(no subject)
I promised, lais_mendes that I would post what I have done of this fic that I am very slowly writing for you! ... My Kyouya really needs to get out more, as well. He's giving me a death glare to which I say "Essays! Finals! Grad School Preparations!"
It in unedited, fragmentary...and really doesn't look like what it is going to end up like, right now...
...courtship fic is difficult. DX
Disclaimer: I don’t own Ouran.
Enough
For my dearest young grasshopper Lais_Mendes on her birthday
~ sciathan file~
Ootori Kyouya considered himself to be a master of balance. The correct amount. None in excess. Certainly not too little.
Balance.
Just enough.
But unfortunately, Kyouya also knew two other things: He would not listen and moreover, he was just enough of an idiot.
Tamaki was a person who united all manner of imbalances in one. However, somehow all his excesses and all pf his deficiencies - all those black holes filled with too many nonsensical pieces of fluff - equaled something of an almost disturbing unbalanced, off-kilter balance.
But really, he thought with a scornful laugh while scribbling a note to himself, the true idiot would be the one who tried to tack down and explain away Tamaki in a few words.
However, in all the checks and balances, lights and darks, subtractions and additions that made up Suou Tamaki, there was one glaring deficit.
And because Kyouya had a better grasp on the paradox that was Suou Tamaki than the overwhelming majority of the population, he knew that the only way to fill such a deficit and unbalance his precarious balance was to inject his own impeccable order into Tamaki’s chaos.
But, he chided himself, now he was sounding like an idiot.
Frowning, he adjusted his tie and -more out of habit than necessity - used one finger to propel his glasses further up his nose. Mentally he made sure that each strategic element of his plan had been accomplished.
Regarding his own appearance one more time, he decided that it was more than adequate for the occasion.
The flowers, of course - lavender roses imported from Europe - had been arranged by hand and sent ahead with an attached card filled with an appropriate and very succinct sentiment.
The dress had been the most difficult part of his preparations. It had had to be tasteful, of course - she needed to look the part - and alluring without being vulgar. He had consulted a specially chosen team about the matter and, once they had garnered his approval, he had tactfully asked Ranka’s advice as well.
Upon listening to an entire litany of praise on his “fabulous and immensely exquisite taste,” Kyouya was satisfied that it would do.
What should have been the hardest part of his entire plan - which wasn’t, because he was an Ootori after all - merely consisted of a few declarative sentences.
“Haruhi,” he had begun, “I don’t expect you’re doing anything important this Saturday.”
As expected, her only response was to blink and look confused and wary by turns. Kyouya merely decided to continue on while perusing a section of his notebook, “According to your father,” her face immediately took on her characteristic blank faced annoyance, “your usual schedule merely entails a supermarket visit in the morning, cleaning in the afternoon, and an evening of food preparation.”
He snapped the notebook closed with a satisfying thud.
“No matter,” Kyouya smoothly said with one of his terribly accommodating smiles, “all will be taken care of in preparation for our date.”
At this last word she blinked again and almost completed unfazed remarked, “I don’t see what this has to do with my debt, Sempai.”
By now, however, Kyouya had gone back to his calculations, considering the matter closed to any sort of argument. He waved his hand at her and casually responded, “It will be reduced accordingly…of course, there may be a small fee for the items that you will require in order to be suitably prepared for the occasion.”
Now she was certainly about to refuse. He cut her off accordingly, completing his verbal waltz (he was leading), “Non-negotiable, of course.”
“Sempai,” she responded, a note of steel in her voice, “This is more than unfair.”
Kyouya smiled again - causing Haruhi to shiver at the gesture - and quipped, “I am more than aware” before exiting the room, remarking, “I shall see you at five, then” before the doors closed.
The next part had been a matter of tact.
…or well-placed subliminal advertising through the proper materials…a coffee table book, to be precise.
“Kyouya!” Tamaki was far too easy to manipulate with the faintest suggestion. “This weekend let us have a Host Club Soiree! With, perhaps, an Egyptian theme! I could be a Rameses! Tutmoses! Tutankhamen!”
Treasures of the Nile had served its desired purpose. This part of his plan had consisted of the utterance of only a single syllable.
“No.”
Unfortunately, Tamaki was not often one to be limited to such monosyllabic succinctness.
“Kyouya~~!”
Expecting this and the pleading eyes that would follow, Kyouya steeled himself and made to go over the club’s profit projections on his laptop.
“Absolutely not.”
“But, Kyouya, what am I to do with all of these visions of pyramids and desert finery and lotus blossoms?”
“Console yourself with them rather than spewing them at me…I have better things to do in my free time.”
