Title: Proposition
Pairings or Characters: Haruhi/Kyoya
Rating: K
Word Count: 2809
Author's Notes: I wrote this over a year ago for a LJ Community challenge, but never got around to posting it here. But beadedbag asked for Kyouya/Haruhi, and this is the only half-presentable one I have, so please accept it as thanks for reviewing all of my other Ouran stories.
Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran HSHC.
"No way," Haruhi glared at Kyoya, her lunch untouched on the table between them. "I mean it, senpai – I won't do it."
Kyoya just gave a small sigh, as if this were a trifling matter which could easily wait while he took a long sip of his coffee (pitch black; the colour of his soul, Haruhi thought uncharitably). "I really don't see the problem, Haruhi – this benefits both of us, and with your legal skills it shouldn't be much work at all. Incidentally, you can drop the 'senpai'. It hardly applies these days."
Haruhi fiercely stabbed a tomato in her temper. Unfortunately, her fork skimmed over the crimson skin and sent the tomato flying across the aisle to land in the soup of a haughty-looking woman, who recoiled from the splash and sent a venomous look at Haruhi.
The restaurant was fairly classy and judging from the woman's jewellery and clothing (now spattered with droplets of pale soup), she must have been wealthy. Kyoya – always on the lookout for his next profitable connection – immediately went to help her, and Haruhi took the opportunity to escape.
She didn't want to go straight back to her office – she knew that her boss would be keen to hear the outcome of her meeting with the Ootori heir, and obviously there had been no outcome to speak of. So she took a detour through the park to give her some time to think.
"It's a very small case, Haruhi," Kyoya had told her, "but one that requires delicacy and sensitivity – which is why I'm asking you."
She had been flattered, in a way, and on the verge of accepting – after all, it was a case, and she'd only been qualified as a lawyer for just over a year. It would be quite a coup to be hired by the Ootori corporation this early in her career.
But then sometime between his initial request and their lunch today, Kyoya had changed his terms and asked instead that she come and work on his legal team for a whole year – not just on that one case, but on anything else that came up.
"No, thank you," she'd said firmly. "I wholeheartedly decline."
Kyoya gave her a cold look. "Don't you think you're being foolish? Many young lawyers like yourself would kill for an opportunity like this – I chose to offer it to you because I have confidence in your abilities. Turning it down is rather ungrateful."
"On the contrary," she shot back, "it's the smart thing to do. For me, anyway. Look, Kyoya, you have an entire legal team of your own. And given the cut-and-thrust nature of your business, I just… I don't think that I'd be the right person. I mean, I have morals, for a start."
"Exactly." Kyoya leaned forward. "That's why I want you. On my team," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Your ethical compass will help keep my lawyers on the straight and narrow – I can't have my business compromised by the reckless actions of someone desperate to win a case."
But Haruhi still wasn't sure it would be a good idea. She'd spent three years at high school trying to squirm out from under Kyoya's thumb with her debt – she didn't think it would be wise to willingly go down the kind of path where he would be her employer.
"Fujioka!" her boss barked at her when she finally arrived back at the office. "Where the hell have you been? I've just had Mr. Ootori on the phone looking for you."
'Damn,' she cursed, traipsing reluctantly into her boss's office to explain herself.
The boss in question, Seno Kazuya, had been overjoyed at the prospect of one of his employees working directly for the famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) Ootori Kyoya. Haruhi hoped that he wouldn't be so keen on losing that employee for a whole year – but fate, it seemed, just didn't like her very much today.
"That's great!" he bellowed in response to the news, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on his desk. "When do you start?"
Haruhi nearly choked. "Uh… what?"
Seno narrowed his eyes at her. "Fujioka – you're accepting this offer whether you like it or not. Now is not the time to be picky about assignments, is that clear? You work for him, you have a guaranteed income for the next year – how many other lawyers your age can say that?"
It was true, of course. "And the fact that you get paid a fee as well for the loan of my services – that's just happy coincidence, right?" she remarked.
He snorted with laughter. "See, that's the kind of spirit that'll win your case," he told her. "So I'll call Ootori and tell him the good news, then?"
"No!" she said quickly. "No, I mean – I'll do it."
Seno gave her a suspicious look.
"Really," she assured him.
"Well, go do it, then."
She smiled uncertainly and exited as fast as possible. 'Great. Just great.' Now what was she supposed to do?
