(A/N) Thank you oh-so-very kindly to all the people who reviewed and offered your awesome compliments, which I totally don't deserve but love anyway.

Listening to what you say,
Even though I look the other way

You could never understand the feeling.

In Other Words

It took Katja all of four seconds to realize she had been tricked.

Three of those four seconds had been devoted to observing that there were definitely nocellos in the third music room of Ouran High School – in fact, there was nothing in that room which even remotely resembled a musical instrument. After bursting through the double doors, Katja had stood framed on the threshold, staring with a deadpan expression at one face she knew all too well, and three that she did not.

Another second, and she knew just where she had been led.

Without saying a word to the blond standing with an obscenely large grin on his face, arms wide, Katja pivoted on her foot to stalk back down the hall, nearly bumping into the innocent brunette and sly twins who had arrived just behind her. Without a moment to spare, she raised both her hands and swung her open palms across the perfect cheeks of Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin with a satisfying smack. The redheads reeled and even Haruhi staggered back from sheer surprise, sounds of equal shock issuing from the door of the third music room. Katja had a feeling that no one, not a mother nor a father, had ever shown the Hitachiin twins a bit of discipline.

"That was for lying to me," she said in a low voice as the brothers frowned down at her, both rubbing the raw patches on their faces. But if the slap that Katja had administered had been surprising, what she did next must have been downright dumbfounding. Taking a small step forward and standing on tiptoe, Katja brushed a light kiss across the spot she had just struck, on Hikaru and then Kaoru.

"And that was for helping me."

Impressed by her own show of boldness, Katja turned away from the baffled twins and wide eyed Haruhi, and strolled back into the third music room, although she found it slightly insulting that it was referred to as amusic room. Tamaki had fixed her with a gaze electric with fury, and while she put out her hand for him to shake, he merely glowered at her before sulking away in the opposite direction, muttering something to himself that sounded vaguely like, "And what thanks do I get?"

"Don't mind him," said one of the unfamiliar young men, rising from a chair and coming to take Kajta's still outstretched hand, lifting it to his lips and barely making Katja blink; it worried her that she was already used to this. He had perfectly cropped black hair and wire rimmed glasses that only enhanced the intellectual look of his slim face. It was clear to Katja that if Tamaki was the heart of the Host Club, than this man was the brain and the backbone. While a pretty face was always good to look at, an operation such as this one needed a steady hand to guide it through infancy and onto adulthood (even if Ootori Kyouya had both a steady hand and a pretty face).

"Oh, I wasn't going to," replied Katja, just loud enough so that Tamaki, who was crouched over himself in a corner, could hear and give her a glare. She waggled her fingers at him, and he whipped away quickly, muttering irately again. "Although it's probably best not to bait him, then?"

"He'll get over it," Kyouya said, as though he had repeated that very line a million times before. "Tamaki-san recovers quickly. A bit too quickly, one might say…."

"Yeah, Tamaki-senpai's had enough practice with Haruhi," said either Hikaru or Kaoru, Katja couldn't tell which, sidling over with the masquerading girl in tow. He draped his arm over her shoulder and leaned in laziness, nearly knocking her over in the process. "We've been sure to give it to him."

After the unnecessary exchanging of names (at least, for Katja that is) and further handshakes was made, Katja found herself being led by various arms towards one of the many high backed sofas that littered the one-time music room. The coffee table was piled high with glazed teacups and saucers, little cakes and other sweets perched precariously on edges of porcelain. Seating herself uncertainly on the green velvet, Katja was soon sandwiched between the Hitachiins, who amused themselves with pressing their elbows into her sides just to see her grimace, while Katja wished that Haruhi would please, please, rescue her.

Apparently they recovered quickly….

"Hikaru, Kaoru, you're going to kill her," said Kyouya absentmindedly from across the table, on the sofa facing them. "What good would she do us then?"

"And what good am I to you alive, exactly?" Katja said through gritted teeth, using her own elbows and digging unmercifully into the sides of the twins, who sprung away quickly, retreating to the other side of the sofa to cling to a rather disgruntled looking Haruhi. Kyouya raised an eyebrow and turned to the two brothers, peering over his glasses.

"I thought you two were going to tell her."

Hikaru and Kaoru glanced at each other. "We did."

