Title: To His Cellphone
Inspiration: Hatori Bisco's 'what-if' scenario where Kyoya mistook a remote control for his mobile phone.
Summary: On how Kyoya mistakes a TV remote for his cell.
Pairings: None
Category: General/Humour
Rating: K+
Warnings: Slight spoilers for the start of… book 5, I think (the one where the Host Club visits Haruhi), book 8, and the one where they visit the mall (book 5 again I think), but nothing much to give away about the plot. Not that Ouran has much of a plot in the first place. Manga-based.
Disclaimers:OHSHC/OKHB belongs to the revered Hatori Bisco. Manga owned by LaLa magazine and Viz Media. Bones has the anime. Any other references to certain… resources belong to their respective owners and producers. I am merely making use of them as a way to de-stress my very hectic life.
A/N: So... as promised, here's the Ouran fic. This was my first ever completed fanfic that was halfway decent (really). And also my first oneshot (now I'm in the process of caging up my FMA plot bunnies). Nothing too major, just a funny thought I had during my musings with fellow Ouran-crazy folks. I know quite a few. Two of them were really obsessed with the characters (one adored Kyoya and the other positively worshipped Tamaki) and were always bickering about who was better. So one day, I heard them singing this song:
Kyoya fan: Kyoya is handsome Kyoya is hot! Kyoya is cool but Tamaki is not!
Tamaki fan: Tamaki is handsome Tamaki is hot! Tamaki is cool but Kyoya is not!
It went on for quite some time. Needless to say, I was quite disturbed (Though I like both Tama and Kyo).
Ootori Kyoya was pissed.
It wasn't because Tamaki had called at the crack of dawn with insistent demands that he take part in another hair-brained scheme that only the Host King could concoct. Nor was it the fact that the club's expenses had been steadily rising ever since the members decided to put themselves in the shoes of a certain commoner and participate in nonsensical activities for utterly stupid reasons; like that trip to the shopping mall, for instance.
No, it was the fact that he had come with carefully planned details for the day, only to find that Tamaki had thrown the schedule to the winds and decided to take things into his own hands. Usually, that did not bode well, as it meant added work for the poor soul in charge of cleaning up the messes he made. Namely, Kyoya. Today was not his lucky day.
"Kyo-ya!"
The young Suou bounced up to him, grinning like the maniac that he was. One could almost see the golden halo of happiness and enthusiasm surrounding his being.
"I have come up with a brilliant plan! Today we shall be doing a cosplay!"
The vice-president of the club heaved an inaudible sigh, pushing up his glasses. The day was getting more marvelous by the second. He blinked as a pile of green was shoved into his arms.
"That would be your costume!" Tamaki exclaimed brightly, forcibly directing him towards the changing rooms. "You're going to be the king! Now go get changed before the customers arrive!"
Behind the relative privacy of the pink curtains, Kyoya contemplated his intended outfit. There was a green hat, its shape not unlike those worn by police officers, a green jacket (also military-looking), green pants and a pair of polished boots. Not something a king would usually wear, considering that it resembled a soldier's uniform. And it was unlike Tamaki to let others steal the spotlight of 'king' from him. Unless, Kyoya reasoned, there was a role in whatever theme chosen that was of more importance than this particular king.
When he exited, fully decked out and feeling slightly overdressed, the rest of the members were already filtering in and being bullied by Tamaki into their respective costumes. Haninozuka Mitsukuni, alias Hani-Honey, was in some medieval English outfit with a vest, long-sleeved white shirt, brown pants plus a small cloak over his shoulders. His cousin, Morinozuka Takashi or Mori, towered above him in a black suit, complete with tailcoat and top hat. His face had been painted white and a pipe was stuck into his mouth.
The Hitachiin twins, Hikaru and Kaoru, were in identical outfits of red, yellow, blue and gold pieces of cloth. If he had to comment, Kyoya would say that they looked more like walking fires than anything else. Perhaps this could tie in with their 'Little Devil' category… He was so absorbed in calculating the potential profits that could be made off the relation that he did not notice the seventh and final host exit the changing rooms.
