Summary: Tamaki could always make Kyoya smile, despite the bruises. Set after the end of the anime series.
A/N: Jeez. I've committed anime fic again. This lil bunny Would. Not. Let. Go. For those of you waiting for the epic SGA fic, never fear! It's coming, I promise. Well, at least the first three chapters. For those of you on my alert list, who have never seen Ouran High School Host Club... Go watch it now. Do not pass go. Well, do pass go so you can get the $200, because that's what it'll cost you buy the DVD set.
I don't own OHSHC. If I did, Kyoya would be in trouble.
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Broken Smile
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Tamaki sighed quietly while he wrapped Kyoya's wrist. The fight with Otori-san had been vicious and petty; Kyoya had been fortunate to leave with only a few bruises and a sprained wrist. When the Otori patriarch took out his frustrations on his youngest son, Tamaki often found Kyoya on his doorstep.
Knowing the merger would upset his father, Kyoya hadn't anticipated the violence of Yoshio Otori's anger when he arrived home. Hearing his friend sigh, Kyoya glanced away. "You know I appreciate this, Tamaki."
Fastening the bandage, Tamaki Suo smiled sadly. "Anytime, Kyoya. Anytime." He squeezed Kyoya's good hand, putting away the first aid kit.
Brows raised slightly, Kyoya noticed the Host King had not addressed him as Mommy. In fact, he hadn't referred to himself as Daddy either. After all, Daddy always takes care of Mommy.
"I want you to stay the weekend with me."
"Tamaki, you know I can't."
"Can't or won't?" It was an old argument. Ancient, really. Tamaki watched his companion flex his sore hand. "At least stay for dinner."
Rising unsteadily, Kyoya shook his head. "I'm expected at home." Stiffly, he made his way to the bathroom, desperately needing to calm the pounding in his head. Closing the door softly, Kyoya tried in vain to erase Tamaki's knowing expression. As a distraction, Kyoya searched the cabinets for relief. Spying his prize, he shook two tablets from the bottle; he pocketed four more for later.
Swallowing them dry, he carefully leaned over the sink to cup water in his good hand. Raking the wet hand through his hair, Kyoya tried to return it to its normal perfection. The emerging bruise on his chin would have to wait. It wasn't often Otori-san left visible marks; in his anger, he had been careless.
Straightening his glasses, Kyoya returned to Tamaki's room, making a mental note to carry an extra vial of concealer. Exhaustion crept in on him as he neared the bed where his friend sat.
Many people didn't understand the Host King; the vacant look only disguised Tamaki's true power. Kyoya well knew the Suo could see right through him, much the way Daddy's beloved Haruhi could do the same. It was uncanny, really. Both knew what to do and say at the precise moment.
"What are you smiling about?"
Kyoya regained his composure, absently rubbing his sore arm. "I was thinking about you and Haruhi." No point in lying; Tamaki would see right through it. Distraction was better anyway.
Tamaki's violet eyes widened (Bingo!). "What does our precious daughter have to do with anything cooped up in your devious head?" Patting the spot next to him on the bed, the Host King crossed his legs. "Now tell me. Will you stay? Your favorite room is available."
"It's not my favorite room. It is your favorite room to see me inside. Honestly, I don't see why each of these rooms are decorated for members of the Host Club."
Tamaki clapped happily. "Isn't it nice? Mother always said that a bedroom should compliment the person occupying it."
Kyoya smiled; he couldn't help it. Despite everything, Tamaki could always make him laugh. A yawn caught him by surprise. Belately, he covered it with his good hand. "My apologies. I suppose it's time for me to go."
Waving a dismissive hand, Tamaki threw an arm around his friend. "I know you're exhausted, Kyoya. Why don't you take a nap before dinner?"
"I have to go," Kyoya said around another yawn. Suddenly, he found himself listing to the right, too tired to stop his worn body. What is wrong with me? he thought frantically. An Otori does not need help.
Still, he found Tamaki's shoulder quite comfortable. Distantly Kyoya heard him call his name.
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When Kyoya woke, the sun was peeking through a gap in the dark curtains. What time was it?
"About half past noon," a voice murmured from a dark corner.
"What!" Kyoya threw back the covers willing his stiff body to move. No sooner had he stood, his knees buckled, putting him in Tamaki's arms again.
Lowering him back to the bed, the King smiled. "I guess you won't be trying that again."
"No," Kyoya replied cooly. "I suppose not." Closing his eyes, he willed the room to stop spinning. "What happened?"
Tamaki shrugged, pulling a chair closer. "You were exhausted; it couldn't be helped. Are you hungry?"
Shaking his head, Kyoya sat up a little on the giant bed. If he were honest with himself, the Shadow King did find this room pleasant for all its shades of grey, accented with a light teal. Scrubbing his hand over his face, Kyoya was thankful the dizziness had passed. "No, not really. Where are my clothes?"
"Shima will return with them shortly. How do you feel? Still have a headache?"
Narrowing his dark eyes, Kyoya sighed. "I'm fine. Where is my phone?"
"It's over there. It's been ringing off the hook – can mobile phone ring off a hook? Anyway, I had to turn it off –"
"What! Please tell you didn't, Tamaki! You know how much trouble I'll be in if – Nevermind. Please give it to me."
Tamaki watched his friend lose all remaining color. "Kyoya. Please calm down. Everything has been taken care of."
"Taken – What did you do?" The youngest Otori started formulating Plans B and C, and possibly D before he heard the excuses.
