Okay, we'll see how this goes... This is a very different style than I normally write in, but I wanted to play with a more distanced narration. I plan it to be a two shot, and the second half should be up in not too long. I hope you enjoy!

I don't own Ouran. ;)

Mommy Kyoya

A small brunette leaned into the side of a tall, dark haired young man, her face flushed and her steps wobbly with intoxication. Kyoya Ootori quietly opened the door to a glossy black limousine and helped Haruhi Fujioka inside, placing a thin hand on her shoulder as a guide to the seat. A look of irritation darkened his already near-black eyes. Tamaki Suoh and the Hitachiin Twins would do best to spend some time out of the country in the near future.

The girl giggled when he buckled her seat belt for her, as though it were a joke, and he sighed at the noise, studying the dim streetlamp out his window. "Just take us back to the house," he muttered tiredly at the driver, "it won't be any good handing Ranka an inebriated daughter." The Ootori boy flicked the window between the driver and him shut, a bit of his crossness evident in the sharp snap of the plastic. "Damn Suoh," he added almost inaudibly when he noticed a stain on the sleeve of his soft blue Ouran uniform. The brunette beside him had quieted as the car hummed to life, and now her head dropped against his arm in exhaustion. The young man's eyes flickered from the side window to the small girl's face, pressing into his bicep. Her eyes had fallen shut, and her small frame visibly grew and shrank with her breathing. He looked back out the window.

The limousine came to a stop in the Ootori estate's car port, and Kyoya quietly unbuckled both the teenagers' seat belts and scooped her, now thoroughly unconscious, up against his chest. Confusion showed in his driver's eyes at the show of effort, but it remained unacknowledged. "I'll take her upstairs – the second guest room; make sure to stock her dresser with clean clothes –size small, one pant."

Halfway up the first staircase, large, disoriented chestnut eyes blinked slowly up at him. He ignored the movement in his arms and proceeded rapidly through the empty hallways at what would be a business-like clip if it weren't for the weight he was carrying.

"My mom used to carry me to bed," the girl whispered and then began to giggle hysterically, as if she had said something hilarious. He winced as the noise swelled and furrowed his brow, like he had a headache. His neck tightened and relaxed as he swallowed, moonlight catching on his pale throat. "Mommy Kyoya!" A breath not audible over her hysteria slowly left his nostrils in what could almost be a sigh. The dark haired boy continued his ascent of the stairs silently, turning towards the guest wing. She kept laughing until they reached the door, when he shifted her weight to free his right hand and twist a silver doorknob. Her forehead accidentally brushed his cheek, and her brown eyes skimmed his face.

"Kyoya doesn't talk about his mom," she observed, suddenly solemn, and for a moment the boy's thin fingers tightened slightly where they held her, probably due to the shifting of her weight. "I don't know," she continued sadly and sleepily as he carried her into a dimly lit, cleanly modern bedroom, a weak yawn punctuating her words, "what happened." The girl's chestnut eyes looked up at him expectantly when he laid her back on a fluffy down comforter, waiting for an answer. His glasses caught the reflection of a small desk lamp's light, but he sounded like he was rolling his eyes.

"You could apply your extraordinary, scholarship student intellect to Wikipedia, Haruhi. It isn't like that information was kept under wraps." She shook her head, giggling when it made her dizzy.

"I don't wanna be like him," she giggled again, "buy a black notebook for all the secrets!" Her words were slurred and unsteady, and it seemed to be enough to return the boy's focus to his original task. He ignored her laughter, sat down on the very edge of the bed, and removed her shoes, furrowing his brow again as he loosened the laces.

"I hardly think that's the same-"

"He doesn't want to talk about it," she cut him off, and the boy glanced up at her face over the rims of his glasses. She was sad again, brown eyes dim and deep and worried. He was quiet. "He doesn't want people to know he feels lonely sometimes. He just wants to be everyone else's mommy instead."

"What would make you say that?" he murmured wonderingly, onyx irises shifting just slightly in the muted glow of the desk light. She sat up, surprisingly steady, and her wide eyes gazed into his.

"I'm always lonely."

There was a beat, and then the two teens moved together, like someone had flipped the switch on a magnet. Their lips met soft but urgent, desperate for closeness. Long, cream-colored fingers knotted up in short, coffee-colored hair. A pair of powder blue uniform jackets fell to the floor, and thin, rectangular glasses were tossed carelessly onto the small bedside table. His hands moved up the shape of her waist as her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him with her back onto the soft bedspread.

The position was not unfamiliar.

"Haruhi," he frowned. "Haruhi, don-" Her lips moved to his neck, and his objections died temporarily in his throat, where her slender fingers were removing his tie. "Y-You are very, very drunk, Haruhi Fujioka," the boy managed before she could do any more damage, and he shifted off the small, soft body below him, swallowing hard. "Goodnigh-" The girl's eyes were awful – wide and dark and tear-filled. She blinked, and a single clear droplet rolled down her cheek. "Sleep, Haruhi," he told her firmly, his voice cold and efficient again, eyebrows rising just slightly in impatience,
but there was hesitation evident in the Shadow King's bared eyes.

The girl drew a breath rough with emotion – hurt and loneliness and grief, and third son of the Ootori family pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes before resignedly lying down, one arm stiffly around the girl's waist. "Sleep, Haruhi," he repeated. His voice was still disinterested, even annoyed, but she curled closer to his chest, oblivious or unconvinced, and buried her face in his shoulder.

The End for today! Someday, I do plan to write a KyoHaru that's more than one or two chapters. I want to finish my other story first, though, so these will have to do. I'll update ASAP; thanks so much for reading!