Categories > Anime/Manga > Ouran High School Host Club

Opportune Moment

by Macey_Muse 0 reviews

Kyouya is not ticklish. Not at all. - cowritten with modernquill on Livejournal.

Category: Ouran High School Host Club - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor,Romance - Published: 2007-08-22 - Updated: 2007-08-22 - 2558 words - Complete

The Host Club wasn't due to start for another half hour. Tamaki was currently in the throes of fancy folds of material for the latest theme, blond hair askew as he changed into the patterned material. It was always madness around about now, getting ready. And this theme was /complicated/. Why did they agree to do it?

Tamaki finally sorted out the many layers of material around him and glittered with pride- he did look beautiful. This was why he wanted this theme, the girls would simply adore it. And Haruhi- his daughter would look so cute in the outfit the twins brought for her. It was just so pretty.

The president of the Host Club picked up his hair extensions, trying to sort them into his hair. After a few minutes of comical concentration (tongue sticking out and brows furrowed) he gave up.

"KAASAN! Tousan needs help!"

Amused, Kyouya stepped around a huge potted palm tree, tucking his tricorn hat under an arm. “Need I remind you that both the theme and your costume were your choice?” He considered exchanging glasses for contact-lenses and a thick ring of some sort of makeup a small price to pay to avoid both corsets and hair extensions. Admittedly, the hat was encircled with a wild layer of black curls and beads, but having glue applied to his head was not an experience he relished. “It would be far more sensible to ask the twins for help with that, you know.” And, of course, far more entertaining – for him.

Tamaki turned to Kyouya with a very visible pout on his face as his kaasan, yet again, decided to inflict the devastating blow of logic to the president. He held out the extensions for his hair with that pout- the pout that usually preceded a spell curled up by himself. "They're still mad at me..." Tamaki couldn't exactly remember what he'd done, but quite likely it was because he prevented them from playing a trick on his cute little daughter. "Please?" Puppy eyes.

25 minutes until the doors open, and if the Prince wasn’t standing ready to great their customers - for the sake of his profit margins, Kyouya sighed and held out a hand for the lengths of blond hair. “Go find a chair – this will be easier if you’re not quite so tall.” The things he did for this Host Club…

Said Prince immediately glittered- the teen was like a puppy, honestly, so easily pleased and let down. He crossed to a nearby chair, knowing exactly how to work the fancy, corseted dress now he was in it. It wasn't so bad... a little humiliating to have lost this bet and have to be the damsel, but it wasn't so bad. Tamaki was the best host there was in this club, he could pull off something silly like wearing a dress. Again.

Picking up the little bottle of adhesive and leaving his hat in it’s place, Kyouya crossed behind the other boy, inwardly laughing at the pale pink ball-gown contrasting dramatically with the choppy hair. “Hold still,” he warned – the dress had been ‘borrowed’ from Hitachin-san’s spring collection by the twins, and he had no intention of paying the (undoubtedly exorbitant) price should it be damaged. Carefully lining up the fake strands with Tamaki’s original hair, he applied the glue and settled to wait for it to dry.

"Yes, Kaasan." Tamaki couldn't move very much in this corset anyway- his posture was completely straight-backed. (Hm, perhaps he should stand today instead of sitting with his princesses). The blond sighed as the last strand fell over his shoulders and smiled brightly. "Thank you~" he chirped, resting his hands on his crossed legs, sitting like a lady.

“You really are too good at that,” Kyouya noted – his friend could easily pass for one of their customers dressed up like this. Inwardly, he calculated the probability of a ‘princess’ type bringing larger amounts of customers than the ‘prince’ – unlikely, but the odd appearance might do wonders for sales. He made a note to talk to Renge about their next photo-shoot.

The Prince chuckled slightly, holding his hand up to his face as he did so. "A dress, makeup and hair, but I am still the prince." His charm wouldn't disappear with the creation of this 'look', of course. The blond already knew what was probably going through Kyouya's head- how to make money from this. His friend really was too predictable, Tamaki thought, laughing again and shaking his pretty little head, letting the fake blond strands shake and settle over his shoulders.

“You should be certain of that, Tamaki-kun.” Kyouya’s eyes held a mischievous glint as he flicked through his papers, “After all, according to this, since the advent of the ‘natural’ host your percentage of designations has fallen to only 60%.” He circled the chair to take the seat next to it, relaxing a little in the 20 minutes of peace they had left.

