A/N: Okay, okay, somehow I decided to continue this. I don't know how it happened. I don't know why it happened. But I had an idea.
Summary: Hikaru can't stop thinking about the staged kiss that he and Kaoru shared at their Ouran birthday celebration. The twins escape to talk about it and end up finding a new game to play...
Undeniably Real
"Catch, Kaoru!"
"Catch, Hikaru!"
The afternoon sunlight dyes patterns on the floor as Kaoru and I toss Hunny's bunny back and forth. Tamaki is sitting at the piano that has forever rested in the corner of the music room, occasionally tinkering with a few notes, but mostly pouting over his teacup at Haruhi. Although she is usually content to ignore his dramatic tendencies, Haruhi returns his look today-- with a glare. It's the usual fight for them, where Tamaki paid for something that Haruhi made him promise he wouldn't. This time, it's a bus pass for the month.
Kyouya huddles in an opposite corner with his laptop, the sun's glare on his glasses obstructing whatever he thinks about the ruckus we create. Normally, we would have already been chastised. This afternoon, however, no customers sit on the sofas to sip daintily at tea. No yellow dresses whisper around the corner of the door as Ouran females peer inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite host. Today happens to be the final day of mid-semester break, and nearly all of the students are still at some fantastic vacation spot.
When Mori had mentioned this fact to Kyouya a week before, the shadow king merely pushed his glasses further up his nose with one finger and shrugged. "We'll be here. I won't allow this club to gain a reputation for unreliability." So much for the Hitachiin family vacation to Aruba.
The expression Mori wore after Kyouya's answer is the same one he wears now-- it's completely placid. Like he cares. As long as Hunny is around, he's content to observe. He sits at a table for two by himself, its other occupant having vacated the chair.
"Kaoru-kun, Hika-kun, stop it!" that occupant cries now, darting toward me.
I snicker, tossing the bunny from one hand to the other above his head while he hops up and down. It's impossible for him to reach. Ten feet away, Kaoru's smile matches my own, and he holds out his hands, little fits of laughter overcoming him as he waits for me to pass it.
"Now, now, Hunny-kun! You haven't said the magic word," I taunt.
"Please." he says, with complete sincerity, and I can sense the line we're about to cross; it's the one that separates Hunny-kun from Mitsukini. I don't blame him- we've been doing this for at least half an hour. The question is, has that been long enough to satisfy my boredom?
"Hmm..." I juggle the rabbit up and down a few times for good measure, considering the options and possible consequences that will result. I cock an eye toward Kaoru, who tilts his shoulder, acknowledging the choice and willing to follow whatever I have in mind. I hesitate, tempted, then lob the bunny gently to Hunny.
The blond-haired senior is so surprised that he almost fumbles it.
"What?" I say in surprise. I shove my hands in the pockets of my uniform pants. The looks I'm receiving from Hunny and Mori are enough to make me stalk to an empty table, spin around the chair, and plop down in irritation. I don't know why I'm annoyed, or who I'm annoyed at, but the feeling courses through me. It only increases when Kyouya pauses in his typing and Tamaki switches his pout at Haruhi to a blank stare at me.
"You never give me back my bunny," Hunny blurts out.
"Today, you got lucky," I inform him. He looks skeptical. So does everyone else.
Kaoru pulls the partnered chair away from the table and sits next to me. He taps his chin, thinking, and I can't help wondering what about. Is it me? Is it what I did now? Is it about when we--? A thrill tickles the bottom of my spine. My head feels muddled. Somehow, I feel... annoyed. Frustrated. Excited. Confused. Worried. Why don't I know what my twin is thinking?
I don't realize that I'm staring until Kaoru taps my nose, making me smile despite myself. He traces the shape of my nose with his finger until he reaches its end, then does the same to his, explaining without speaking that they are the same. We are the same. He takes my hand and tickles the palm to make me twitch before tracing the life lines. When he finishes, I gently turn his hand over and do the same.
It's simply a part of the old games we play.
Look at us. Look at how alike we are.
