Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Paring: Hikaru Hitachiin x Tamaki Suohx Kaoru Hitachiin
Title: Just A Cookie
Rating: T, just for safty
Warning[s]: Yaoi/slash,homosexual themes
Notes: None. Written on a whim and unbeta'd.
That afternoon, a delicious aroma fluttered though the air of the Third Music Room. it was early in the day, before the girls arrived and during the prep time the hosts gave themselves to dress in violently overzealous costumes and, occasionally, on the days when they had no need for dressing up, a time to relax. Today was one of those days, where the hosts would be going about their usual duties ‘as is’, and all seven of them were taking advantage of the relaxing time.
Well, six of them were enjoying the time, and one was well on the way to sulking. But...Anyway, back to the mysterious alluring aroma.
“You made cookies, Haruhi?” Kyouya asked, peering over the top of his glasses at the commoner girl and her handy-work: a plate of cookies with clear plastic wrap stretched across the top. “How...feminine of you.”
Hunny seemed to sense the presence of sweets from the corner he was tucking his bag away in, and quickly barreled over to the girl in boys clothing. “Haru-chan! What kind of cookies are they!? I bet they’re extra special yummy because you baked them with love! Right?!? Right!??!?!” The senior was practically begging.
“Uh...Yeah. Sure, Hunny-senpai,” the chocolate eyed girl said, pulling the securely anchored wrap away from the base of the plate, exposing the cookie to the air. “Would you like one?”
“YAAAAAAAAY!” the blond was ecstatic, throwing his plush bunny into the air and catching him again before twirling on the spot and having a shower of tiny, pink, undulating flowers fall down around him. “Yes please, Haru-chan! Can I take one for Takashi, too?” Said tall senior was standing behind his cousin, watching the boy with his ever present and protective air that warned anyone, hurt-him-and-die. “Takashi doesn’t really like sweet things usually, but since it’s made by you, Haru-chan, he’ll eat it! And if not, I can have it!”
Hunny’s voice seemed to be attracting attention.
“Oy, Haruhi!” One voice called to her from across the room, only to be followed by one that was barely a fraction of a fraction higher. “You made cookies?” Twin strides brought the Hitachiin brother’s up on either side of her, peering over her shoulder at the plate. “Are they any good?”
Haruhi shrugs, not even attempting to dislodge the two arms around her shoulders because she knows they’ll just come back. “My Dad said so, but he thinks anything I make is ‘ambrosia’. Why don’t you try one and tell me what you think?”
They nod against her head, two hands reaching down to snatch a cookie off the plate before the two people share one of the two cookies that they took and get off their commoner friend.
Although it’s not usually his thing, the Host Club’s Shadow King also decides the sample the treat, adding cryptically, “If these are any good, I may have you make more for the customers.” To which he adds his usual, scary, miser grin and the effect of light dancing off his glasses.
There’s one cookie left on the plate, and one person left who hasn’t had one yet. Reaching down, Haruhi plucks the last confection—a rather small, round cookie—off of the ceramic surface and watches the other’s reactions—Hunny’s exclamations of adoration and satisfaction, the noncommittal ‘hm’s from Kyouya, Mori’s silence, and the twin’s announcing, “Hey, Haruhi can cook better than Renge!”—before she, herself actually bit into the treat.
The door to the Third Music Room blasted open, rebounding off the wall and in rushes a whirlwind of the purple Ouran blazer mixed with blond hair and a red face. Tamaki barrels in, arms flapping wildly and mouth virtually unhinged as he spews word after word. “Ohmigawd,-I’m-so-sorry-I’m-late!I-got-h
“Haru-chan made us cookies!” Hunny exclaimed brightly, having already finished his own and try to take it slower on Mori’s. “And they’re really good, aren’t they, Takashi?” And the cookies looses, becoming devoured to join its fallen brethren in the pit of Doom that is the older Haninozuka.
