A/N: Happy Halloween, guys and dolls. I usually write only Christmas fics for holidays, but I figured since I had such an excellent semester I might as well post this as a little celebration. This isn't really a holiday-centered fic, but it's got a bit of a trick and a little of a treat in it, so I think it counts. But really it was more of I had this idea bouncing in my head for a while and I just couldn't get rid of it. I actually did RESEARCH for this fic. Yes, research! I know next to nothing about French cuisine. Or wines, for that matter. Honestly though, what gave me the biggest headache was the title, because I hate trying to pick a good one.
Also: FMA mentioned later. For those of you who don't know about Fullmetal Alchemist, go read/watch it! It's not really that important to the fic, but still. It's wonderful, and I might venture into the FMA fandom to write sometime in the future with Ed and Roy, who are my OTP (not like Ouran, where I adore weird pairings and have no qualms linking them to each other willy-nilly, even if I have a fondness for the couples in the OTNK-verse).
Lastly: For those of you guys who have seen/voted for my poll on my profile with regards to upping the ratings, here's the thing. There is someone on who apparently knows my account who I am not on good terms with, and I have reason to believe that if I posted something R or NC-17 my account will get reported. She's done enough damage to my real life; I'm not eager to see her shut down my account too. However, I will write probably slightly more mature stories, probably just not outright graphic ones. Especially when (that's right, WHEN) Kyouya and Kaoru get married.
Anyway, onto the story.
By Any Other Face
When Yasumura Mei took a part-time job as a waitress at her okama father's new French cuisine restaurant, he had made her swear to keep zipped lips on any and all secrets she might uncover while working. "What the heck? Why would I need that?" she'd asked. He'd simply shaken his head and told her that daughter or not, if she didn't swear (and sign a pretty crazy-looking contract), she wouldn't get the job.
Well, she was just glad it wasn't an okama bar. Not a lot of places were willing to hire her with her ganguro looks and hey, all those materials she needed for her budding design work didn't come cheap.
It took her a while to notice the pattern.
Once a month, on some random Saturday, an odd couple would come in and take the most private booth at the very back of the restaurant.
The first time it happened it was September: a tall, strict-looking businessman carrying a briefcase came in. That much wasn't really anything that would have caught her eye, but at the sight of a pre-teen in shorts and a zip-up hoodie hurrying after him, she paused. The kid was clearly in violation of the restaurant's strict dress code, but the maitre d'hôtel simply gave them both a deep bow and signaled Mei to take them to the private booth.
As she escorted them to their table, she peeked at them. They were both absolutely gorgeous, but way too far on either end of the age spectrum for her tastes. Probably a dad and his son out for the weekend, she surmised. They both had dark hair—the older man's was graying at the temples—similar bone structures, and an unusual shade of green for their eyes. Her practiced eye identified their clothes as all from the Hitachiin line. There was no way she would ever mistake her idol's signature looks, whether it was casual wear or corporate attire.
"Good evening, I'm Mei and I'll be your server for the night," she said in her best I'm-so-cheerful-please-tip-a-lot voice. "Would you like anything to drink while you decide on what to order?"
"No need," the father said, flicking through the menu and giving the choices only a cursory glance. He looked at his son beside him with a little frown; the boy had his head down and was fiddling with his napkin. "Distracted little brat, aren't you?" he murmured. He looked back at Mei. "We'll have two orders of the wine-poached salmon with black truffles, and ice water for both of us."
She wondered if the boy was going to say anything to object, but he kept his head down. With an inward shrug, she simply smiled and nodded before going off to relay the requests to her father.
"You know what? I'm glad you're my dad, even if you are messed up," she muttered, shaking her head as she leaned against one of the gleaming counters.
"Oh?" Misuzu asked, raising an eyebrow. Even though he owned the restaurant, he was also currently its chef. He was looking to import one from France soon, but no one came up to his exacting standards yet. Besides, Mei suspected that he was having fun operating behind the scenes. "What makes you say that?"
