~Ouran High School Host Club/A Midsummer Night's Dream is not mine!~

"The private Ouran Institute.
Lineage counts first, money a close second.
The wealthy are blessed with idle hours and six handsome, especially idle
students have formed the Host Club to entertain females also burdened by
A Surfeit of Leisure Time."

"'God speed, fair Helena! Whither away?'"(1)

"'Call you me fair? That fair again uns-!'"(2)

"NO! NO! NO!" Shouted your school's director, waving frantically for the actors to stop. "STOP! STOP! STOP!" One young woman looked to him, confused and obviously misled into thinking she was doing well. You, on the other hand, sighed and cracked your neck as the director began to rant. "Where is the passion?" He demanded, "This is the final project of the English majors group for the school festival! And you expect for that to do? What happened to the passion from the last few days? Did it simply wash out of you like a fine wine?"

'Oh, God forbid he ask for help again!' You thought relentlessly, crossing your fingers and toes. 'Please have mercy on a poor girl trying to make it through her schooling in peace!'

"Do I need to call in that young man again?" The director threatened, "He seems to be the only person besides our resident genius who can act!"

"Maybe just one more time~!" Suggested a girl in the back. "I'm sure he would help us so much~!" The other girls murmured their agreement, and the director placed a call for the usual boy to come and help us rehearse as he had a spare period right now and was very good with this type of thing, so he was apparently the ideal helper.

Except for one small problem; he was Tamaki Suoh.
And you didn't know how to deal with him anymore.

You could be nice, play your part as best you could, then have the girls think you were flirting and glue razors into your notebooks. Or you could try and avoid being chosen, play your part as best you could, and have the girls think you were disrespecting him and dump your things into the fountain.

Equally crappy.
One more tempting than the other.

You really didn't mind Tamaki as a person, but when it came to the Tamaki the Host, it was another story. He became over-the-top, suave, infatuating, and utterly distracting to so many of the female population that it was a public safety hazard. How could you expect to get anywhere with him and his constant presence in the role of your character's husband, provoking the other actresses into fits of petty jealousy? Surely he had to realize it, but he obviously didn't care.

'I guess I'm a glutton for punishment…' You thought, sighing as you carefully adjusted the laces of the shoes you'd worn today to match the casual yet fashionable jeans and stylishly tight t-shirt. They were a heck of a lot easier to move around in than the school uniform, and you liked them a lot more when working onstage. You knew when he got here because everyone turned to stare at him, which meant they stared holes through you and you had to peer over your shoulder into the stage lights to get a glimpse of the blond.

"Is something wrong, sir?" He asked politely, making a girl swoon and faint somewhere in the backstage. "You called me down specifically and-"

"Our acting crew has lost its talent, Mr. Suoh!" Exclaimed the director, sounding miffed. "I was hoping you and another of my best would be willing to help me show them how Shakespeare is supposed to be done!"

"Certainly!" Tamaki exclaimed boisterously, shucking his uniform coat and strutting onstage "The whole thing?" He looked curious and excited, but it didn't matter to you so you moved back in the crowd a little to avoid any unwanted attention.

"Of course! If you don't mind!" Simpered the director as Tamaki quickly sat on the edge, in the middle of the lights, watching the rest of the cast file out into the seats below. "Where are you, girl? It's time to rehearse!"

"I'm… coming!" You called out reluctantly, pulling your hair into a quick bun and hurrying back onstage. "…sorry, sir."

"No hurry, beauteous Hermia!"(3) He claimed, making another girl in the audience faint. You resisted the urge to laugh and opened your script again to the beginning, sitting down at a decent distance from the second year without meeting his eyes.

"Are we ready?" You asked the director, and he nodded excitedly. You took a deep, cleansing breath, and heard the blond speak the first of the duke's flattering lines.

"'Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace: four happy days bring in
Another moon—but methinks, how slow
This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires,
Like to a step-dame or a dowager
Long withering out a young man's revenue.'"(4)

His voice was like song as he read the lines, adding body language and hand gestures, sending you a daring look and a cheeky grin. He knew you hated to be outshone or outdone in a theatrical production, especially Shakespeare, and that you would have to one-up him. You felt it rise in your blood, the cry for you to show him how a real actor did it, and you surrendered to the need to be the best not for the last time.

"'Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;'" You purred, placed a hand on his knee and leaving in.
"'Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
And then the moon, like to a silver bow'" You waved your free hand across the open air before us as if gesturing to the stars, using his knee as leverage to scoot your hips a little closer.
"'New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities.'" (5)

Turning your head, you locked eyes with him mere inches from his own face, though both of you were too wrapped up in out-doing the other to notice how quiet the crowd had become. A stray lock of your hair fell out of place, brushing his face as it tumbled down to curl against your cheek, and his eyes glinted in the bright spotlights.

He waved his hand sharply, dismissively, and wrapped the other around your waist more roughly than necessary. His violet-blue eyes raised to the stage-right exit as though someone stood there to do his bidding and his chin tilted, jaw clenching at the arrogance of the figment of the play that was interrupting the duke and his Amazon.

"'Go, Philostrate,
Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments'
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
Turn melancholy forth to funerals:
The pale companion is not for our pomp.'" (6)

Turning his head back to you, you realized that he had you straddling one knee with a hand on the other and the floor to balance yourself. You both knew these lines too well from other readings. He practically purred the last lines, but they made it around the audience to every person's waiting ear.

"'Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword,
And won thy love doing thee injuries;
But I will wed thee in another key,
With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.'"(7)

You sighed, smiling secretly where only he could see.

"Come again?" He asked pleadingly in your ear, bending his head.

"'With duty and desire I follow you.'"(8) You whispered in reply, standing up and brushing false dust from your attire, asking the director if you really must do all of it, as you were tired and confusing your lines.

1, 2) Act 1 – Scene 1 – Lines 180-181 (Hermia and Helena)
3) Act 1 – Scene 1 – Line 104 (Lysander)
4-7) Act 1 – Scene 1 – Lines 1-19 (Theseus And Hippolyta)
8) Act 1 – Scene 1 – Line 127 (Egeus)

~Ouran High School Host Club/A Midsummer Night's Dream is not mine!~

A/N: The lines are legitimately from 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', and I consulted a playbook while writing this to get the line numbers!