Disclaimer: Do not own Host Club & etc.
Chapter Edit: Complete 2/15/07.

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Chapter Four
Unspoken, Understood
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Haruhi opened her door warily, yesterday's events still fresh in her mind, it being only a matter of hours later with no sleep to fill her night. Her eyes landed on Mori, standing patiently on the other side and giving her a rather curious look - probably because she was peeking so timidly.

She slammed the door.

The knocks came again, one-two-three, quick and staccato and firm. Guilt curled around her (though why she should be the one to feel guilty, she couldn't quite explain) and Haruhi opened it again, frowning. "It's four in the morning, Mori-senpai."

He nodded, perfectly aware of that fact.

"Usually, people are sleeping right now," she pointed out, leaning against the side of the door.

He nodded again, infinitely patient.

Haruhi wondered, exactly, who was supposed to be the one acting patient here. After all, wasn't he imposing on her? Then again, the host club had rarely (if ever) gone through life adhering to the general and common-sensical rules of everyday life and really, she couldn't quite remember even one time that they did, so should she even be wasting energy thinking about it?

Probably not.

"Did you need something?" she asked then, giving up in a most casual manner.

He hesitated, looking almost wary, but answered simply, "I thought you couldn't sleep well."

The airy retort of Actually I sleep just fine, thank you sprang to her mind (her overly guilty-for-no-reason conscience decided to nip that in the bud), and Haruhi shrugged uncomfortably. "There's been a lot to think about."

Mori held out his hand then with a hopeful air with a facial expression that looked no different from usual, and she sighed, interpreting the movement without thinking about it. "It's four in the morning, Mori-senpai. Isn't it a little weird to go for a walk at this time of morning?"

He continued to hold out his hand, and even though he stood like a statue, Haruhi could swear he was being rather insistent about it. "All right, all right. Let me get dressed, okay?" Then, as his eyes drifted over her again, she frowned. "These are my pajamas, Mori-senpai."

She could swear she saw the light dawn in his eyes, and wondered - exactly - what kind of pajamas he was used to seeing. Haruhi had rather thought flannel pink with kittens was quite normal - her father bought her a new pair every year. Then there was the blue, and the green, and the ones with the penguins and the ones with puppies and that one that had talking stars. Not that they actually talked, but they did have speech bubbles coming out from one of their pointy appendages - or whatever you called the pointy parts on a star. "One minute, okay? I'll be right back out."

Mori let his hand drop to his side and adopted an aura that said I'm waiting patiently.

Some part of her wondered when she'd learned to speak Mori-nese. The other part wondered why she was going along with him.

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Being singularly oblivious to things like protecting her body from perverts despite all the time she had spent with a significant number of them, Haruhi didn't pull her hand away in shock or anger or nervous fear when Mori tucked it into his jacket pocket, warmly grasped by his. She also didn't snuggle up closer or bat her mooning eyes at him, like the rest of her generation of female typically would.

Instead she reacted more like a little kid and did nothing at all, simply appreciating the extra warmth her frigid fingers craved.

Their breath made little white puffs in the air, and she remembered that, yes, it was closing in on winter. "Did your father let you go get into that architectural school?" she asked curiously.

His passion for all things involving blueprints was a secret only Honey had known, until Mori had graduated and been forced into law. Then, when professors had complained of his taciturn nature and lack of debating during his turn of debates (therefore losing every debate he'd entered), his father had pushed him into the medical field (his lack of sensitivity, those professors claimed, scared even the doctors). Somehow unsurprisingly, Honey had been with him in each school (in law, they'd been frustrated by his crying in the middle of a debate; in medicine, his absolute desire to give the patients what they asked for), until finally taking a job in a lowly confectionary. Then, and only then, had Mori decided to tell his father what he wanted to do in life.

Haruhi had graduated from Ouran around then, and last she knew the father and son had been vigorously arguing over the entire idea.

Mori shook his head to her question, and she frowned. "Why was he against it?"

He seemed to think for a moment, as though struggling to find the right words, and finally answered, "Mitsukuni."

