Paring: Hikaru Hitachiin x Tamaki Suohx Kaoru Hitachiin
Theme set: Theme Set #4
Rating: G-R, just for safty
Warning[s]: Minor spoiler for the anime, yaoi/slash/homosexuals, sexual themes, and very minor angst.
Notes: Done Post!Anime, and Post!Graduation, when tamaki has returned from France. So...minor AU.
Done For: </a></b></a>twins_tamaki and 3sentence
“Oh, Tono,” Hikaru greets upon bumping into the blond accidentally at the charity fund raiser some six years after the older man’s graduation, and Kaoru chokes on his champagne in mock surprise before continuing, “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Hikaru, Kaoru,” the Suoh heir gushes brightly upon hearing the familiar, yet old, nickname and grinning ear to ear, “I was hoping to run into you two at one of these things eventually.”
“But we were so hoping to avoid you,” they grin in tandem sarcastically, wondering if it’ll still send the violet-eyed upperclassman to his corner of woe.
About a week after the event, while perusing the financial newspaper, Kaoru sees an article pertaining to the largest donation at the formal fund raiser last Sunday and he’s not in the least bit surprised it has the Suoh name under it.
“You two look good,” an overly ecstatic blond spews over a classy lunch able, looking from Hitachiin to Hitachiin with barely contained excitement.
Kaoru chuckles and swirls an elongated straw through his iced tea, “You do too, Tamaki-senpai.”
Hikaru snorts and runs a hand through his carefully parted bangs at this, “Yeah, and you look classy, like you grew up a bit after Ouran.”
Tamaki smiles widely at them, “I should hope so—I have to in order to help the Suoh business take off.”
“How noble,” both twins chide before Kaoru sips his drink and watches the blond, and Hikaru asks, “And that doesn’t scare you?”
“Eheh,” he laughs skittishly and tugs self-consciously at the collar of his fancy dress shirt, “Not really.”
The Hitachiin twins had learned long ago that to discourage was fine, make fun of was encouraged and to joke about welcome; but to step on and squish Tamaki’s spirits would be a crime akin to destroying a priceless gem.
He’s silent for a bit before tossing his head back in a wide, deep laugh and clinking the clear side of his glass against the twin’s stationary ones, “But here’s to responsibility!”
The parting gift that the twins give him—their personal live numbers so that he doesn’t have to deal with being rerouted like an average customer—is not as sacred as some might think, but Tamaki wears it in his breast pocket, close to his heart.
Hikaru’s alone in the president’s office of Hitachiin Corp. HQ, playing Solitaire with commoner cards when he suddenly remembers when Tamaki would play this game, and he and Kaoru would purposefully mess him up.
‘Éclair Tonnere’s married,’ the headline read in huge letters across the page, and Tamaki exhales in a sigh that is almost reeling, fumbling with his still naked left hand.
“Yeah, Tono, come with us,” Hikaru’s voice is full of pride and happiness at his clever plot, and he pulls the phone receiver away from Kaoru’s barely restrained laughter to finish off teasingly, “Dress up nice and we’ll even introduce you as our date.”
It takes a special breed of person to believe the Hitachiins, especially when they are being so blatantly obvious about it, and Tamaki just happens to be that kind of person.
“We were only joking, senpai,” Kaoru smirks as his older brother pokes the silicon beanbags protruding from the dresses’ bodice—he thought that’s what they meant!—the effect of these words effectively sending the blond into a corner to harvest mushrooms.
“You think he’ll agree to come with us to another function,” is responded to with a, “We can only hope.”
“Uh,” his tone is hesitant and both Hitachiin twins start to feel panic—will he reject?—form in their veins, only to be soothed with, “Let’s do lunch instead of a charity.”
“What, no tricks,” Tamaki is shocked, eyes wide as the twins show up to a cute cafe that’s close to their old high school looking completely normal and greet him with small inclines of the head.
“Yeah, we swear on our family names no to cause any trouble this time,” Kaoru says solemnly while Hikaru cocks an eyebrow and says in a tone that could pass as a sexual innuendo, “Want us to get on our knees and become blood brothers with you to prove it?”
All honesty, Tamaki should have been able to understand what Hikaru was insinuating, but sometimes he was just as clueless with emotions as Haruhi—twice as stupid—and Morse code might have been a better idea to get the thought across.
The joke (or was it something more?) was not lost on Kaoru, however and he blushes for Tamaki, offering, “Want to come back to out place, Tono?”
“Sure,” the blond enthuses brightly, smiling as he followed the two to their car and still smiling when he found them sitting closer—MUCH CLOSER—than usual, even if the expression was becoming a bit forced with uncertainty.
Kaoru’s knees knock against just under the blond’s knee caps, and their shoulders brush, while Hikaru’s arm extended to rest on the back of the seat and behind Tamaki’s head, but both of them are petrified by the uncertain waters they tread in to do more than just that.
