good-bye fic
I LEAVE TOMORROW. TOMORROW. Classes start next Tuesday, and I'll be forced to start reading the f-list on a heavy filter. Comments will be sporadic, entries even worse. So as a going away gift to you, Ouran Host Club fic!
I wanted this fic to read like how an episode of the anime would pan out, and it turned out to be much more difficult than I originally considered. Sort of like if the anime were ever to be translated into a novel medium (which would, naturally, be infinitely less entertaining). It didn't, er, work out quite as planned, but I hope you can somewhat see the effect I was going for. Why am I writing about Christmas in August? Who knows.
Merry-go-round
For Christmas one year, the Host Club decides to put on a Secret Santa exchange. (More accurately, as how the club always functions, Tamaki spent too much time on the Internet googling catchphrases he eavesdrops from people in markets and restaurants, and he inflicts the fruits of his labor on everyone else.)
"It's how the common people save money!" Tamaki tells them proudly. "Each person has to buy only one present, and everyone gets a gift."
"But what if you want to buy everyone presents?" Honey asks anxiously.
"Yeah, what if you want to get presents from everyone?" Hikaru echoes. "One present isn't a lot."
"That's not how the game works!" Tamaki scowls. "Try to be more considerate."
He gives a badly disguised sidelong glance at Haruhi, who stares blankly back at him.
"Do I have to participate in this?" she purses her lips. "Can you just not put my name in the drawing?"
A crushed expression crosses Tamaki's face, and Kaoru quips slyly, "That's not how the game works, Haru-chan. We're going to put your name in the pool, regardless if you play along or not. If you decide not to do it, I guess somebody just won't get a Christmas present."
For all that Haruhi may be indifferent, she is always, always fair; she would have left the Host Club a long time ago if she weren't.
*
Tamaki suggests the Secret Santa exchange mostly because he expected to draw Haruhi, but to his devastating realization, he ends up picking Mori's name. In retrospect, he really should have asked Kyouya to discreetly rig the drawing; he obviously didn't grasp the complete concept of "chance" and "luck."
"Kyouya, who do you think has Haruhi?" Tamaki whines after class one day.
"I know who everyone has," Kyouya tells him bluntly.
"Then who has Haruhi!" Tamaki wrings his hands.
Kyouya smiles. "I do."
"Oh, perfect!" Tamaki lets out a sigh of relief. "I was afraid one of the twins had her."
Kyouya furrows his brow delicately.
"We can just switch names," Tamaki explains eagerly.
Kyouya thinks for a moment. "No."
"What?" Tamaki asks in surprise.
"I'm not switching with you. That's not how the game works, Tamaki," he chides.
"But I would give her something she'd like much better than you," he argues.
"You'd give her something she would never use," Kyouya points out. "Like a dress."
Tamaki sulks. He knows it's true. "Then what are you going to give her?" he demands.
"You'll see at the Christmas party," Kyouya says noncommittally, and ignores the kicked puppy look on Tamaki's face.
*
Tamaki suffers through the rest of the day in a fog of doom, and he spends the afternoon curled up on a sofa glaring ominously at Kyouya.
The rest of the Host Club, as they've always learned to do, stays out of his line of fire.
"Haruhi, if you drew my name, you have to make me lunch for a month," Kaoru insists.
"Who says I drew your name?" she asks wryly.
"It's simple probability," Hikaru quips from behind. "Between the two of us, we make a third of the name pool."
"Who says I'm going to share Haruhi's lunch?" Kaoru grins evilly.
"I'm not making you lunch," she interrupts.
"So mean, Haruhi," Kaoru pouts. "All I want for Christmas is a homemade lunch, and you won't even do that for me. You'll probably give me coal."
"I didn't draw your name," Haruhi tells him impatiently.
"Then who did you draw?" the twins chorus together.
Haruhi opens her mouth and then snaps it shut again. "Nice try. You'll find out when we reveal names at the party."
The twins sport two identical scowls, and Haruhi serenely brushes past them.
Tamaki decides to forgive Kyouya by the end of the day, mostly because he can't stand to have anyone not want to talk to him, and Kyouya hasn't looked his way since they entered the music room. "Everyone seems very enthusiastic about the Secret Santa exchange," he says hesitantly after he's edged his way around the room next to Kyouya.
"I don't think they completely understand the concept," he tells Tamaki without looking up from his calculations. "Already, Hikaru coerced Honey, who had Kaoru, into changing with him, except Hikaru originally drew Honey's name, so now Honey has himself. Mori refused to trade with Kaoru, who wanted Hikaru's name, so now the twins have stubbornly decided to only give presents to each other. Similarly, Honey announced that he is going to give presents to everyone, because choosing only one person is too difficult."
Tamaki stares at him. "Why didn't you stop any of this!" he explodes.
"I felt it wasn't my place, my lord," Kyouya replies, almost sincere.
Tamaki storms home and, even though the plan seems to have gone permanently, unfailingly awry, has his maid wrap the Masamune katana that he chose for Mori. He supposes the idea was doomed from the start; secrets and mysteries never remain hidden for very long in the Host Club.
