Once again, Kyouya found himself having a holiday he didn't ask for. Except this time it wasn't spent with Haruhi, but her father. At least it was more entertaining, he thought. He half-listened to Ranka as he rambled on about all the handsome men that came to the bar. The excited hand motions and spacey look in his eyes had fully convinced Kyouya by now.

Yes; Tamaki would be exactly like Ranka 20 years from now. Maybe even sooner. This was both an enjoyable and terrifying prospect.

Ah, yes, Tamaki… In a way, he was the reason that Kyouya was here in the first place…

---------------

"Kyouya-kun…!" bubbled Ranka's melodramatic voice over the phone. "I don't want my poor Haruhi to go on another date with that scoundrel Tamaki-kun!" Don't worry, Kyouya thought. I don't either. He glanced over at Tamaki, who was using the Ootori house to get ready for his rendezvous; presumably so that Shima wouldn't bother him.

"Not to worry, Ranka-san," he said. "I have a plan." Upon hearing that name, Tamaki's eyes lit up. He rushed over to Kyouya's side.

"Ranka-san!" he shouted into the phone, and thus right into Kyouya's ear. "Tell my daughter that I could never be more excited to see her!" He then immediately bounced off to finish preparing.

On the other end of the line, Ranka smirked, a devious idea penetrating his mind.

"Dad, who are you talking to?" asked Haruhi curiously as she entered the room. Upon seeing his daughter in a striking, crisp, blue sundress, Ranka shot up from his seat and latched on to her small frame.

"Haruhi! So cute!" he cooed, as she desperately tried to push him away. She groaned, fully caught in his death grip.

"Dad, weren't you on the phone?"

At last, Ranka released her. "Ah, yes, yes…" An unseen smirk grew wider. "It was just Tamaki-kun, saying he's terribly sorry, but has fallen ill and cannot go out today." Although his smile was a little too happy for Haruhi's tastes, she didn't think her father's words were a lie. Plus, she had a way to disprove it if it were.

"Oh," she responded, slightly surprised. "Well then, I'd guess I'd better visit him and see if he's okay." Half of her mistrusted the truth of the declaration, but the other half felt genuinely worried that Tamaki was sick. She frowned as she headed towards the door, purse in hand.

"Take care!" Ranka called after her. After putting on her shoes and saying bye, she left the apartment and headed in the direction of the Suoh mansion #2. Meanwhile, Ranka returned to his forgotten phone conversation. "How much of that did you catch?"

"All of it," Kyouya replied, seemingly unperturbed by the large gap in dialogue. "You're quite the loud talker, Ranka-san." Having completed his preparations, Tamaki slid over to Kyouya a good-bye squeeze on the shoulders before gliding out the door. The Shadow King didn't know which hurt more; the brief, yet tight, grip or the brilliant smile on the lord's face.

"Does this work with your plan?"

Kyouya nodded, even though he knew Ranka couldn't see the motion. "I'll call Hikaru. Be in front of the supermarket in five minutes." He hung up his cell phone, and then subsequently dialed a new number. "Kaoru? Yes, is your brother there?"

This was bound to be an entertaining day.

---------------

"Hey, Haruhi!" The girl turned at the sound of her name being called to see Hikaru approaching her at a fast pace, a smile streaked across his face.

"Hi-Hikaru…" she greeted, a little taken aback by his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?"

"I felt like taking a walk," he replied simply, stopping as he now reached her position. "But I could ask you the same question."

"I'm going to see senpai. My dad said he's feeling sick."

Hikaru shrugged, looking extremely uninterested in the state of the "Lord" and more interested in Haruhi herself. "Forget about him. Let's go somewhere." Without waiting for an answer, he gently yet firmly grabbed her arm and dragged her off down the street. His presumed destination – a local coffee shop – stood a few blocks away.

In the shadows nearby stood two figures watching intently as Hikaru dragged Haruhi away on another "date." One of them smirked, contentedly crossing bare arms. The other gathered an extremely pleased smile on painted lips and presented a short twirl in his lavender skirt.

