Faye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
said_scarlett) wrote2006-09-09 12:54 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2006-09-09 12:54 pm
Deconstruction In Switzerland - Kyouya/Tamaki
First of my ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
30_romances fic. Claim: Kyouya/Tamaki.
Title: Deconstruction In Switzerland
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
theladyfeylene
Theme(s): #1, Cold hands ; cold feet
Pairing/Characters: Kyouya/Tamaki
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer/claimer (if needed): Characters do not belong to me, no money is being made off of this.
Summary (if needed): A cold night in Switzerland brings things that have rested beneath the surface out into the light....
“Kyou-kun!”
Kyouya winced, closed eyes squeezing shut tighter as the high and almost-musical tones of Tamaki’s voice invaded his near-sleep induced fog. Maybe if he ignored the other boy, he’d go away.
“Kyouya!”
No such luck. Now accompanying the voice was the steady shaking of Tamaki’s hands on his shoulder. So much for feigning sleep. Kyouya sighed and dragged the covers down, blinking muzzily in the dim light.
“What is it?” He didn’t bother looking for his glasses.
“My room is freezing,” Tamaki complained, pulling at the covers.
“And what do you expect me to do about it? You’re the one who wanted to go to Switzerland in the first place.”
“For the skiing and the scenery, not the frostbite! Scoot over, I’m getting in.”
“This is my bed.” But Kyouya moved over, giving Tamaki room to slip into the bed with him. Tamaki always found some excuse to do this, some reason to slide into bed with him.
“I’m wide awake,” Tamaki went on, stretching out on his back in the bed. “How can you sleep so soundly? Can’t you hear the wind outside?”
“No.” But now he could. It was a mournful, haunting sound that really was rather detrimental to sleep.
“Sometimes I think you’re deaf, Kyouya. Why, half the time you don’t even seem to hear me when I’m talking to you…”
The teasing note was there. It had been there now for months, creeping into Tamaki’s voice in much the same manner as Tamaki crept into Kyouya’s bed. And Kyouya didn’t know what to do about it.
“Hmph. Well, thanks to you, I’m awake as well.” He sat up in bed and reached for his glasses, stretching over Tamaki without a thought. But the other boy went still beneath him, and there was a brief strange moment where both paused. Then Kyouya moved back to his side of the bed, glasses in hand.
“What shall we do?” Tamaki turned onto his side, all pale and silver in the faint moonlight that lit the room. “You know, it’s freezing in here, too.”
“What did you expect?” Kyouya slipped out of bed, his bare feet finding his slippers and his hand reaching for his robe.
“Where are you going?” The plaintive note in Tamaki’s voice didn’t escape Kyouya.
“Getting something,” was all he said in response. He wrapped the robe tightly against the nighttime chill and padded across his suite. No expense had been spared, and he could live quite comfortably in the two rooms of the resort if he had a mind to. Or if Tamaki would let him.
“Now it’s all cold again.” Tamaki sat up, pouting. It was strange and unsettling to look back at his bed and see Tamaki in it, wrapped in covers and reclining against pillows as though he belonged there. And perhaps that was the problem - that sense of belonging. Tamaki shouldn’t look as though he belonged in Kyouya’s bed.
“Just a minute,” Kyouya said, bending to retrieve a small flame torch. A fire in the fireplace would lend some warmth to the room. Within moments, Kyouya had a brilliant blaze going.
“Oh!”
“Now stop complaining about the cold.” But on a strange and unidentifiable whim, Kyouya didn’t return immediately to bed. Instead he left the bedroom, ignoring Tamaki’s protests and questions. The living room of the suite was stocked with a small kitchen, and it was only moments before Kyouya returned to the bedroom.
“Kyouya…”
“You’re going to whine and protest all night unless you get something to help you sleep,” Kyouya said coldly, settling the tray of cocoa on the bed. Tamaki reached for a mug, fingers brushing Kyouya’s.
“Your hands are cold,” he muttered, letting his fingers rest against Kyouya’s.
“They’ll warm up, leave it.”
“Nonsense!” Tamaki grinned, grasping Kyouya’s hands tightly in his own before any protest could be uttered. “I’ll just give them a little help.”
“Tamaki…” But Kyouya didn’t pull away his hands. He left them there, trapped between Tamaki’s palms. And he tried not to think about how soft Tamaki’s skin was, or how slender his fingers were, or how if one just looked at Tamaki’s hands they were really quite feminine. And he tried to ignore the fact that they were both on his bed, and there was a fire in the fireplace and the wind was howling outside.