"No you didn't!" accused Katja, pointing a finger savagely. "You only said what you–"

"Oh Katja, you silly girl, how could you forget?" said Kaoru hastily, springing forwards and covering her mouth with his hand. Katja glared at him over the top of his fingers, but Kaoru only gave her an imploring look, clearly missing the warning. She was on the verge of sinking her teeth in his skin when they were interrupted by a head capped with golden hair, appearing over the back of the sofa in the space between their faces, blinking sleepily at the group.

"Kyou-kun," murmured the boy, rubbing his eyes, "I thought you said you would wait until I w-woke up. I wanted to m-meet her…."

"My apologies, Hunny-san, but she arrived quite unexpectedly," replied Kyouya, shooting another look at the Hitachiins. "Haruhi, Kaoru, and Hikaru were kind enough to bring her here."

"She's here now?" gasped the boy, his eyes snapping open. "Wher–"

The golden boy's gaze fell immediately upon Katja, who stared back in surprise, forgetting all about the hand still on her face. But in an instant, the boy had leaped over the sofa with an arc height quite impressive for a person with the statue of an eight year old, and Kaoru had drawn back quickly. He landed in Katja's lap; wrapping his arms around her middle and squeezing with a force that Katja could have sworn made her eyes protrude from their sockets.

"Na, Kat-chan, you're so European – they make the best chocolate torte there!" the boy squealed, smiling innocently up at her with his fresh face. He buried his face in her shirt and inhaled deeply. "Your shirt smells like Germany!"

"Really?" said Katja, hooking a finger in the collar of her turtleneck and pulling it up to her nose thoughtfully. She could have melted from the sheer adorable look the boy was giving her; honestly, who could resist those shining eyes? "It just smells like laundry soap to me."

"Haninozuka Mitsukuni," said Kyouya from the other sofa, reading her mind, not bothering to look up from the notebook he was writing in. "Resident sweets expert, seventeen, senior."

"Mitsukuni," said a deep voice, and Katja swiveled her head to see a tall, serious looking young man towering over her and the boy perched on her legs. "You left this." He set a plush rabbit on Katja's shoulder, and Mitsukuni plucked up the toy, hugging it tight to his chest and smiling widely.

"Morinozuka Takashi," Kyouya continued, still scribbling. "Senior, quiet, serious. Cousin to Hunny-san."

Feeling sufficiently awkward, Katja nodded her understanding and ran her fingers through her hair. While she couldn't say that she hadn't been through strange situations in the past, seeing as champagne normally flowed like waterfalls at the parties of the overly wealthy she was commissioned to play for, Katja could say with certainty that her first encounter with the entire Host Club ranked up among the strangest. It wasn't everyday that she had boys older than she snuggled into the curve of her waist, occasionally forcing a forkful of too sweet cake into her mouth. It wasn't also the normal occurrence to be told that, in return for the Club's services of etiquette lessons, she would be pretending to be the new, docile, non-Japanese non-English speaking toy of the Host Club.

"You're kidding me, right?" deadpanned Katja, Mitsukuni humming happily as she ran her fingers through his tow-colored hair. "Why do I have to repay you – you're not providing me a service that I asked for."

Kyouya set his teacup down on his knee, regarding her carelessly over the top of his glasses. "The director agrees with me, and he believes that it would be a good way for you to see how etiquette is applied with people of different backgrounds and personalities. And also, as I understand it, you already committed yourself when you made the bargain with Kaoru and Hikaru."

At the little smirk Kyouya gave her, Katja had to resist the strong urge to smack herself across the face. How could she have been so stupid? She could clearly remember what Hikaru had said: they would assist her with Japanese translations on the condition that she did something for them and for the Club. Katja hadn't even bothered to ask the twins what she was going to be expected to do for the Host Club if she agreed, and they, of course, hadn't reminded her. Because either way, she didn't have a choice.

"Alright, fine," she huffed, defeated. "What exactly will this require me to do?"

"Like I said," replied Kyouya patiently, sipping his tea again, "our agreement does not entail anything you will not be able to do. In our devoting of time to teaching you, we will be taking that time away from our customers, which means lost capital and lost business. Your presence here will more than compensate for that."