"That dad out there," she said, jerking her head towards the two. The kitchen had a clear view of their table, and from what she could see, he was drumming his fingers idly on the table while the boy continued to stare into his lap. "Didn't even ask the kid what he wanted. Called him a brat, too. I got the impression that the two of them don't have the best relationship." She frowned when she realized that her dad had set aside all the other orders he'd been working on earlier, just so that he could start on the wine-poached salmon. "Why are you doing theirs first?"
He ignored her question with a smile. "While I'm thrilled that you like being my daughter, I think you should reexamine those two," he said. "And you should also bring out that ice water."
"Oh!" she said, her hand flying to her mouth. Mentally she deducted from her potential tip—if she got anything at all. From what she could tell, this wasn't going to be one of her more profitable tables. Still, she pasted on her best smile as she set the glasses down and apologized for the delay. When she got there, the businessman was speaking rapidly into his phone.
"I don't care how much he thinks I want to be a part of the venture," he said, his tone dangerous. "The quote I opened with is five billion, it's going to be five billion, but if he makes me any angrier it's going to be ten billion with his head on my living room wall."
Yikes, she thought. Still, though, she paused to get an up-close look at him. He was even better-looking than she'd first realized. His flawless skin made her second-guess his age, and his mouth, though twisted in a scowl, made her want to bend down and steal a kiss.
Then she realized that the boy was watching her. He had a half-amused, half-annoyed look on his face, and she quickly bowed and left.
What was that all about?
"Just in time," Misuzu said, handing her a tray. The wine-poached salmon smelled heavenly. "Take this out for them. So, what did you think? Were you wrong?"
She thought about it for a minute. Sure, the kid had caught her off-guard, but probably because he was used to people gawking at his old man (though old certainly wasn't the way she would have described the businessman, graying or not). And there was that phone call to take into consideration. "No… I'd bet the guy's one of those types you see in manga all the time. The dad who's always away on business, leaves the kid to fend for himself, and then doesn't know how to deal with him now that he's growing up."
Misuzu chortled. "I'll bet you two week's worth of wages that you're wrong."
She frowned. On the one hand, the prospect of losing two week's salary was excruciating. But on the other hand, she had just seen some Chantilly lace in one of her favorite fabric shops, and she could really use the money… "Deal," she said smugly, grabbing the tray. "Prepare to lose."
When she got there and set down the plates, the boy gave a little exclamation. "I didn't know that you ordered that," he said.
"You were preoccupied," the older man responded. "If you had been looking through the menu instead of making me this, you would have noticed." Mei noticed that the kid's napkin had been folded to make an origami crane, and the businessman had set it carefully beside his plate. "Besides, I know you like the wine-poached salmon. You've been complaining about craving it all day."
He huffed. "Blame it on your best friend, onii-chan," he said, his cheeks puffing out adorably. Onii-chan, Mei realized with a sinking heart. Two week's worth of money gone just like that. Still, she continued sticking around to listen to the rest of their commentary. "He was the one who got us all to do 'commoner origami' earlier. My hands just went on autopilot when we got here. I didn't want us to have the same dish!"
Onii-chan shrugged. "I like their wine-poached salmon as well."
"But then what excuse will you have to feed me off your plate?" The kid pouted.
To her surprise, the older man's eyes twinkled. "You make a compelling argument… you spoiled little brat," he murmured, ruffling his little brother's hair. He turned back to Mei. "I'm sorry, could you wrap up one of the plates instead, and bring out an order of…" He frowned. She was just about to fetch him a menu when he finished the sentence. "The Bouef Bourgunignon. Thank you."
As she left, she heard the kid say, "She was checking you out earlier." Her cheeks burned. Oh God, did he have to tell his brother that?
"Jealous?"
"You're mine," the younger boy replied. "I can't blame her for looking at you—who can help it?—but you're my property."
A soft laugh reached her ears just as she pushed open the door to the kitchen. "Brother complex. You can never shake off the brotherly love thing, can you?"
"Hmph. It just helps when you're the brother."
"Well?" Misuzu asked as she came in.
"Take your damn money," she grumbled, her lower lip jutting out.
He laughed and handed her a tray—to her surprise, the Bouef Bourgunignon was already ready and waiting on it. "They never order the same thing," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't think that they were about to start now."
