stack.
"This is my mother."
His expression said as much.
083. Heal
Tamaki unbuckled his seatbelt, and slid beside Kyouya, leaning lightly against him as he re-buckled, and staying put as they went through the photographs.
"Doesn't she look magnificent?"
Kyouya nodded, wondering if he was looking at the female version of Tamaki as an adult.
"She seems so happy... I’m so glad..."
He nodded again.
"Gosh, that dress makes her look like a fairy princess!"
Kyouya wasn't aware he had tensed until the sound of Tamaki's fond laughter relaxed him. Glancing at the crumpled letter and envelope in Tamaki's hands though, Kyouya understood why he was the one holding the photographs.
084. Out Cold
That afternoon, they stayed in Tamaki’s room, because Tamaki insisted on Kyouya's presence while he read his letter, and wrote back.
Kyouya only pointed out there was no reason to write back: she said she'd leave now; she was healthy - no more fainting spells etcetera; she didn't want to burden the Suoh family anymore, and she was confident Tamaki could make his own happy endings without her.
"Well, I told mommy to go make her own happy endings," Tamaki explained as he wrote. "Mine involve seeing her again, and telling her my own stories..."
Kyouya promised him silently: he would.
085. Spiral
Over dinner, in a fancy restaurant, Kyouya brought it up again.
"About 'our club,' Tamaki."
"Hm?"
"Since when did we agree on making one?"
Tamaki swallowed what he was chewing before he thoughtfully began.
"Wouldn't you rather be my vice president, Kyouya? Seemed to me like you really didn't want to say why you gave me your first-"
"Being your vice president," Kyouya conversationally interrupted, "sounds fine." He looked around surreptitiously, smiling as Tamaki smirked back. "But, there’s the matter of what 'our club' should be about, seeing as we don’t actually share much common interests."
"What? Sure we do!"
086. Seeing Red
"We're both good at English," Tamaki exclaimed.
"English is necessary," Kyouya deadpanned, keeping his voice low. "Ouran already has an English Language Club, an English Literature Club, a Creative Writing Club, and various other clubs for those who actually need tutoring, or find the subject interesting."
"... Kyouya, you have such a good memory!"
Kyouya rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You swore to the chairman, your father, that ours would be the best club in Ouran...”
"Yes!" Tamaki nodded sagely. "So we're not making another English Club, Kyouya. Sorry to disappoint. Just let me do the thinking, will you?"
"You-"
087. Food
Dessert came.
Tamaki was ecstatic over its artistic presentation, its exquisite taste. While he was spouting his complements to the chef, to later be passed on by a flushed, stammering waitress, Kyouya just stabbed and slowly chewed at his diabetes-inducing slice of cheese and sugar entitled, "Chocolate Kahlua Truffle Delight."
They were completely different. He was certain.
"Oh! Ohh... Kyouya," Tamaki moaned. "I must have this recipe... Please," he murmured, "tell me," turning back to the waitress, "Is this what love tastes like?"
Whatever she replied to the fourteen-year-old lady-killer was high-pitched and unintelligible.
Kyouya wanted to hurt him. Bad.
088. Pain
Tamaki hissed when his best friend yanked him by the arm, and flung him into bed.
It was Kyouya’s room, Kyouya crawling over him, and Kyouya growling, "I want a rematch."
All Tamaki could manage was a very lost, "Huh?" because he hadn’t seen it coming. Not like this anyway.
"I want to see who's the better kisser," Kyouya persisted, "between me and you. Not between you and yourself - or you and anyone else for that matter."
Tamaki blinked. "... Just mouth to mouth this time, or else it's cheating, okay? Deal?"
Kyouya cocked his head, then smiled something wicked.
"Deal."
089. Through the Fire
"Kyouya!" Tamaki gasped, "Kyouya... Your hands... a... are... That’s cheating!" He whimpered, quivered, and burned, soft cries muffled by the other boy's lips.
"I resent that allegation," Kyouya murmured. "I'm not kissing you anywhere besides your mouth."
"But your hands-!" Tamaki jerked against the fingers traversing his body, rubbing his bruises, and wandering down his chest. "And my hands!"