While Kyouya sounded confident, Katja had her doubts. "What, girls will actually pay to come and sit with a host and a foreigner who understands English, but not Japanese, and speaks neither? That sounds far fetched to me."

"Oh they certainly will," he replied with a slight nod of his head, a ray of sunlight catching on the lens of his glasses and rending his gaze invisible. "It's also not as uncommon as you think to meet someone who is able to comprehend conversation in a language, but is unable to speak it. Watch. Hunny-san," said Kyouya, addressing the boy who was nibbling a strawberry under Katja's hand, his eyes closed. "Repeat what I say in English: de landbouwer kweekt aardapples."

"The farmer grows potatoes," recited Mitsukuni, not opening his eyes.

"Now, translate that sentence back into Dutch."

"The farmer grows potatoes."

"See, while Hunny-san may understand Dutch when he hears it, but he cannot freely speak it," continued Kyouya, smirking again at the downward angle of Katja's lips. "Your task is simple: every day, you'll be assisting a different host with their clients, and you will say nothing to anyone unless it is requested of you, and if it is, only in German. The story will be that you are a distant relative of Tamaki-san's, and are here on his good graces to learn to speak Japanese."

Katja felt her jaw go slack. She had been under the impression that Ootori Kyouya was the brains of the Host Club, but to come up with a story line like that…it just sounded like something out of a, well, a sitcom.

"No one is going to believe that."

"Our customers pay to hear what they want to be told, not the truth," shrugged Kyouya, and Katja found herself trapped by the logic. She searched frantically for something else, another flaw in the plan.

"I've been through a day of classes, and no one paid any particular interest to me then," she pointed out, removing her hand momentarily from Mitsukuni's head to brush a curl from her face, only to have the Lolita squirm until she replaced it. "Why would they pay to sit with a mute?"

"Anentire day? Well then you must know everything about how the mind of a teenage Japanese girl functions," Kyouya said, his sarcasm subtle, but making Katja all the more furious for it. "And of course you were noticed – you spent the day with Haruhi, Kaoru, and Hikaru. The entire appeal of your presence is that you cannot speak with the customers; you're something different, and customers will enjoy that. They'll pay a bit more, even, to see you."

Several moments passed in silence, Kyouya writing in his mysterious book and Katja staring incredulously at her feet. "Wow," she breathed finally, shaking her head and sighing heavily. "After meeting Tamaki, I can't say I knew what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this."

"I think you may be catching onto the goal of the Host Club, Katja," replied Kyouya, his pen pausing as he reached for his cup. "Always expect the unexpected."

Katja learned all too soon that the words of Ootori Kyouya were not to be taken lightly. When he had said to expect the unexpected, he had meant it, and in more ways than one. The resident host club of Ouran High School opened its well-received doors to the teeming masses at four o'clock sharp, which meant that Katja had to endure two hours of listening to instructions from Kyouya, pulling on every dress that Tamaki tossed at her, and the constant snickering of the Hitachiins, accompanied by the vain scolding of Haruhi. Not to mention the ever present pulling of a curling iron on her hair, which was welded by an eccentric girl who had appeared out of the floor on a pillar, whom everyone simply referred to as Renge (or, as in the case of Hikaru, 'otaku').

Considering this, it was fair to say that Katja was on the verge of literally ripping out her new ringlets by the time it was all over. Her umber hair had been pulled back away from her face with a velvet ribbon, and Katja was exceeding uncomfortable about the loss of warmth on her bare neck. The selection of her clothing had been decided upon by popular vote, in which her own had not been included, and so, she wore a long dress that restricted her movements, white with black racers running down the sides. Katja had noticed the Chanel tag immediately when she had put the damned thing on and, to add onto her horror at wearing a dress that was probably worth a small fortune, she was also handed a pair of Christian Louboutin platform heels to strap on before using the Hitachiins as human crutches in her elevated state.