"How did you…?"
Waving off her questions, he said, "Take it out to them, I don't want that wine-poached salmon to get cold, and they're the kind where one won't eat unless the other one's eating too." With an annoyed glare in his direction, she grabbed it and came right back out.
"Oh, Misuzu-san anticipated it, did he?" the kid piped up, grinning. He was now snuggled up against his brother. "Never misses a trick."
The businessman nodded, his hand wrapping around the smaller boy's waist. "Please pass our compliments to him."
When she left them, she was a bit amazed to note that the businessman really was feeding his brother off his plate. And smiling, too. His smile lit up his whole face, and she couldn't help thinking that it suited him so much better than the scowl he had worn earlier.
As she went back in to her father, she scowled. "The bet's null and void. You know them!"
"Of course I do," he said with a laugh. "I wasn't going to collect anyway." Still, he made a mental note to pick up some of that Chantilly lace he'd seen her eyeing the other day.
Not that he needed to. Contrary to her expectations, Mei had gotten a huge tip from the two and was able to buy it herself.
In October, a blonde man with brown eyes came in, closely followed by a pigtailed redhead in a school uniform. Again, the girl was in violation of the dress code, but the maitre d'hôtel said nothing and again indicated for her to take them to the back booth.
"Ne, sensei, can I have anything I want from the menu?" the girl asked as she flipped through it. She was extremely pretty, and had that air that marked her as a student of one of the exclusive private schools, like Ouran. Mei didn't recognize the uniform though—and it was likely that the girl had done some liberal adjustments to her, if the length of her skirt (or in this case, the lack thereof) was any indication.
The sensei shot her an amused look. "Don't I always give you everything you want? Jewelry, indulging your little whims for Hitachiin Designs, helping you get good grades?"
"Speaking of which, I have yet to demand a reward for my latest good performance," she said sweetly.
"Don't worry, I'll be sure to listen to any little whim you may have." He glanced at Mei. "Bring out a bottle of your best red wine. We'll call you back when we're ready to order."
The girl was definitely not old enough to be drinking, but she just smiled and agreed. "Hitachiin Designs. Some girls have all the luck," she mumbled as she waited for the sommelier to give her a bottle of wine. Misuzu seemed to have heard her and raised an eyebrow.
"Talking about the couple outside?"
She nodded slowly. "Yeah… I don't want to say it, but I think it's… enjo kosai."
"Compensated dating? Really?"His eyes sparked with interest. Misuzu loved good gossip. "Do tell."
She told him about the little exchange and pointed at the bottle of wine. "My bet is that he's going to get her drunk."
He laughed. "Well… that's not something I'd bet on, but it's possible… it all depends on his mood, I think. You might want to rethink the enjo kosai angle, though. And seeing as you thought that a girl who does enjo kosai is lucky, I'm going to warn you that I'll kill any man you do compensated dating with. Just so you don't get any ideas." He whisked away the bottle and came out with a new one from the stash which they didn't serve most customers. "Take this one out. They'll want only the best."
She made a face at him for his parental warning, but went out to serve the alcohol. After she'd cut the casing and carefully removed the cork (it had taken her ages to get the trick right) she poured a small amount into the man's glass. He swirled it and held it up to the light before taking a sip. "Lovely," he said, gesturing for her to pour for both of them. "We'll have the spinach soufflé and the coq au vin. We'll order dessert later."
He didn't even bother to lower his voice or wait for her to be out of earshot before he started speaking to his companion. "That skirt is absolutely scandalous on you."
"You like it," the girl replied with a naughty giggle. "You can't take your eyes off me."
"If you don't want me to stare, why would you make it that short?" he retorted.
"You're right, I wanted you to stare."
Mei shook her head as she gave her dad the orders. Schoolgirls these days…
"You have a holier-than-thou look all over your face," Misuzu said, amused.
"Enjo kosai," she stated firmly. "No way am I wrong on this one. You had a lucky shot last month."
"So you want to bet on it again?"
She looked at him suspiciously. "Do you know them?"
"Yes," he admitted. "So I'm telling you now, you're wrong."
