more fic for mellowcookie.
um. Ouran fic. Kyouya/Tamaki, la la, serious continuity issues BUT i wrote it in like three hours so there. around 1200 wordsish. I am the master of being concise, oh yes.
Kyouya can't take it anymore.
Fortunately, tightly gritting his teeth doesn't bring any real change to his usual unreadable expression, and if a dramatic increase in blood pressure flushes his face, he always has a notebook he can hide behind and data he can objectify himself with.
Objective. If Kyouya wasn't so busy trying to prevent something his father would doubtlessly say was bad for his health, he would have allowed himself a small, self-deprecative smirk at the word. He wasn't really one to take lengths to mask his distaste of others, but even so, any sort of outburst from him would seem as out-of-character as Tamaki treating something with cool reserve.
Still, watching the other boy do everything but seduce the girls of their class was trying his last nerve. How Tamaki could manage to act as though all of them were unique, special, and worthy of praise was inexplicable. Even more so, however, was how Kyouya seemed to be growing increasingly angry as he watched the other boy's actions.
The Host Club was only a fledgeling organization, and Tamaki was so far the only one to be requested consistently. As he hadn't been requested that day, Kyouya was writing down as much information as he could on the other host member's interactions with their clients, and had intended to try to evaluate ways to make a profit from their venture. However, he so far had spent a large majority of his time observing Tamaki, and only collecting information of questionable quality.
Kyouya couldn't understand it. He rationalized his lack of comprehension by telling himself it was only because Tamaki's actions were completely irrational, and his own reactions were something approaching to brink of insanity. To think he was jealous of those simpering fools was laughable. His mind, however, was entirely unhelpful as it reminded him that he had yet to come up with a better explanation for his anger. Frustrated, Kyouya ripped a page from his notebook that was covered in meaningless doodles and indecipherable scribbles, shoved it in a pocket and walked over to watch Morinozuka.
*
The harsh sound of his fingers clattering away on his keyboard as he archived the day's data was nearly soothing to Kyouya, and enough of a distraction that he didn't notice the other club members take their leave. Of course, Kyouya had come to realize that even half an hour of peace while he was still in the Third Music Room, even if he thought he was alone, was cause for concern, as he had yet to experience this kind of solitude. Thus, when the interruption finally came, Kyouya was not particularly surprised, but was briefly confused as to the source of the disturbance.
Searching about the room, Kyouya finally spotted a blond-haired boy that he had sworn left over an hour ago. Evidently, however, he was still in the room, humming quietly to himself and sashaying slightly as he walked around the room, reorganizing things in a way he most likely thought would be beneficial for the next day, although Kyouya could see no order or logic in his actions.
He had fully intended to ignore Tamaki, and simply go back to his work, but found that he couldn't stop watching the other boy. Kyouya had long since decided he was an idiot, but that did not explain why he was still in the room, doing work that the servants would take care of later. Why didn't he just go home, and leave Kyouya to the work he knew that no one else would do? Kyouya's father would never let him hear the end of it if this ludicrous club ended up in financial ruin, and it was quickly becoming clear that, considering the lavish amounts of money they were already spending in the club's infancy, careful planning would be required if they expected to last more than a few months.
Not that he expected that fool to understand any of that. Kyouya had never met anyone more carefree or witless, and as he continued to watch Tamaki prance around in a way that made it clear he wasn't aware anyone was watching him, it didn't seem like any of that would be changing in the near future.
Kyouya thought he had accepted all of that long ago. He had known it before he had even joined the club. He told himself this, but then, [of what seemed like something separate from his own desire[, he found himself slowly closing his laptop, and stalking across the room to where Tamaki was idly studying a plant that sat by one of the windows, flipping over a leaf several times.
"What are you still doing here?"
