Fourteenth fic for a Pride Month prompt challenge from tumblr. Prompt: coffee shop.
This fic is something of an experiment - a good friend of mine said it would be nice to read about genderfluid Haruhi and I thought I'd answer the call as part of this fic challenge. I quite like how parts of this turned out, but I also kind of wish I'd written it from Tamaki's perspective as well so... idk, let me know if you guys like this.
Haruhi is used to the double-takes by now: they've been a normal part of life since the age of fifteen when that stupid smashed vase led to them becoming a dog of the Host Club. The double-takes came first from the others: first Kyouya, then Hani, Mori, Hikaru and Kaoru, and finally Tamaki. Haruhi went along with it, mostly because it was easier (they had premonitions of being hounded by the hosts if they didn't) but also because the looks on their faces had been... kind. Unexpectedly.
So they joined the club, and the stares and attention continued. Being referred to as 'he' didn't bother Haruhi, and while they didn't understand why at the time it never felt strange or wrong to be called such. The reactions from people who knew that Haruhi was not a guy were always huge. To Haruhi, the reactions were too much, always too much, because if they didn't want to draw a distinct line between genders why should anyone else?
It took time for Haruhi to even think there was any need to put a name to it. They didn't care to do it for themselves, but others seemed to want some kind of explanation. All Haruhi could tell them was that it meant little to them and they didn't feel that they fitted at either end of the scale. Some days, Haruhi felt "girly": they'd wear a dress or put little clips in their hair, lace frills on their socks and make up on their face. Other days, Haruhi would pull on jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, shove their hair up into a hat and slouch when they walked. Most days, they existed somewhere in between.
Today is such a day. This morning Haruhi pulled on a long shirt and short waistcoat, left their hair down, and it's getting a little long and shaggy already, curling under their chin. When Haruhi gets to the coffee shop and sees Tamaki over at a table in the corner, Tamaki gives them a bright, radiant smile, and Haruhi remembers the sweet sincerity on his face when he first asked them out. Tamaki never asked for Haruhi to change anything, to fit into any moulds or distinctions.
Haruhi joins him, leaving a quick kiss on his cheek before curling up beside him on the sofa. With this arm around them, Haruhi feels a lightness in their chest.
"Hey," greets Tamaki. "You look lovely today."
"You always say that," laughs Haruhi, turning over the menu card on the table to look at the tea selection.
"I always mean it," says Tamaki.
Soon after, a waiter comes over to take their order.
"A latte," says Tamaki, as usual, and the waiter turns to Haruhi.
"And for you, mi– er..." He pauses. "Sir?" His voice is tentative, and Haruhi gives him a warm, reassuring smile, because really, either works.
"A green tea please," they say, and the waiter nods, walking away.
A silence falls over the two of them, and Haruhi can feel Tamaki looking at them.
"What's up?" they ask. "You're never this quiet."
Tamaki chuckles. "Nothing. Just... I'm proud of you."
Haruhi just smiles and lays their head on Tamaki's shoulder.