Yeah right, she thought, but she just snorted and didn't answer. Once again she noted her father put all his other work aside to immediately tackle the new orders. She frowned but shrugged as she went off to attend to other tables. In record time, though, Misuzu had the dishes done and told her to go serve them.
"Your orders," she said with a sunny smile when she put the food down in front of them. She looked idly at the schoolteacher. He was absolutely drool-worthy; probably the object of the fantasies of every female student in his classes. His suit was a lot nicer and more expensive than a normal sensei's should be, too. She identified it as another product of Hitachiin Designs, though she hadn't seen that particular outfit in their collections. So he was handsome, rich, and from the sound of it, really smooth at handling girls. She wondered why he had to reduce himself to enjo kosai. He could probably get any girl he wanted even without indulging some gold-digging kid's whims…
While observing him, though, she realized that his long-lashed eyes weren't, as earlier conversation had misleadingly implied, fastened on the hem of the girl's skirt. He was focused on her face, a small smile gracing his lips as he looked at her.
"Like what you see?" the girl teased as she dug into her spinach soufflé.
"Obviously," he replied shamelessly.
"Your eyes are a little higher up than I expected, though."
"It's not the skirt; it's the fact that you're the one wearing it. I'd stare at you no matter you were wearing." He reached out and brushed a strand of red hair out of her face.
"So you say, but you wouldn't let me order nothing but desserts," she complained, taking a sip of her wine. "Giving me everything my ass…"
"Because you need nutrition, you silly creature."
"Sure it isn't because you're worried about my girlish figure?"
In answer, the sensei turned to Mei. "Could you ask Misuzu-san to prepare a sample platter of desserts? The following should be included: calissons with meringue, chocolate torte with blueberry wine coulis, cardamom coffee mousse, chocolate madeleines, cinnamon orange crepes, strawberries with crème fraiche… did I miss anything?"
"You never do," the girl said with a laugh. "You got all my favorites right. You have to help me with those, though. You aren't going to love me when I'm all bloated and disgusting."
"I'd love you no matter what you look like," he said softly, so softly that Mei almost couldn't hear him.
The girl's blue eyes twinkled at Mei. "Everything there, but tell Misuzu-san he can throw in anything that he feels like, if he wants to experiment a bit."
"Right away," she said, smiling and nodding before going back into the kitchen to confront her father.
"Was I right?" Misuzu asked.
She sighed. "I'm not going to bet against you anytime soon."
When the two had finished with their meals—including a long, drawn-out dessert course where they fed each other and the student had the bright idea of smearing some of the mousse on the teacher's nose; he had been delighted rather than irritated, and had used it as an excuse to kiss her repeatedly—they were lavish in their praise and left her a substantial tip. The sensei wrapped an arm around the girl's slender waist. "Do you feel tipsy?" he asked.
"How could I?" she snorted. "You made sure that I didn't drink enough to even get near drunk."
"I'd rather not have your brother accusing me of purposely lowering your mental defenses to take advantage of you."
"He will, anyway," she said with a shrug. "You know what he's like. You treat me like glass but somehow he's sure that you're really brainwashing me into this relationship." Her eyes gleamed. "But let's not talk about him. Let's go back to your house and discuss the reward you promised me…"
November had Mei staring at the doorway when the latest couple came through. She wasn't the only one, though. The chatter in the restaurant died down as they stepped through the door and people turned to gape at the new arrivals.
An auburn-haired man smirked at the gazes they were attracting. His golden eyes sparkled with mirth, as though he was enjoying a delicious secret. By contrast, the statuesque brunette at his side had an icy expression on her face. Mei swallowed hard. The woman was the kind every man wanted to have and every woman wanted to be. She moved gracefully on her four-inch heels towards the back booth, not even waiting for someone to lead them there. Her companion chuckled as he followed her, his eyes tracing the curves encased in silver silk. Not that he was the only one. All the men in the room were busy trying to keep themselves from drooling. To his credit, though, he was the only one in the entire restaurant who could stand beside the beauty without fading in comparison, even if he was a little shorter than the woman.