"Yes, Kyouya-kun, this will make for a far better stalking game!"

---------------

And so, here Kyouya was, sitting in a restaurant with Haruhi's father and sharing a meal. Across the street, Haruhi herself and Hikaru chatted over cups of some warm beverage. Ranka let out a contented sigh at the sight of a bright smile on his daughter's face. Glancing over, Kyouya found an equally satisfied expression on the other's face. At the same time, there existed a hint of sadness, presumably at the notion of Ranka's only daughter growing older and becoming attached to another, only to leave Ranka himself alone. Though Haruhi couldn't leave him completely alone; she was too kind a girl to do that to him.

"Ranka-san, you're a beautiful person," Kyouya stated. Ranka glanced over at him with surprise, but then immediately dove into a series of overdramatic flourishes.

"Why, thank you, Kyouya-kun – I am most flattered!"

Kyouya chuckled, successfully earning his full and interested attention. "I was actually referring to the way you care for Haruhi." He paused briefly, absorbing the pleased look that struck Ranka's feminine features. Kyouya glanced out the window once more. "I wish"—Here it was. He had to say it, he had to get it out.—"I wish my father cared for me that much."

He instantly decided that pity didn't suit Ranka.

"Oh, Kyouya-kun! If only I had known of your sorrow!" the man exclaimed, reaching across the table to give the boy an affectionate squeeze. "I'd be happy to be your father." Kyouya's immediate reaction to the hug was one of rejection, but instead he found himself reaching out to the contact. This hug was soft and gentle, unlike the death grips Ranka often gave Haruhi when she looked especially cute. He hadn't felt a genuine, affectionate hug like this in a long time.

He chuckled once more. "I appreciate the offer," he replied, "but I already have plenty." What with his biological dad and Tamaki, he already had two. What could he possibly do with three fathers?

But Tamaki didn't hug him like this. He gave him those death grips; the ones that showed friendly gratitude, not affection. He longed for Tamaki to give him a true embrace, one that demonstrated real affection and not a fake counterpart.—Was Ranka showing him affection? Did Ranka truly feel pity for the boy? Or was it simply his exuberant politeness that led to his offer of acting as Kyouya's father?

"Very well," Ranka said, retreating to his seat, "but if you ever change your mind…" The completely serious expression on his face led Kyouya, at least in part, to the answer he was looking for. It was strange, how such a man could look so much like a woman, and yet still retain that paternal composure. It was as almost as if that femininity rendered him more capable of capturing the true fatherly instinct. Was it a true father who could understand not only with the logical burdens of a patriarch, but also with the concerned sympathy of a mother?

Kyouya needed both these roles to be filled in his life, his biological father being too strict to care for any compassion, and his mother being…unable to fill the gap. Perhaps Ranka could be the one do accomplish this cumbersome task.

"Oh, Kyouya-kun, don't you know it's rude to stare at a woman like that?" Ranka asked rhetorically, breaking Kyouya from his reverie. The boy averted his eyes, feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"My apologies, Ranka-san," he quickly replied, regaining his composure. To his surprise, Ranka tittered in response.

"I was only joking. It's flattering to be looked at like that." How exactly had he been looking?--Kyouya wondered. "You had such a thoughtful expression on your face. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing important."

"If you say so…" The uncertainty of the statement begged for answers, but, thankfully for Kyouya, Ranka didn't pry. He knew enough to keep out of personal business. For a moment, Kyouya glanced at him. Upon seeing the other's interested expression, however, he turned to stare out the window once more. It seemed that their poorly designed scheme was beginning to unravel – Tamaki had discovered Hikaru and Haruhi on their date (presumably after searching the town for the period of time in which he had remained absent) and, by his reaction, Ranka's simple, yet effective trick. Ranka noticed this as well, after following Kyouya's gaze to the group across the street.

"We'd better leave before they notice us," suggested Kyouya, already standing up from his seat. Ranka nodded, getting up as well, and straightening his skirt. Before leaving the restaurant, Kyouya left an Ootori Enterprises business card on top of the check. The staff would know to add the cost to his bill. Just as they were exiting via the swinging, brown doors, three voices called out in unison:

"Kyouya? Ranka-san?", "Kyouya-senpai? Ranka-san?", "Kyouya-senpai? Dad?"

