[Ouran Fic] "Someone Else's Dreams"
Look! More Ouran fic amid writing about Kyouya's mistress/wife/whatever....
This was originally for the recent Ouran Contest prompt, but I failed due to graduations...so here it is! No real warnings, just future!fic that is Haruhi-centric.
Disclaimer: I don't own Host Club. If I did, I would not share Tamaki with anyone. Since you know of this Suou Tamaki, it is a good bet I don't own anything whatsoever.
Someone Else's Dreams
sciathan file
It was perhaps a mark of her character (albeit unorthodox and unadventurous as heroines go, some might attest) that three months into her marriage, Suou Haruhi had absolutely ceased to be at all concerned with the sheer amount of space about her in her new home. On first moving in, she had been supplied with a helpful map by one of the maids of Suou #2 (one of their shining moments of extreme use in the service of the new mistress) and she had systematically eliminated which rooms she had no use of and therefore had no need to ever be able to locate by sight. In all, Haruhi could assuredly tell you where the master bedroom was, where the kitchen was, and where a few other miscellaneous rooms were throughout the palatial Suou #2 were located and not a single room more.
In fact, even though her new home was several magnitudes larger than the small 3LDK she had grown up in with her father, she had effectively chiseled down the space of Suou #2 to that of a manageable and, in her opinion, quite normal dwelling…even if there were still servants attempting to do things for her that she was quite capable of doing for herself, thank you very much.
Each morning, she padded down the long hallways of her glittering home, trailed by a veritable army that her indulgent husband had assigned to her. They followed her with only a vague air of perturbation mixed with amusement as, by this point in time, the sight of mistress and her personal cloud of lace rustling maids was such a common occurrence that it resembled a daily ritual.
"The mistress has escaped again!" One of her would-be attendants would invariably titter as she padded after her, having once again been unable to fix the clothing, hair, or makeup of Haruhi-sama as she had been directed.
On some mornings, the final elaborate touches to this unwieldy display were added when the master of the house, an aged dog, and the aged housekeeper (clucking in disapproval), formed his personal entourage and followed that of his wife's down the long hallway. All the while, the master's wife remained markedly disinterested as he gushed, "Haruhi! My fair blossom of a wife! The purpose of servants is to adorn your always cute self with the accouterments that befit the empress of my heart!"
At this point, making a decidedly un-cute face (in fact, looking every bit the demon of the courtroom who fought on behalf of non-profit organizations and small businesses), Haruhi turned and responded chillingly, "No thanks."
"Ah!" cried the crowd of maids in a more cheery manner than one might think the occasion warranted, "a human blizzard!"
Suou Tamaki, the aforementioned husband to the human blizzard and one who was quite at ease with doting servants and extraordinarily sprawling spaces, tried his best not to be dismayed by his cute wife's refusal to abide by the rules of the world in which he had been brought up. Rather, diverting the attention of the as of yet unhelpful household staff from their indifferent mistress, he, becoming the picture of deep seated and spectacularly beautiful grief, choked out, "My Haruhi…so…cold."
The single tear dribbling down his cheek added another layer to the already heartrending picture of a master whose wife went out into the broad world beyond the wall of the super-affluent looking a little more like a commoner than he had envisioned.
There were times when Tamaki admittedly didn't mind his wife's nonchalance, however. Indeed, the only aspect of her new life among the elite that Haruhi didn't ignore completely was the food. In order to welcome the new mistress to Suou #2, the chef had provided a truly sumptuous meal on Haruhi's first night there. Eating the decadent morsels, she had worn a face of supreme ecstasy that had made the serving staff squeal and the chef beam.
Within Tamaki's hearing one had even commented, "The new mistress seems to like the food better than the master!" which had occasioned a minor war between Tamaki-sama and the kitchen staff that was only resolved through the joint chastisement of Shima-san and Haruhi.
But sometimes Tamaki happened to find his wife alone in the kitchen, an old apron she had brought with her from her old life over her otherwise casual clothes, and the entire staff peeping in at her from the door. At these moments it was implicitly understood that only Tamaki-sama was allowed to enter the kitchen. And, when he did, he gladly accepted whatever task his cute wife would assign him.