When the clocks announced the arrival of four o'clock, the doors of the Host Club were unlocked and girls poured in, arranging themselves into a scene of elegance that Katja had never before witnessed. It was like the tea parties she had seen in movies, the ones with princes and princesses and talking animals. And the hosts…they were like Katja had never, in her brief time of knowing them, seen before. She watched, with a hint of amusement, the way the young men's faces shined when their customers talked, pretending that hearing about a tiff with one's mother had really brought tears to their eyes. The whole thing made Katja want to laugh, but she was also oddly intrigued by the display, and she had hardly to act as though she couldn't speak when Tamaki had beckoned her to his table. She had been forced to leave her comfortable spot in a chair and warm cup of plain coffee to teeter over, and seat herself with as much grace as she could manage next to the raven haired girl Tamaki was entertaining. She noticed with a mix of pride and disgust that the uniform-clad student gave her a glare as soon as she sat down.

"Of course, Kyouya, it'll work. What do I know; I'm just a stupid foreigner. Well, at least I have Tamaki here to save my butt from total annihilation," Katja thought as Tamaki explained something to the sour faced customer in Japanese. She knew she must have missed something, because when she glanced at Tamaki again (she had just caught her first glimpse of the infamous twincestous duo), he was gazing loving into the girl's eyes, his hand gently caressing her cheek. Katja had to bite her lip to keep from snickering and she quickly busied herself with filling an extra cup with tea.

"And she really speaks no Japanese?"

Katja's head shot up at once, upon hearing a sentence she finally understood. Her eyes caught on the black haired girl, who was looking directly at her, taking in her appearance as one might a pig they were considering slaughtering. Katja inclined her head slightly, her eyes still on the girl's, as if to say, "Yes, I can understand English fully, so say something about me again and I'll knock your teeth in, you little bitch."

Or at least, that's what Katja hoped it conveyed. The girl smiled, a wicked little gesture, and Katja could have sworn she saw two fangs among the white teeth. In all honestly, she did not understand why she was being treated in such a hostile manner, but she sure as the expensive clothes on her back didn't appreciate it. Tamaki must have sensed this (he had a selectively strong intuition, which was strange, for someone like him) because he settled his hand over the girl's, and her eyes softened.

"Katja-san is my cousin, and she is very dear to me," he said, his voice that of a tender lover, making Katja sit up a bit straighter in her chair. "She's a foreign exchange student here from Germany, and she is quite the musical protégée."

"Ah yes," replied the girl, taking a sip of her tea, "I know you grew up in France, Tamaki-kun. Do you miss it there?"

"I do on occasion," replied Tamaki, his eyes sparkling with tears once more. "But I could never go, for it would mean tearing myself away from you, my sweet princess."

"Oh, Tamaki-kun…."

Katja, feeling thoroughly nauseated now, looked around the rest of the room, seeking an outlet for her boredom. She caught the gaze of Haruhi, who was delivering a silver tray of sweets to the table of Takashi and Mitsukuni, who was succeeding in making a group of girls coo themselves into fits by licking the frosting from Takashi's finger. This group was quite the bunch of cads.

"Hello, Katja-san, Tamaki-senpai," greeted Haruhi, making her way towards their table, several plates balanced on her hands. "Would you be interested in some cake, Fukia-san?"

"Yes, thank you, Haruhi-kun," replied Fukia, nodding demurely as Haruhi placed the plates on the tablecloth without so much as a clink. "How are you today?"

"I'm quite well, thank you, Fukia-san, and how are you?" asked Haruhi, her eyes gentle. Katja could see why Haruhi was a popular host – even with the simple response and question, she had seemed entirely innocent and sincere. It was a quality the other hosts had, but it came naturally to the young woman, and therefore, played out most predominately. Katja doubted Haruhi ever had to act.

"Enjoying yourself?" Haruhi whispered, bending down so that neither Fukia nor Tamaki could hear her, although it seemed that they were so completely absorbed with each other, it would've have mattered if she had shouted it.

Katja turned her head, a precaution just in case someone looked their way, and murmured, "If you consider the stares suggesting I'm about to have my intestines ripped out through my navel enjoyable, then yes, I'm enjoying myself immensely."

"Jealously, of course. You have to make the customers feel as though you don't care about the host's attention, when they give it to you," Haruhi continued to whisper, turning her face away. "After you can convince her that you're not a threat, then she'll be interested in you. Trust me. Tamaki will help, he was born a host."

"So does this mean you're not going to save me?" Katja asked desperately.

"Well of course not. You're not about to give up so easily are you?" Haruhi straightened up and smiled down at her. "I'll see you later, Katja-san, Tamaki-senpai."