Must be celebrities, she thought to herself in a daze as she followed them to the private table. She saw that the dark-haired lady had her red-glossed lips pursed into a frown, her expertly made-up eyes narrowed and striking against her pale skin.
"Must you be in such a hurry, darling?" the man murmured, a laugh threatening to spill from his lips.
"This was not what I thought you would request as a reward," she hissed. Mei was taken aback by her voice: low, husky, sexy—the kind of voice that drove men wild in the bedroom.
"Fair's fair," he returned. "I went through it last month—"
"That was your idea. I never would have done this willingly and you know that."
"Yes, but you have to admit you look stunning like this. No one can stop undressing you with their eyes. Which means that I'll have to kill them all for daring to, of course, but… well, I can't exactly blame them, now can I?" He grinned. "That dress is magnificent on you. Couldn't I somehow convince you to model like this for my next line? Mom would be delighted."
"You're a devil," she deadpanned. She turned to Mei. "Get me something strong. If I must spend the night like this, I'll not do it sober."
"No way! I'm not letting you get drunk while you look like this," the man protested. "You'd be attacked in a heartbeat." He smiled charmingly at Mei. "I think tonight calls for something memorable… champagne." He glanced at his companion. "Cristal, Dom Perignon, or Veuve Clicquot?" Then his face lit up. "Oh, I have it. Remember those bottles of champagne we gave Misuzu-san to celebrate his opening?" He grinned at Mei. "Ask Misuzu-san to open one of the Shipwrecked 1907 Heidsieck."
The lady's eyebrows arched. "You think that getting me trussed up like this is enough of a reason to open a $275,000 bottle of wine?"
"Hell yes," he answered without hesitation. "Misuzu-san can whip up anything he fancies to accompany it… tell him to pour himself some champagne while he's at it." Mei nodded, slightly bewildered, and went off to the kitchen… where she found her father against one of the counters, collapsed in laughter.
"Dad?" she ventured, eyes wide.
"Oh… oh my god. That is priceless," he said, looking as though he'd just found an extra present under the Christmas tree. "Only he would be able to… dear God. Their relationship is that strong that he would actually…"
She handed him the order. "You know those two out there," she said. It was a statement, not a question.
"I'm surprised that you don't," he answered, wiping tears of laughter away as he prepared some hors d'oeuvres. From the looks of what he was doing, he was planning a full four-course French meal
"So they are celebrities," she murmured. Still, they didn't look familiar, and she watched all the latest movies and dramas. And she followed designers fanatically, so she couldn't see herself forgetting them if they were models, especially not when they were so attention-grabbing. Maybe they were musicians? They music world was diverse enough that they might belong to a genre she wasn't familiar with, but somehow she couldn't see that happening. They didn't seem like the type to fly under anyone's radar. She sighed. The sommelier carefully handed her one of the bottles and admonished her to be cautious in handling it. Not that she would have dreamed of doing otherwise, after hearing how much it had cost.
When she got back to present them with their champagne, she saw that one of the other diners had somehow made his way to their table. She got there just in time to hear the beginning of his spiel.
"Good evening," he said with a smile. "May I join you two for a moment? I'm Minami Takahiro." Mei stifled a gasp. Minami Takahiro was currently the most in-demand director in the Japan film industry. Everyone else in the room was eavesdropping on the conversation as well. "I'm a director, and I couldn't help but notice you two—well, no one here could help but notice you, really. I was wondering whether either of you were in the industry."
A mischievous smile spread on the other man's lips. "I'm Yamada Tarou, and this beauty here is Yamada Hanako," he said—basically introducing them as John and Jane Doe. Mei marveled at his gumption. "And no, neither of us are actors, musicians, or models."
Minami-san chuckled. "Nice to find someone with a sense of humor," he said lightly. "If you don't want to reveal your names, it's all right. I understand that it was rather forward of me to approach you like this. But I can't believe that you two haven't been snapped up by talent scouts yet. I'm working on a new project, and I think I just found my heroine." Hanako arched an eyebrow at him. He pressed his case. "I have never before encountered someone so beautiful, so elegant, the very personification of the ideal woman—"
Tarou started to choke with laughter, while Hanako started to emanate an evil purple aura. Mei gulped and took a step back as Hanako's dark eyes seemed to spark with rage.