At least, not until he heard Tamaki's cries of "My beautiful daughter! Otou-san is so proud of you!"
"Senpai," came the annoyed voice of the Natural type host, Fujioka Haruhi. "You should stop calling me that. What if the customers hear it?"
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as the tall blond was in a very hyperactive mood. Kyoya spied Haruhi cringing as she was subjected to Tamaki's tirades.
"Tono," the Hitachiins piped up in unison, conveniently interrupting the host king's passionate monologue on the protection of his daughter's virtue (etc etc), "what on Earth are we?"
"Ah, yes!" Tamaki cried, pointing dramatically and burying the fingers of his other hand into his silky blond fringe. "Long have I racked my brains over your roles, but my genius has allowed me to come up with one that fits your crass personalities! You, doppelgangers, are fire demons!"
"This isn't fire," the twins pointed out, each holding out a sleeve with dangling pieces of cloth.
However, they had yet again lost Tamaki, who had gone on with his rant.
"Hani-senpai is a wizard's apprentice, and Mori-senpai is a scarecrow. I have put much though into their costumes; don't you think Hani-senpai's cuteness in enhanced, and that the silent scarecrow fits Mori-senpai perfectly? I was hindered by the lack of a real turnip to make his head, but Lady Luck was on my side as I chanced upon the wonderful commoner product: face paint!
"Kyoya is the king of the country. I had spent much labour in procuring an outfit that was exactly the same, down to the type of stitching that was used to make his hat…"
As the young Suou rambled on, Kyoya could not help but be resigned to his fate. Tamaki was Tamaki; boisterous, optimistic and overly cheerful, and no one could change that. However, the dark-haired boy sometimes wished that his best friend could be a little less talkative. They were losing precious time, and by Kyoya's calculations, the client percentile could be lowered by as much as 17.9 percent (to three significant figures), thus greatly reducing their profit. Not to mention that Tamaki had probably drained the club funds of a considerable sum in his recent splurges, this one included. Speaking of the cosplay, Kyoya was starting to get an inkling on their theme.
"And you, my dear daughter," Tamaki waggled a finger in front of Haruhi, whom, Kyoya noted, was wearing a plain and rather crudely made blue dress. "You are the main protagonist of the story! Otou-san trusts that you will fit into this role very well. In fact," here the blond paused to scrutinize her. Kyoya swore his eyes turned into sparkling hearts the moment he was done, "you fit it wonderfully! Good, good, very good!"
Kyoya turned on his laptop, tuning out the noises of Tamaki going gaga over his protégé.
"Ne, who is Tama-chan, then?" Hani asked in a voice that would have caused a shower of pink flowers to fall around him, if physically possible.
With an over-dramatic sinister laugh fit for the clichéd villain, Tamaki elegantly flipped his fringe and dashed into a changing room. He returned in a moment, donned in a pink-and-grey checkered coat, white shirt, and black pants. An elegant sapphire pendant dangled from the gold chain around his neck.
"I," he paused (no doubt for the added effect of suspense), raising the back of his hand to his forehead and shutting his eyes. Then, he spread his arms in a flourish in the typical Tamaki fashion: wide grin, sparkles, roses, blaring trumpets and all. "I am a master wizard! The hero! The brave, dashing knight in shining armour who rescues the damsel in distress and saves the day! Isn't it truly a most befitting role for the exalted and incredibly good-looking leader of this club?"
If he was expecting thunderous applause, he would be sorely disappointed as none were offered. Hikaru and Kaoru merely looked disinterestedly at each other and shrugged. Hani leapt from Mori's shoulders and pounced onto a plate of strawberry cream cake. Mori stood and acted… Mori-like. It was Haruhi who, suspecting something, finally broke the silence.
"Senpai, who exactly am I?"
Tamaki, who was looking deflated at the lack of attention from his fellow club members, instantly launched into an eager explanation as his ego was re-inflated.
"Haruhi! My darling daughter, you are the –"
"– female protagonist of a recently-released film," Kyoya finished. "In other words, the hero's love interest. The feeling ends up being mutual, by the way."