"Good bye, Haruhi-san!" said Tamaki, his eyes bright as he waved with one hand, the other stroking Fukia's hair in long sweeping touches. With a wink at Katja, Haruhi turned back and walked with bouncing steps towards the Hitachiins table.

Pursing her lips in defeat, Katja twisted back in her seat to face Tamaki and his customer, who had pulled one of the plates of dessert towards her and was regarding it carefully. She scooped up a forkful of the white cake and slipped it into her mouth, closing her eyes in exaggerated bliss.

"You must try this, Tamaki-kun, it's absolutely delightful," Fukia said sweetly, extending the fork with a bit of cake on it towards him. Tamaki took it into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, his face unreadable. But then he smiled and slipped the fork away from Fukia, feeding her a glob of frosting. Katja looked around for a trash bin – she was sure she was going to hurl.

"Katja-san, don't you want any cake?"

She stared at the cake Tamaki was proffering on the end of the fork, and then up at his not-so-innocent face, which appeared to be waiting on tenterhooks. She had to catch herself from giving him a dirty look, remembering what Haruhi had said. Acting, huh? Now there was something she could do.

"Nein, danke, Tamaki," Katja replied, shaking her head. Fukia seemed suddenly intrigued by her, which she noticed immediately. "Ich will Kuchen nicht essen."

This was, of course, a lie; Katja Goldsmith loved to eat cake and would have liked some very much, thank you (and by her own utensil, please). But, instead, she pushed his hand away gently and carefully directed her gaze towards the wall, resting her chin on her wrist. Tamaki's lip quivered at this blatant rejection and set the fork down on a plate, settling his hand over her own on the table. She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye, and then continued to stare determinedly at the drywall and curtain. Katja knew she was doing all the right things; Fukia was leaning forwards in her chair, lips parted slightly.

"Surely there's something you want," said Tamaki, his voice willing. Katja shook her head again, fat curls swinging about her cheeks, and she slid her hand from under his, pleased by the look on Tamaki's face, which could be compared to that of a kicked puppy. She was actually beginning to have a bit of fun.

"No, nothing, thank you," she replied politely, accenting her English to the point where it was almost unrecognizable. In the real world, anyone would have been able to tell that she was over dramatizing, but the Host Club didn't live in the real world, and apparently neither did it's customers. Well, a crazy person for an even crazier one. She might as well test the waters, now that she had already dipped her feet in. Besides, it was going to be awfully dull if she couldn't say anything anyone would understand. Screw Kyouya, she could have her own hand in the bargain, right…?

"Please, Tamaki, don't neglect miss Fukia," Katja continued in the same quiet voice, managing a small smile. But the lady in question didn't seem to mind that Tamaki was watching her with a disappointed pout, rather, she was gazing at Katja as though seeing her for the time, and Katja allowed her eyes to soften as she looked back.

"So you do speak English?" asked Fukia, leaning forwards in intrigue. Katja gave a small shrug and took a sip of her tea, which was in desperate need of some sugar.

"A little," she replied, "but I am not yet, how you would say, fluent…? But I speak enough to express myself."

"Very interesting," said Fukia quietly, taking another bite of her cake. "I'm glad that you and I will be able to communicate with each other. I would love to hear about your travels in Europe. Tamaki has told me that you're quite the musical talent."

Katja bit her lip and forced color into her cheeks, looking down at her hands folded in lap. She was becoming very grateful for the theater classes her mother had made take as a child, even though at the time she had thought they were a waste. "I wouldn't say that I'm a 'talent,' but I do travel to different places to play."

"Really?" Fukia pressed, a smile spreading across her face as she scooted her chair over, closer to Katja's, which seemed to affront Tamaki greatly. "Where have you traveled? Whom have you played for, anyone famous?"

"I'm called quite often to play for galas, most usually in France or Austria," explained Katja, all plans concerning purposefully inhibiting her speech slipping away as the subject turned to her travels. "I've been to almost every country in Europe, and I also had the opportunity to play in Sydney, Australia, and in the United States."

"Oh, how I wish I could travel more," sighed Fukia wistfully, holding a hand to her chest. "But my father is deathly afraid of airplanes, and won't allow me to travel without him. It's so unfair."

