Lurks-no-MOAR! With fic.
Hi! *waves* I'm Insidiae, call me Diae or Audrey or Hey you! ...Or nothing at all, I mean, I don't mean to impose or anything >_>
Um, sorry. Well, in any case, I've been lurking here for a while, but now that I've finallyt written Ouranfic, I'm deciding to post. Um, yay?
TItle: Family Skeleton
Author: insidiae
Rating: PG
Notes: Contains HunnyMori, Twincest, TamakixHaruhi, and is Kyouyacentric. Also, a one-shot, and this is my first Ouranfic.
Fanfic archive here.
George Benard Shaw once said, if you cannot erase a family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.
The Host Club, Kyouya thinks, is one big, happy, incestuous family.
Hunny and Mori are the first to come clean. Nobody is too surprised by the news; the cousins were always very close, both emotionally and physically, and the signs were always there. Hunny’s always the first one to know when Mori is upset, and the first person to be seen poking and teasing and playing with the tall, quiet boy until he smiles. On the other side, everyone knows that Mori would protect his small, blond charge with his life, even if Hunny can more than defend himself.
They reveal their relationship to the Host Club first, of course. As the seven of them put on ponchos and sombreros (the day’s theme is Mexico), Hunny bluntly states that he and Mori are going out, isn’t that great, they’re both so happy, and Haru-chan should get more sleep because she looks a little pale, with Mori blushing faintly in the corner.
The twins blink once in unison before shrugging their shoulders and returning to fixing each other’s sombrero with a grin. The giant hats completely cover their hairlines, providing a perfect opportunity to play the “Which one is Hikaru-kun?” Game. It’ll be a fun day, though they’ll have to avoid Haruhi for the risk that she may spoil the fun.
Speaking of whom, the girl is looking kind of out of it. Kyouya would think she’s catatonic if not for the twitch in her eye and the distant-sounding murmur of congratulations falling from her lips. Haruhi knows this shouldn’t surprise her. No, seriously, this really shouldn’t surprise her. The evidence was always there, but still. Whoa. Just...whoa.
Of course, her reaction is nothing compared to Tamaki’s, who, as per usual, is being melodramatic. The twins pause in stuffing their bangs into their costumes to snicker at their fearless leader running around like a headless chicken. Sighing, Haruhi draws a hand over her face and pulls herself together. With perfect, practiced timing, she sticks her other hand out and catches Tamaki by his shirt collar, making him trip over his own feet and fall to the floor, bringing an end to this particular bout of madness. Predictably, when the blond stands back up, it’s as if nothing ever happened. He only offers Hunny and Mori a charming smile and two thumbs up before smothering Haruhi with loud exclamations of how cute she looks. The girl, to her credit, takes it like a man.
And from the side, Kyouya smirks. He had already considered the possibility of this situation in his calculations, and the money gears in his head are already turning.
The twins are next.
They decide to do it slowly. They experiment; the fleeting touches made by identical hands on identical bodies start to linger. Their eyes catch more often and their audience eats it up. Sneaky as always, the brothers hide their secret well under the guise of their acting.
They plan to tell the Host Club, really, they do. Someday. Someday far from now. Of course, things don’t always go as planned, like Mori opening the door to the old trumpet room of Music Room 3 to discover Hikaru straddling Kaoru’s hips, with one hand up his shirt and the other disappearing somewhere beyond his waistline. The tall boy has enough humility to promptly turn around and leave, shutting the door behind him.
The twins breathe a sigh of relief and silently promise to never play any tricks on the quiet upperclassman. Ever. Before they can move, however, Hunny sticks his head in the room to see what made Mori turn back so quickly. When he sees the two redheads in their compromising position, a huge smile falls over his face and the Hitachiin brothers know at once that the lolishota boy will not keep silent like his cousin. Both stare at the small senior with wide, blank eyes as he skips back into the main room, announcing his discovery loudly, cheerful voice snapping Kaoru out of his daze. Suddenly panicked, the younger twin scrambles out from underneath his brother and slaps his arm, scolding him because he told him so, he knew they were going to get caught, but did he listen? Nooooo, while Hikaru does his part to remove earwax from his ear with his pinky off to the side. He doesn’t see what the big deal is; the Host Club was bound to figure it out one day, and Kaoru always overreacts.