Haruhi went silent, nodding slightly in understanding. Even be it in a confectionary, Mori's father would want him to be with the Haninozuka heir. "So, what are you doing now?"

"Architecture."

Pause. "I thought your father was against it?"

"He is." Mori abruptly pulled her to a stop, frowning. "You are shivering."

Haruhi raised her brows. "It's four thirty in the morning, in the beginning of winter."

He tugged at her jacket, quietly inspecting it and apparently discarding it in his mind as he pulled off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

"Mori-senpai, you-"

"I'm fine," he replied simply, and took her hand in his before walking again, apparently untroubled by the chill air and colder breeze.

Haruhi remained silent, oddly touched by his gesture. She bit her lip to keep a giggle from escaping (she rarely giggled), and struggled to remain on-topic, instead. "So how are you working in architecture?"

"Kyouya," he responded briefly, a faint smile touching at his lips before flitting away.

Her own lips curved into a faint frown at the name. "I was wondering before, but - why, exactly, did he bring you into this?" Mori glanced down at her curiously, and she clarified, "This... job." She couldn't quite bring herself to calling it a marriage (because, it's not) and stumbled a little over calling it work. "You didn't say much last night."

Haruhi could almost hear the silent ah that would never escape his lips. "Dating," he replied almost shortly, and she spied the faint flush coloring his cheekbones.

She half-tripped over an innocent little crack in the sidewalk. "You're what?"

"Two years today." Pause. "Yesterday."

"So you let him... propose... to me, on your anniversary?" she asked faintly, still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the two unlikely (yet oddly compatible) men were 'dating'. Dating was filled with things like milkshakes in the summer, holding hands in the winter, and giggling over a table in a hamburger shop. Kyouya didn't do things like date. He came, he conquered, he left with the goods. She could not - absolutely could not - imagine him dating. (Of course, her experience with dating was little, or more accurately nil - but even she'd heard the stories from her classmates, who giggled and gossiped behind her.)

"It was my idea," he replied, sounding faintly surprised at her surprise.

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Kyouya woke with great reluctance, realizing almost immediately that it was far too damn early a.m. and his phone wasn't ringing.

It took him a moment, however, to realize that he was completely warm and the only thing weighing down the bed was his body and the blankets thoughtfully tucked neatly around it.

"Takashi?"

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So.

Haruhi looked up at the sky, wondering if she should feel really awkward about sitting on Mori's lap. It wasn't that she was worried about being mistaken for his lover (the thought never occurred to her) or being forced into an even more awkward situation (her brain didn't quite register dangers like those) or imposing on his manly sensibilities by making him sit on the cold, wet ground (though this was a little closer to what she was thinking).

No; she was worried about his slacks - expensive ones, she was sure - that would end up with lovely grass stains. Would the detergent she had at home take care of them? He'd ignored her reasoning when he sat down, and silently pointed out (she wasn't quite sure how she figured that out) that she was a girl, and girls shouldn't have to sit in the wet grass.

Then again, they didn't need to sit down at all, and could have just crouched instead-

Her quite practical and rather out-of-place thoughts were interrupted by a long, wet, probably dirty and definitely stinky tongue running over her chin. Haruhi frowned down at the puppy, its tail wagging with ferocious delight and eyes shining with hope and immediate adoration.

"Are you sure this is the one you want, Mori-senpai?" she asked dubiously. Out of the three, it seemed the biggest, the clumsiest, and definitely the dirtiest. She didn't even see mud in the box, but he was absolutely covered in it.

Mori nodded - she could sense the movement - and Haruhi sighed as she tugged at a floppy ear. She was awarded by another long, saliva-dripping lick, and the other two whined and wriggled and wagged their tails hopefully as they bounded around her feet, tripped over Mori's leg, and generally acted like the adorable please adopt me, we live in a box puppies they were.

"Maybe we can-"

"Senpai." Haruhi turned and gave him a stern look, the puppy now cuddled to her chest. "They need love and attention and time out of your life. Can you and Kyouya really even take care of one more?"