He pouted. “You’ll just stay at home, your skin’s only light source being the glow of your laptop screen when you might have the brilliant glow of the hot desert sun to keep you company along with the company of several flower beauties of the Nile and -“
“Tamaki, I have a date.”
He stopped mid pose and mid thought and looked at him first in horror, than disbelief, than pure, undiluted glee.
“Mon Ami! This - this is trés bien! You’ve finally crawled out of your hermetically sealed hermitage of a soul to open your mind and heart to the dazzling loveliness that is the constant companionship of real human beings!”
Suddenly he stopped - completely oblivious to the annoyed expression on Kyouya’s face…the idiot had apparently added two and two together and gotten five.
“But Kyouya~! You’ve nefariously kept this from me! We have no secrets…Who is she? Jounichi-san? - or, or - perhaps…Renge-kun! No, it couldn’t be! You initially lied about your engagement, didn’t you! Oh! What a depressingly egregious act of betrayal…my soul aches at the mere thought of - ”
He had stopped suddenly as Kyouya’s notebook made sharp contact with the top of his head.
“Stop taking idiotic liberties with my life.”
“But you didn’t tell me about Renge - ”
“ - That’s because it has nothing to do with her.”
He stopped short and Kyouya could see that more stupidly romantic notions were blooming wildly in his head. He sighed as Tamaki had begun an entire litany of names that Kyouya didn’t even care to dignify with an answer…”
“Tamaki,” he cut the rampaging blond off with even tones, “It’s someone we both know quite well.”
The other boy froze and blinked at him, his vivid imagination short-circuited for a moment. However, Kyouya was fairly certain that the rare moment of silence would soon have torrents of nonsensical information vomited into it if the situation wasn’t controlled.
“Haruhi,” Kyouya said simply.
Something clicked off - or maybe on? Kyouya could never be sure with him - in Tamaki’s brain.
“H-H-H-Haruhi, Kyouya?”
Tamaki blinked at him. Kyouya was waiting for some longwinded “Daddy doesn’t approve!” nonsense. Surprisingly, none was forthcoming…an unexpected break.
Tamaki merely remained staring for a moment before repeating, “H-H-H-Haruhi?”
Letting out the barest wisp of a sigh, Kyouya closed the cover of his laptop and gave a curt “Yes” and turned to go, leaving Tamaki to himself.
He thought over the entire process while looking in the mirror, finally straightening his tie and pulling on the cuff of his jacket a bit.
Now, only one question remained…
…Would everything, indeed, be enough?
***
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! <3
It in unedited, fragmentary...and really doesn't look like what it is going to end up like, right now...
...courtship fic is difficult. DX
Disclaimer: I don’t own Ouran.
Enough
For my dearest young grasshopper Lais_Mendes on her birthday
~ sciathan file~
Ootori Kyouya considered himself to be a master of balance. The correct amount. None in excess. Certainly not too little.
Balance.
Just enough.
But unfortunately, Kyouya also knew two other things: He would not listen and moreover, he was just enough of an idiot.
Tamaki was a person who united all manner of imbalances in one. However, somehow all his excesses and all pf his deficiencies - all those black holes filled with too many nonsensical pieces of fluff - equaled something of an almost disturbing unbalanced, off-kilter balance.
But really, he thought with a scornful laugh while scribbling a note to himself, the true idiot would be the one who tried to tack down and explain away Tamaki in a few words.
However, in all the checks and balances, lights and darks, subtractions and additions that made up Suou Tamaki, there was one glaring deficit.
And because Kyouya had a better grasp on the paradox that was Suou Tamaki than the overwhelming majority of the population, he knew that the only way to fill such a deficit and unbalance his precarious balance was to inject his own impeccable order into Tamaki’s chaos.
But, he chided himself, now he was sounding like an idiot.
Frowning, he adjusted his tie and -more out of habit than necessity - used one finger to propel his glasses further up his nose. Mentally he made sure that each strategic element of his plan had been accomplished.
Regarding his own appearance one more time, he decided that it was more than adequate for the occasion.
The flowers, of course - lavender roses imported from Europe - had been arranged by hand and sent ahead with an attached card filled with an appropriate and very succinct sentiment.
The dress had been the most difficult part of his preparations. It had had to be tasteful, of course - she needed to look the part - and alluring without being vulgar. He had consulted a specially chosen team about the matter and, once they had garnered his approval, he had tactfully asked Ranka’s advice as well.
Upon listening to an entire litany of praise on his “fabulous and immensely exquisite taste,” Kyouya was satisfied that it would do.
What should have been the hardest part of his entire plan - which wasn’t, because he was an Ootori after all - merely consisted of a few declarative sentences.
“Haruhi,” he had begun, “I don’t expect you’re doing anything important this Saturday.”