The staff of Suou #2 cherished these moments when they cooked together both because it was an occasion to see the people they cared for happy and because this usually resulted in nabe for the entire staff made by Haruhi-sama herself (with misshapen onigiri made by Tamaki-sama that were nonetheless greeted with exaggerated praise by all but Shima-san who hoped for their eventual betterment).
Once, the difference between her seemingly normal world and Tamaki's world - the world of opulence and conspicuous consumption and people trying to serve your every whim - had seemed to Haruhi like an insurmountable wall. However, since she had found a gate through it and found the garden beyond, she had learned to cultivate her own small flowerbed.
Their name in the paper, an enormous glittering mansion, enough money to buy anything she wanted and then sell it again after she had bored of it, and a man who most people considered to be quite handsome indeed: these were what most people considered to be the facts of Suou Haruhi's life. They tallied her incredible fortune up and envied her it.
And this envy was something Haruhi herself only vaguely understood.
Because for Suou Haruhi, these details were irrelevant - the glancing fragments of someone else's dreams.
In the garden of Suou #2, Haruhi found she could ignore the imported hothouse blooms around her in favor of flowers she had always loved. What she grew might only be roses, but, alongside several slightly annoying, but overall admirable gardeners, the small plot that she had carved out for herself was more than enough for her.
Fin
A/N: Well, this was originally for Ouran_Contest, but I kinda failed at deadlines and had many graduations to attend…so here it is all by it's lonesome. So, my usual fic trend is to bring Tamaki down to Haruhi's world by constantly disinheriting the poor soul. However, it occurred to be that it might be equally interesting the other way. Ouran works on the premise that Haruhi is a sort of tourist in the rich world, not a resident. When she gets weirded or bored or antagonized, she can simply go home to the "normal" world she understands. Here I have dropped her more permanently into the everyday reality of the Host Club and made her negotiate it in a very Haruhi manner. ☺
Hope you enjoyed!
Also, is anyone out there interested in an anime re-watch? Having attained the DVDs and marathoning them, I think there is good potential for re-watching just based on the visual metaphors in each episode (although we could just squee and scoff, too!).
This was originally for the recent Ouran Contest prompt, but I failed due to graduations...so here it is! No real warnings, just future!fic that is Haruhi-centric.
Disclaimer: I don't own Host Club. If I did, I would not share Tamaki with anyone. Since you know of this Suou Tamaki, it is a good bet I don't own anything whatsoever.
Someone Else's Dreams
sciathan file
It was perhaps a mark of her character (albeit unorthodox and unadventurous as heroines go, some might attest) that three months into her marriage, Suou Haruhi had absolutely ceased to be at all concerned with the sheer amount of space about her in her new home. On first moving in, she had been supplied with a helpful map by one of the maids of Suou #2 (one of their shining moments of extreme use in the service of the new mistress) and she had systematically eliminated which rooms she had no use of and therefore had no need to ever be able to locate by sight. In all, Haruhi could assuredly tell you where the master bedroom was, where the kitchen was, and where a few other miscellaneous rooms were throughout the palatial Suou #2 were located and not a single room more.
In fact, even though her new home was several magnitudes larger than the small 3LDK she had grown up in with her father, she had effectively chiseled down the space of Suou #2 to that of a manageable and, in her opinion, quite normal dwelling…even if there were still servants attempting to do things for her that she was quite capable of doing for herself, thank you very much.
Each morning, she padded down the long hallways of her glittering home, trailed by a veritable army that her indulgent husband had assigned to her. They followed her with only a vague air of perturbation mixed with amusement as, by this point in time, the sight of mistress and her personal cloud of lace rustling maids was such a common occurrence that it resembled a daily ritual.
"The mistress has escaped again!" One of her would-be attendants would invariably titter as she padded after her, having once again been unable to fix the clothing, hair, or makeup of Haruhi-sama as she had been directed.
On some mornings, the final elaborate touches to this unwieldy display were added when the master of the house, an aged dog, and the aged housekeeper (clucking in disapproval), formed his personal entourage and followed that of his wife's down the long hallway. All the while, the master's wife remained markedly disinterested as he gushed, "Haruhi! My fair blossom of a wife! The purpose of servants is to adorn your always cute self with the accouterments that befit the empress of my heart!"