Despite the truth of her words, Mori had a distinctly sulky air about him. She sighed. "I'll help you find them homes, but you don't have the time to raise three dogs. It's unfair to them, don't you think?"

He looked at them hopefully, then nodded reluctantly.

She looked at the puppies again, crawling and chewing on each other and looking so generally happy that Haruhi couldn't quite blame whoever had put them in their walking path for her current situation. Though Mori had an extreme weakness for cute things, it wasn't as though it were really bad to stop and give a needful puppy a home, after all.

Then again, from what she'd heard, Kyouya and Mori were already housing three cats and an overgrown dog.

"Are you sure he's even going to let them into the house?" she asked dubiously.

He nodded.

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Kyouya absently toweled his hair dry, ignoring the kitten trying to crawl up his pant leg and the dog snuffling impatiently by his hip. He also ignored the cat curled around his neck and clinging with no intention of ever letting go.

He was very, very good at ignoring them.

A glance in the bedroom told him that no, Mori was not there. A glance in the kitchen told him that the animals had plenty of food and water and no, Mori was not there. A glance in the backyard told him that their neighbor was staring wide-eyed at the bare-chested man peeking outside and no, Mori was not there.

Finally deigning to ruffle the dog's fur and help the kitten up to his shoulder, Kyouya tossed his towel into a convenient laundry basket (they long since learned that they had to have one in every room, or clothes would be simply everywhere and clean-up would be absolute hell) and headed to the phone.

An automated voice and a few voicemails later, Mori's message finally came to light. "Letter in the kitchen," he stated briefly, and clicked off.

Kyouya gave his phone a rather incredulous stare (If you would like to delete this message, press 7 now, the automated voice hummed cheerfully) and stalked to the kitchen, where the very large paper he hadn't noticed was taped to the fridge.

Out to Haruhi's. Be back after breakfast. –Takashi

It was the most elegantly written waste of paper he had seen.

He frowned at the dog, who whined hopefully and nudged at his hip again. "Didn't I take you out when I woke up?"

Big, big doggish eyes blinked innocently. Kyouya immediately shook his head. "I am not taking you for a walk. I have a meeting—"

Oh, damn. The 'W' word was strictly forbidden in their home for a reason—and that reason was streaking out of the kitchen and to the door and back excitedly, barking up a storm.

Balling up the note and tossing it into the wastebasket, he grabbed the leash in one hand and dialed Mori's number with the other.

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Haruhi gave a little hop and a skip to catch up to Mori's longer stride, puffing a bit. The puppy she carried wriggled excitedly in her arms, wondering what new sort of game this was. "You don't (pant) have to (pant) go that fast, (huff) do you?"

He slowed, then stopped. "Sorry."

"No, that's (huffhuffbreathe) okay." She bent over to catch her breath, blinking sweat out of her eyes. They'd dashed from the corner with the puppies, up the long stairs, across the bridge, down the other side of stairs, and her endurance was already spent. "So, what's so bad about Kyouya walking the dog?"

A peek at him only told her that he was surprised by her question. Okay, so the He's walking the dog didn't have such a dreaded connotation after all.

"Then what's wrong?"

Mori simply shook his head and shoved the other two wriggling fur balls into her arms without a word, and before Haruhi could squeak over the unfairness casually swept her into his arms and began walking again with that swift, easy stride.

She felt a faint blush color her cheeks and ducked her head a little with mumbled thanks. The words probably didn't reach him – the wind had been growing steadily as it approached morning, and the clouds in the sky didn't look very friendly – but she felt a little better for saying it, anyway.

And, suddenly, she thought – He just wants to see Kyouya-senpai.

Then another part of her answered in response to that little epiphany, Oh.

Another lick on her chin and a mouthful of puppy breath later, Haruhi decided she really, really hated getting carried, after all.

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The dog was pretty much dragging Kyouya around the park – that much was certain – but other than that, Haruhi thought the scene was pretty normal - if they were normal kinds of people, which they actually weren't.