As expected, her only response was to blink and look confused and wary by turns. Kyouya merely decided to continue on while perusing a section of his notebook, “According to your father,” her face immediately took on her characteristic blank faced annoyance, “your usual schedule merely entails a supermarket visit in the morning, cleaning in the afternoon, and an evening of food preparation.”
He snapped the notebook closed with a satisfying thud.
“No matter,” Kyouya smoothly said with one of his terribly accommodating smiles, “all will be taken care of in preparation for our date.”
At this last word she blinked again and almost completed unfazed remarked, “I don’t see what this has to do with my debt, Sempai.”
By now, however, Kyouya had gone back to his calculations, considering the matter closed to any sort of argument. He waved his hand at her and casually responded, “It will be reduced accordingly…of course, there may be a small fee for the items that you will require in order to be suitably prepared for the occasion.”
Now she was certainly about to refuse. He cut her off accordingly, completing his verbal waltz (he was leading), “Non-negotiable, of course.”
“Sempai,” she responded, a note of steel in her voice, “This is more than unfair.”
Kyouya smiled again - causing Haruhi to shiver at the gesture - and quipped, “I am more than aware” before exiting the room, remarking, “I shall see you at five, then” before the doors closed.
The next part had been a matter of tact.
…or well-placed subliminal advertising through the proper materials…a coffee table book, to be precise.
“Kyouya!” Tamaki was far too easy to manipulate with the faintest suggestion. “This weekend let us have a Host Club Soiree! With, perhaps, an Egyptian theme! I could be a Rameses! Tutmoses! Tutankhamen!”
Treasures of the Nile had served its desired purpose. This part of his plan had consisted of the utterance of only a single syllable.
“No.”
Unfortunately, Tamaki was not often one to be limited to such monosyllabic succinctness.
“Kyouya~~!”
Expecting this and the pleading eyes that would follow, Kyouya steeled himself and made to go over the club’s profit projections on his laptop.
“Absolutely not.”
“But, Kyouya, what am I to do with all of these visions of pyramids and desert finery and lotus blossoms?”
“Console yourself with them rather than spewing them at me…I have better things to do in my free time.”
He pouted. “You’ll just stay at home, your skin’s only light source being the glow of your laptop screen when you might have the brilliant glow of the hot desert sun to keep you company along with the company of several flower beauties of the Nile and -“
“Tamaki, I have a date.”
He stopped mid pose and mid thought and looked at him first in horror, than disbelief, than pure, undiluted glee.
“Mon Ami! This - this is trés bien! You’ve finally crawled out of your hermetically sealed hermitage of a soul to open your mind and heart to the dazzling loveliness that is the constant companionship of real human beings!”
Suddenly he stopped - completely oblivious to the annoyed expression on Kyouya’s face…the idiot had apparently added two and two together and gotten five.
“But Kyouya~! You’ve nefariously kept this from me! We have no secrets…Who is she? Jounichi-san? - or, or - perhaps…Renge-kun! No, it couldn’t be! You initially lied about your engagement, didn’t you! Oh! What a depressingly egregious act of betrayal…my soul aches at the mere thought of - ”
He had stopped suddenly as Kyouya’s notebook made sharp contact with the top of his head.
“Stop taking idiotic liberties with my life.”
“But you didn’t tell me about Renge - ”
“ - That’s because it has nothing to do with her.”
He stopped short and Kyouya could see that more stupidly romantic notions were blooming wildly in his head. He sighed as Tamaki had begun an entire litany of names that Kyouya didn’t even care to dignify with an answer…”
“Tamaki,” he cut the rampaging blond off with even tones, “It’s someone we both know quite well.”
The other boy froze and blinked at him, his vivid imagination short-circuited for a moment. However, Kyouya was fairly certain that the rare moment of silence would soon have torrents of nonsensical information vomited into it if the situation wasn’t controlled.
“Haruhi,” Kyouya said simply.
Something clicked off - or maybe on? Kyouya could never be sure with him - in Tamaki’s brain.
“H-H-H-Haruhi, Kyouya?”
Tamaki blinked at him. Kyouya was waiting for some longwinded “Daddy doesn’t approve!” nonsense. Surprisingly, none was forthcoming…an unexpected break.
Tamaki merely remained staring for a moment before repeating, “H-H-H-Haruhi?”
Letting out the barest wisp of a sigh, Kyouya closed the cover of his laptop and gave a curt “Yes” and turned to go, leaving Tamaki to himself.
He thought over the entire process while looking in the mirror, finally straightening his tie and pulling on the cuff of his jacket a bit.
Now, only one question remained…
…Would everything, indeed, be enough?
***
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! <3