Tamaki bit his lower lip to stop the tremble that threatened to make itself well and truly known. 'I am the Prince, not even by adorable little Haruhi can change that!' running through his head as a mantra to stop his emotions. But it was still obvious by the way his face fell and his hands twitched and played with a handkerchief that seemingly appeared from nowhere.

One of the best things about Tamaki was how easy he was to tease – and, of course, to calm down again. “However, numerically, your rate of requests has not fallen at all.” Kyouya flickered a brief smile, one oddly benign without the demonic glint of glasses, “Our prince remains at the top of the game.”

Tamaki pouted again- directing it pointedly towards the demon lord sitting next to him, his make-up accentuating his full lips as he did so. His eyes- equally done up with eyeliner and mascara to widen them- sparkled slightly with the tears he had nearly shed.


“Ah, I see.” Kyouya was practically grinning now, one corner of his mouth flicked up in amusement. “You’ve decided to return to Renge’s ‘Lonely Prince’ strategy in an attempt to regain those lost percentiles?” Although in his present attire, any such act would be more likely to attract Hunny-senpai’s nurturing regulars than any princess who preferred Tamaki’s princely airs. “Really, Tou-san, you hardly need to practice on /me/.”

Tamaki remembered that strategy, and as soon as the pout started, it left, replaced by a grin and scheming look. "Oh, Kaasan, isn't it just a fabulous idea? To let the girls see their perfect prince perfectly vulnerable?" He leant over, one arm draped over the edge of the seat to play idly with one of the ostrich feathers in a jar on the table behind them. He was, quite literally, sparkling with enthusiasm as he outlined more plans for the 'lonely prince'. "Do you think it would sell, Kyou~?"

“Admirably, I’m sure.” Kyouya agreed, nodding slightly. For once, a scheme that was unlikely to cost him – the Host Club, cost the -Host Club- any extra money. “But are you sure” he reached back and plucked a feather from the centrepiece “that you could stay in character? It would be a terrible tragedy if the tragic prince could not maintain his woeful façade, throughout whatever occurred…” and stretching out an arm, he twitched the very end of his feather gently underneath the prince’s chin.

Tamaki twitched as the soft feather brushed under his chin, backing up unconsciously with a small blush lining his cheeks. Ack, stupid ticklishness. "Y-yes," he answered, nervously, eying up the soft weapon.

“Yes, you agree that such a prince should not break character?” Kyouya leant closer, moving to the edge of chair to follow the curve of Tamaki’s neck with the feather, “Or, yes, you could?” He flicked it against Tamaki’s skin. “Do you really think” flick “that I” flick “couldn’t make you” flick “laugh?”

Muffled sounds came from Tamaki at each flick, still leaning back. "Mmph. Both... ah... of c-course." He couldn't stop the stutters that came from the tingling, pleasant and at the same time torturous sensation of the feather fluttering down his neck, and the prince screwed his pretty blue eyes shut, turning his head away from Kyouya, the blush becoming heavier at each restrained laugh.

Redoubling his efforts, Kyouya left his seat behind as he leant over the shaking prince, feather tracing the length of his neck over and over, “Really?” he asked, voice bright, and blew a column of air against the golden skin.

Tamaki's arms wrapped around himself as it became harder to hold in the giggles. He tried to push Kyouya away as he tried to control the trembles, replying with a helpless, squealing plea of "KYOUUUUUYAAAA~." Tamaki tried to take shelter against the backrest of the chair, hands still pressed against the other teenager's chest, haplessly trying to push him away.

Already off balance, Tamaki’s hands took Kyouya by surprise and he stumbled sideways, grabbing at the chair for support only to tip them both over, crashing in a tangle of limbs on the floor.

Choking, Kyouya blew clinging blond strands out of his mouth, took one look at Tamaki’s face only inches from his, and burst out laughing.

Tamaki was already breathless from the torture, and the sudden movement onto the floor didn't help matters- not when one was in a corset. The blond was pretty much pressed flush against his best friend and managed to push himself up with his elbows, scowling at the other boy as he tried to catch his breath.

At Tamaki’s frown, Kyouya could only laugh harder, shaking helplessly against the silk-clad torso above him ~ with his dishevelled hair spread in a halo around the two of them, Tamaki looked about as threatening as a kitten, lips plumped into a sulky pout of dissatisfaction.

The kitten didn't have claws either, just a flair for the dramatic. Tamaki smirked to himself for a minute at how Kyouya was trapped underneath him. The blond's fingers trailed along Kyouya's sides, tickling the dark haired boy lightly- the boy was already laughing, Tamaki just wanted to make him squirm.