"Actually," the King said, leaning his elegant frame back in the chair. "It was my father who took care of everything. By the way, you can stay here until Monday."
Kyoya attempted to rise again. "I have to go."
Untangling long limbs, Tamaki stood, tucking the warm blanket around his friend. "You're not going anywhere until you feel better," he said, effectively blocking his escape. "Lie down, and relax. Shima will bring lunch."
Kyoya was thankful his empty stomach didn't betray him with a loud growl. Really, he hadn't been hungry in a long time. He was sure Tamaki would notice, yet he said nothing. "I'm not hungry right now. Please, Tamaki, I need my phone."
Reluctantly, Tamaki retrieved the noxious item. "I won't ask you not to call your father, but please be sensible."
Blinking, Kyoya realized he had never heard that tone before. His glasses appeared suddenly, held by Tamaki. "Thank you. I'll only be a moment." He stiffly left his bed, making his way to the en suite bath, away from those all-knowing eyes.
Sitting on the edge of the tub, he listened to messages left by his father, which oscillated from angry to concerned and back to angry. Yoshio's latest message was quiet and calm, almost reserved.
"Kyoya, I realize I should have handled you – things – better. Yes, the acquisition angers me, but ultimately I –" his voice faltered; a loud sigh raised static. "Perhaps we should arrange a meeting. You have no school next week, so contact my secretary for an appointment. I'm sure we can come to an agreement that will profit us both. I look forward to our meeting." With an audible click, Yoshio Otori was gone.
The next message contained a scolding from his oldest brother. Lowering the phone, Kyoya erased every message except his father's last message. A few buttons later, he emailed Otori-san's assistant to schedule a meeting. Exiting the bathroom with a yawn, Kyoya ignored Tamaki's fussing, and climbed back into bed.
He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
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"How is he, young master?" Shima poured tea into a delicate cup.
Smiling his thanks, Tamaki sipped the tea. "I think he will be fine. When he wakes, I'm sure he'll be starving." Glancing back at the pale sleeping figure ensconced in dark covers, the King smiled.
Suddenly, his vibrating phone nearly sent Tamaki through the roof. With a deep, calming breath, he set the teacup down and left the room.
"Hello?"
"Tamaki-senpai? Why are you whispering?"
"Ah, Haruhi! What can Daddy do for his precious daughter?"
A growl sounded on the other end. "I was wondering if you and Kyoya-senpai would like to come over for dinner this evening."
"Dinner?" Tamaki's voice wavered, unshed tears in his eyes.
"Yes, dinner. Ranka said she hasn't seen, and I quote, 'those handsome boys in a while.' So..."
Glancing toward Kyoya's room, Tamaki hesitated. "You know I would never pass up an opportunity for a family dinner, Haruhi, but... Well, Kyoya might not feel up to it."
"I heard about what happened. I hope he's feeling better," Haruhi said quietly.
"He is!" the Host King said loudly. "He's asleep right now. You know how he doesn't like being awakened before he's ready."
Laughter drifted over the line. "I sure do. All right then. Call me back later. I'll try to hold off the others if you don't show."
Tamaki smiled, thinking of his little family. "I will ask Mommy if he'd like to go out for a while. I'm sure he'd love a chance to see Ranka again."
"Thanks, senpai. Tell him I said to rest up!"
When Haruhi ended the call, Tamaki wandered into his own room for a bath and a change of clothes.
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Kyoya woke with a start. The darkening room indicated he had slept for hours; this time he actually felt refreshed. After a cat-like stretch, he threw his long legs over the side of the bed. It was nice not having Tamaki in the room holding vigil; Kyoya found it unnerving to be watched so closely.
A nice long bath, and I'll be off, he thought happily.
When he returned, he found his clothes pressed, hanging neatly in the open closet. Miraculously, the blood had been removed; even the ripped collar had been repaired.
Just like that, last night had been erased.
The youngest Otori shed the exquisite robe, and put on his clothes like armor. He braced himself for what was to come.
Unfortunately, what was to come was his best friend slamming into the room like an albatross, fluttering here and there. "Mommy! Do you feel better? Our darling daughter has phoned, inviting her precious family to dinner."
"Is that so?" Kyoya calmly replied, fastening his belt. He frowned; his belt had no more holes to tighten it further. Had he really lost that much weight?
It did not go unnoticed. "Kyoya, you've gotten far too thin." Laying both hands on his friend's bony shoulders, Tamaki smiled. "But you look better than yesterday."
"Thank you. I feel better." As Tamaki began extolling the virtues of Haruhi's fine cooking, Kyoya's phone rang. "Miss Fujioka. Thank you for your invitation," he said cheerfully.
"Kyoya-senpai! I hope you're feeling better."
"I am, thank you. What time do the festivities begin? Do you need anything?"
A light chuckle drifted over the line. "Festivities, huh? Dad? Do we need anything?"
Kyoya could hear Ranka's voice tittering in the background. Much like Tamaki presently tittering around the room, lamenting on his daughter calling Mommy instead of Daddy.
"How about some drinks?"
"That's fine, Haruhi. We'll see you soon." Ending the call, Kyoya grabbed Tamaki by the arm. "Let's go, Daddy."
Taking a deep breath, the youngest Otori knew he could face his father again. Later.
There would be time enough to return to being the CEO of KO Enterprises. His father hadn't seen all of his son's tricks, but that would come in the distant future. Right now, he would spend some time with his friends.
Kyoya Otori was nothing, if not patient.
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The End.