Sighing, and with his brother still yelling at him, Hikaru grasps Kaoru’s thin wrist in his long, spindly fingers and drags him into Music Room 3. They find the other Host Club member waiting for them, with bemused expressions and raised eyebrows (except, of course, for Tamaki, who, again, is creating quite the scene). Hunny smiles widely and pulls a pastry from behind his back, a Queen Elizabeth mini-cake with words of congratulations scrawled in pink icing and heart-shaped sprinkles piled on. (Where he got it from, no one knows, and no one asks.)
Mori nods.
Haruhi, this time prepared for the cultural taboo, just kind of snorts to herself and rolls her eyes. Did they think they were being subtle? Honestly. It was so obvious.
As for Tamaki... well, Tamaki’s in a world of his own, sobbing and clinging to his “wife” because all their children are growing up and leaving them behind.
Kyouya grimaces at the outlandish blond latched onto his arm and the thought of what he’ll need to do to calm the boy down. Poor Tamaki doesn’t realize that this isn’t Neverland, and that everyone grows up. Instead of trying to keep the family in one place, they should be saving for college and preparing for the future.
And a second after thinking that, Kyouya wants to slap himself. If he’s not careful, Tamaki really will make a mother hen out of him.
Then there’s Tamaki and Haruhi.
Which would, you know, be the one perfectly acceptable, perfectly normal couple in the Club (except for the difference in social classes and the whole Haruhi-is-cross-dressing-as-a-boy-to-make-money-from-fangirls-who-don’t-know-her-true-gender-in-order-to-pay-off-a-debt thing, but those are excusable), if only Tamaki wasn’t so very, very stupid. It does, after all, take a certain special level of cluelessness to be unable to differentiate between paternal and romantic affection.
Haruhi sometimes gets frustrated with how oblivious he is, and one day it’s particularly bad. Five smashed designer teacups of instant coffee, two red marks on Tamaki’s face, eighteen torn costumes, four limbs in casts, and several unsatisfied customers later, Kyouya finally pulls out the Club’s copy of the Official Ouran Koukou Host Club Rabu-Rabu Taboo-Taboo Fourteen Month Fan Calendar (long winded name courtesy of Tamaki) to confirm a sneaking suspicion he has. Sure enough, today’s square is circled in red marker, as are the five days following. Sighing, Kyouya replaces the calendar in the drawer he pulled it from and grabs a small bottle of Tylenol instead. The one thing none of them had to deal with before Haruhi entered their lives is the perils of the emotional instability that comes with PMS. Without any water, he downs two of the pills. It’s going to be a long week.
Tamaki - stupid, stupid Tamaki - trails Haruhi like a dog, complete with whimpers and the occasional pant. He wants to know why his daughter is so upset, why his daughter is breaking dishes, and-
-And he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Haruhi - irritated, annoyed Haruhi - is kissing him. Because Tamaki is so, so dense, but at least now he’ll finally get it.
And he does. Oh, does he ever. Kyouya can see the realization light up the Club president’s bright eyes as he clutches the girl’s bony shoulders, suddenly truly becoming the prince he always only played at being before. Silently, Kyouya slides to the door and closes it with a click, thankful that Haruhi didn’t lose control in front of customers. The trouble of dealing with the confusion from that situation (No, Tamaki isn’t gay, yes, he’s kissing Haruhi, no, it isn’t an act, yes, no, yes, no) would be too much for the bespectacled boy to stand.
Well, it’s not all bad. Kyouya can appreciate the passion of young love, though if the two of them don’t pause to breathe soon, they’re going to asphyxiate.
Yes, even with its many obvious obstacles, Tamaki and Haruhi’s relationship shows every sign of being a lasting one.
As he watches them, the dark-haired boy smirks. If Tamaki plans on divorcing him for their daughter, Kyouya will take him to the cleaners.
Kyouya thinks that it’s a good thing that men can’t get pregnant. Otherwise, the Host Club would be full of children that were retarded from all the incest - the exception being Haruhi’s children, who would just have to deal with the misfortune of having half of Tamaki’s questionable genes for intelligence.
The thought makes Kyouya shudder, and he suddenly remembers why incest is generally frowned upon in most circles.
Which brings up the other point, that none of them will have an easy time in life. Society is not so quick to overlook such transgressions from the norm, especially by the upper class. All of them come from strict, conservative families, none of which will be terribly happy with the couples.
But then again, the Host Club is a family in and of itself, filled with as much love and support as any real one, and in some cases, more.
The thought makes Kyouya smile, and suddenly he remembers why he’s even a part of it in the first place.
Oh, yes.
The Host Club, Kyouya thinks, is one big, happy, incestuous family. And he is proud to be their mother.