"Hikaru and I," Kaoru announces suddenly, making me flinch. "are going out to a late lunch. Is that acceptable, Kyouya?" For a split second, I look at him with naked surprise; then it is smoothed away and I meet the other hosts' inquiring looks with confidence. Kaoru's innocence, as usual, is pristine. Somehow, the delicious shape of his mouth and the brightness of his eyes fit together in perfection when he lies. Kyouya suspects, isn't quite fooled, but he accepts when he's been had.
"Yes." He closes his laptop. "In fact, I believe it's time we all leave. Clearly, we have no one to entertain today but ourselves," he adds wryly.
The surprised hosts fetch whatever they've scattered about and, one by one, file out the door. Kaoru and I linger behind, on the pretense of me looking for a mysteriously vanished folder. At last, even Kyouya leaves, laptop bag in hand, and the music room is deserted except for the two of us.
And then, for no reason at all, I become incredibly conscious of that fact. Kaoru's breathing is light and familiar behind me. Under his breath, he's humming a tune I recognize as the last full melody that Tamaki played on the piano. I stir things around inside my bag., something I don't understand persuading me to prolong this moment.
"Find that folder?" His question is innocent, maybe to anyone else but me. I narrow my eyes at him. We both know that I haven't lost a folder, and that he knows that I know he knows I haven't lost a folder.
"Lunch?" I ask finally, unable to restrain my curiosity anymore. "It's almost four."
He shrugs, his thin shoulders moving under the uniform jacket. "A late lunch."
"What's the occasion?" I ask.
"Does there need to be?" He pouts at me. "Can't I take my twin out to lunch when I feel like it?"
"Not without there being an ulterior motive," I mutter darkly.
He chuckles. We have successfully switched into the pattern of behavior we default to when no one is looking. Our exaggerated personalities, which look so distinct in public, mellow back into what they actually are. In truth, it's less a case of dominant and sub and more a matter of give and take.
He tugs me to my feet from the chair, drawing me up to clasp both my hands in his own. "You wouldn't stand me up. You're a better date than that."
I withdraw my hands abruptly and pick up my bag. I can feel my face heating up, ears burning like they do when I eat anything spicier than mild.
"Where do you want to go?" Kaoru is looking out the window, squinting his eyes against the sun. Since I pulled back my hands so quickly, I expected him to be looking, but he isn't. "I was thinking somewhere American-style. Maybe Italian."
"You hate Italian."
"You like it." He turns just his head to give me a smile. Kaoru's smiles come in different flavors depending on who's present and what he means. Sometimes they're sarcastic, sometimes they're pseudo-sweet, and sometimes they're made just for me. Like many of his other smiles, his eyes soften at the corners and make intimate contact with his target's eyes. Like many of his smiles, the left corner of his mouth tilts up before the right, showing just a hint of teeth. Actually, I can't explain what makes it mine, but I know when I see it that he means it for me.
Of all his smiles, it's my favorite.
The restaurant we're in isn't a simple pizzeria, nor is it fancy. A waitress dressed in jeans and an apron comes to take our orders. I get the chicken parmesan with spaghetti. Kaoru asks for the same without the spaghetti.
I've always been jealous of the way he collects restaurants like some people collect stamps. His taste isn't for necessarily high-class dishes or even quality ones. Once, when I asked, he told me that it has more to do with the people and the atmosphere rather than the food. Today, no one occupies the tables around us, and the only people present that I can see are the cook and the waitress. I wonder if he knew it would be that way, even wanted it to be that way.
"What?" he asks now, tilting his head.
I've been staring again.
"You've been staring," he comments. Rather than ask what I'm thinking about, he places his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his folded fingers. "You've been staring ever since our birthday."
I flush despite myself, down to the neck, and he laughs.
"I've been thinking." The words escape me.
"Usually not as seriously as this." He's right. "And it's about me, isn't it?"
I hate when he's right. "You know it is," I snap. My sudden defensiveness makes him laugh.
"You might not know it, but you want to talk about it," he explains to me. The smile on his face is ironic. "That's why we're out here on a date."