And then Tamaki shifts, his legs accidentally bumping against both Hikaru and Kaoru simultaneously, which is all the motivation that the twins need to jump him right in the back of the limo.
Tamaki has no idea what’s really happening, and he’s all small, confused grunts, hitched ‘n—n—n’s and breathy ‘wha...’s before one hand on his thigh officially crosses the lines of friendly touching and russet locks drift under his nose, the smell of vanilla shampoo rendering him useless.
The twins’ strong suits have always been confusing people with their looks, personalities and the “Which One’s Hikaru” Game, and it was becoming apparent that even touching someone (two sets of hands roaming everywhere) should be added to the list.
“Oh, god, we missed you.”
“I, uh, I,” he’s disoriented, heat seeping off his face in waves and violet eyes darkened with lust as the blond attempts to form words, “I—you, too—missed...”
Despite the hitched moans and breathy ‘oh, god’s gasped under breath, God would quickly turn blind eyes on their rendezvous.
“Ouch—fucking hell, you bit me, Kaoru,” Tamaki hisses, but he doesn’t remember the stinging pain in a manner of seconds.
he isn’t blindfolded, handcuffed, tied down or forced to be here—in the two queen-sized beds pushed together—but Tamaki is still utterly at the twin’s disposure.
‘What are we doing,’ the twins internally bemoan at multiple intervals of twisted sheets, breathy moans, tugged hair, kisses and thrusts, ‘I thought this obsession died in high school.’
‘Perhaps I don’t deserve this,’ Tamaki thinks, even if he has no idea why—but when it clicks, the blond dislodges Hikaru’s lips from his own and looks up at the amber eyes before whispering, “I’m sorry for leaving.”
“Oh yeah,” Kaoru finds his mind momentarily clear and looks into darker amethyst eyes, Hikaru follows his gaze and train of thought, and he continues his brother’s sentence, “You’re married, right, and we have no right to be doing this to you.”
This didn’t stop their nimble fingers or mouths—sucking, licking, teasing, toying—and Tamaki shakes his head back and forth wildly, back arching in a releasing climax, shortly followed by two more, his flushed lips holding the barely existent murmur of, “No, I’m not.”
They sleep entangled in a mess of legs and arms, on red head on a chest sprinkled with blond hair, the other on a shoulder where his face is tickled by yellowish gold locks they exhale out of time, they twitch and drool, they kick a little and snore, but they do not stir in the comforting, soft silence that envelopes them.
They forgot to turn off the alarm clock, jerk awake swearing, tired and a little sore, and Hikaru finds himself falling off the bed that’s suddenly become too small while Kaoru hits someone sharply in the face as he flops back onto the mattress after shutting off the alarm, and Tamaki wails, loudly, over the blaring jingle.
Although it doesn’t usually happen, the twins can cook, and delegate to do so, one standing over the stove with his back on the other two, who silently sit at the table; Tamaki seems embarrassed and twiddles his thumbs until a plate of two breakfast sausages are shoved under his face, only to look up and see a twisted, teasing smirk upon the red heads lips as the man sultrily purrs, “Your turn.”
The blond flushes even more, squawks like a turkey and flaps his arms as if they were wings while the twins cackle like hyenas at his reaction.
The Suoh heir forgoes the breakfast and, when asked. the twins direct him to the bathroom, where the sound of running water and the off-key rendition of Shisssou permeates the apartment in a funny, yet comfortable way.
“Tono sounds like a broken microphone,” Hikaru laughs, pulling off his sleep shirt just as ‘Tono’ reached the chorus, “Maybe we should give him a bucket.”
Kaoru chuckles and tosses two matching shirts on the bed before rooting around for a third, bigger and completely different top made of thin, liquidly satin which he holds up for his twin’s approval, saying, “Will he look good in this?”
The older Hitachiin gives the shirt a critical once over, digging around in their sample bin for pants to match, and hummed in deep thought, “He’d look better out of it.”
Kaoru laughed and exited their bedroom with the outfit, placing it outside the bathroom door his mind deviated from what he was doing, mentally repeating this gesture a hundred times over again, only with different cloths each time, and the young man’s heart swelled at the bliss in that prospect.
“Raise on hand to the sky, raise them both, life them high,” Tamaki sings as Hikaru sits on the crammed together matching beds, toying with the sheets under his fingers and vows, silently, that they will not relive the horror and unrequited feelings they had felt when Tamaki left for France after graduation with little to no goodbye, even if that meant forcing him to stay (with rope, tears, words, confessions, marriage, etc.)
It is not like old time, yet both twins are waiting for Tamaki outside the bathroom, and at once they both manage to divest the blond of his toweled waist, leaving the Suoh stark naked, blushing furiously and still dripping wet.
And that is a skeptical greater than any church can preach to, any bible describe, and any devout religious human can claim they saw—save for two cackling Hitachiins—who can claim that they towel whipped their “lord”.