Thank you for reading! As usual, comments and criticisms make the authoress happy in her pantalones!
-Insidiae-
Um, sorry. Well, in any case, I've been lurking here for a while, but now that I've finallyt written Ouranfic, I'm deciding to post. Um, yay?
TItle: Family Skeleton
Author: insidiae
Rating: PG
Notes: Contains HunnyMori, Twincest, TamakixHaruhi, and is Kyouyacentric. Also, a one-shot, and this is my first Ouranfic.
Fanfic archive here.
George Benard Shaw once said, if you cannot erase a family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.
The Host Club, Kyouya thinks, is one big, happy, incestuous family.
Hunny and Mori are the first to come clean. Nobody is too surprised by the news; the cousins were always very close, both emotionally and physically, and the signs were always there. Hunny’s always the first one to know when Mori is upset, and the first person to be seen poking and teasing and playing with the tall, quiet boy until he smiles. On the other side, everyone knows that Mori would protect his small, blond charge with his life, even if Hunny can more than defend himself.
They reveal their relationship to the Host Club first, of course. As the seven of them put on ponchos and sombreros (the day’s theme is Mexico), Hunny bluntly states that he and Mori are going out, isn’t that great, they’re both so happy, and Haru-chan should get more sleep because she looks a little pale, with Mori blushing faintly in the corner.
The twins blink once in unison before shrugging their shoulders and returning to fixing each other’s sombrero with a grin. The giant hats completely cover their hairlines, providing a perfect opportunity to play the “Which one is Hikaru-kun?” Game. It’ll be a fun day, though they’ll have to avoid Haruhi for the risk that she may spoil the fun.
Speaking of whom, the girl is looking kind of out of it. Kyouya would think she’s catatonic if not for the twitch in her eye and the distant-sounding murmur of congratulations falling from her lips. Haruhi knows this shouldn’t surprise her. No, seriously, this really shouldn’t surprise her. The evidence was always there, but still. Whoa. Just...whoa.
Of course, her reaction is nothing compared to Tamaki’s, who, as per usual, is being melodramatic. The twins pause in stuffing their bangs into their costumes to snicker at their fearless leader running around like a headless chicken. Sighing, Haruhi draws a hand over her face and pulls herself together. With perfect, practiced timing, she sticks her other hand out and catches Tamaki by his shirt collar, making him trip over his own feet and fall to the floor, bringing an end to this particular bout of madness. Predictably, when the blond stands back up, it’s as if nothing ever happened. He only offers Hunny and Mori a charming smile and two thumbs up before smothering Haruhi with loud exclamations of how cute she looks. The girl, to her credit, takes it like a man.
And from the side, Kyouya smirks. He had already considered the possibility of this situation in his calculations, and the money gears in his head are already turning.
The twins are next.
They decide to do it slowly. They experiment; the fleeting touches made by identical hands on identical bodies start to linger. Their eyes catch more often and their audience eats it up. Sneaky as always, the brothers hide their secret well under the guise of their acting.
They plan to tell the Host Club, really, they do. Someday. Someday far from now. Of course, things don’t always go as planned, like Mori opening the door to the old trumpet room of Music Room 3 to discover Hikaru straddling Kaoru’s hips, with one hand up his shirt and the other disappearing somewhere beyond his waistline. The tall boy has enough humility to promptly turn around and leave, shutting the door behind him.
The twins breathe a sigh of relief and silently promise to never play any tricks on the quiet upperclassman. Ever. Before they can move, however, Hunny sticks his head in the room to see what made Mori turn back so quickly. When he sees the two redheads in their compromising position, a huge smile falls over his face and the Hitachiin brothers know at once that the lolishota boy will not keep silent like his cousin. Both stare at the small senior with wide, blank eyes as he skips back into the main room, announcing his discovery loudly, cheerful voice snapping Kaoru out of his daze. Suddenly panicked, the younger twin scrambles out from underneath his brother and slaps his arm, scolding him because he told him so, he knew they were going to get caught, but did he listen? Nooooo, while Hikaru does his part to remove earwax from his ear with his pinky off to the side. He doesn’t see what the big deal is; the Host Club was bound to figure it out one day, and Kaoru always overreacts.
Sighing, and with his brother still yelling at him, Hikaru grasps Kaoru’s thin wrist in his long, spindly fingers and drags him into Music Room 3. They find the other Host Club member waiting for them, with bemused expressions and raised eyebrows (except, of course, for Tamaki, who, again, is creating quite the scene). Hunny smiles widely and pulls a pastry from behind his back, a Queen Elizabeth mini-cake with words of congratulations scrawled in pink icing and heart-shaped sprinkles piled on. (Where he got it from, no one knows, and no one asks.)