That perked up the others at once, most notably the twins, as both sported identical devious grins on their faces.
"Sooo, Tono, thinking of defiling Haruhi again?" Hikaru, Kyoya presumed, teased. "Tsk tsk, and I thought fathers were supposed to set good examples for their children. Or was this your plan all along?"
"Yeah," the other Hitachiin agreed, pausing to size up Haruhi's costume. He eyed it distastefully. "This dress is atrocious. Who would wear something like that?"
"She has a rather bad sense of fashion, I believe," Kyoya supplied. He much preferred a silent Tamaki at the moment, and the one gaping helplessly at one side suited his need well enough. "She is partial to drab and plain-looking outfits; grey, dark blue, dark green, and the like."
The silence that followed was thunderous. Still, as all present knew, it was the momentary calm before the storm.
"Dearest daughter!" Sure enough, Tamaki had risen to the occasion to defend Haruhi's supposedly defective fashion sense. "Forgive me for my ignorance! Otou-san knows that you will never have such a horrendous dress sense. I simply thought that your admirable commoner traits and pedigree lineage untainted with the blood of nobility would compliment your character and bring out the fullest potential of the costume, thereby generating maximum visual impact!"
He spared a beseeching glance towards said commoner. One of the twins chose the moment to whisper loudly, "Tono just wants to see Haruhi in a dress."
Tamaki wilted under the cold gaze sent his way. Haruhi had learned her icy glare from the best, and only Kasanoda and Kyoya could beat her in that department if she chose to unleash it at full power. It hit the sixteen-year-old and froze him on the spot, before he managed to crawl his way over to the Corner of Perpetual Woe. The scholarship student could be heard muttering "kiss-a-holic" and "rich bastard" under her breath.
"Tama-chan," put in Hani suddenly through a mouthful of cake, "you've never watched this movie, have you?"
A fresh wave of silence washed over everyone, who stared at the now-twitching Tamaki peeking out from his corner like a beaten puppy.
"How… how did you know?"
Hikaru and Kaoru shrugged nonchalantly. "It's pretty obvious. You could have gotten our costumes off posters or illustrations, and you never mentioned more than the skeleton of the plot. You also weren't aware of the personality traits of the main character."
Hani nodded enthusiastically while Mori gave a "Hn" of agreement.
These words pierced into the Host King like barbed arrows, Kyoya saw. At least it seemed so from the way he jumped at every statement while looking extremely guilty.
It was at this point of time that Haruhi decided to add in a very Haruhi-ish comment that turned everything upside down. "I think I've heard of it. It was airing at the cinema in the shopping mall, but I never found the time to watch it."
In a flash, all the Host Club members, Kyoya naturally excluded, were huddled around her to express their heartfelt condolences and comfort the "poor, deprived commoner girl".
"This will not do!" cried Tamaki. "Haruhi must watch it! In fact, we should all watch it today! Kyoya, close the club for the day and send for a TV. Remember to get a copy of the movie!"
Now, it is a truth universally acknowledged that one must never deprive the Shadow King of his money. If you do so, your Hate value increases drastically, and his wrath will imminently descend upon you. Tamaki's Hate value, what with waking Kyoya up early and ruining his carefully planned schedule, was impossibly high. If there was ever a gauge to measure it, it would no doubt have exploded due to the building pressure of the rapidly rising numbers. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on whether one feels that ignorance in this case is bliss, Tamaki remained unaware of the taboo he had committed.
Kyoya managed a small nod of assent; he did not trust himself to speak to Tamaki at the moment without attempting to throttle him. Soon, a movie-size screen was installed on one of the music room walls, complete with DVD player and speakers. Observing the scene with barely-concealed annoyance, he struggled to work out the amount of money that the club was losing with the day's expenditure and the absence of their clients. The results were not very promising, he realised.
Within moments of the movie's opening, Kyoya's mood has worsened to such an extent that even Hani and Mori avoided him once they sensed his rapidly darkening aura. The only exception was, again, Suou Tamaki, who was making a din loud enough to wake the dead.
