'Kyouya was having a truly strange day at work.' In which Kyouya has voices in his head, and forgets an important date. Tamaki is devious, to no one's surprise. Tamaki/Kyouya.
Kyouya was having a truly strange day at work.
Well, to be honest, it wasn't truly strange/, more like a disconcerting oddness that disturbed him more than any outright strangeness would. The workload today was lighter, though Kyouya knew it should not be so - he had left quite a pile behind when he left yesterday. And people couldn't stop /smiling at him, like there was one great big cosmic joke and Kyouya was the only person who was not privy to it.
He didn't like that feeling. He didn't like it at /all/.
His secretary had even wished him 'congratulations' today. Congratulating him on...? Kyouya sighed softly and minimized the document he was working on and clicked the computer clock. Today's date was the twenty-second of November. Was it the anniversary of when he officially inherited the Ohtori Group (officially, because he had bought it four years ago)? No... that was in February. Was it Tamaki's birthday? No, that was in April, and the office wouldn't be so smug and concerned about it even if it was... And his secretary wouldn't be looking this gleeful anyway.
Kyouya wondered, briefly, if he was just imagining things. Then he snorted mentally. As if! He knew he could just ask what the matter was, but Kyouya disliked depending on other people to get him information. He would find this new mystery out by himself, like he always did.
Three hours later, he found himself frustrated and still without an inkling as to what was /going on/. He checked all the birthdays of the members of the now-defunct Host Club (except for his own, of course. Only an idiot would forget his own birthday) just to see if he had forgotten them or remembered them wrongly, but there was nothing. He checked all of his appointments, but there was nothing amiss, though he suspected that there was too much that should be done today that was pushed over to tomorrow or the day after. He checked /everything/, including, ridiculous as it might sound, the birth dates and death dates of the famous people that Tamaki was currently infatuated with. Still nothing.
Kyouya dearly wished to strangle something. Particularly his secretary. If that woman smirked at him like that one more time, he was going to fire her.
'/Calm down,/' Kyouya told himself firmly. Something as small as people knowing something he did not should not drive him to near-homicidal rage. That was what bodyguards and the private police were for. Besides, he would most probably find out tonight anyway. Tamaki sometimes plotted with his staff behind his back, after all.
"I'm leaving." Kyouya announced as he switched off his computer and stood, brushing imaginary lint from his suit. He nodded to the secretary (who was definitely laughing at him. That's it, she was getting fired. Tomorrow) before taking his leave.
All of the staff he met while leaving the building looked irritatingly amused as they tried not to glance his way. Some of them even tried to disguise their snickers as coughs. Kyouya had to restrain himself from sneering at them.
Was there something on his face or something?! No, it couldn't be - he'd checked that too.
Kyouya growled to himself. This was all Tamaki's fault, somehow. It always was. The blond probably had some 'surprise' for him and had told all of the staff about it. He was foolishly indiscrete like that.
... Oh well. He would find out when he reached home anyway. Kyouya manfully resisted the urge to tell the chauffeur to drive faster. The bastard was smirking at him /too/, and he didn't need more ammunition. Damnit, he was really too soft on the staff!
This was all Tamaki's fault.
Kyouya knew that he sounded like a petulant brat right now instead of the adult he was supposed to be, but he didn't care. He could sound like a petulant brat in his head, as long as he kept the impression of the hard ass in front of (almost) everyone else. Tamaki and Fuyumi-nee-san would be relieved that he was 'acting his age' anyway. And it wasn't as if there was anyone who could read his mind.
Not that he could know of, anyway. If Kyouya didn't know of it, he was sure that the rest of Japan didn't. This case was a justified exception. (How was it justified, Kyouya did not know. He did not care to know. It was justified, and that was that.)
The car came to a slow stop, jerking Kyouya out of his thoughts. He nodded once to the chauffeur as he left the car, approaching the front door of his personal villa. The lights were off. There wasn't a single sound coming from it. Everything was quiet, serene, and it looked as if there was nothing fishy going on.
Kyouya found that to be extremely suspicious.
He opened the door slowly. He had the passing thought that, to any outsider wandering by right now, he would look as if he was entering a haunted house. All that this scene needed was the creaking of the door hinges, which was absent because Kyouya made sure that the maids did their jobs and oiled the hinges.
The door was yanked open when his hand was still on the doorknob, and Kyouya was forcibly dragged forward until he let go off the thing. He stumbled, squinting as the lights came on and he felt a soft, callused hand on his wrist.
"SURPRISE!" Kyouya barely suppressed a wince at the shout
There were people in his villa. Familiar-looking people too, at that. Fuyumi-nee-san was holding a streamer and had a loud, yellow party-hat with purple polka-dots atop of her wavy hair. She looked utterly ridiculous. The hat was disgusting. Hikaru and Kaoru were there too, each with an arm wrapped around a disgruntled-looking Haruhi. Their party-hats were blue and orange respectively, and Haruhi's was red. Thankfully, there weren't any polka dots. Honey-senpai was seated on Mori-senpai's shoulder, beaming cheerfully as he waved his bright pink hat around. Mori-senpai watched Kyouya placidly, the multi-coloured noisemaker in his hand clashing with his purple party hat.