He tried to struggle out of his shirt, but Kyouya tied Tamaki's sleeves earlier behind his back in a tight knot. "Kyouya," he whined. "I can't touch you back! It's not fair!"
Kyouya chuckled darkly; who said anything about playing fair?
090. Triangle
"Time out!"
Kyouya froze.
"Time out," Tamaki begged, feeling heady, heavy, and a little scared. It was... so fast, like he was being devoured alive. "I'm seeing stars and triangles and... Kyouya, I think I need sleep. What time is it?"
Kyouya stared, then sat back, found his glasses, and cast an expressionless glance at the clock.
"It's almost eleven," he sounded surprised. "You sleep at ten, don't you?"
"Uh huh..."
Tamaki righted himself, trying to free his hands again. After a moment, Kyouya pulled him close, and slid his arms around his waist.
"... There." He untied him.
"Thanks, Kyouya."
Note: [1] The phrase, “mon petit,” from 081. Pen and Paper, is French for “my little one.”
Author: Kagaya Chou (my deviantART account is used more than my LJ account)
Characters/Pairing: Ohtori Kyouya + Suoh Tamaki
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1000 (10 drabbles, Kyouya-centric at odd numbers; Tamaki-centric at even)
Summary: A hundred reasons between them, each worth far more than a hundred words.
Warnings/Spoilers: A bit of speculation mixed in with information on what happened to Tamaki’s mother. Tamaki being himself, alone again with Kyouya... More making out... Hm, this one came easier than the last two, probably because it’s easier writing two characters rather than four ^_^ I hope the smidgen of French in there is all right, and that Kyouya sounds more like himself, ‘cause Tamaki gets so overwhelming...
Disclaimers: Ouran High School Host Club is by Bisco Hatori, but this piece of fan fiction belongs to me. I am also using the list from Manga Art Challenge: 100 Themes as inspiration. The actual challenge requirements seem to be for manga artwork, rather than fan fiction, but I made my own challenge out of it, that’s all.
Crossposted: kyouyatamaki, ouran_fanfics, ouranhostclub
[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 10 ]
Some Princes Become Kings (Part 9)
081. Pen and Paper
"I think... you made a good impression on my old man," Tamaki remarked in the car. His voice was strangely soft.
Kyouya eyed the bulky white envelope that Yuzuru had pressed into Tamaki's hands before they all parted.
Mon petit[1] Tamaki, the elegant black calligraphy read.
Looking out the window, he replied, "I certainly hope so."
"Don't worry," Tamaki sighed. "Dad didn't offer us any help when I mentioned our club, so I know he knows you'll be good for me..."
Kyouya didn't want to ask about "their club" in the car.
"Aren't you going to open that?"
"Open-? ... Yeah."
082. Can You Hear Me?
Inside the envelope, Tamaki found a small stack of photographs, and pages and pages of beautiful, flowing script.
The willowy woman present in each photograph had a gorgeous smile, and radiant eyes that shone like purple pearls. Her flaxen hair was long and lovely, spilling over her shoulders and down her back in gentle waves. But most importantly, her skin had a healthy glow. She was out and about, not sick in bed.
"Kyouya..." Tamaki whispered. "Kyouya? Look!"
When the black-haired boy turned back towards him, Tamaki handed him the stack.
"This is my mother."
His expression said as much.
083. Heal
Tamaki unbuckled his seatbelt, and slid beside Kyouya, leaning lightly against him as he re-buckled, and staying put as they went through the photographs.
"Doesn't she look magnificent?"
Kyouya nodded, wondering if he was looking at the female version of Tamaki as an adult.
"She seems so happy... I’m so glad..."
He nodded again.
"Gosh, that dress makes her look like a fairy princess!"
Kyouya wasn't aware he had tensed until the sound of Tamaki's fond laughter relaxed him. Glancing at the crumpled letter and envelope in Tamaki's hands though, Kyouya understood why he was the one holding the photographs.
084. Out Cold
That afternoon, they stayed in Tamaki’s room, because Tamaki insisted on Kyouya's presence while he read his letter, and wrote back.
Kyouya only pointed out there was no reason to write back: she said she'd leave now; she was healthy - no more fainting spells etcetera; she didn't want to burden the Suoh family anymore, and she was confident Tamaki could make his own happy endings without her.
