Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran.
To be honest, I kinda hate everything about this chapter... and I'm sorry for it. Based on the manga, I know Haruhi acts really different when she's in love and tried to play up on that... but since this fic is anime-canon-based, it just makes her seem OOC. Bah. Please forgive this chapter. The next one is turning out much better so far.
Anyway... thanks so much for the all reviews! 8D Sorry I'm always too busy writing to reply to them! You guys give me life.
"It's not a date," Haruhi reminded herself as she grumbled under her breath. She was vacuuming her apartment with the fury of a woman gone mad, and she had just finished dusting her mother's shrine and wiping all of the countertops to near sparkling condition. "You're not seriously letting what Renge-chan said get to you, are you Haruhi?" she asked aloud. "That would be just stupid."
She tried to reason that she was simply cleaning up because she liked the place to be presentable when she was expecting company, and with the host club, the company often showed up unannounced so she rarely got the chance to give in to this compulsion. This did not, however, account for why she had actually made a compromise for Tamaki's sake and put on one of the girliest outfits she owned; a pale yellow top that actually involved a bit of lace and a voluminous white skirt that was as comfortable as it was feminine, her father had told her proudly upon presenting her with it. She was certainly glad Ranka wasn't present at the moment, or he would have probably had the sense to ask her why she was straightening up like the mayor was coming to visit. She was beginning to wonder if she was going crazy.
"I never act like this…" she muttered aloud, running a hand over her hair. "It's not like it's a big deal. Tamaki-senpai has been over here before. It's not as though this time is any different…."
Haruhi normally had enough sense not to take anything that Renge said to heart. The flighty, romantic girl was so different from Haruhi that she had never assumed anything she said or believed could get to her. But it seemed as though it was, and so Haruhi reasoned that she must have merely gone insane. There was simply no other explanation for why she was actually… nervous. Shaking her head at her own silliness, she turned toward the photograph of her mother and simply stared at the woman's smiling, serene face.
"Do you think I'm getting too worked up over this, mom?" she asked, not really expecting an answer and of course not receiving one. "It's not like it's a date or anything. Tamaki-senpai can have any girl he wants. There's no way he'd ever be interested in someone like me. And besides, I don't even want him to be interested in me. Right?"
The silence from the photograph matched her own, and she sighed slightly. "I must be going crazy…" she said out loud as she marched into her tiny bedroom and dug out a shoebox from the closet. There was a bottle of soft, subtle perfume that had belonged to her mother inside, and it felt weightless in her hands. She simply sat there in silence for a moment, relishing the memory of her mother dabbing on this very same perfume. Mirroring those long-ago actions, Haruhi opened the bottle and placed her finger over the hole on the top, tipping it to get some perfume on her fingertip. Carefully, she dabbed some on behind her ears and on her wrists, and shook her head at herself as she replaced the bottle and then walked back out into the main space of the house. She cast another glance at the photograph and smiled.
"Even though it's not a date or anything… wish me luck anyway?"
XXX
"Ahhhhg!" pacing around his bedroom like a madman, Tamaki tore exaggeratedly at his hair. At the door, several maids were standing and looking on with utmost concern, wondering if their employer could possibly have lost his already inconsistent mind. "This is a tragedy! An absolute tragedy! Nothing this horrible has ever happened in the history of society as we know it!" he wailed, at which a loud 'harrumph' sounded from behind the maids and they jumped apart to allow Shima Maezono entrance.
"And what, pray tell, could possibly be horrible enough that you had to call me away from my afternoon tea for it?" Shima asked rather sternly, and Tamaki turned on her, his face a mask of despair.
"Oh Shima, thank the heavens you're here! I'm faced with a horrible dilemma the likes of which this world has never seen!" Tamaki threw his hand against his forehead dramatically, oozing from the very core with self pity as Shima looked on and shook her head. "For you see… I have nothing to wear!"
Loudly, slowly, and in a way that sounded greatly pained, Shima exhaled. "Is that all?" she asked.
"All?" Tamaki wailed, grabbing the front of her kimono and looking as though he had just lost his firstborn son. "I have to be at Haruhi's house in twenty minutes, Shima! I don't have time to go shopping for an outfit that is proper for the occasion!"
"Then wear one of the countless outfits that you purchased on a whim and never wore, Tamaki-sama," Shima told him, rather patiently given the situation.
"You don't understand! This has to be special! Haruhi is teaching me how to make hamburgers! I need an outfit that will tell her without words-- though I'll be telling her with words as well, of course-- just how grateful I am that she took the time from her busy commoner life to teach her humble senpai the ways of the burger! It is truly an art form and I feel privileged to even have the opportunity to get near the teaching of it!"
"Tamaki-sama, I'm sure Haruhi-chan won't even give a second thought to what you're wearing. The car is already waiting and as you stand here agonizing, you're wasting precious time."
"But I simply must find the perfect outfit!" though Tamaki knew his staff knew him well enough to recognize his signature melodrama, for once the situation went beyond that for the simple fact that this time, there was an actual reason to be agonizing. He had no idea how much stock to put in what Renge had said, but it was enough to get him panicking, anyway. For the first time since the incident with Éclair, the deep and aching loneliness of missing his mother was not the dominant thing in his mind; this evening with Haruhi was. It was all he could think of and it consumed him completely.
"What if it's a date?" he asked out loud as he threw assorted articles of clothing over his shoulder, hunting for something that would look attractive and humble all at the same time. "And what if Haruhi thinks so too? What if this ends up being a date and I do or say the wrong thing? What if, as her father, I do something to make her hate me? And what if I think it's a date and she doesn't? But what if it is? This would be my first date! In that case, I have to pick something even more amazing to wear just in case! I can't remember my first date ever and be wearing something dreadful! Shima, what did you wear on your first date! And how can you tell if something's a date!"
Shima sighed heavily. "I don't believe what you're wearing has much importance on a date. But then again I'm old fashioned…"
"And how do you tell if it's a date!" Tamaki asked, whirling around and gripping her by the shoulders. "Tell me!"
"If you have a mutual attraction to one another, then I would call it a date."
"A mutual attraction?" Tamaki paled, then flushed. "Well… I wouldn't know about that…" he turned back to his dresser, still red in the face. In the end, he dressed all in a rush and ended up in a pair of jeans with rather strategically placed rips and a white short-sleeved buttonup over an attractively patterned shirt. He then proceeded to meticulously brush his hair and teeth. Though he had no need to shave his face, Tamaki always kept a bottle of aftershave handy (it made him feel manly), and he slapped some on and relished the brisk tingle. "I'm ready," he announced grandly, stepping out of the bathroom amid cheers from his maids. "Wish me luck!" he was bursting and shaking with nerves, but he grinning brightly as he grabbed his jacket, just in case.
"Good luck, Tamaki-sama!" a chorus of voices saw him out the door and into his limousine, where he trembled with nerves and headed off toward his destination.