'WANTED' the ad shouted. 'Board certified lawyer to work in tropical island paradise; must be dedicated, thorough, willing to work on challenging cases.' And then, in the small print, 'Unfortunately, as we cannot offer a salary, employee must accept payment in the form of food, seashells or other.'
"Ugh," Haruhi groaned with frustration, placing a firm black strike through that particular ad. She'd already ruled out 'Wanted: fine legal mind and body for model/solicitor combo job!' and 'Are you a hard-working, enthusiastic professional? If so, get ready to dedicate yourself… to our Lawyers and Doctors cabaret team!'
She would have screamed, but she was sitting at a table in a busy coffee shop, and she imagined she'd probably alarmed the other patrons enough by now with her disgusted sighs and grunts.
'Isn't anybody looking for a real lawyer these days?' she thought despairingly.
"Are you that desperate to get away from me?" a cool, smooth voice asked from over her shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
"For crying out loud, senpai," she hissed, as her heart raced far too fast for her liking.
Kyoya sat down across from her without waiting for an invitation. "I'm trying not to feel offended by your blatant dislike of me and my offer, but it's getting rather difficult, Haruhi."
She sighed. "I don't dislike you, senpai. And it's a very generous offer. I just think that maybe… you ought to look for someone else. Someone less" – a wry smile tugged at her lips – "ungrateful."
The trouble was, Kyoya really did look somehow bothered by her persistent refusal. Haruhi didn't like hurting people; she realised that she sometimes did so without meaning to, but she certainly didn't get any satisfaction out of it.
"Why exactly are you fighting this so hard, Haruhi?" His fingers traced the edge of the broadsheet newspaper. "Even going so far as to look at other jobs… We're not as cut-throat as you think."
"But you are cut-throat," she countered. "And I don't like getting involved in that kind of thing – I prefer the decent stuff. My boss hates it when I do pro bono work, but to tell you the truth, I really like it. I just don't want to have to put all of that aside for a whole year."
Kyoya shrugged. "So carry on with your pro bono stuff. You can work for me part time."
She gaped at him. "Senpai –"
"I think I've mentioned this senpai thing before."
"Kyoya," she corrected herself, "why are you doing this? Are you really that keen for me to work for you? Or do you just want to be able to lord it over me like you did at school?"
For a second, she could have sworn she saw a hurt look flash across his face. Then it was gone. "All right," he said flatly. "Since we're being so honest with each other, I might as well just come right out and say it – although I had hoped that over time you would have worked it out for yourself."
She blinked as he glanced around the coffee shop. "Sen – Kyoya, what are you talking about?"
"On second thoughts," he slid out from his chair and stood looking down at her, "this really isn't a discussion for public ears. Come on."
She had just followed him without asking questions. Questions were useless with Kyoya – if he didn't want to answer them, he wouldn't, and that was that. End of story. In their Host Club days, it had irritated the hell out of Haruhi, but she'd got used to it eventually. She'd even developed tactics to get around it.
They'd learned to live with each other.
It had always surprised Haruhi that she and Kyoya stayed in touch after high school – there was nothing in it for him any more, not now that she'd paid off her debt. Yet he still called every so often to check that "your apartment hasn't been broken into by one of those bums living in your crappy neighbourhood", and still took her to lunch once in a blue moon because "God knows nothing you buy at that cheap and disgusting market could actually be considered food."
Much as he didn't like to admit it, Kyoya did care about a small group of people. But Haruhi had never considered herself to be in that group until recently.
"This is it," Kyoya announced, coming to an abrupt halt.
Haruhi hadn't even been paying attention to where they were walking. Now she looked up and saw a tall glass skyscraper, stretching on forever into the clear blue sky. Embedded in the smooth marble forecourt in front of the building was the Ootori company logo.
"It's… big," she managed.
He humoured her. "Yes, it is. Come inside, why don't you?"
Stopping through the doors, they were immediately swamped by members of staff who were obviously unaccustomed to seeing their boss stroll in through the main door, on foot, without his driver and accompanied by a scruffy-looking female.
"Mr. Ootori, sir, is everything all right?"
"Do you need anything, sir?"
"Shall I prepare a car?"
Kyoya kept a firm grip on Haruhi's elbow. "We're fine. I'm going to escort Miss Fujioka to the fiftieth floor."
Immediately there was a palpable shift in mood as the attention turned to Haruhi. She was rather disturbed to see that they were looking at her reverently, in awe.
"Come along," Kyoya murmured in her ear, guiding her towards what appeared to be his private lift. "Stop looking so much like a terrified rabbit."