Katja nodded sympathetically, hardly having to act anymore. "My parents are the same way. I've never played at a concert, opera, or even a wealthy person's home without them being there. It's not that I mind, I love both my parents of course, but coming here to the Japan is the first time I've ever been on my own."

"I would like to hear you play sometime," Fukia said. "I should ask my father if you could play at one of our parties – or better yet, you should play here, for the Host Club!"

"Oh, well…I-I don't think anyone here would want to listen to me here."

"Nonsense!" insisted Fukia as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll bring it up to Kyouya-kun, I'm sure he would agree. This place really could use some music, don't you think, Tamaki-kun?"

"I suppose," muttered Tamaki and he folded his arms over his chest crossly, stubbornly refusing to meet Katja's gaze. Katja smiled for the briefest of moments, and then looked back at Fukia, her eyebrows curved downwards in pretend confusion.

"There isn't ever music here?" she asked, running a thumb across her bottom lip. Fukia frowned slightly and shook her head in reply. "That's very strange, because Tamaki plays the piano quite beautifully."

"Does he?" Fukia turned towards Tamaki, her face alight. "I didn't know!"

"How would you know," said Tamaki, his voice low with his sulk, "you've never heard me play before."

"Well of course I have, we're cousins, remember," Katja reminded him cheerfully. "But he's fantastic, and if you appeal to Kyouya about me, you must mention Tamaki. He won't mind, trust me."

"I'll certainly remember to talk to the man," Fukia said, smiling widely now. "But I'm afraid I have to be going, I have an appointment with my father, unfortunately. It's been quite the pleasure, Katja Goldsmith, and I look forwards to the next time we meet. Hopefully you'll still be here…?"

"Oh yes, I doubt I would be allowed to leave even if I wanted to," replied Katja with a chuckle to herself.

"That's good, then, because I really would like to witness your talent," said Fukia with a nod. She swiveled her head and held out her hand for Tamaki to take. "I sincerely thank you for your time and affection, Tamaki-kun."

"Of course, princess Fukia, I devote all the time in the world and affect in my heart to you," Tamaki replied dramatically, sweeping himself onto one knee and taking her hand, pressing it to his lips. "Your parting saddens me greatly."

"As does it me."

And with that, Fukia stood and folded her arm against Tamaki's as he led her towards the door. Katja watched with a thoughtful gaze as Fukia managed to catch Kyouya's attention, explaining something to him with great enthusiasm, and Katja sat up straighter when all three glanced in her direction. She hadn't really expected the girl to actually suggesther playing at the Host Club, but now that Katja thought about it, the more sense it made. She would certainly be more useful if she played for the club and its customers, and besides, that's what she was there for, wasn't she? A source of unfamiliarity, a foreign influence? Well whatever it was, at least it would keep Katja from dying of complete boredom and Host Club inflicted disgust. Besides, she truthfully wanted to hear Tamaki play. She had never met anyone, excluding her father, who had a drive comparable to her own. And while that may have been a little conceited, Katja knew that she would've have played in opera houses across Europe, America, and Australia if she wasn't good.

After Fukia had vanished from the third music room, Katja stayed seated in her chair at the table as, slowly over the course of the next hour, the remainder of the club's guests filtered reluctantly out the door. She took her time in finishing her tea, also polishing off the cake (a confection of vanilla crème with mallow glaze and candied violets) that Fukia had left, even spending a moment on admiring the chinaware, painted with tiny roses and gold filigree. Katja was still studying her own saucer when she heard someone stomp his or her (although most likely his) way over and collapse heavily into the chair across from her.

"What's the problem?" Katja asked, eyes still on the porcelain, turning it over in her hands. When she was not given an answer, she set the china back down on the table and looked up to see a very sulky Tamaki, who was giving her a glare from under his hair. "Tamaki. I said, what's the problem?"

"You're the problem," he said finally, sinking further down into his chair. Katja laughed, causing Tamaki to sink so far under the table that he was no longer visible. Rolling her eyes, Katja reached down and unbuckled her shoes, carefully removing them before slipping down onto the floor and lifting up the linen tablecloth. Tamaki was crouched between the legs of the table, his head pressed into his knees.

"Oh come on, Tamaki, you can't honestly be jealous can you?"