"I'm afraid I have no interest in acting in your movie," she said, her words dripping icicles. She was even more breathtaking when she was angry—Minami seemed enthralled rather than cowed.
"That's a shame to hear, but it's a very compelling story, and I think that the part was made especially for you. When I saw you, I knew you were the one."
"That's very interesting, but we came here as private individuals with the intention of eating dinner," she hinted.
Minami nodded. "I apologize for interrupting your meal." He slipped his card onto the table. "But please… if you change your mind, please contact me. I'll let you negotiate for any reasonable terms you can think of." He looked at Taro. "You as well. I think you'd be quite a compelling actor."
"Oh, you have no idea," the auburn-headed man said with an impish smile.
When Minami left and Mei was finally able to serve them the champagne, Hanako glared at Taro, who was snickering. "Ideal woman… told you so. You should be flattered, Hana-chan."
"Remind me again why I agreed to this," Hanako muttered.
"Because you love me," Tarou said smugly.
"Yes, I do. Well, it makes you laugh, and while I may go on a killing spree later I don't think it should have any other major repercussions, so I suppose I'll bear with it..." She looked at Mei. "May I ask, how many courses is Misuzu-san planning to serve us?"
Mei looked at her, surprised. "Oh… he seemed to be planning a full-course French dinner."
"I knew it," she said, closing her eyes. "Hours and hours of this torture…" Tarou laughed and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tightly to his side.
"It's not over yet, angel mine. I'm taking pictures when we get home," he said, smirking.
Although Mei kept an eye out for them, they never came back to the restaurant. Minami Takahiro didn't forget them either. In one of the magazines she read, he saw that in an interview he described his 'mysterious encounter' with 'a walking goddess'. He called her 'his muse' and regretted that his 'rendezvous with destiny' had to end so abruptly. He tried searching for her, and publicly stated that she could walk in and take any role that she wanted, and he would even create a movie exclusively tailored for her—but she never appeared again.
"You've got to be kidding me," Mei said, her eyes widening when they walked in. This pair in December was attracting stares, but not for the same reason as the couple in November. The maitre d'hôtel gave her a sharp look and gestured for her to take them to the back booth. "But they're…"
"It doesn't matter, they're good, regular customers," the maitre d'hôtel hissed back. "Do it now."
One of them had short dark hair and was wearing black boots a blue military uniform with white trim, gold braided tassels, and medals. He had gloves with a complicated alchemic array etched onto them. Beside him was a shorter man with blonde hair and honey eyes, clad in black leather vest and pants, and a long red coat over it. Silver pocket watches hung from chains in their pockets.
They were cosplaying. It was Roy Mustang and Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist, standing right in front of her. Forcing herself to smile at them, she led them to their table.
"I can't believe I let you choose this after the last fiasco," she heard the dark-haired Roy say.
Edward smirked. "Stay in character, old man."
"If I were going to stay in character, I'd be flirting with the women in this room."
The blonde got quiet. "No, I don't want that," he mumbled. Mei noted as he pushed up his sleeve slightly that he was wearing automail—no, wait; it wasn't actual metal, it was just cleverly-designed cloth to look like silver and steel. She was impressed. It would take an exceptionally skilled fashion designer to come up with something like that. Then Edward brightened. "You can be fanfiction Roy. The one all the fangirls pair up with me." He shot his partner a wide-eyed look reminiscent of animated deer. "Please?"
"You know I can't say no to that face," groaned Roy. He allowed himself to smile exasperatedly at Ed. "Those Bambi eyes are impossible to resist. Fine. Now come on, I know you're hungry." Ed grinned and shrugged off his coat as they were seated, showing off the tight-fitting black outfit underneath. At the sight, she heard Roy's breath catch, the dark eyes burning with sudden desire.
"Fullmetal, that outfit should be illegal," he murmured. "No one else should be allowed to look at the finest assets in all of Tokyo…"
"It works in a fight," Ed said with a shrug. "Not my fault you're such a pervert, Colonel Bastard."