"Well, I told mommy to go make her own happy endings," Tamaki explained as he wrote. "Mine involve seeing her again, and telling her my own stories..."
Kyouya promised him silently: he would.
085. Spiral
Over dinner, in a fancy restaurant, Kyouya brought it up again.
"About 'our club,' Tamaki."
"Hm?"
"Since when did we agree on making one?"
Tamaki swallowed what he was chewing before he thoughtfully began.
"Wouldn't you rather be my vice president, Kyouya? Seemed to me like you really didn't want to say why you gave me your first-"
"Being your vice president," Kyouya conversationally interrupted, "sounds fine." He looked around surreptitiously, smiling as Tamaki smirked back. "But, there’s the matter of what 'our club' should be about, seeing as we don’t actually share much common interests."
"What? Sure we do!"
086. Seeing Red
"We're both good at English," Tamaki exclaimed.
"English is necessary," Kyouya deadpanned, keeping his voice low. "Ouran already has an English Language Club, an English Literature Club, a Creative Writing Club, and various other clubs for those who actually need tutoring, or find the subject interesting."
"... Kyouya, you have such a good memory!"
Kyouya rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You swore to the chairman, your father, that ours would be the best club in Ouran...”
"Yes!" Tamaki nodded sagely. "So we're not making another English Club, Kyouya. Sorry to disappoint. Just let me do the thinking, will you?"
"You-"
087. Food
Dessert came.
Tamaki was ecstatic over its artistic presentation, its exquisite taste. While he was spouting his complements to the chef, to later be passed on by a flushed, stammering waitress, Kyouya just stabbed and slowly chewed at his diabetes-inducing slice of cheese and sugar entitled, "Chocolate Kahlua Truffle Delight."
They were completely different. He was certain.
"Oh! Ohh... Kyouya," Tamaki moaned. "I must have this recipe... Please," he murmured, "tell me," turning back to the waitress, "Is this what love tastes like?"
Whatever she replied to the fourteen-year-old lady-killer was high-pitched and unintelligible.
Kyouya wanted to hurt him. Bad.
088. Pain
Tamaki hissed when his best friend yanked him by the arm, and flung him into bed.
It was Kyouya’s room, Kyouya crawling over him, and Kyouya growling, "I want a rematch."
All Tamaki could manage was a very lost, "Huh?" because he hadn’t seen it coming. Not like this anyway.
"I want to see who's the better kisser," Kyouya persisted, "between me and you. Not between you and yourself - or you and anyone else for that matter."
Tamaki blinked. "... Just mouth to mouth this time, or else it's cheating, okay? Deal?"
Kyouya cocked his head, then smiled something wicked.
"Deal."
089. Through the Fire
"Kyouya!" Tamaki gasped, "Kyouya... Your hands... a... are... That’s cheating!" He whimpered, quivered, and burned, soft cries muffled by the other boy's lips.
"I resent that allegation," Kyouya murmured. "I'm not kissing you anywhere besides your mouth."
"But your hands-!" Tamaki jerked against the fingers traversing his body, rubbing his bruises, and wandering down his chest. "And my hands!"
He tried to struggle out of his shirt, but Kyouya tied Tamaki's sleeves earlier behind his back in a tight knot. "Kyouya," he whined. "I can't touch you back! It's not fair!"
Kyouya chuckled darkly; who said anything about playing fair?
090. Triangle
"Time out!"
Kyouya froze.
"Time out," Tamaki begged, feeling heady, heavy, and a little scared. It was... so fast, like he was being devoured alive. "I'm seeing stars and triangles and... Kyouya, I think I need sleep. What time is it?"
Kyouya stared, then sat back, found his glasses, and cast an expressionless glance at the clock.
"It's almost eleven," he sounded surprised. "You sleep at ten, don't you?"
"Uh huh..."
Tamaki righted himself, trying to free his hands again. After a moment, Kyouya pulled him close, and slid his arms around his waist.
"... There." He untied him.
"Thanks, Kyouya."
Note: [1] The phrase, “mon petit,” from 081. Pen and Paper, is French for “my little one.”