Kyouya gasped and held his breath, fighting against the urge to move, to grin, just to –react- to those clever fingers. Nobody knew he was ticklish, -nobody-, and it just – wasn’t fair that – that Tamaki – helpless, he bit his lip against the gales of laughter bubbling up despite his control and wriggled furiously beneath the other boy, struggling to escape.

Tamaki's fingers moved lightly up and down Kyouya's ribs as he persisted with the movements; the reaction of the usually cool and collected Kyouya was absolute joy and gold to the president of the Host Club. No-one could really make Kyouya have an extreme reaction.

Glancing around, Tamaki's lips twitched as he quickly bent down to peck Kyouya on the lips. "C'mon, Laugh."

Concentration broken, Kyouya gave up the fight for what little dignity he might ever have possessed in Tamaki’s company, and laughed until tears filled his eyes. “Stop – stop, I swear – if you don’t –“

Though Tamaki took some pleasure in Kyouya's uncontrolled, hysterical reaction, he did let up, rolling off the dark-haired teen with a bright smile and still breathless. He rested his arms against his legs the best he could in the restricting dress and tried to push his messy, extended hair into some sort of proper style.

“Oh, you don’t think you’re getting away quite that easily, do you?” purred Kyouya, still breathing heavily as he sat up. A quick check of the surroundings revealed no-one in the immediate vicinity, and it was rare to catch Tamaki quite this unguarded, hair wild and face smeared with makeup. Leaning in purposefully, Kyouya licked Tamaki’s lips clean of lipstick before slipping inside to taste him, thoroughly and without mercy. He was sweet with makeup and the residue of Hunny-senpai’s cakes, the bitter tang of coffee and a darker, organic taste that was simply Tamaki.

Tamaki was slightly surprised by the kiss, yet completely expecting it at the same time. The blond protested quietly for a moment as he felt Kyouya's tongue slip into his mouth un (indirectly) invited. But as soon as those protests came they left, Tamaki's tongue taken by another purpose- slowly entangling itself with Kyouya's. His hand slipped around the other's neck, tugging him forward slightly.

Possessive, Kyouya’s arm wound around Tamaki’s waist, turning him until their legs were tangled along the floor. His fingers trailed against the exposed skin of Tamaki’s collarbone, tongues, lips and teeth still clashing and twining with each other furiously.

“Tono ~ Tono where are you” “We have something for you ~”

Wrenching his lips from Tamaki’s, Kyouya muttered a vicious “Shimatta!” against the join of Tamaki’s neck. “The twins, the Host Club, and you’re a wreck…”

Honey stopped behind the twins with a surprised, cute blink. "Ano, ano~ what's going on?" He asked as his big brown eyes settled onto the tangled up duo and looked over to his cousin. "Ne, ne Takashi, what's happening?" He asked again as he tugged on the trouser leg of the tall, silent member of the Host Club.

Tamaki was as red as a beet as he looked over at the group watching them with wide eyes and noticed the slightly opened main door. "N-no, we-we weren't doing anything! Right, Kyou~?" Forcing a laugh as he elbowed Kyouya in the ribs.

Kyouya reached up to straighten a pair of glasses he was not, in fact, wearing. “That’s right. Tamaki-san took a rather nasty tumble out of his chair and I was merely trying to help him fix his costume.”

“Then why’ve you got lipstick smeared across your face then, eh, ‘kaasan’?” jibed Kaoru (unless, of course, the twins had swapped costumes. Again.)

Stately, Kyouya wiped his thumb across his lips. He refused to acknowledge the heat in his cheeks as anything other than exertion.

It was when the squeals of "KAWAAAAAAAII~" started along with the stampede, did Tamaki realise just how long there had been clients standing there and he immediately tried to straighten out the blond locks, coughing slightly. Well... their clients seemed more than happy...

By this point, Kyouya was resigned. Turning, he whispered “If this costs us money, you’re not getting laid until you make it back. Personally.” darkly into Tamaki’s ear. With one hand reaching to help the other boy, he stood, straightened clothes and shoulders, and ventured forth to brave the hordes.

By which he meant, of course, stepping swiftly back with clipboard to record the client’s reactions to an ever-so-slightly dazed-looking Tamaki.

The girls seemed to be flocking around the dazed young man, who quickly recovered from the shock to roll off genuine poetic words about love to each girl who easily turned into goo- even in the presence of Tamaki, post snog, in a dress.

"And that is why I'm the Prince," he muttered to Kyouya as the fifth girl in ten minutes swooned.

“Conceded,” Kyouya admitted, graciously. After all, watching Tamaki flirt was certainly not an unpleasant way of making money.
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