"You called it a date," I retort. "I never--" I leave the sentence unfinished. I can't decide which way to end it first. Our meals arrive, and Kaoru thanks the waitress. Neither of us pick up our forks. The waitress disappears into the kitchens.
"Why not call it a date?" he asks me, very softly. His eyes bore into mine, as confrontational as I can stand. Normally, I look like the forward one, but he seems to have decided nothing will get done unless he does it himself. He could be right.
"Because..." I trail off lamely. What do I say? I pick up my fork, swirl it in the spaghetti and awkwardly take a bite. Damn Westerners. Clearly, this method of eating is inefficient. I hate how it looks, but it is delicious.
"About that kiss..." Kaoru presses me.
"What about anything else?" I ask in exasperation.
"You don't want to talk about anything else," he points out. "You don't want to talk about it, and you don't want to talk about anything else, so we might as well talk about it. That kiss," Kaoru says abruptly, "was the only real thing we did on our birthday."
I freeze, another forkful of pasta halfway to my mouth. I set it down. "The cake was real," I say sullenly.
"It was the only real thing," he continues, ignoring me. "And I wanted more."
"More cake?"
"More real," he snaps, and I feel instantly guilty.
"Sorry." I know how to push his buttons, and I know when there's a time and place for it, but that isn't now."You wanted... more?"
"Yes," he answers, no longer angry, and I know I've been forgiven. "Our birthday's kind of like our anniversary, at least in my mind." The honesty in his voice softens me. "That's why, later, when we were doing the movie, I wanted to let you know. Even though you know." He gives me my favorite smile. "You do know that kiss was real."
I shrug. It's acknowledgement without me speaking. I can't speak when he's smiling like that. He reaches across the table for my hand and takes it in both of his own. I clasp them back. We've already said everything that needs to be said in that, and he hasn't touched his plate once.
"There is something I don't know though," I manage, not looking at him.
"What?"
"I don't know what to do about it," I confess. His thumbs knead my palm in a slow motion, relaxing me, which means he's relaxed too. My eyes rise to his with the encouragement, and I see that I'm right.
"Me neither," he admits, not the answer I was expecting. "It's okay though. I think we should just do what we've always done." I don't know what that means in this case. "Give everyone a show," he clarifies, "like we've always done."
"But it doesn't have to be a show if we don't want it to?" I guess. "It can be... real?" He nods.
"Okay." I half-smile, still a little hesitant, but his palms and answer have done their job. A weight has been taken off my mind and I feel clearer than I've felt since our birthday. "Now, should I be insulted that you haven't touched your meal on our date, or should I be flattered that you've been too lost in my eyes to care about food?" I flutter them obnoxiously, and he gives a small giggle, drawing away his hands to pick up his fork and knife. He uses them to cut off a piece of the chicken parm, stabs it, and holds it up to scrutinize.
"You don't want it," I say.
"Nope," he agrees.
"I'll take it," I offer, "and then we can go get some sushi."
He perks visibly. "All right."He looks at the fork, looks at me, and some of his delight turns to wickedness. The piece of chicken moves in the direction of my mouth. "Open up." The words are nearly purred. I'm helpless to do anything but open it.
With a deft little movement, he slides the fork against my tongue so that I can take the chicken and then withdraws it. I chew the meat thoughtfully-- it's tasty-- and a delicious shiver starts from the base of my spine. "Oh boy," I say softly. No one is looking. No is watching us, and yet look what we're doing.
"What have we done?" Kaoru echoes the thought, but he's grinning.
I'm halfway through my chicken parm when Kaoru starts a bit, then reaches into his pocket to peer at his phone. He isn't quick enough. After the initial buzz, the customized ringtone starts to play: "That girl was a one-time teenage drama queen! A hot, tough everyday wannabe--"
Kaoru picks up. "Hello, my lord," he says cheerfully, then pauses to listen. I tilt my head to hear better, but it's not exactly necessary.
"Kaoru! Kyouya has had a fantastic, marvelous, splendid idea, and you simply must come! In fact, there can be no answer other than acceptance to dinner--"
"What dinner, milord?" Kaoru interrupts, bemused.