Tamaki had clearly been unaware of his approach, as he let out a slight yelp as he turned to face Kyouya and noticed that he was mere inches from his face. "Ah! I was simply examining the placement of this Japanese peace lily here. I think it would be much better a few inches to the right, don't you agree? Then, the white of the flower could more elegantly reflect-"
"Stop it, Tamaki." Kyouya took another step closer to the other boy, causing him to back up closer to the window. "Why haven't you gone home?"
"Well, you see-" Tamaki's sudden inability to meet Kyouya's glare went unnoticed.
"I told you to stop." Kyouya shoved Tamaki against the window, sure that the idiot would fail to understand him unless he made his point inescapably clear. "There's no one here to admire your act. No girls to be charmed, no one to lavish attention on you as you try to make whatever it is you think you're doing look important."
Tamaki looked bewildered, and somewhat in pain as he tried to reach a hand up toward his head to examine the damage. He gave up as he realized there wasn't enough room between the two of them to do this. "What are you talking about, Kyouya?"
Staring into Tamaki's wide, questioning eyes, Kyouya let out a sigh of exasperation. "Just shut up." Kyouya placed his hand against Tamaki's shoulder, and pushing against him with more force than before, covered his lips with his own.
The blond-haired boy responded to the kiss enthusiastically, and seemed to have no objections to their position. Kyouya bit down on his lip, causing Tamaki to gasp in what seemed like surprise, but quickly turned into an unmistakable moan. As Tamaki followed this action with his tongue, though, attempting to convince Kyouya to open his lips, he froze, and pulled away.
What had he just done?
His father had encouraged befriending the Suou heir, and it wasn't as though Tamaki had rejected his actions, but this couldn't possibly be acceptable. Kyouya took a final glance at Tamaki, who was slowly opening his eyes, unable to understand why everything had just stopped, and turned around before the other boy could see the rising flush in his face.
Ignoring Tamaki's voice calling back to him, Kyouya almost ran over to where his belongings were, and stuffed them into his bag with unusual carelessness. Tamaki was following him, still calling his name, but Kyouya was out the door before he caught up.
Even through the door, Kyouya could still hear Tamaki's voice faintly asking "Mommy?" but he ignored it as he pulled out his cell phone and called for his car.
Kyouya can't take it anymore.
Fortunately, tightly gritting his teeth doesn't bring any real change to his usual unreadable expression, and if a dramatic increase in blood pressure flushes his face, he always has a notebook he can hide behind and data he can objectify himself with.
Objective. If Kyouya wasn't so busy trying to prevent something his father would doubtlessly say was bad for his health, he would have allowed himself a small, self-deprecative smirk at the word. He wasn't really one to take lengths to mask his distaste of others, but even so, any sort of outburst from him would seem as out-of-character as Tamaki treating something with cool reserve.
Still, watching the other boy do everything but seduce the girls of their class was trying his last nerve. How Tamaki could manage to act as though all of them were unique, special, and worthy of praise was inexplicable. Even more so, however, was how Kyouya seemed to be growing increasingly angry as he watched the other boy's actions.
The Host Club was only a fledgeling organization, and Tamaki was so far the only one to be requested consistently. As he hadn't been requested that day, Kyouya was writing down as much information as he could on the other host member's interactions with their clients, and had intended to try to evaluate ways to make a profit from their venture. However, he so far had spent a large majority of his time observing Tamaki, and only collecting information of questionable quality.
Kyouya couldn't understand it. He rationalized his lack of comprehension by telling himself it was only because Tamaki's actions were completely irrational, and his own reactions were something approaching to brink of insanity. To think he was jealous of those simpering fools was laughable. His mind, however, was entirely unhelpful as it reminded him that he had yet to come up with a better explanation for his anger. Frustrated, Kyouya ripped a page from his notebook that was covered in meaningless doodles and indecipherable scribbles, shoved it in a pocket and walked over to watch Morinozuka.
