So! My first attempt at an Ouran fic! Hope you enjoy! Oh, and by the way, this is meant to be read in a very sarcastic sort of tone, but if I had to tell you that to make you realize it, then I've failed as an author. O.o So, please enjoy!

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Ugh. This is ridiculous.

I'm not ugly. I'm smart, kind, honest, and have friends who model positive behavior. I'm responsible, and stay cool in a crisis. I'm a pretty together person, despite a dysfunctional dad and a mom who's in heaven. I would make the perfect heroine for a manga, which is exactly why I shouldn't be in one. So what am I doing here!

Haruhi groaned inwardly, more exasperated than scared. What is this anyway? She thought wryly. This looks like some cheesy set only Tamaki could come up with.

She sat propped up against a cold, damp, stone wall, dusted with cobwebs. Her hands and feet were bound with coarse rope, and a white cotton handkerchief was tied around her mouth.

I can see it now. Come one, come all, to see the Ouran Host Club as outlaws in a common folk's low-security prison! Seriously, come on! Iron bars and padlocks? Jeez, there's even straw lining the floor!

Miles away, in a lavish mansion, the first rays of sunlight penetrated a gilded window. The heavy, velvet curtains were already drawn, allowing the fragile light to pour into the room, furnished in hues of scarlet and gold. The searching rays illuminated the figure on the canopy bed, a serene and almost angelic young man.

Tamaki Suoh murmured something in his sleep, and smiled contentedly. He rolled over, and opened his eyes sleepily. "Good morning, Antoinette," He murmured, hugging her and relishing the feel of her silky warmth against his bare chest. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, running his fingers through her golden mane.

Antoinette snuggled against him happily, and licked his nose. With a whine, she flipped over onto her stomach, begging for a belly rub. Tamaki grinned widely, and proceeded to tickle Antoinette until they were both breathless and panting.

He stretched, glanced at the mahogany grandfather clock in the corner and threw off the covers. Hmm. Eight. Haruhi should be up. Common folk always get up early, right? He grabbed the phone off his bedside table before walking into his huge closet to pick out today's kingly robes.

He pranced through the cavernous room with Antoinette at his heels, swishing around his feet, trying her best to trip him. He sifted through various designer labels for the perfect first-day-of-summer outfit. Not that anything would be less than perfect on him. He was just that hot.

"Haruuu-hii! Pick up your pho-oone!" Tamaki singsonged. The phone rang five times before Haruhi's answering machine picked up. Undaunted, Tamaki tried the cell phone Kaoru and Hikaru had given her. No answer.

No worries, Tamaki thought as he waltzed into the bathroom. All the better, in fact. This just meant he'd have to visit her instead. The intercom buzzed as he was brushing his teeth, always on time. "What would you like for breakfast, sir?"

"Nothing," Tamaki gurgled through a mouthful of minty toothpaste foam. Spitting, he mumbled, "I'm going to Haruhi's house for breakfast."

"Would you like me to prepare your car and chauffeur?"

Deciding he should be inconspicuous for Haruhi's sake, Tamaki replied, "Nah! Just get the car out in front, I'll drive myself. Oh, and make sure it's the BMW, not the Royce!" He added, pulling on his shirt.

"As you wish. Oh, and milord?"

"Ye-es?" Tamaki replied, hopping around on one foot, tugging on his pants.

"Do try to avoid the pedestrians," the voice on the intercom sighed

"I WAS TRYING NOT TO HIT THE SQUIRREL!"

It took Tamaki about ten minutes to find the doorbell, (it was so small, and the off-white color blended so well with the bland plaster surrounding it . . .) and another ten making sure the twins hadn't booby-trapped it. Satisfied, he pressed the button and waited patiently for an answer.

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong ding-dong.

Ding-dong Ding-dong Ding-dong Ding-dong Ding-dong Ding-dong!

"WHAT!" The landlady bellowed, yanking open the door, clad in a fluffy pink bathrobe with a greenish mud mask on her face, a cucumber on one eye, and her hair wrapped up in a frayed gray towel.

"AUUUUUUUUUUUGHH!" Tamaki shrieked, jumping about a foot high in the air. Scared witless, he stumbled backwards, tripped over a potted fern, and almost went flying. Gasping for breath, he clutched the railing with knuckles almost as white as his face.

Do all commoner women perform this strange occult ritual! Could Haruhi be wearing the same hideous disguise right now? Tamaki shuddered.

Peering at him from behind contact-less eyes, the landlady couldn't tell exactly who Tamaki was. "We're full," she said warily.

Shell-shocked and speechless, Tamaki stuttered, "W-w-w-w-where's H-h-h-haruh-h-h-i?

