Duct Tape

My muses love quarter to three in the morning. For Caitlan, this time. With this, I reaffirm my love for you, writing, and stuff in general.

Kyouya isn't quite sure where that carriage is going. Presumably, it's heading for Tamaki.

Kyouya isn't quite sure about a lot of things, but he sure as hell never shows it. He's always cool, calm, collected; to reveal such a weakness as indecisiveness would mean to lose all credibility as a member of the Ootori clan.

Pushing those glasses up that slim nose, though, Kyouya pauses for the merest fraction of a second.

That girl. She really leapt into the carriage with the twins. Was she crazy?

Perhaps he was the crazy one. After all, he'd really had it all planned from the start; not really, but he had known that should it come to bringing their idiot lord back, it would be down to her. It was really not as simple and thought-out as it should be, after all.

A man groans, somewhere near his left foot. He glances down and steps away, dismissing the pain as somewhat deserved. What right did they have to try and break up the club? It was his club, his and Tamaki's and Haruhi's and the twins' and Huni's and Mori's. Not theirs.

Of course, Tamaki had founded it. He was the shadow king, though. And the twins – the host club wouldn't be the same without the two devils, nor without Mori or Huni.

Haruhi, though, she was like glue, the sticky stuff that held the host club together and bandaged any cracks that appeared. Not always in a nice, caring fashion, but it was at least done in an efficient manner – Haruhi didn't like to waste anything, not time or space or money.

Glue didn't quite suit her, though.

A paper clip?

No, no.

Maybe just a tie – no, that wouldn't work either.

Those slim brows dipped downward for a brief second; Kyouya was slightly perplexed.

A button. Haha, that was precious. Precious and Tamaki's-inner-mind-threater worthy.

Duct tape.

The answer to all the problems of the universe; there was nothing that couldn't be solved by duct tape, except problems the duct tape caused itself. However, it didn't cause many.

Satisfied with this response, Kyouya calmly wiped his palms on his trousers and turned to where Huni sat atop Mori's shoulders in a happy, happy, so very happy pose; he was confident, by the look of it, that Haruhi would do her job yet again. Ever reliable, ever grudgingly and occasionally even willingly cleaning up after them.

After all, that was Haruhi, through and through.

I smell cookies. XD Maybe that isn't a good thing, because I'm in my room and there shouldn't be any food around and no one should be cooking at three in the morning. But that's just the way it is. I love getting rid of writer's block. I LOVE BEING ABLE TO WRITE AGAIN!