Roy turned to Mei. "We'll have cognac shrimp with beurre blanc sauce and the smoked salmon and dill crepes." Then a devious smirk spread on his face. "And the midget beside me would like some milk."
Mei bit her lip. She had read some of the Fullmetal Alchemist manga, and she knew what was coming. But surely they wouldn't go that far to be in character, not in a public restaurant like this…
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO TINY THAT HE SHOULDN'T EAT THE COGNAC SHRIMP BECAUSE HE'S A SHRIMP TOO?"
Dead silence settled in the restaurant, and a very flushed, bright-eyed Edward Elric stared down at his superior officer with his hands on his hips.
"Now that you mention it, it was very insensitive of me to order the cognac shrimp," Roy mused, looking completely unfazed by his companion's impressive use of his lungs. "I hadn't realized that it would be like cannibalism to you." His lips twitched and he held up a hand to prevent the younger man from launching into a tirade before he turned to Mei. "I'm so sorry about the disturbance. Could you actually just get those orders to go?"
"Right away," she squeaked, thankful that they'd decided to leave instead of stay.
"Hey, why to go?" complained Ed. "Are you that embarrassed to be seen out in public wearing this?"
"Because," Roy said silkily, his fingers brushing against the golden-eyed boy's cheek, "I love those leather pants on you… and I'm interested in finding out whether they look better off."
Color flooded Ed's cheeks. "Takeout it is," he mumbled.
In January, she escorted a pair of businessmen to the private table. Aside from both of them being devastatingly handsome—one of them with violet eyes and a mop of brown curls, the other with spiked red hair and blue eyes half-concealed behind glasses—and being impeccably dressed in Hitachiin business attire, they were quite tame compared to the usual couples she would direct there once a month. After taking their orders, she overheard nothing but mundane chatter about current events. Well, it wasn't as though she could expect intrigue every time she had a twosome settled in the back booth…
Another party caught her eye, though. She hurried over to them, a grin splitting her face. "Guys! What are you doing here?"
The Host Club smiled up at her: Tamaki, Hikaru, Haruhi, Mori and Hunny. "Hi, Mei-chan!" Hunny burbled happily. "Tama-chan wanted to have some French food, so we all decided to go with him."
"Except for Kaoru and Jafar," Hikaru said snidely.
"Jafar?" Mei echoed, confused.
"His latest nickname for Kyouya," Tamaki explained, elbowing the Hitachiin. "He means the one from Aladdin."
"Suits him, doesn't it?" the redhead said, scowling. "A freaky-bearded jerk who uses brainwashing techniques…"
"What's he got against Kyouya-san?"
Haruhi cleared her throat. "They're… well, he and Kaoru are…" She raised her pinkie, using the Japanese way of implying a relationship.
Mei stared, gobsmacked. "You're kidding me. Did all that studying melt your brains?"
"No, sadly my beloved twin succumbed to Jafar's insidious hypnosis…"
"Kyouya-sempai doesn't even have a beard," Haruhi said, rolling her eyes.
"He doesn't have gills either, but you've never contested the piranha or barracuda comparisons," Hikaru replied. "He'd better not be doing something perverted to Kaoru…"
Tamaki sighed. "Hikaru, you already tried murdering him last month. Didn't work."
"Hey, you would react too, if you found a trashed pair of leather pants in your twin's laundry hamper!"
Mei frowned. Leather pants…?
Hikaru gritted his teeth. "Kaoru's been tinkering in the atelier working on all sorts of stuff for him and the bat, and I found a skirt. In Kaoru's size. Since then he's been a bit more careful in hiding what he works on, but they're definitely doing something sick!"
Mei felt a bit faint. "A skirt… a schoolgirl skirt?"
The golden-eyed boy raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. How'd you know?
Hunny caught her eye and grinned at her before pressing a finger to her lips in the universal 'shush' gesture. She noticed that Mori was looking at the businessmen in the back booth, and gave them a nearly-imperceptible nod. The couple raised their glasses in silent acknowledgement, smirks spreading on their faces.
