Disclaimer: I don't own Host Club. I own nothing, nada, nilch, zip. So don't sue me, 'kay?
A Kyouya and Haruhi Tale
by S.B. Kisses
She loved it when he threw out his shrewd mask of business. She loved it when his hair was tousled, his shirt untucked, and his tie undone. She loved it when he looked at her, and only her, his glasses gone and his defenses down. She adored it, and he knew it. He knew it all too well.
With her, he was still Kyouya: calculating, demanding, manipulative, and clever. But he used these traits to make her knees weak, her breath ragged, and her reason disappear. He had that absolute power. He revelled in the knowledge that it was only him with the ability to break the infamous Haruhi indifference.
It always happened the same way. After club meetings, he'd pull her aside and tell her they needed to discuss her debt.
Everyone would leave. Except for the two of them, of course. It was then she would take her delicate fingers and slide his wire-rimmed glasses off his face and place them neatly on the old antique cherry wood table by the sofa. He'd undo the tie, just like she wanted it, and he'd kiss her. Always gently at first, then more heatedly as they went, her fingers running themselves through his dark hair. They usually made it to the sofa one way or another, embracing one another with a passion seemingly uncharacteristic to them both.
Most people never realized it. But Kyouya and Haruhi were passionate creatures; they were fiery, and their very souls blazed white hot on the inside. But in everyday life, such intensities are suppressed by the monotony of life, the insatiable demands of a stern father, or the broken shards of a mother forever lost.
But when they were together, they were nothing more and nothing less than alive.
When he pulled her to his chest, she felt like her heart was jumping and twirling and dying all at once. He intoxicated her with his very presence. He smelled so much as she would have imagined he would smell. Like mahogany wood, dark chocolate, and midnight roses sparkling with dew. He smelled like mystery and sin and magic. He was a magician who had boundless tricks and delights hidden here and there meant to enchant and torture her all at once.
He loved unraveling her very soul, going deeper and deeper to find all her twists and turns. He loved talking with her in hushed whispers at school. He loved seeing her in secret dates on Sunday mornings. He with his paper and her with a picnic basket, arm and arm as they headed for their spot in his private park beneath the sakura trees.
He was always frugal in his wants but her kisses made him greedy, making his mind lose all sense of reason, all sense of rationality. She tasted of jasmine tea and English muffins. In essence, Kyouya found that she tasted like home and tranquil Saturday afternoons. And, in essence, he found her completely irresistible.
After the frantic kisses and the ardent fervor of youths in love mellowed into contented sighs, both would smile, their fingertips barely touching, and laugh softly and sweetly at unspoken words. I love you.
He couldn't help but adore her. She was a world in which actions were not motivated by profit; she was a world in which he had nothing to lose and only everything to gain. He had the world at his fingertips--that is, to say, he had Haruhi in his arms. She fascinated him, intrigued him, and she had bound herself tightly within his very being.
And at the moment, he couldn't keep his eyes off her. She looked delightfully roguish with her clothing in a wanton disarray.
Then she looked at him, with his unruly appearance and in all his youthful glory, and smiled. And he smiled back, finding her the most charming when her cheeks were flushed and her lips were red from his kisses.
Together, they were invincible. Together, they were unconquerable. Together, they were just as they should be: careless, and young, and impossibly vibrant.
Author's Rambling: I have found this ship and have proudly donned the S.S. Haurhi/Kyouya sailor's uniform. Don't get me wrong, I still find Tamaki entertaining, and, yes, I still absolutely ADORE the twins. Yet, I find that certain air of mystery and that irresistible subtlety attractive. Oh, and let's not forget those sexy glasses. I love intellectual men. They have great conversation topics.
The idea for this fic came to me when I realized that Haruhi and Kyouya both share a vibe that labels them as almost untouchable. This led to a thought that when a negative and negative get together, you get a positive. I thought, what if they were so removed from the world that they were isolated together and could only find each other in the blankness. (OOOH, Hikaru and Kaouru idea! Don't take that. Hehehe). I realize that they are a bit OOC but I meant for it to be that way. The idea for this fic is to reveal their personalities behind the personal barriers they seems to keep. I wanted to show them, especially Kyouya, as heated people and as somewhat unruly teenagers (note the clandestine meetings).
I'm not saying that they are not already interesting and loveable. In fact, I find Haruhi's thick headedness very cute and Kyouya's business manners as something that makes him one of my faves. I just wanted to play around with another facet, another side, another deeper part to them. The mangaka for Ouran Host Club created characters that are easy to love. Yet from what I have read, they are still a bit underdeveloped. So, poof, this came out.
Anyways, remember to REVIEW! Comments and constructive criticism are welcome. Flamers are NOT welcome.