*
The day of the Christmas party dawns bright and clear and Tamaki, who has always been a sucker for the holidays, can't keep his spirits low when he opens the music room door to towering Christmas trees strung in lights and tinsel, pots of poinsettias dotting every table top, and the aroma of freshly baked (not by them, of course) holiday cookies and cakes. After he forces everyone to gather around to exchange presents, he gives the katana to Mori, who accepts it politely; Honey passes around identical gift baskets of cake; and Kyouya hands Haruhi a "One Million Yen Off Debt" coupon. She looks from the slip of paper to Kyouya and, with a resigning air, pockets it.
None of the club members seem to fully grasp the essence of a Secret Santa, but that also doesn't stop them from enjoying themselves, and Tamaki muses that perhaps they just aren't ready to tackle such a complicated commoner's custom. Maybe next year.
His thoughts are interrupted by Haruhi, who drops a neatly wrapped bento box in front of him. "I wasn't sure what to get you," she confesses.
Tamaki curiously unwraps it; the lid opens to reveal rows of multicolored rice cakes, carefully fitted and hand-decorated.
"Daifuku," Haruhi tells him, "because you always remind me of luck." When he continues to return the blank stare, she sighs impatiently, "I was your Secret Santa."
Before he can reply, Hikaru pops up sharply from behind. "I want one!" He makes a swipe for the box, and Tamaki hurriedly yanks it out of reach and cradles it against him.
"Thank you," he tells her, voice soft.
She smiles demurely and shrugs. "It's Christmas."
"I want to try one!" Honey tugs on Haruhi's shirt sleeve just as Kaoru curls an arm around her shoulders and appeals, "You ought to bake us something, too, Haruhi. It's not fair if only Tamaki gets something."
"I'm sure senpai will gladly share," she says pointedly.
Tamaki looks at their expectant faces and grudgingly holds out the box. It's emptied by the time everyone leaves.
"The Secret Santa exchange was pretty successful, wasn't it?" Tamaki asks Kyouya happily after the party's over. They're the only two left now, opting to stay behind after everyone else to finish up details: Kyouya, mainly to run financial tallies and crunch numbers, and Tamaki, mostly to keep him company.
Kyouya doesn't respond; he locks the music room door, and they make their way down the stairs together. The sky has darkened with clouds; the brisk air promises an imminent snowfall.
"I assumed you'd prefer to have Haruhi draw your name rather than the other way around. It'd be too suspicious if both situations occurred," Kyouya murmurs as they near their escorts and cars. He catches Tamaki's surprised expression in the dark reflection of the tinted window before sliding smoothly into the backseat. "I'll see you on Monday," he smiles. "We need to start planning for New Year's; I have a few ideas. Oh, and Merry Christmas."
I wanted this fic to read like how an episode of the anime would pan out, and it turned out to be much more difficult than I originally considered. Sort of like if the anime were ever to be translated into a novel medium (which would, naturally, be infinitely less entertaining). It didn't, er, work out quite as planned, but I hope you can somewhat see the effect I was going for. Why am I writing about Christmas in August? Who knows.
Merry-go-round
For Christmas one year, the Host Club decides to put on a Secret Santa exchange. (More accurately, as how the club always functions, Tamaki spent too much time on the Internet googling catchphrases he eavesdrops from people in markets and restaurants, and he inflicts the fruits of his labor on everyone else.)
"It's how the common people save money!" Tamaki tells them proudly. "Each person has to buy only one present, and everyone gets a gift."
"But what if you want to buy everyone presents?" Honey asks anxiously.
"Yeah, what if you want to get presents from everyone?" Hikaru echoes. "One present isn't a lot."
"That's not how the game works!" Tamaki scowls. "Try to be more considerate."
He gives a badly disguised sidelong glance at Haruhi, who stares blankly back at him.
"Do I have to participate in this?" she purses her lips. "Can you just not put my name in the drawing?"
A crushed expression crosses Tamaki's face, and Kaoru quips slyly, "That's not how the game works, Haru-chan. We're going to put your name in the pool, regardless if you play along or not. If you decide not to do it, I guess somebody just won't get a Christmas present."
For all that Haruhi may be indifferent, she is always, always fair; she would have left the Host Club a long time ago if she weren't.
*
Tamaki suggests the Secret Santa exchange mostly because he expected to draw Haruhi, but to his devastating realization, he ends up picking Mori's name. In retrospect, he really should have asked Kyouya to discreetly rig the drawing; he obviously didn't grasp the complete concept of "chance" and "luck."
"Kyouya, who do you think has Haruhi?" Tamaki whines after class one day.
"I know who everyone has," Kyouya tells him bluntly.
"Then who has Haruhi!" Tamaki wrings his hands.
Kyouya smiles. "I do."
"Oh, perfect!" Tamaki lets out a sigh of relief. "I was afraid one of the twins had her."
Kyouya furrows his brow delicately.
"We can just switch names," Tamaki explains eagerly.
Kyouya thinks for a moment. "No."
"What?" Tamaki asks in surprise.
"I'm not switching with you. That's not how the game works, Tamaki," he chides.
"But I would give her something she'd like much better than you," he argues.