Mori nods.
Haruhi, this time prepared for the cultural taboo, just kind of snorts to herself and rolls her eyes. Did they think they were being subtle? Honestly. It was so obvious.
As for Tamaki... well, Tamaki’s in a world of his own, sobbing and clinging to his “wife” because all their children are growing up and leaving them behind.
Kyouya grimaces at the outlandish blond latched onto his arm and the thought of what he’ll need to do to calm the boy down. Poor Tamaki doesn’t realize that this isn’t Neverland, and that everyone grows up. Instead of trying to keep the family in one place, they should be saving for college and preparing for the future.
And a second after thinking that, Kyouya wants to slap himself. If he’s not careful, Tamaki really will make a mother hen out of him.
Then there’s Tamaki and Haruhi.
Which would, you know, be the one perfectly acceptable, perfectly normal couple in the Club (except for the difference in social classes and the whole Haruhi-is-cross-dressing-as-a-boy-to-make-money-from-fangirls-who-don’t-know-her-true-gender-in-order-to-pay-off-a-debt thing, but those are excusable), if only Tamaki wasn’t so very, very stupid. It does, after all, take a certain special level of cluelessness to be unable to differentiate between paternal and romantic affection.
Haruhi sometimes gets frustrated with how oblivious he is, and one day it’s particularly bad. Five smashed designer teacups of instant coffee, two red marks on Tamaki’s face, eighteen torn costumes, four limbs in casts, and several unsatisfied customers later, Kyouya finally pulls out the Club’s copy of the Official Ouran Koukou Host Club Rabu-Rabu Taboo-Taboo Fourteen Month Fan Calendar (long winded name courtesy of Tamaki) to confirm a sneaking suspicion he has. Sure enough, today’s square is circled in red marker, as are the five days following. Sighing, Kyouya replaces the calendar in the drawer he pulled it from and grabs a small bottle of Tylenol instead. The one thing none of them had to deal with before Haruhi entered their lives is the perils of the emotional instability that comes with PMS. Without any water, he downs two of the pills. It’s going to be a long week.
Tamaki - stupid, stupid Tamaki - trails Haruhi like a dog, complete with whimpers and the occasional pant. He wants to know why his daughter is so upset, why his daughter is breaking dishes, and-
-And he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Haruhi - irritated, annoyed Haruhi - is kissing him. Because Tamaki is so, so dense, but at least now he’ll finally get it.
And he does. Oh, does he ever. Kyouya can see the realization light up the Club president’s bright eyes as he clutches the girl’s bony shoulders, suddenly truly becoming the prince he always only played at being before. Silently, Kyouya slides to the door and closes it with a click, thankful that Haruhi didn’t lose control in front of customers. The trouble of dealing with the confusion from that situation (No, Tamaki isn’t gay, yes, he’s kissing Haruhi, no, it isn’t an act, yes, no, yes, no) would be too much for the bespectacled boy to stand.
Well, it’s not all bad. Kyouya can appreciate the passion of young love, though if the two of them don’t pause to breathe soon, they’re going to asphyxiate.
Yes, even with its many obvious obstacles, Tamaki and Haruhi’s relationship shows every sign of being a lasting one.
As he watches them, the dark-haired boy smirks. If Tamaki plans on divorcing him for their daughter, Kyouya will take him to the cleaners.
Kyouya thinks that it’s a good thing that men can’t get pregnant. Otherwise, the Host Club would be full of children that were retarded from all the incest - the exception being Haruhi’s children, who would just have to deal with the misfortune of having half of Tamaki’s questionable genes for intelligence.
The thought makes Kyouya shudder, and he suddenly remembers why incest is generally frowned upon in most circles.
Which brings up the other point, that none of them will have an easy time in life. Society is not so quick to overlook such transgressions from the norm, especially by the upper class. All of them come from strict, conservative families, none of which will be terribly happy with the couples.
But then again, the Host Club is a family in and of itself, filled with as much love and support as any real one, and in some cases, more.
The thought makes Kyouya smile, and suddenly he remembers why he’s even a part of it in the first place.
Oh, yes.
The Host Club, Kyouya thinks, is one big, happy, incestuous family. And he is proud to be their mother.
Thank you for reading! As usual, comments and criticisms make the authoress happy in her pantalones!
-Insidiae-