"Hikaru! Kaoru! Stop messing with the remote!"
Kyoya noted rather dryly that it was amazing that Tamaki even knew what a remote control was. He reached for the cellphone and punched in a combination of buttons. Perhaps he could arrange a movie screening for their clients the next day, since the girls always tended to be more receptive to romantic shows. And perhaps some of the money earned could be used to cover the day's expenses. He pressed the phone to his ears and was momentarily puzzled by the lack of beeping. Bemused, he was about to check for any malfunctions when a rather loud crash interrupted him.
The scene that met his eyes was nothing less than what he had expected with Tamaki involved. The tall blond had, in a fit of inspiration, decided to leap onto the coffee table set in front of the movie viewers in order to lecture the "unscrupulous twins with no moral consideration whatsoever" on the evils of "toying with the sacred expedient of electronic direction". Apparently it was "blasphemous" because it "deprived the more cultured appreciators who had wanted to experience the joy of being at one with a world of fantasy and to indulge in the fineness of such a noble piece of art." Since the entire club was still in costume, Tamaki readily made full use of his given props, which caused his wild articulations to be punctuated with forceful gestures of flailing limbs. The other club members had to duck to avoid the crazy flutters of the frilled cuffs that adorned their leader's wrists.
Tamaki continued his accusations (which were getting wilder and more nonsensical by the millisecond), but the twins were adamant in their innocence. Denial was common in any incident involving the troublemaking pair, but Kyoya noticed that they were lacking the identical smirks that they usually sported after carrying out some plan of mischief. Still, it wasn't any of his concern. The vice-president shrugged and absentmindedly redialed a number on his mobile phone. Why wasn't it responding?
As Kyoya puzzled over this unforeseen problem, he failed to discern the heavy silence had descended over the other occupants of the Third Music Room. It was only when he felt the gaze of six other pairs of eyes did raise his head.
"What?" he asked coolly, thinking, "This had better not be another of that idiot's retarded ideas…"
"Kyoya…" Surprisingly, Tamaki was for once at a lost for words. That might be because he was busy trying to unstick his lower jaw from the floor. The other five hosts also had similar expressions etched onto their features.
"What?" the dark-haired boy repeated, black eyes narrowing slightly. His fingers instinctively tightened.
"Your… phone…"
It was then that Kyoya realised that the object he held in his clenched fist felt decidedly different from his cellphone. His gaze traveled downwards and fixed on said object. It was… a TV remote control.
The eyes of the other six hosts seemed to be also fixated on the device within Kyoya's white-knuckled grip. They gaped as the full force of what had just taken place hit them head-on.
Ootori Kyoya, the Shadow King of the Host Club, the one who knew more about you than you did yourself, had mistaken a remote control for his cellphone.
It wasn't much, but the fact that Kyoya had actually made a mistake left them utterly stunned and speechless.
Kyoya spared a short glance at the remote and then gave the others a look that clearly said laugh and you will suffer a fate worse than the most horrible death your puny, miserable brain can imagine. He observed with satisfaction that Tamaki had started trembling and Hani was on the verge of tears. Even Mori looked intimidated. They were getting the message.
There was a long, uninterrupted pause. Then, someone snickered, tried to stop it, failed, and ended up producing a snort.
Everyone stared at Kyoya with a look akin to that of a deer caught in the headlights of the car, or Tamaki when Ranka had discovered him in a very compromising position with Haruhi. Moments of their lives flashed through their minds.
Kyoya calmly set down the remote control and located his cellphone, ascertaining that it was indeed the appliance he required. Slim fingers danced over a keypad and smoothly tapped out a chain of numbers.
"Tachibana? Yeah, it's me. Send a few men over in ten minute's time. There'll be a huge mess to clean up."
-OWARI-
A/N: This is un-beta'd so I apologise for any grammatical error/spelling mistakes that you spot. Cookies to those who figured out the Host Club's cosplay theme. I think I've dropped enough hints to make it really obvious. Reviews would be nice.
- Quetz