"I… uh… lucky guess? Anyway, I have other orders to attend to," she stammered out. "But I'll try to talk to you guys again later."
She took cover in the kitchen where she whirled on her father, feeling faint. She wasn't even sure where to start…
"That was… those two… they're…"
"Yes, yes and yes," Misuzu said with a grin.
There was a pause.
"KYOUYA-SAN WORE A DRESS?" she wailed. Misuzu was suddenly thankful that he had opted to make the kitchen soundproof.
"You do realize that he'll murder you and they'll never find your body if you try to spread it around?" her dad asked, amused. "Besides, you signed that contract. Kyouya-kun came up with it himself… you're not going to find any loopholes in it." "
"Why...?"
Misuzu was quiet a moment. "Kyouya-kun's father instructed him to keep their relationship under wraps. As tightly under wraps as those two can manage, at any rate... they're good at what they do, but that kind of love... it's difficult for them to hide it. They practically radiate affection when they're around each other." He sighed. "They decided not to hide what they feel, just who the people feeling it are. It's brilliant, of course. And when they found out that I planned to set up a restaurant, the two of them invested in it, with a few clauses so that they could get a place where they could have their dates." He looked sharply at her. "Don't tell me that you're going to object because they're gay."
'What?" she said. It hadn't even occurred to her. She pursed her lips, thinking over it a moment, before her cheeks flooded with color.
Her father looked at her, amused. "You just realized how hot they are together, didn't you?"
"I... no, I mean..."
He rolled his eyes. "It's true, anyway. Now you go take out their orders."
"You're kidding." She groaned but put on her best professional smile as she went out and served them. Maybe she could make it so that they didn't realize that she knew…
"Enjoy your meals, sirs," she said brightly.
The brown-haired one looked up at her, amused. "Thank you very much, Mei-san. And good job… you were able to say that sentence without stuttering."
She groaned. "What gave me away?"
"Your hand shook when you put down the plates," the blue-eyed one said with a snicker. Instead of speaking in the deep baritone she had heard him using earlier, he had reverted to his normal voice, which was a few octaves higher. Kaoru, she realized. "It's okay, I'm sure you were surprised. Did anything give us away?"
"I would never in a million years have guessed it was you guys if it weren't for the others," she said, shaking her head. "My God… so that Yamada Hanako…"
"You are never to speak of it," Kyouya said, suddenly emanating a purple aura.
"It's okay, Mei-chan, I have the pictures to commemorate it," Kaoru said smugly. "He just can't get over the fact that he started a manhunt for 'Yamada Hanako, the ideal woman and walking goddess'."
"That dress was exquisite on him," Mei agreed. "Minami-san comes back at least once a week to look for Yamada Hanako."
"What part of 'never to speak of it' do you two not understand?" the Shadow King growled, stabbing his fork into his smoked salmon and dill crepe with a homicidal glint in his eye.
"I had to talk him into it," Kaoru said, smirking. "I come up with all the crazy costume ideas. We decided to tone it down a little this time… after the incident in December, we thought we needed to settle down a bit."He smiled softly at Kyouya. "We like it this way. Makes it hard for reporters or my brother to follow us… and role-playing is fun."
"Very fun," Kyouya purred, squeezing Kaoru's hand.
Mei noticed that she was being signaled to one of the other tables. With a sigh, she got up and started to leave, but before she did, she paused to ask just one last question. She just couldn't resist.
"So… did the leather look better off or on?"
In February, Mei was privileged enough to laughingly show two men in full-on visual kei to the back booth, both of them winking at her, and both of them wearing tight leather pants that showcased 'the best assets in all of Tokyo', true to 'Roy's' word.
And they looked good both off and on.
A/N: And there you guys go. NaF update soon, I hope, though I haven't gotten around to even starting on the next chapter yet. I can't wait until it finishes and suddenly people will pop up out of nowhere to read it (that's common enough, I think; I have friends who wait for fanfics to complete before checking them out, much less reviewing them). And now I'm off to have cheesecake brownies, which are possibly little bits of heaven. All righty. Lots of love, you guys, and have a fantastic end of October!