(no subject)
When Lord Ootori walked into his study that afternoon, he was a bit surprised to find his wife there, looking troubled.
“I was under the impression that Honey left an hour past,” he said, and sat down across from her, watching with silent approval as she served him tea exactly as he preferred it. Three lumps of sugar when in private; one when guests were present. His secret sweet tooth was something she had found highly entertaining after their marriage, and never passed up an opportunity during teatime to refer to it.
The fact that she handed off the cup with no quip was enough to slightly alarm him, though he took a few sips before deciding how to question her.
“Did some other visitors come by?” he asked, and she looked up at him, blinking in surprise.
A small frown graced his lips; she had forgotten he was there.
“Yes,” she responded, hands moving restlessly in her lap. His frown grew. Haruhi almost never fidgeted, unless he was the one baiting her. It had become an exercise he prided himself on excelling at, since watching her usual calm fly out the window was a distinct pleasure he never grew tired of.
“So Honey didn’t upset you,” he said, but his tone indicated that she should inform him of who had.
Giving him a wry grin, Haruhi held up her hand, displaying the item she had been fussing with.
“Tamaki brought me a fan,” she told him, playing absently with the wooden slats. “And he taught me a few gestures…”
She then proceeded to make a motion which sent both dark eyebrows up into his hair.
“Precisely,” she said, flushing a bit. Then she looked startled. “You know it, too?”
Kyouya was considering the many ways of killing a man and getting away with it as his wife leaned across the low table holding the tea tray.
“Kyouya, does Tamaki know that you know?”
Kyouya highly doubted it, which was why he was presently considering the man’s demise.
“Well, either way, I won’t use it,” she said decisively, pulling him out of his murderous thoughts.
This was, of course, a welcome pronouncement to Kyouya, but even as his wife set the small fan on the table, his mind whirled.
“So…” he began, reaching for the thing. “Tamaki taught you a few of the signals?”
Haruhi was giving him an odd look, uncertain to what he was thinking now.
With a practiced flick, the fan opened into a blatant display, and he glanced at her over the decorated wood.
After a moment, her eyes widened in disbelief.
He gave a soft chuckle, and then nearly shut the fan, keeping it open only enough to make the gesture precise… before tapping it against his mouth.
She gave a gasp, even guessing at what he had planned to do, and then, she smiled.
“Don’t tell me that Tamaki has given you a new way to ask for such things,” she teased him, but he merely regarded her patiently.
After a few more moments of trying to hold back her smile, she rolled her eyes and stood up with a huff, crossing to leaning over and push the fan aside.
The delicate peck was not what he had been asking for, and of course she knew that, as she immediately pulled away and gave him a wry look.
“I do not see any wisdom in rewarding bad behavior,” she informed him, and made to leave. With a speed learned from many months of trying to catch her mid-escape, he grasped her wrist with unusual strength.
By the time she ended up in his lap, Haruhi was fully disgruntled and looked ready to mutiny.
“I hate to admit to such, but the present was not such a bad idea,” he said, continuing on over Haruhi’s outraged look. “Not many people learn the language these days.”
He promptly tucked the fan into a coat pocket.
“Just imagine his face when I use it at tomorrow’s ball,” he murmured, and she gave an exasperated sigh at this sign that the stupid competition was still going on. With a sudden surge, she was off his lap, a scowl fighting to stay in place.
“It would serve him right for giving me such an obnoxious gift,” she finally said, glaring at him for good measure.
Kyouya chuckled suddenly.
“Don’t worry; I’ll get you your own to respond with.” Tamaki would likely explode.
The smile on Kyouya's face widened to disturbing proportions.
A/N: So many people said they went and researched fan language after reading this. (laughs) I didn’t even do my research before writing it! I just hoped that my memory was correct. In case you want to know which I was referring to, though: #22 and #5… (laughs again)
http://delval. rscds. us/fan. html
“I was under the impression that Honey left an hour past,” he said, and sat down across from her, watching with silent approval as she served him tea exactly as he preferred it. Three lumps of sugar when in private; one when guests were present. His secret sweet tooth was something she had found highly entertaining after their marriage, and never passed up an opportunity during teatime to refer to it.
The fact that she handed off the cup with no quip was enough to slightly alarm him, though he took a few sips before deciding how to question her.
“Did some other visitors come by?” he asked, and she looked up at him, blinking in surprise.
A small frown graced his lips; she had forgotten he was there.
“Yes,” she responded, hands moving restlessly in her lap. His frown grew. Haruhi almost never fidgeted, unless he was the one baiting her. It had become an exercise he prided himself on excelling at, since watching her usual calm fly out the window was a distinct pleasure he never grew tired of.
“So Honey didn’t upset you,” he said, but his tone indicated that she should inform him of who had.
Giving him a wry grin, Haruhi held up her hand, displaying the item she had been fussing with.
“Tamaki brought me a fan,” she told him, playing absently with the wooden slats. “And he taught me a few gestures…”
She then proceeded to make a motion which sent both dark eyebrows up into his hair.
“Precisely,” she said, flushing a bit. Then she looked startled. “You know it, too?”
Kyouya was considering the many ways of killing a man and getting away with it as his wife leaned across the low table holding the tea tray.
“Kyouya, does Tamaki know that you know?”
Kyouya highly doubted it, which was why he was presently considering the man’s demise.
“Well, either way, I won’t use it,” she said decisively, pulling him out of his murderous thoughts.
This was, of course, a welcome pronouncement to Kyouya, but even as his wife set the small fan on the table, his mind whirled.
“So…” he began, reaching for the thing. “Tamaki taught you a few of the signals?”
Haruhi was giving him an odd look, uncertain to what he was thinking now.
With a practiced flick, the fan opened into a blatant display, and he glanced at her over the decorated wood.
After a moment, her eyes widened in disbelief.
He gave a soft chuckle, and then nearly shut the fan, keeping it open only enough to make the gesture precise… before tapping it against his mouth.
She gave a gasp, even guessing at what he had planned to do, and then, she smiled.
“Don’t tell me that Tamaki has given you a new way to ask for such things,” she teased him, but he merely regarded her patiently.
After a few more moments of trying to hold back her smile, she rolled her eyes and stood up with a huff, crossing to leaning over and push the fan aside.
The delicate peck was not what he had been asking for, and of course she knew that, as she immediately pulled away and gave him a wry look.
“I do not see any wisdom in rewarding bad behavior,” she informed him, and made to leave. With a speed learned from many months of trying to catch her mid-escape, he grasped her wrist with unusual strength.
By the time she ended up in his lap, Haruhi was fully disgruntled and looked ready to mutiny.
“I hate to admit to such, but the present was not such a bad idea,” he said, continuing on over Haruhi’s outraged look. “Not many people learn the language these days.”
He promptly tucked the fan into a coat pocket.
“Just imagine his face when I use it at tomorrow’s ball,” he murmured, and she gave an exasperated sigh at this sign that the stupid competition was still going on. With a sudden surge, she was off his lap, a scowl fighting to stay in place.
“It would serve him right for giving me such an obnoxious gift,” she finally said, glaring at him for good measure.
Kyouya chuckled suddenly.
“Don’t worry; I’ll get you your own to respond with.” Tamaki would likely explode.
The smile on Kyouya's face widened to disturbing proportions.
A/N: So many people said they went and researched fan language after reading this. (laughs) I didn’t even do my research before writing it! I just hoped that my memory was correct. In case you want to know which I was referring to, though: #22 and #5… (laughs again)
http://delval. rscds. us/fan. html