Ouran- "Go, Go Ouran Host Club!"
Title: Go, Go Ouran Host Club!
Rating: G
Pairing/Character/s: Kyouya, Tamaki
Word Count: 401
Warning/s: Stupidity. Rampant, rampant stupidity. >>
Summary: Tamaki wants to be purple.
Dedication: JaB- who drew me some pretty interesting KyouyaxTamaki art today. XD It made a bad week just that much better.
A/N: Honesty, I don’t know what I’m doing. Just piddling around ‘cuz I can’t seem to write Bleach today, I suppose.
“Okaasan!!!”
“Yes, otousan?”
Tamaki mibbled. “Why isn’t there a purple?”
Kyouya sighed. “It’s well known that in canon there is no purple.”
“Maa, but I think I’d look good in purple!”
“Well it’s too late to order a purple, but if you ask Haruhi maybe she’ll trade you for the pink. That’s close.”
Tamaki pouted. “That’s not close! Pink and purple are worlds apart! Besides,” he started, and touched the tips of his index fingers together, “the pink one has a skirt.”
He closed his eyes dreamily and spun in a circle at that thought, momentarily distracted. “Ah…Haruhi!! So cute!!”
“Well then, maybe ask Hikaru for the blue one,” Kyouya continued, patiently. He didn’t bring up the fact that if Tamaki had wanted purple he could have planned ahead and asked for it specifically ahead of time, instead of simply slapping down the photograph on Kyouya’s desk one morning and with something like childlike glee, ordering the vice-president to “Please have this in for us next week!” before running off with a vintage robot model-very hard to find these days-- in his hand and marveling aloud at the richness young commoners’ lives were filled with.
Tamaki scowled. “Blue isn’t even close either,” he declared, and looked down at the subtly shimmering gold trim of his own outfit.
“Gold is nice,” Kyouya reminded him, and jotted a few notes down in his documents before snapping his portfolio shut and setting it aside. “Now, we’d best get these costumes on and be ready to greet the guests, ne Otousan?”
Tamaki sighed and flipped his hair backwards-glamorously out of his eyes. “Yes, yes, I suppose so.”
And then he put on his helmet.
Kyouya adjusted his glasses and put on his own helmet-green, mind- just as the doors of the third music room began to open and their first guest for the day entered. They all took their positions.
Right on cue, a romanticized orchestral version-arranged with great care by Tamaki himself-- of “Go, Go Power Rangers” started playing through the speakers of the third music room, and as he struck his pose alongside the others and listened to the nostalgic (action filled) melody, Kyouya made a mental note to himself to have a little talk with Haruhi later, about the things she let Otousan watch when he went over to visit and she didn’t feel like entertaining him herself.
END
Edits please. >>
Rating: G
Pairing/Character/s: Kyouya, Tamaki
Word Count: 401
Warning/s: Stupidity. Rampant, rampant stupidity. >>
Summary: Tamaki wants to be purple.
Dedication: JaB- who drew me some pretty interesting KyouyaxTamaki art today. XD It made a bad week just that much better.
A/N: Honesty, I don’t know what I’m doing. Just piddling around ‘cuz I can’t seem to write Bleach today, I suppose.
“Okaasan!!!”
“Yes, otousan?”
Tamaki mibbled. “Why isn’t there a purple?”
Kyouya sighed. “It’s well known that in canon there is no purple.”
“Maa, but I think I’d look good in purple!”
“Well it’s too late to order a purple, but if you ask Haruhi maybe she’ll trade you for the pink. That’s close.”
Tamaki pouted. “That’s not close! Pink and purple are worlds apart! Besides,” he started, and touched the tips of his index fingers together, “the pink one has a skirt.”
He closed his eyes dreamily and spun in a circle at that thought, momentarily distracted. “Ah…Haruhi!! So cute!!”
“Well then, maybe ask Hikaru for the blue one,” Kyouya continued, patiently. He didn’t bring up the fact that if Tamaki had wanted purple he could have planned ahead and asked for it specifically ahead of time, instead of simply slapping down the photograph on Kyouya’s desk one morning and with something like childlike glee, ordering the vice-president to “Please have this in for us next week!” before running off with a vintage robot model-very hard to find these days-- in his hand and marveling aloud at the richness young commoners’ lives were filled with.
Tamaki scowled. “Blue isn’t even close either,” he declared, and looked down at the subtly shimmering gold trim of his own outfit.
“Gold is nice,” Kyouya reminded him, and jotted a few notes down in his documents before snapping his portfolio shut and setting it aside. “Now, we’d best get these costumes on and be ready to greet the guests, ne Otousan?”
Tamaki sighed and flipped his hair backwards-glamorously out of his eyes. “Yes, yes, I suppose so.”
And then he put on his helmet.
Kyouya adjusted his glasses and put on his own helmet-green, mind- just as the doors of the third music room began to open and their first guest for the day entered. They all took their positions.
Right on cue, a romanticized orchestral version-arranged with great care by Tamaki himself-- of “Go, Go Power Rangers” started playing through the speakers of the third music room, and as he struck his pose alongside the others and listened to the nostalgic (action filled) melody, Kyouya made a mental note to himself to have a little talk with Haruhi later, about the things she let Otousan watch when he went over to visit and she didn’t feel like entertaining him herself.
END
Edits please. >>