“It’s romantic, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t the words that surprised Kyouya so much as the tone in which Tamaki said them. There was no teasing, no coyness, no playfulness. They were spoken softly, almost wistfully. Tamaki was looking at their clasped hands, a small smile on his lips. And there it was, out in the open. After all the shy glances and playful flirting, there it was.
“Drink your cocoa,” Kyouya said, pulling his hands gently away.
“Kyouya…”
“It’s going to get cold.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“No.” Kyouya took up his own mug, wrapping his fingers around it and thinking on how the inanimate warmth of the porcelain was nothing compared to the slightly damp warmth of Tamaki’s hands. “I’m as much to blame as you are.”
“Blame?”
“I’ve never discouraged you, have I?” Kyouya sat back, propping himself up on the mountain of pillows that Tamaki had constructed. “The opposite, rather.”
“Why?”
“I would think the answer would be obvious, Tamaki. You’re possessed with a keen insight - you should know why. You know me well enough to understand I discourage attention if it‘s unwanted.”
“But you…”
“I’m not about to waste imported chocolate. Drink your cocoa, please. I did fix it myself, you know.”
“Sometimes I don’t understand you, Kyou-kun.” Tamaki sighed and picked up his mug, the pet-name comfortable and familiar. “But that’s alright.”
Kyouya just chuckled, a secret and dry sound. He shifted, leaning slightly against Tamaki, and they drank their cocoa in a cocoon of silence and blankets and stared at the fire.
It was better to avoid discussing it, whatever ‘it‘ was. And besides, there was nothing to discuss. Tamaki was infatuated, Kyouya enjoyed the infatuation and was infatuated in return. It had been going on long enough, and it was out in the open now, and perhaps they would take the infatuation further tonight; warmed by the fire and flush adolescent longings and seeking some warmth and safety from the howling wind. But whatever happened could happen without the tangles of talking, without being deconstructed and stripped bare. Too much of Kyouya’s life was broken down and laid out in perfect detail, as though it were some sort of manual. But Tamaki wasn’t like that, and to break apart and pick to pieces this thing between them would destroy it.
Besides, it would ruin the romantic atmosphere.
30_romances fic. Claim: Kyouya/Tamaki.Title: Deconstruction In Switzerland
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Author/Artist:
theladyfeyleneTheme(s): #1, Cold hands ; cold feet
Pairing/Characters: Kyouya/Tamaki
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer/claimer (if needed): Characters do not belong to me, no money is being made off of this.
Summary (if needed): A cold night in Switzerland brings things that have rested beneath the surface out into the light....
“Kyou-kun!”
Kyouya winced, closed eyes squeezing shut tighter as the high and almost-musical tones of Tamaki’s voice invaded his near-sleep induced fog. Maybe if he ignored the other boy, he’d go away.
“Kyouya!”
No such luck. Now accompanying the voice was the steady shaking of Tamaki’s hands on his shoulder. So much for feigning sleep. Kyouya sighed and dragged the covers down, blinking muzzily in the dim light.
“What is it?” He didn’t bother looking for his glasses.
“My room is freezing,” Tamaki complained, pulling at the covers.
“And what do you expect me to do about it? You’re the one who wanted to go to Switzerland in the first place.”
“For the skiing and the scenery, not the frostbite! Scoot over, I’m getting in.”
“This is my bed.” But Kyouya moved over, giving Tamaki room to slip into the bed with him. Tamaki always found some excuse to do this, some reason to slide into bed with him.
“I’m wide awake,” Tamaki went on, stretching out on his back in the bed. “How can you sleep so soundly? Can’t you hear the wind outside?”
“No.” But now he could. It was a mournful, haunting sound that really was rather detrimental to sleep.
“Sometimes I think you’re deaf, Kyouya. Why, half the time you don’t even seem to hear me when I’m talking to you…”
The teasing note was there. It had been there now for months, creeping into Tamaki’s voice in much the same manner as Tamaki crept into Kyouya’s bed. And Kyouya didn’t know what to do about it.
“Hmph. Well, thanks to you, I’m awake as well.” He sat up in bed and reached for his glasses, stretching over Tamaki without a thought. But the other boy went still beneath him, and there was a brief strange moment where both paused. Then Kyouya moved back to his side of the bed, glasses in hand.