"I don't know. I think she's sleeping over at friend's." The landlady said thoughtfully, filing away at her nails, still eyeing Tamaki. "Her father left a few days ago for some work-related thing up in Nagashima, and I haven't seen Haruhi since yesterday morning."

It hit Tamaki like a ton of filthy bricks. Ranka had been gambling and fell deeply in debt with the tranny bar, and ran off to Nagashima to scour up some last-minute funds, but while he was away the tranny bar's hired muscle showed up and ransacked the house, but finding nothing of value tailed Haruhi to wherever she was going yesterday morning, kidnapped her instead and are planning to hold her for ransom until her father repays his debt in full and with interest! And if he never repays his debt . . . They'll send assassins for him! And worse . . . Haruhi will have to take her father's place at the bar! She'll be a girl pretending to be a man pretending to be a girl! No0o0o0o0o! Tamaki fell to his knees, spiraling down a neverending, imaginary abyss.

"Is something wrong?" The landlady asked, reaching for her broom. Just in case.

Awp! Out of the blue, Tamaki realized he was still in public. I mustn't frighten the common folk! Without another word, he dashed off and hid behind a telephone pole. Frantically, his heart pounding, he dialed Kyoya's number. His fingers were shaking, and he could barely remember the speed dial number. The fact that all the numbers on the cell phone's keypad had magically transformed into absolute gibberish didn't help either.

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What looked like a lump of blankets and pillows shifted and wiggled, and an arm popped out, fumbling for the phone. The groping hand found the phone and knocked it off its cradle. A long, elegant finger jabbed the speakerphone button.

"What. The hell. Do. You. WANT?" Kyoya growled. His voice sounded muffled to Tamaki, as though his head was still buried beneath the covers.

In his utter hysteria, Tamaki had forgotten that awaking Kyoya before he was good and ready made him cuddly in the special way that porcupines were. He and Hunny were simply alike that way. But for the sake of protecting Haruhi's virtue, he would take the risk. "Kyoya . . ." Tamaki wailed, tearing up.

"WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE WRONG THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING?" Kyoya roared, forcing his eyes open and squinting in the general direction of his digital clock.

"Eeep!" squeaked Tamaki, flinching. Almost dropping his cell phone, Tamaki juggled it as if it were a hot potato. Finally catching it, he heaved a sigh and put it gingerly back to his ear.

"It's nine-thirty! That's not early!" Tamaki whined. "And our daughter's been kidnapped!"

I must still be dreaming. Kyoya decided. He dropped the phone and rolled over, cocooning himself in his silk quilt. In about two minutes, he was fast asleep again, snoring softly.

"Did you hear me? Kyoya? Kyoya? Kyoya? HARUHI'S GOOOOONEE!" A gray cloud slowly descended upon Tamaki.

Muttering wrathfully to himself about how the whole world had gone insane in the space of one morning, Tamaki climbed back into his silver BMW and put the key in the ignition. Gunning the engine, the car came to life with a steady purr, and Tamaki sped toward the Ohtori estate.

"Name please," a slightly metallic voice droned.

"Tamaki, Suoh," Tamaki enunciated into the minute microphone.

"Entrance not granted," the voice replied.

"What?" Tamaki screamed in indignation. Rattling the cast iron gates furiously, he bellowed, "IT'S TAMAKI SUOH! TA! MA! KI! SU! OOOOHH!"

"You may be Mr. Suoh's son, but if you don't shut up, I'll set the dogs on you!" a familiar voice growled.

"Oh, Mr. Ohtori, charming as usual!" A deviously sweet smile spread across Tamaki's face. "May I inquire as to the presence of your third son?"

"I'd say no, but you'd probably persist in asking anyway," he replied dryly. "You may enter," he finished, heaving a sigh.

The bronze gates creaked their complaints, as if groaning in agreement. His face set in a deep frown of determination, Tamaki strode off into the giant courtyard, cobbled with white, gray and black stones, and edged in perfectly manicured lawns. He ignored the winding path, and proceeded over the impossibly bright green grass.

"KINDLY DO NOT TRAMPLE OUR GRASS, MASTER TAMAKI."

For the second time this morning, Tamaki leapt a foot up into the air. However, he managed a brilliant sidestep, and continued to make his way purposefully up the walk.

He barged through the imposing mahogany double doors, and galumphed up the stairs with the impressive white marble banister and long Persian rug. He shoved open the doors to Kyoya's room with a bang, and marched right up to Kyoya's bedside . . .

Just as Tamaki drew the royal blue curtains open and allowed light to flood the room, Kyoya opened one glaring eye, and let out a slightly feral growl.

Tamaki twitched rather violently, but managed to avoid turning tail and running away.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!" Tamaki sang jovially.