The clenching of his fists on his pant legs told her yes, he could. Sighing, she pulled herself under the table and wiggled in next to Tamaki, who scooted to allow her room. Bringing her knees up to her chin under her dress and wrapping her bare arms around them, Katja nudged the blond with her shoulder, watching him recoil with a degree of exasperation.

"So the Host Club king is envious because I stole his customer and he thinks it'll happen again," Katja mused thoughtfully, her eyes on Tamaki's head, face still buried. "I'm just a girl, y'know. All they want to hear from me are things about Europe, half of which I'm going to probably make up because otherwise my stories will be boring. But after a while, all those pretty young women are going to get tired of me, and then who are they going to come running after? You."

The distraught young man's head rose an inch and Katja caught a glimpse of a shining violet eye. "Me?"

"Ofcourse you, you great moron!" Katja snapped, poking him hard in the side. "And it's not like those girls will be paying for my company anyway, that'd be gross – they'll be paying for whatever host I'm with that day, and I just come as an extra. How derogatory."

"She thought you were great."

"Who, Fukia?" asked Katja, surprised. Tamaki nodded weakly. "Fascinating."

"She actually asked Kyouya-san, about you playing here. He said he would consider it."

Katja arched an eyebrow. "So what about you, did she mention you?"

"Yes," came the quiet reply.

"And?" she prodded eagerly.

"He…he said he would consider that also."

"YES!" Katja hooted, in a voice far too loud for the small space in which they were scrunched. She threw her arms around Tamaki's shoulders and hugged him tightly, not noticing his feeble protest. "Ah, Tamaki! Wouldn't it be great if you and I had a duet or something? Oh, you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do a duet, with someone whose skills are halfway decent! I doubt Kyouya would even consider it if he didn't know you were good, because I mean, I only just met the man and I can already tell he's a tight– I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Tamaki mumbled something that Katja couldn't understand and she gave him another squeeze, nigh forcing all the air from his lungs. "You would agree to it, if Kyouya did, wouldn't you? Please, Tamaki, it really would make this whole thing worth it for me."

"I suppose," he murmured into his arm, trying not to touch any part of her skin. Katja leaned towards him, a smiling working its way across her face.

"This that a yes?"

"Yes."

"Oh thank you, Tamaki!" said Katja, planting a kiss atop his head and causing him to go rigid. "Really, you have no idea how much this means to me, and I am in no way a sentimental person. Well, except with kids, I simply adore kids..."

There was a rustle of fabric and Katja suddenly found herself looking into two identical faces, each wearing the same amused expression, one of the twins holding up the skirt of the linen as they both peered through. "So there you are," said Hikaru, or Kaoru, "we had wondered where our lord and our foreigner had disappeared to. We hope you're not doing anything you shouldn't be."

"Unless you count Tamaki pouting like a girl…"

"Nope, that's quite normal."

Katja shook her head and released Tamaki, who slumped over into the table leg beside him. "Then I think we're good. Would you mind, please?" She extended both her hands and each of the Hitachiins grabbed one, hoisting her out from under the table and back onto her feet. After quickly adjusting her dress, which had ridden up on her thigh at a height rather uncomfortable, Katja was trapped beneath the arms of the redheaded tricksters slung over her shoulders, steering her towards a couch upon which Haruhi and the rest of the Host Club were sitting.

"So how did your first little encounter go?" asked the twin on her left, whom Katja assumed to be Kaoru.

"She thought I was ah-mazing," replied Katja, adopting a baritone and drawing out the last word in a very Tamaki-like manner. The brothers both snickered.

"As sickened as we are to hear that," began Kaoru, looking down at her with an innocent face.

"There is one thing we must point out to you," finished Hikaru, smirking slightly. Katja glanced from one to the other curiously, not liking the situation at all. "Think of it as your first lesson in etiquette."

"From you two?" she scoffed, shaking her head. "Alright, what is it?"

Two swift hands slid down her sides and over her bottom, pinching the flesh sharply and causing Katja to gasp in surprise and straighten her back completely. She didn't realize what had happened until two mouths whispered the same words into her ears a moment later.

"Stand up straight."

(A/N) I wrote the bit where Katja smacks the twins after I remembered that Haruhi slapped Hikaru in the anime, and was too lazy to change it. Whoops.