Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club or any of its characters. That would be Bisco Hatori. Same goes for the song "Bang Bang," it belongs to its creator; the version in mind here is Nancy Sinatra's, heard at the beginning of Kill Bill.

Warning: BL, boy's love, yaoi, M/M, lalala. Tamaki/Kyouya love. Don't care for it, don't read it. Oh, and for those who hate sad endings, listen to the song…just what do you think this is going to be like?

Author's Notes: Just as the title of this portion might suggest, this is a nice little happy period in this tale of heartbreak. It's shorter than the verses, but the paragraphs are longer…much more descriptive. While unintentional at first, it's a neat stylistic difference, ne? No index needed here, only remember that Ranka-san is Haruhi's father and Fuyumi is Kyouya's sister.

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Interlude
Music played, and people sang…

They waited a little over a year, until school was a completely closed chapter in their lives. Parting with the members of the Host Club had been the hardest part, but they had had practice with Mori and Hunny, and at any rate they weren't locking them out of their lives forever. What good would that have done when everyone had instantly deciphered what had happened the very next day? His own fault for leaving a tie behind, and for foolishly thinking no one would notice the addition of one small piece of jewelry, Kyouya thought ruefully as he walked up the aisle, Haruhi at his arm to give away her "mother." But, all had worked for the best. It would be good to have a few close friends to share their secret with.

Not that this wedding was very secretive. In return for accepting Kyouya's limits on invitations, namely that only the Host Club, his sister and Ranka-san were invited, Tamaki had insisted on control of everything else. Once granted - how could he deny that face? - the ecstatic blond had used his power to the fullest.

The church itself was so grand it swallowed the tiny number of attendees, and had Kyouya conceded to wear a dress and heels he would be very much in pain by the time he reached the altar. Instead his outfit was incredibly flamboyant, ivory white cloth covered with pearls and sequins and dazzlingly bright. He half longed for Tamaki's deep, ebony suit, which the princely Suou had tried in vain to make more theatrically appealing; but no, even if he had been dolled up in a dress, Kyouya would not have traded this one chance to see Tamaki in dark colors. It suited him astoundingly well, showing off his not-too-pale but instead just-perfect skin and bringing out some hidden, surprising darkness to those purple eyes.

Puzzling over just what about Tamaki in black made his heart catch in his throat was made more difficult, however, by the presence of a full-blown orchestra and choir. What was worse, Renge had magically made her way into the latter and was intently watching him - so intently he doubted she was even singing at all. Kyouya had not wanted to have to wear his masks, not here, at his own wedding, but upon thinking about it, he realized he really didn't have to. No matter how prim or proper he might present himself as, the overwhelming fact was that he was a boy marrying another boy - they were hardly men - and nothing could change that.

Looking into Tamaki's deep, dark eyes as they recited their vows, he didn't want anything to change that. Ever.

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Just for me, the church bells rang…

"He really is something else, isn't he?" Kyouya smiled in response to the twins' jibes about having wedding bells - wedding bells! Just for him, his groom (oh, his groom) had insisted. Archaic, foreign, and romantic all at once; but that was Tamaki, an old-fashioned French lady-killer. Wouldn't have him any other way.

Unlike many wedding receptions he had attended, Kyouya felt no need to excuse himself and bustle off to get something accomplished, or to hunt down important company families and befriend them, or to calculate how much the wedding must have cost. He knew the last already, of course - and tried not to remember; important families, there were none beside his friends. But as for leaving to get something done, well, Kyouya was perfectly happy just watching Tamaki interact with the others.

The twins had of course complimented Tamaki's outfit; "of course," he thought, because they had provided it. Hunny had admired (and devoured) the vast array of sweets Tamaki had conjured, another constant, and Mori had silently nodded his approval of the whole affair. Currently, Tamaki was engaging in conversation with Haruhi, easing her embarrassment over acting the part of Kyouya's father. Ranka-san and Fuyumi, the only Ootori present aside from the bride, were happily chit-chatting away.

It was amazing that, garbed in shocking, glittering white as he was, he could still play the part of Shadow King, yet he fell into the role with ease. Nor did it feel at all unnatural. Where most brides would feel hurt and unattended to, Kyouya was simply thoughtful. Grateful, even, for this last chance to observe everyone together without any obligations on his part. Oh, there would be reunions; other weddings, perhaps - and at that he eyed the twins thoughtfully - but nothing like this. This was special. It was like…

It was like a dream.

"Kyouya," breathed Tamaki in his ear, suddenly holding his elbow. "Dance with me, Kyouya."

"Anything for you, m'lord Tamaki," Kyouya replied, half-playfully, half in a trance, letting him take his hand and sweep him onto the dance floor where they twirled side by side, one black, one white.

Anything for you.

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More Notes?: Ah, the new spacing works much better, I think. I shall have to go back and repair the others. As always, please review; only one part left!