"Tonight," Tamaki announces, "we will be having a Welcome Back From Mid-Semester-Break Sushi Event! And it will be the most spectacular dinner we have ever had!" Even over the phone, he manages to be dramatic. "You, of all people,--" I picture him stabbing his finger at the phone "-- are expected to be there. Why, there is no other reason we would go! No reason we would rather go! And of course, when I told you that the dinner would be-- er, when we spoke of the event, the customers were so excited! They--" His end crackles, and he gives an indignant shriek that becomes progressively quieter. "Kaoru?" a voice asks. It's Kyouya. "Where are you?"
"Uh," my twin answers. "What's going on?" The waitress appears, hands me the bill, and walks off.
"Tonight is the Welcome Back dinner," Kyouya says flatly, "that was your idea."
"I know it was my idea, but no one told me we were actually doing it," Kaoru protests. I finish my chicken parm and start on the spaghetti."When did we decide that?"
"Last week. Tamaki was supposed to tell you. Never mind." Kyouya sounds resigned. "We'll see you there in half an hour." He hangs up without another word.
"Oops," Kaoru says, looking at my plate regretfully. He slips his phone back in his pocket. The spaghetti is nearly gone, the entire chicken parm has vanished, and I'm feeling full, predictably enough. His stomach rumbles.
"Time for sushi," I declare.
"And there I thanked him for my scrumptious Italian meal, while, in secret, he was looking forward to this delicious sushi that I have no room to eat!" I look regretfully at the feast and heave a sigh that makes the girls surrounding me squeal in laughter.
"Don't be upset with Kaoru, Hikaru!"
"Tamaki-kun forgot to tell!"
"Hikaru, you can eat sushi another time."
"Kaoru-kun, maybe you should save some for Hikaru for later," suggests one girl. She blushes as all the attention at the table focuses on her, then back to my twin and I.
We're sitting at a table in the sushi bar with five customers. Around us are similarly-styled tables where each host dines with an assortment of guests. Behind us, Haruhi and Tamaki sit at their respective tables, still glaring and pouting back and forth, much to the amusement of their tablemates. Beyond small partitions sit Kyouya, Mori, and Hunny with their guests. The bar is small, and Kyouya has limited attendance to this particular event, and it feels quite intimate. That was what he intended, naturally. The price for this dinner made even me raise my eyebrows, and it doesn't even include the sushi.
Nevertheless, the restaurant is packed. It makes me feel as though things are back to normal. The audience leans in when I tilt my head to Kaoru, actors on a stage. He dangles chopsticks in his right hand, clasping sushi-- the props.
"Well," Kaoru says slowly, enjoying the moment. "We can always come at another time." He pops the suishi in his mouth, chews it.
"Or," I reply, "we can have the sushi later--" my voice lowers "-- and then you for dessert."
The girls squee around us in ear-splitting tones, laughing, as a look of shock forms on his face. "Hikaru!" he cries, embarrassed. The corner of his mouth twitches up, a sign for me. Beneath the table, his foot finds mine and twines his leg around it, ankle to ankle, rubbing in a way that is less than innocent.
I blink, almost dropping my mouth open uncharacteristically. The smile remains on my face, however, then grows. I get it. It's become a new game. My face returns to its innocent deadpan.
"Actually," I say, which instantly quiets the table. "I think I'd like to have a taste now. Mind passing me a piece, Kaoru?"
"But it's bad luck to share chopsticks," he protests. The girls begin to titter; they can see where this is going.
"Then I guess you'll have to pass it to me another way," I suggest.
"Hikaru!" He blushes, dropping his chopsticks. "Another way..."
"Do it, Kaoru-kun!"
"There aren't any extra chopsticks, Kaoru-kun!"
"You wouldn't want to deprive Hikaru-kun of a taste!"
Their laughter swells and fades when Kaoru picks up his chopsticks again. Carefully, he selects a prime piece, each guest watching with bated breath, and places it in his mouth.
Then he turns to me.
The performance goes on. Our shared joke continues. The new game... begins.
A/N: Should there be more? R/R, let me know. : )