"It's alarming that you know what a terrified rabbit looks like," she remarked, nervously fidgeting with the buttons on her jacket.
The fiftieth floor, judging by the panel of buttons in the lift, was the top floor – and it showed. Plush carpets, oak panelled walls – it looked more like the interior of a mansion than a modern company building.
Kyoya pushed open an anonymous wooden door to reveal a spacious, lavishly decorated office.
Haruhi couldn't stop herself staring. "Is this yours?"
To her surprise, Kyoya laughed. "No, but it's similar. You can add personal touches, if you like."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
He looked at her pointedly. "It's your office."
"My-?" Her mouth dropped open. "What? This is a joke, right?"
"I'm deadly serious," he told her, and there wasn't a trace of humour on his face.
"Kyoya, this is… it's way too much. I don't understand – you're offering me the kind of job people would kill for, despite the fact that I've already rejected it once, you're letting me work flexible hours because it suits me, and you want me to have this kind of office?" She put her hands on her hips. "What is going on?"
Kyoya rolled his eyes. "Try to think about this logically, Haruhi – when a man presents a woman with gifts and goes to certain lengths to make sure she gets what she wants, what do you think it means?"
She couldn't miss his startling implication, and it left her thoroughly confused. She'd never even entertained such a possibility. Kyoya was an attractive, intelligent man, but she'd always assumed that he was destined for marriage to some beautiful (and wealthy) socialite who would have all the right connections and be the perfect wife.
Kyoya continued. "I'm sorry if this comes as a shock to you. I had planned to let things progress naturally through our occasional meetings, but it was going rather slowly. It seemed more likely that things would develop if we saw each other more often, so I decided to offer you a job." He shrugged. "But there's no point in being anything less than honest with you, is there?"
She only half heard him.
Ootori Kyoya – one of the richest men in the world; someone who just last week had bought out the majority shareholder of a multi-billion yen property development company without even blinking at the dent it made in his bank balance (and yes, she occasionally read the business section once in a while) – was essentially propositioning her, Fujioka Haruhi, a poor lawyer whose main concern in life was finding a place to stack all the bills that arrived daily in the mail.
"I – I don't really know how to respond to that, Kyoya," she managed awkwardly.
To her surprise, he seemed somewhat amused. "You are, as always, frighteningly blunt, Haruhi." He sighed in a matter-of-fact way. "I'm not asking you to marry me, I'm just asking that you… re-consider our current relationship. Take your time to think it over. In fact, why don't we meet to discuss it over dinner? Say, next week? I'll pick you up."
She found herself agreeing on autopilot. When he escorted her back downstairs to the main entrance, saying he'd call her to finalise the details, she still felt numb and dazed. It was only as he took hold of her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles that everything started to sink in. His lips felt like they were burning her skin. His fingers clasping her own were so smooth, they made her shiver.
All of the information that had been held, suspended in limbo before it reached the conscious part of her brain, suddenly crashed through the fog clouding her mind.
Kyoya wanted her.
Kyoya.
And she had no idea what to do.
Much, much later in her life, she would wonder why she struggled at all to come up with an answer. But then, things were always easier in retrospect.
What it boiled down to, in the end, was one simple fact – she could not picture her life without him.
It wasn't a romantic, schmaltzy notion – it was just plain fact. She couldn't imagine her life without her dad, either, or even Tamaki, who had had such an impact on her when she was in high school (and had been her first boyfriend – but that was another story).
Kyoya, though. Kyoya was different. He wasn't a powerful, overbearing force in her life, but he was hardly silent either. He made his presence felt in subtle ways, instead of barging in and creating a big mess. She liked that about him.
And even though this whole thing had been unexpected, and had caused her more stress than she was used to, she still felt fond of him. She thought of him when she heard the newsreader announce the state of the stock market; she still had a copy of his business card in her purse from when he had first had a set printed with his new CEO title.
Little things. Stupid things, really.
But they were the kinds of things that made her open the door to him a week later and grin at his horrified look when he saw that she was dressed in her old, worn jeans and a loose t-shirt. The kinds of things that made her say, "I thought maybe we could stay in, instead."
She felt like she was seeing him differently. And she thought, from the way he just shrugged off his dinner jacket and said, "Sure," that he could tell.
Author's Notes: When I initially started this story I wanted to have a fluffy ending with kissing and whatnot, but it just never happened, and I didn't want to try and force it in for the sake of it. I hope you liked it!