“What shall we do?” Tamaki turned onto his side, all pale and silver in the faint moonlight that lit the room. “You know, it’s freezing in here, too.”
“What did you expect?” Kyouya slipped out of bed, his bare feet finding his slippers and his hand reaching for his robe.
“Where are you going?” The plaintive note in Tamaki’s voice didn’t escape Kyouya.
“Getting something,” was all he said in response. He wrapped the robe tightly against the nighttime chill and padded across his suite. No expense had been spared, and he could live quite comfortably in the two rooms of the resort if he had a mind to. Or if Tamaki would let him.
“Now it’s all cold again.” Tamaki sat up, pouting. It was strange and unsettling to look back at his bed and see Tamaki in it, wrapped in covers and reclining against pillows as though he belonged there. And perhaps that was the problem - that sense of belonging. Tamaki shouldn’t look as though he belonged in Kyouya’s bed.
“Just a minute,” Kyouya said, bending to retrieve a small flame torch. A fire in the fireplace would lend some warmth to the room. Within moments, Kyouya had a brilliant blaze going.
“Oh!”
“Now stop complaining about the cold.” But on a strange and unidentifiable whim, Kyouya didn’t return immediately to bed. Instead he left the bedroom, ignoring Tamaki’s protests and questions. The living room of the suite was stocked with a small kitchen, and it was only moments before Kyouya returned to the bedroom.
“Kyouya…”
“You’re going to whine and protest all night unless you get something to help you sleep,” Kyouya said coldly, settling the tray of cocoa on the bed. Tamaki reached for a mug, fingers brushing Kyouya’s.
“Your hands are cold,” he muttered, letting his fingers rest against Kyouya’s.
“They’ll warm up, leave it.”
“Nonsense!” Tamaki grinned, grasping Kyouya’s hands tightly in his own before any protest could be uttered. “I’ll just give them a little help.”
“Tamaki…” But Kyouya didn’t pull away his hands. He left them there, trapped between Tamaki’s palms. And he tried not to think about how soft Tamaki’s skin was, or how slender his fingers were, or how if one just looked at Tamaki’s hands they were really quite feminine. And he tried to ignore the fact that they were both on his bed, and there was a fire in the fireplace and the wind was howling outside.
“It’s romantic, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t the words that surprised Kyouya so much as the tone in which Tamaki said them. There was no teasing, no coyness, no playfulness. They were spoken softly, almost wistfully. Tamaki was looking at their clasped hands, a small smile on his lips. And there it was, out in the open. After all the shy glances and playful flirting, there it was.
“Drink your cocoa,” Kyouya said, pulling his hands gently away.
“Kyouya…”
“It’s going to get cold.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“No.” Kyouya took up his own mug, wrapping his fingers around it and thinking on how the inanimate warmth of the porcelain was nothing compared to the slightly damp warmth of Tamaki’s hands. “I’m as much to blame as you are.”
“Blame?”
“I’ve never discouraged you, have I?” Kyouya sat back, propping himself up on the mountain of pillows that Tamaki had constructed. “The opposite, rather.”
“Why?”
“I would think the answer would be obvious, Tamaki. You’re possessed with a keen insight - you should know why. You know me well enough to understand I discourage attention if it‘s unwanted.”
“But you…”
“I’m not about to waste imported chocolate. Drink your cocoa, please. I did fix it myself, you know.”
“Sometimes I don’t understand you, Kyou-kun.” Tamaki sighed and picked up his mug, the pet-name comfortable and familiar. “But that’s alright.”
Kyouya just chuckled, a secret and dry sound. He shifted, leaning slightly against Tamaki, and they drank their cocoa in a cocoon of silence and blankets and stared at the fire.
It was better to avoid discussing it, whatever ‘it‘ was. And besides, there was nothing to discuss. Tamaki was infatuated, Kyouya enjoyed the infatuation and was infatuated in return. It had been going on long enough, and it was out in the open now, and perhaps they would take the infatuation further tonight; warmed by the fire and flush adolescent longings and seeking some warmth and safety from the howling wind. But whatever happened could happen without the tangles of talking, without being deconstructed and stripped bare. Too much of Kyouya’s life was broken down and laid out in perfect detail, as though it were some sort of manual. But Tamaki wasn’t like that, and to break apart and pick to pieces this thing between them would destroy it.
Besides, it would ruin the romantic atmosphere.