She sat on a helpful bench, belatedly realizing that the sun was partially risen and she still hadn't slept at all, as Kyouya spotted them. Apparently the dog noticed them, too, because he started a mad dash toward Mori (Kyouya, being the intelligent man he is, let go of the leash before his arm was yanked off).

The puppies didn't even budge as she set them on the bench beside her; they'd fallen asleep in the taxi.

Closing her eyes with a sigh, Haruhi shivered beneath Mori's heavy jacket.

"More of them?"

Her eyes snapped open at the amused tone, then traveled – from abdomen, to chest, to chin, to the eyes looking straight at three innocently sleeping puppies.

"What?"

"Them," he clarified, turning to frown at the huge (and it really was huge) Dalmatian nuzzling up against Mori. "Those. That."

"Puppies?"

"Yes, those."

"What about them?" she asked intelligently, blinking sleepiness away from her eyes. Now that she was sitting down and the puppies weren't alternately licking, chewing or plain chomping at her, she was tired.

"He found more of them?" Kyouya leaned down slightly and took her chin in his hand, brushing dirt from her cheek. "You're tired."

Haruhi found, for the second time, a blush heating her cheeks. He had never really touched her before – oh, he had brushed against her in hallways or had a hand on her shoulder to get her attention before, but this – this was new.

Thinking about it, holding Mori's hand during their whole walk had been rather new, too.

She felt an odd tangle emotions curl in her stomach. "I didn't get any sleep," Haruhi finally muttered, and jerked her chin out of his hand.

"Hmm." He straightened. "Are you hungry?"

"Sleepy," she replied in an almost snappish tone. But Haruhi, being Haruhi, never snaps, and so it came out more like a reminder than anything else.

"You can get some sleep at the house, then." He raised his voice slightly. "Takashi, can you take Haruhi home? I have a meeting, but I should be back for lunch."

She yawned delicately behind her hand and snuggled a little deeper into the jacket.

"Oh, and Haruhi—"

She stiffened, and the welcoming warmth seemed to run away with his words.

"—the paperwork is on the kitchen table, so please sign it, will you? I'll turn it in tonight."

She'd forgotten about that.

"Oh, and I'll need your bank account number." Haruhi looked at him suspiciously, and he smiled – a real, amused smile, completely at her expense. "I'm sure the contents of your bank will hardly interest me, but I do need to pay you."

Oh, right. He was paying her.

Haruhi wondered if she should feel used, decided that she probably should but was far too tired to do so at this current time, and asked the question that had bugged her all morning. "Are you really fine with marrying someone you don't love?"

Kyouya smiled slowly, and abruptly he looked different – seductive, sexy, and altogether all those clichéd words she'd heard other girls use. "Who said I didn't love you?"

She hesitated, completely thrown off balance and unsure of why – exactly – she had nervous butterflies in her stomach. "You do?"

"Did I say I did?"

Oh. "Well, then..."

"Haruhi." He tipped her chin up once again, and he still had that smile and all those mysteries behind it. "We both chose you."

Oh.

Her stomach flipped a little, then dipped as Mori's arms came over the back of the bench to wrap around her loosely. "We would never marry someone we didn't love, Haruhi."

She glanced over her shoulder – Mori had that same look in his eyes, that intensity that she couldn't quite grasp – and back at Kyouya, whose eyes were a little shuttered and whose lips were still slightly curved.

"I-I'm not your customer," she blurted, completely breaking the mood.

Kyouya stared at her for a moment, then laughed in a way she'd only seen once before – real and loud and spontaneous.

Mori's arms were still gently draped over her shoulders, and he pressed a light kiss against her head. She blinked, unsure of how to react. "Haruhi is our wife," he explained simply.

"So I'm a sort of glorified customer?"

Both men looked at each other – So this is how it's going to be – then back down at her.

"I suppose you could say that," Kyouya replied, deciding that it would be far too hard to explain just yet.

Haruhi pondered this for a moment, feeling ridiculous out of touch with reality and unable to claw her way back. "I don't have to pay anything, do I...?" Hesitant and a bit worried.

"Not after you sign the papers, no."

"Oh."