Tamaki’s eyes widened and his mouth opened. “I...I want one!!” he demanded, running up to Haruhi and throwing an arm around her shoulders. “It would be a most noble, irrefutable and undeniably fortunes honor to taste the product of the devoted work of these commoner hands, Haruhi. I beg you, make me the luckiest man on earth, and allow me to try one of your homemade cookies....Please!”
He added the infamous Tamaki-Puppy-Eyes for effect, just in case Haruhi was planning to deny him the confection, but they were to no effect, especially considering the unforeseen fact that there were no cookies left.
“Uh...I’m sorry, Tamaki-senpai. We don’t have anymore cookies. You got here too late.” Haruhi told him, prying herself out of his grasp and showing him the empty plate in her hands for emphasis. “Sorry.”
Mentally, the entire club counted down:
Tamaki hunched in his favorite corner of the club room, cast in a dark depressing shadow that had nothing to do with the clouds obscuring the windows. He had somehow procured a stick and was poking a number of mushrooms that had popped out of no-where, murmuring something about, ‘unworthy father’, and ‘I’m a horrible person.’ However, considering how used to his antics that the rest of the club was, they paid him no heed and went about finishing their own cookies. Honestly, why speak when whatever you could say might land him in a deeper state of depression than necessary?
Well, unless that’s what you’re aiming for, of course.
“Oi, Tono,” one of the devilish Hitachiin twins quips from the spot he’d taken up on a Host Club sofa closest to the brooding blond. His twin lounges with him, leaning over the back of the red plush to poke at the mysteriously black aura surrounding Tamaki. “What’s wrong?”
The blond King sniffled, pouting to the wall. “Everyone got to taste some of Haruhi’s femininity and wonderful talent for cooking...Except me.”
The twins cocked their heads in tandem. “What was that, Tono?”
“We couldn’t hear you.”
“Come sit with us on the couch—“
“—and tell us all about it.”
Somehow, in the depths of his minor depression, the blond’s brain had switched off, inviting ‘oh, yes, play along with the twins’, when it usually would have screamed, ‘what are those vile doppelganger’s plotting!?!?!?’ Tamaki stood from his corner, mushrooms still attached to the shoulders of his Ouran jacket, and shuffled his way around the sofa and sat farthest from the twins, leaning dejectedly over the arm and studying the floor as if the patterns of the tile was interesting and he was that observant.
However, this arrangement didn’t quite fit the twin’s ulterior motives, and so—like the ninjas they truly were—Hikaru stood and maneuvered his way around until his feet were planted directly in Tamaki’s line of vision. He squatted, coming face to face with the blond as Kaoru shifted over the lushness of the seats a leaned one arm on the back of the sofa, extending the other across the King’s chest to rest on the very edge of the arm, effectively trapping him within their presence. Still, it didn’t register in Tamaki’s brain what was happening.
“Now,” Hikaru repeated in a much quieter—more intimate?—tone, his breath ghosting across Tamaki’s face and leaving the faint aroma of maple syrup clinging to his senses. “What was that?”
Violet eyes were still downcast as he answered in a terribly depressed voice, “I’m unworthy of life. My darling Haruhi went to all the trouble of making those commoner’s confections, and I was too late to get one. I’m a failure.” And he buries his face in the crook of his arms, letting out a woeful sniffle as he did so.
A joint, mischievous and all-too scheming look was shared over the top of his head by two identical brothers, but the tones they adopted spoke none of this. Instead, if anything, both boys sounded sincere and completely sorrowful for his lose.
“Awww, there-there, Tono,” Kaoru consoles, the hand on the back of the couch moving to run though the blond strands of hair that straggle on Tamaki’s neck.
“Haruhi doesn’t mind,” Hikaru insists, giving the sweet yet devious Cheshire-cat smile. And to show he’s correct with this assumption, the Hitachiin even takes the time to glance over his shoulder at the commoner girl, who is indeed, talking to Kyouya as if nothing was wrong. He smirks. “See?”
Tamaki sniffles again. “But I won’t be able to taste them.” His eyes water. “Ever!”
“Oh?” And now the mischief is evident in Hikaru’s voice.