Ranka-san and Kyouya whipped their heads around at the sound of the shocked voices. Both of them were, of course, quite surprised themselves at being found out so quickly, but Kyouya refused to show it. He tossed a sidelong glance over at his partner in crime and saw his futile attempt at doing the same.

"So this is how Kyouya-senpai and Ranka-san really talk about the host club," said Hikaru. Kyouya almost wanted to slap him for the licentious – and, more importantly, incorrect – implications. Haruhi, not really believing the twin, nor being able to express her thoughts clearly, kept her mouth shut. Tamaki, however, was being his gullible self; his expression showed that he took these words to heart.

At that moment, Kyouya knew he had to do or say something. He decided on the former. "Ranka-san, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked, staring at the ground in front of him.

"I think so, Kyouya-kun," answered the okama in a sly tone. Suddenly, the two turned around and took off, running as far away from possible from the others. Kyouya instinctively grabbed Ranka's hand as they turned, a gesture which the latter returned.

"Kyouya—" Tamaki called out. He stepped forward, but stopped as soon as Haruhi clasped his arm.

"Let them go," she said softly. Biting his lip, Tamaki glanced from her to the fading image of Kyouya several times before relaxing his body and standing up straight. Haruhi let her grip loosen and her hand fall back to her side.

Meanwhile, Kyouya tossed a glance over his shoulder and hated what he saw. Tamaki was not running after him as he had hoped. Don't just stand there, you idiot, he thought bitterly.He squeezed Ranka's hand tighter. The man noticed this gesture, but didn't say a word. After a few minutes, they stopped – panting with exhaustion – at a park, where they both simultaneously collapsed onto the nearest bench. Once Ranka had regained his breath, he began laughing with such pleasure that Kyouya couldn't help but join in a few chuckles.

"That felt wonderful," commented Ranka, leaning back on the bench. Kyouya looked up at him, donating a small smile that showed he agreed. In truth, it was far from wonderful, but still a refreshing act. Ranka seemed to catch this discrepancy in thought and motion, for he then asked, "But shouldn't you have stayed with Tamaki-kun?"

Kyouya's eyes widened in surprise. Was he that easy to read? Why could Ranka see through him like Tamaki could? Why were all appearances deceiving him at that moment?

Ranka laughed at this reaction. "Really, Kyouya, I might have vowed only to love Kotoko, but I'm still a bisexual man, too. I can see these things, you know." He gave impertinent wink, but was clearly being totally serious. The lack of an honorific this time intrigued and confused Kyouya, which did not help his current situation. Furthermore, he wondered, "too"? When it was obvious that the boy wasn't going to reply, Ranka continued. "I think it's best if I leave you to think about it." He rose from his seat, giving Kyouya a peck on the cheek on the way, and walked away. In fact, Kyouya did not have much time to "think about it," for immediately after he heard the voice he both longed for and feared.

There was no mistaking that tone, that shockingly blond hair. "Kyouya…" The owner looked especially cute when so perplexed, which only augmented Kyouya's anxiety. "What is this, really?"

Kyouya breathed a deep sigh, straightening in his seat. Tamaki sat down beside him. "It's nothing, Tamaki, really," the former explained laconically, half-mocking the other by repeating the word "really." In truth, Kyouya didn't know what "this" was, if it was anything at all.

Apparently, Tamaki wasn't satisfied with such a vague answer. "If you didn't want me to go out with Haruhi, you could have said something." No, idiot, I couldn't have, Kyouya snapped mentally. I didn't – don't – want to see you upset.—But wasn't that the case now?He averted his eyes to avoid the pleading gaze that was searching for a verbal rationalization for his actions. "Is that it?"

Kyouya sighed once more, standing up. "I don't know." He walked off without looking back. Tamaki just stared at his fading figure, unable to stop it from disappearing into the crowd.