*
The harsh sound of his fingers clattering away on his keyboard as he archived the day's data was nearly soothing to Kyouya, and enough of a distraction that he didn't notice the other club members take their leave. Of course, Kyouya had come to realize that even half an hour of peace while he was still in the Third Music Room, even if he thought he was alone, was cause for concern, as he had yet to experience this kind of solitude. Thus, when the interruption finally came, Kyouya was not particularly surprised, but was briefly confused as to the source of the disturbance.
Searching about the room, Kyouya finally spotted a blond-haired boy that he had sworn left over an hour ago. Evidently, however, he was still in the room, humming quietly to himself and sashaying slightly as he walked around the room, reorganizing things in a way he most likely thought would be beneficial for the next day, although Kyouya could see no order or logic in his actions.
He had fully intended to ignore Tamaki, and simply go back to his work, but found that he couldn't stop watching the other boy. Kyouya had long since decided he was an idiot, but that did not explain why he was still in the room, doing work that the servants would take care of later. Why didn't he just go home, and leave Kyouya to the work he knew that no one else would do? Kyouya's father would never let him hear the end of it if this ludicrous club ended up in financial ruin, and it was quickly becoming clear that, considering the lavish amounts of money they were already spending in the club's infancy, careful planning would be required if they expected to last more than a few months.
Not that he expected that fool to understand any of that. Kyouya had never met anyone more carefree or witless, and as he continued to watch Tamaki prance around in a way that made it clear he wasn't aware anyone was watching him, it didn't seem like any of that would be changing in the near future.
Kyouya thought he had accepted all of that long ago. He had known it before he had even joined the club. He told himself this, but then, [of what seemed like something separate from his own desire[, he found himself slowly closing his laptop, and stalking across the room to where Tamaki was idly studying a plant that sat by one of the windows, flipping over a leaf several times.
"What are you still doing here?"
Tamaki had clearly been unaware of his approach, as he let out a slight yelp as he turned to face Kyouya and noticed that he was mere inches from his face. "Ah! I was simply examining the placement of this Japanese peace lily here. I think it would be much better a few inches to the right, don't you agree? Then, the white of the flower could more elegantly reflect-"
"Stop it, Tamaki." Kyouya took another step closer to the other boy, causing him to back up closer to the window. "Why haven't you gone home?"
"Well, you see-" Tamaki's sudden inability to meet Kyouya's glare went unnoticed.
"I told you to stop." Kyouya shoved Tamaki against the window, sure that the idiot would fail to understand him unless he made his point inescapably clear. "There's no one here to admire your act. No girls to be charmed, no one to lavish attention on you as you try to make whatever it is you think you're doing look important."
Tamaki looked bewildered, and somewhat in pain as he tried to reach a hand up toward his head to examine the damage. He gave up as he realized there wasn't enough room between the two of them to do this. "What are you talking about, Kyouya?"
Staring into Tamaki's wide, questioning eyes, Kyouya let out a sigh of exasperation. "Just shut up." Kyouya placed his hand against Tamaki's shoulder, and pushing against him with more force than before, covered his lips with his own.
The blond-haired boy responded to the kiss enthusiastically, and seemed to have no objections to their position. Kyouya bit down on his lip, causing Tamaki to gasp in what seemed like surprise, but quickly turned into an unmistakable moan. As Tamaki followed this action with his tongue, though, attempting to convince Kyouya to open his lips, he froze, and pulled away.
What had he just done?
His father had encouraged befriending the Suou heir, and it wasn't as though Tamaki had rejected his actions, but this couldn't possibly be acceptable. Kyouya took a final glance at Tamaki, who was slowly opening his eyes, unable to understand why everything had just stopped, and turned around before the other boy could see the rising flush in his face.
Ignoring Tamaki's voice calling back to him, Kyouya almost ran over to where his belongings were, and stuffed them into his bag with unusual carelessness. Tamaki was following him, still calling his name, but Kyouya was out the door before he caught up.
Even through the door, Kyouya could still hear Tamaki's voice faintly asking "Mommy?" but he ignored it as he pulled out his cell phone and called for his car.