“Is that all you were worried about, Tono?” And in Kaoru’s, too.
And then together. “We can fix that.”
It all happens so fast that Tamaki almost doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Scratch that. Even when it is too late, he still doesn’t understand what’s going on. Quick as a whip, Kaoru’s knees are pulled up under his body, making him taller than the blond of the couch, and both hands anchor themselves between Tamaki’s shoulder blades, using the height as leverage to force the blond to stay put. Muscles stiffen under ten splayed fingers and the fabric of the school-issued blazer, but the blond is effectively pinned under the Hitachiin, chest pressed to the chair of the sofa, and completely at their disposure. The next thing Tamaki realizes is that there are lips against his—tentative at first before becoming even more forceful—and a tongue, wet and tasting of sugar and chocolate, forces its way between lips and past teeth.
Almost against his will, Tamaki finds his mouth opening a little wider to admit the twin in front of him access, and when the vice-like grip that Kaoru has on him looses a tad bit, he doesn’t fight. And then there’s a hot, wet mouth on his ear, and a tongue pressing forcefully against his own, almost as if the owner was attempting to pass something to him by mere touch.
Wouldn’t you know it? In a manner of seconds, Tamaki is kissing back, relishing the taste and the warmth and the wet for a completely oblivious reason. His eyelids flutter closed just in time for him to miss the vindictive glance that the red heads share over his shoulder.
A chin nestles in the crook of Tamaki’s neck and hot breath washes over his face, smelling of home backed delicacies and maple syrup, and Kaoru whispers, “Can you taste it?”, the vocalization accented by the fluttery, dramatized moan that Hikaru let out into Tamaki’s mouth to be muffled against his tongue.
For the second time, the door burst open, only this time it was not a whirl-wind of blond and purple. It was a tumble of yellow and white stockings, and a sea of hair colors. A gaggle of chatter seemed to be building behind the muted ears of the occupants of the couch, and then stopped. There was silence as all eyes were riveted on the red plush and the even redder faces that were there, kissing...making out.
And by then it had attracted the attention of their fellow hosts, who were—surprisingly—unperplexed. Haruhi’s cheeks tinged a tiny bit and she choked on a piece of her cookie, but that might have been from one of the customers unexpectedly bumping into her. Hunny cocked his head to the side and watched as two tongues fought their way out of Tamaki’s mouth and were suspended in mid-air before receding back into the blond. Mori watched for a split second before covering Hunny’s eyes and pointing towards a cake. Kyouya was perfectly content to allow this display to continue, sensing the impending outburst from the girls behind him, but decided he’d better cut things short as Kaoru’s hand that was not balancing him on the couch crept around to Tamaki’s front and generally began to slide down to a place that officially crossed the ‘friendly’ line.
He coughed, stepping directly into his classmate’s and underclassmen’s’ lines of vision and folding his arms across his chest, waiting for the three to realize that he was—indeed—there and making conversation with them.
The twin’s ignored him, but when Tamaki resurfaced and froze for a second before spazzing with such super-powers that Kaoru was sent reeling back on the couch and Hikaru was forced to rock violently on his knees to keep his balance on the floor. They looked minorly affronted—identical expressions of disgruntlement and indignation on their faces—but as soon as they saw what Tamaki had seen to make him react that way, they grinned, offering small waves towards the girls and Kyouya a soft, almost casual wave.
And everything was silence, except for the ticking of the school clock in the distance and the muffled munching sounds of Hunny devouring an entire cake. Tamaki’s face flushed a thousand times more crimson than it had upon discovering Haruhi was a girl, and the twins spared each other calculating and unsure glances out of the corners of their eyes.
A silent message is passed, and just as the impregnation of the silences is almost enough to smoother an entire civilization, Kaoru leans back over to Tamaki and licked the corner of his gaping mouth lightly before retracting his tongue and allowing some fingers to fly to his lips, smirking. “Chocolate...”
And the Third Music Room exploded in a sea of nosebleeds, fainted bodies and screams.