"You'd give her something she would never use," Kyouya points out. "Like a dress."
Tamaki sulks. He knows it's true. "Then what are you going to give her?" he demands.
"You'll see at the Christmas party," Kyouya says noncommittally, and ignores the kicked puppy look on Tamaki's face.
*
Tamaki suffers through the rest of the day in a fog of doom, and he spends the afternoon curled up on a sofa glaring ominously at Kyouya.
The rest of the Host Club, as they've always learned to do, stays out of his line of fire.
"Haruhi, if you drew my name, you have to make me lunch for a month," Kaoru insists.
"Who says I drew your name?" she asks wryly.
"It's simple probability," Hikaru quips from behind. "Between the two of us, we make a third of the name pool."
"Who says I'm going to share Haruhi's lunch?" Kaoru grins evilly.
"I'm not making you lunch," she interrupts.
"So mean, Haruhi," Kaoru pouts. "All I want for Christmas is a homemade lunch, and you won't even do that for me. You'll probably give me coal."
"I didn't draw your name," Haruhi tells him impatiently.
"Then who did you draw?" the twins chorus together.
Haruhi opens her mouth and then snaps it shut again. "Nice try. You'll find out when we reveal names at the party."
The twins sport two identical scowls, and Haruhi serenely brushes past them.
Tamaki decides to forgive Kyouya by the end of the day, mostly because he can't stand to have anyone not want to talk to him, and Kyouya hasn't looked his way since they entered the music room. "Everyone seems very enthusiastic about the Secret Santa exchange," he says hesitantly after he's edged his way around the room next to Kyouya.
"I don't think they completely understand the concept," he tells Tamaki without looking up from his calculations. "Already, Hikaru coerced Honey, who had Kaoru, into changing with him, except Hikaru originally drew Honey's name, so now Honey has himself. Mori refused to trade with Kaoru, who wanted Hikaru's name, so now the twins have stubbornly decided to only give presents to each other. Similarly, Honey announced that he is going to give presents to everyone, because choosing only one person is too difficult."
Tamaki stares at him. "Why didn't you stop any of this!" he explodes.
"I felt it wasn't my place, my lord," Kyouya replies, almost sincere.
Tamaki storms home and, even though the plan seems to have gone permanently, unfailingly awry, has his maid wrap the Masamune katana that he chose for Mori. He supposes the idea was doomed from the start; secrets and mysteries never remain hidden for very long in the Host Club.
*
The day of the Christmas party dawns bright and clear and Tamaki, who has always been a sucker for the holidays, can't keep his spirits low when he opens the music room door to towering Christmas trees strung in lights and tinsel, pots of poinsettias dotting every table top, and the aroma of freshly baked (not by them, of course) holiday cookies and cakes. After he forces everyone to gather around to exchange presents, he gives the katana to Mori, who accepts it politely; Honey passes around identical gift baskets of cake; and Kyouya hands Haruhi a "One Million Yen Off Debt" coupon. She looks from the slip of paper to Kyouya and, with a resigning air, pockets it.
None of the club members seem to fully grasp the essence of a Secret Santa, but that also doesn't stop them from enjoying themselves, and Tamaki muses that perhaps they just aren't ready to tackle such a complicated commoner's custom. Maybe next year.
His thoughts are interrupted by Haruhi, who drops a neatly wrapped bento box in front of him. "I wasn't sure what to get you," she confesses.
Tamaki curiously unwraps it; the lid opens to reveal rows of multicolored rice cakes, carefully fitted and hand-decorated.
"Daifuku," Haruhi tells him, "because you always remind me of luck." When he continues to return the blank stare, she sighs impatiently, "I was your Secret Santa."
Before he can reply, Hikaru pops up sharply from behind. "I want one!" He makes a swipe for the box, and Tamaki hurriedly yanks it out of reach and cradles it against him.
"Thank you," he tells her, voice soft.
She smiles demurely and shrugs. "It's Christmas."
"I want to try one!" Honey tugs on Haruhi's shirt sleeve just as Kaoru curls an arm around her shoulders and appeals, "You ought to bake us something, too, Haruhi. It's not fair if only Tamaki gets something."
"I'm sure senpai will gladly share," she says pointedly.
Tamaki looks at their expectant faces and grudgingly holds out the box. It's emptied by the time everyone leaves.
"The Secret Santa exchange was pretty successful, wasn't it?" Tamaki asks Kyouya happily after the party's over. They're the only two left now, opting to stay behind after everyone else to finish up details: Kyouya, mainly to run financial tallies and crunch numbers, and Tamaki, mostly to keep him company.
Kyouya doesn't respond; he locks the music room door, and they make their way down the stairs together. The sky has darkened with clouds; the brisk air promises an imminent snowfall.
"I assumed you'd prefer to have Haruhi draw your name rather than the other way around. It'd be too suspicious if both situations occurred," Kyouya murmurs as they near their escorts and cars. He catches Tamaki's surprised expression in the dark reflection of the tinted window before sliding smoothly into the backseat. "I'll see you on Monday," he smiles. "We need to start planning for New Year's; I have a few ideas. Oh, and Merry Christmas."