"MRGMPH." Kyoya grunted, deciding that Tamaki wasn't worth wasting his valuable beauty sleep time.

Only vaguely perturbed, Tamaki set to work calling the rest of their family group.

He three-wayed the twins and Hunny from Kyoya's cell phone, and called Mori from Kyoya's home line. His cell phone he kept open for Haruhi.

"Ehllo?"

"'Lo."

"Ohayo!"

"HARUHI'S GONE!"

Mori, Hunny, Hikaru and Kaoru in unison: "Huh?"

"Ranka had been gambling and fell deeply in debt with the tranny bar, and ran off to Nagashima to scour up some last-minute funds, but while he was away the tranny bar's hired muscle showed up and ransacked the house, but finding nothing of value tailed Haruhi to wherever she was going yesterday morning, kidnapped her instead and are planning to hold her for ransom until her father repays his debt in full and with interest! And if he never repays his debt . . . They'll send assassins for him! And worse . . . Haruhi will have to take her father's place at the bar! She'll be a girl pretending to be a man pretending to be a girl!"

An awkward silence descended, thick as the frosting on Hunny's birthday cakes. Then, shattering the silence like frail glass, the twins burst out laughing hysterically. Tears sprung to their eyes, and they clutched their sides, gasping for breath. "Oh, yes, milord! Just like last time! She went bankrupt, fled by night and ended up in Karuizawa! BWAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

Tearing up as well, but for a completely different reason, Tamaki turned to Hunny and Mori for comfort. "You believe me, right?"

"Well . . ." Hunny hesitated. "If Haru-chan isn't answering her phone and isn't home and hasn't been seen for a while . . . then I guess we should investigate."

"I'll go." Mori said simply.

"Splendid!" Tamaki put down Kyoya's cell phone and whispered into the larger phone, his eyes gleaming.

A short while later, Hunny burst through the door with Mori close behind him, the (still laughing) twins slung over his shoulders like matching sacks of potatoes.

"HAH." Tamaki grinned. "You should have known better than to defy the King." He waggled a chastising finger over their heads.

"Milord, the only reason we were so easily captured was because we were laughing at you!" Hikaru and Kaoru wheezed in unison.

Tamaki shrugged. "Whatever works. How do you know that wasn't the effect I was going for?"

"Because only the shadow king could come up with something as devious as that." Hikaru explained, speaking slowly and loudly, as if talking to a dunce.

"Speaking of which, where is he, anyway?" Kaoru asked, looking around. His eyes came to rest upon the snoring lump on the bed.

Hikaru glanced at his twin. Kaoru met his gaze. Hikaru grinned devilishly. Kaoru cocked his head in Kyoya's direction and arched an eyebrow. Hikaru nodded, his grin spreading. With equally cattish expressions, the twins crept up to Kyoya's bed.

"GOOOOOOOOD MORNING!" They both bellowed. Kyoya sat bolt upright, a frenzied look in his eyes. He had just enough time to see Tamaki and realize that his earlier awakenings weren't in fact dreams before each twin gripped an end of the bed and tilted it sideways, tipping the Shadow King right off.

Kyoya rolled off the bed and landed on his face with an undignified whump, a tangled mess of sheets and blankets.

Slightly dazed, Kyoya rubbed his eyes and blinked blearily.

The twins and Hunny leapt behind Tamaki, using his body as a human shield, giggling madly the whole time. Meanwhile, Tamaki had turned a strange shade of purple with dread.

With a terrific yawn that spread across his whole face, Kyoya found his glasses and slid them onto his face. Immediately his bedhead disappeared, and the fierce feral quality was gone from his eyes. "Why are all of you clustered behind Tamaki?"

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The door to Haruhi's cell creaked open with a strange noise, like an obese mouse being trodden upon. Haruhi awoke from her dozing with a start, and found herself staring into the faces of two well-muscled men, dressed in severe black suits, with matching gray silk ties and aviator sunglasses.

They didn't speak to Haruhi, but untied her hands. Right before clapping shiny steel handcuffs on her wrists.

"What do you think you're doing!" Haruhi cried in dismay. Unfortunately, with the handkerchief tied around her mouth, what came out was: "Wud hoo hink hur hu-enng?"

The two body guards merely exchanged glances, shrugged, and hoisted Haruhi to her feet. They half dragged, half carried her to a waiting car outside. It was a medium-sized car, probably custom-made. It was longer than your average sedan, with three rows of seats instead of two. Angular, black, brandless, unassuming and inconspicuous, it idled outside the building, which was a real prison, much to Haruhi's surprise. She was dumped in the back seat, and the two men slid into the front and middle.

"Drive," one of them commanded, and with that, they left, stirring up a cloud of dust on the otherwise empty road.