Tamaki was tugging at his hand rather insistently, so Kyouya turned around, and was promptly blinded by an overly-wide smile and a white party hat with red polka dots shoved into his face. He backed away a little. That thing was hazardous to his optical health.
Blinking, he turned back towards the Legion of Disgusting Colours and spoke, "What..." His voice was shaking, though with mirth or anger, he wasn't very sure. It would not do. He took a deep breath. "/What is going on here?!/"
Tamaki blinked at him and gaped, looking owlish. Kyouya ignored him, fixing his gaze on Haruhi and Mori-senpai, the (only!) other two sources of sanity in this place.
"He doesn't remember, Tamaki-senpai." Haruhi said, dryly as she squirmed out of the twins' grasp. They pouted at her, but she ignored them, and crossed her arms across her chest and sighed.
Kyouya felt Tamaki sling an arm around him, pulling him closer to whisper into his ear. That was not necessary. Hikaru and Kaoru were shamelessly ogling. Fuyumi-nee-san was, too. He should charge for this kind of public displays that Tamaki liked to make.
"Kyouya~" Tamaki started, and his voice was playful, low and almost sensual. Kyouya fought down the instinctive blush at the feel of Tamaki's breath on his ear and elbowed the blond further away. Tamaki pouted, but he continued. "Today is your birthday, remember?"
Oh, okay, so that was all the fuss was about-
'/Who was the one who said that only an idiot would forget his own birthday, hmm?/' A too-familiar snide voice (his own) spoke in his mind, sounding utterly smug. Kyouya shut the Demon Lord up with a metaphorical knee under the ribs before turning back to Tamaki.
"Is all this," he swept an arm around the room, indicating the people who were still staring at him, "really necessary?"
"Of course!" Tamaki exclaimed, drawing him into a hug before Kyouya could protest. The blond man dropped a kiss onto his forehead, undeterred by the half-hearted glare. "It's your twentieth birthday, Kyouya, and you know how special your twentieth is!"
"No, I don't." Kyouya contradicted, dry as dust even as Tamaki's face fell dramatically. "Enlighten me."
"Your twentieth birthday is when you can -" Tamaki faltered a little, but he brightened up quickly again. "On your twentieth birthday, Kyouya, you can legally drink!"
"I've been drinking since I'm eight, Tamaki. Social functions, remember?" Kyouya reminded.
Tamaki pouted. Kyouya raised an eyebrow. Behind them, Hikaru and Kaoru had managed to find a packet of popcorn from somewhere and were sitting on the floor, crunching as they watched. Tamaki pouted even more. His eyes turned large and watery, looking at Kyouya as if he was the one who had been wronged.
Kyouya sighed and mentally threw his hands up. Fighting with Tamaki was really worse than kicking a puppy. It was impossible to do, and Tamaki knew it, though he didn't use that expression often. Maybe that newspaper bastard (what was his name again?) had a point.
"Fine, fine. It's not as if I can chase everyone away after they came anyway." Kyouya smiled, a little, as he let Tamaki place a party hat on his head, knocking his glasses askew, though he had chosen a tasteful black one.
And the party began.
The party was strange when you consider it by what most would consider as 'normal' standards; in other words, it was perfectly normal for the Host Club. Watching a solemn and serious Mori-senpai eat the handmade, icing-laden cake Honey-senpai offered him like a samurai eating poison honourably while there was flour and glitter on his hair and face was very amusing. It was an image that would stay with him for a long time. So would the image of Hikaru being literally shoved into flour by Kaoru, Haruhi and Tamaki. Kyouya made a note to get the twins to pay for the damages to his apartment - the floor was covered with pseudo-snow, and Kyouya was not going to be the person to clean it up.
Time passed rather like a whirlwind, and it only seemed like a few minutes later when Kyouya bade a laughing Kaoru and sighing Haruhi as they dragged a sulking, a still flour-covered Hikaru home. He waved them off and turned towards Tamaki, scanning the ruins of his apartment as he sighed.
"You're going to be the one paying the cleaning fees, Tamaki," he informed the blond, frowning slightly.
Tamaki nodded, a distracted "hmm" escaping his lips. Kyouya knew that he had heard, however. Even if he hadn't, Tamaki would still be the one paying for the fees - Kyouya had his ways of making sure of it.
"That was fun, wasn't it?" Tamaki asked, and it wasn't a question, for it was said with the certainty of a man thought he knew everything about the person he was questioning. Kyouya knew better - nobody knew him completely, except himself. Not even Tamaki, though the blond certainly tried.
But Kyouya couldn't refute that statement either, so he nodded, meeting smiling violet eyes with his own.
"Yes," he tilted his head upwards, brushing his lips against the other man's. "Thank you."
Tamaki's smile brightened until Kyouya was sure that it could be used as a light source (he should really try that sometimes. It would conserve electricity). He wrapped his arms tighter around him, pressing another kiss, this time loud but chaste, on Kyouya's mouth.