At this point, making a decidedly un-cute face (in fact, looking every bit the demon of the courtroom who fought on behalf of non-profit organizations and small businesses), Haruhi turned and responded chillingly, "No thanks."
"Ah!" cried the crowd of maids in a more cheery manner than one might think the occasion warranted, "a human blizzard!"
Suou Tamaki, the aforementioned husband to the human blizzard and one who was quite at ease with doting servants and extraordinarily sprawling spaces, tried his best not to be dismayed by his cute wife's refusal to abide by the rules of the world in which he had been brought up. Rather, diverting the attention of the as of yet unhelpful household staff from their indifferent mistress, he, becoming the picture of deep seated and spectacularly beautiful grief, choked out, "My Haruhi…so…cold."
The single tear dribbling down his cheek added another layer to the already heartrending picture of a master whose wife went out into the broad world beyond the wall of the super-affluent looking a little more like a commoner than he had envisioned.
There were times when Tamaki admittedly didn't mind his wife's nonchalance, however. Indeed, the only aspect of her new life among the elite that Haruhi didn't ignore completely was the food. In order to welcome the new mistress to Suou #2, the chef had provided a truly sumptuous meal on Haruhi's first night there. Eating the decadent morsels, she had worn a face of supreme ecstasy that had made the serving staff squeal and the chef beam.
Within Tamaki's hearing one had even commented, "The new mistress seems to like the food better than the master!" which had occasioned a minor war between Tamaki-sama and the kitchen staff that was only resolved through the joint chastisement of Shima-san and Haruhi.
But sometimes Tamaki happened to find his wife alone in the kitchen, an old apron she had brought with her from her old life over her otherwise casual clothes, and the entire staff peeping in at her from the door. At these moments it was implicitly understood that only Tamaki-sama was allowed to enter the kitchen. And, when he did, he gladly accepted whatever task his cute wife would assign him.
The staff of Suou #2 cherished these moments when they cooked together both because it was an occasion to see the people they cared for happy and because this usually resulted in nabe for the entire staff made by Haruhi-sama herself (with misshapen onigiri made by Tamaki-sama that were nonetheless greeted with exaggerated praise by all but Shima-san who hoped for their eventual betterment).
Once, the difference between her seemingly normal world and Tamaki's world - the world of opulence and conspicuous consumption and people trying to serve your every whim - had seemed to Haruhi like an insurmountable wall. However, since she had found a gate through it and found the garden beyond, she had learned to cultivate her own small flowerbed.
Their name in the paper, an enormous glittering mansion, enough money to buy anything she wanted and then sell it again after she had bored of it, and a man who most people considered to be quite handsome indeed: these were what most people considered to be the facts of Suou Haruhi's life. They tallied her incredible fortune up and envied her it.
And this envy was something Haruhi herself only vaguely understood.
Because for Suou Haruhi, these details were irrelevant - the glancing fragments of someone else's dreams.
In the garden of Suou #2, Haruhi found she could ignore the imported hothouse blooms around her in favor of flowers she had always loved. What she grew might only be roses, but, alongside several slightly annoying, but overall admirable gardeners, the small plot that she had carved out for herself was more than enough for her.
Fin
A/N: Well, this was originally for Ouran_Contest, but I kinda failed at deadlines and had many graduations to attend…so here it is all by it's lonesome. So, my usual fic trend is to bring Tamaki down to Haruhi's world by constantly disinheriting the poor soul. However, it occurred to be that it might be equally interesting the other way. Ouran works on the premise that Haruhi is a sort of tourist in the rich world, not a resident. When she gets weirded or bored or antagonized, she can simply go home to the "normal" world she understands. Here I have dropped her more permanently into the everyday reality of the Host Club and made her negotiate it in a very Haruhi manner. ☺
Hope you enjoyed!
Also, is anyone out there interested in an anime re-watch? Having attained the DVDs and marathoning them, I think there is good potential for re-watching just based on the visual metaphors in each episode (although we could just squee and scoff, too!).