Shout out for all my Star Wars fans! Um… I'm such a geek about these movies that it really isn't funny, and I believe that all Star Wars virgins should have their cherries popped ASAP. Now, I'm not talking about the new movies—I'm sorry if you love them, but I think they're abominably bad and bring disgrace to the Star Wars name. My boys agree with me—and if they agree, well, it has to be true. ^_^
Anyway, you could say that this takes place as a sequel of sorts to Of Cherry Stems and Strawberry Starburst—Haru and Mori are definitely a couple, but we'll discuss this later. It's more of a stand-alone thing though, so…
Your Funny Quote from my friends: Who's the Cylon now, bitch?
A one-shot of whatever your choosing for the first person who guesses where that's from and gets it right.
Rating: K—for my potty mouth and maybe some references. There's also sure to be OOC-ness that runs rampant and heavy mentions of the Force. You've been warned.
Disclaimer: Just get me Takashi and I'll let you have everyone else. But, otherwise, no. Despite what the voices in my head say, I do not own OHSHC or its characters.
The first time something very "un-Haruhi-esque" slips out of her mouth (at least around them) is after the Host Club has closed for the day, and they don't get it. But her eyes still get comically large and doe-like, and she stuffs her fingers between her lips, palm over her pink mouth, and runs from the room.
(Tamaki has been lamenting the fact that he has a 'huge test in Japanese history' and 'wouldn't daughter like to study with Daddy' and all she does is laugh and murmur, "May the Force be with you.")
They don't understand; she panics. She never brings it up; they drop it.
The second time, the Host Club is (once again) crowded in the Fujioka living room, drinking tea and ignoring Tamaki's rant about his 'fatherly duties', when Ranka walks by, extends his hand to the only female present, and says, "I am your father!" in a terrifyingly deep, menacing voice.
Haruhi spews tea all over the gentle giant sitting opposite her before collapsing across the table in quick gales of laughter before mortification sets in and she quickly sets about cleaning the surprised male up.
(After the whole unwrapping and tying fiasco that Tamaki has forbidden them from mentioning, the wild type and the natural finally stopped hiding behind excuses of sleepiness and bonds and gave in to the relationship. The King of the Host Club was (and is) not pleased, but the others had (and have) no problem with the new boyfriend-girlfriend status they share (Kyoya made them promise to keep it a secret though for too many factors and unaccounted variables).)
The third comes when Takashi, who has arrived at school with a new knowledge and amusement lighting his eyes, sweetly strokes Haruhi's cheek after the customers have all gone home for the day. The blond Lord throws a fit, proclaiming that 'the only person who should touch [his] daughter in such a familiar manner is her Father'.
Haruhi turns on him, reaches up, cups his cheek, and the blond instantly goes red. He pulls his face from her hand as a trickle of blood threatens to run from his perfect nose because she just looks so cute, staring at him with those huge, brown eyes, and she just touched him in such a familiar way, and her boyfriend was standing right. There.
"I suggest a new strategy, R2. Let the wookiee win," she murmurs softly to him. The others are watching the senior, who stands there with a slight frown and a slightly lowered brow, indicating what he'd never say out loud (unless he's with his Haruhi or Mitsukuni—because he trusts them enough to let his deep voice ring out).
She spins back swiftly, a small, bright smile on her lips (that quickly dims when she sees Takashi's expression). She reaches out and grabs his hands in hers, bringing them to rest underneath her chin with a, "I find your lack of faith disturbing."
A half-smile of apology tugs at his lips, and he disengages one hand to reach out and tuck a strand of short brown hair back into its place behind her ear; she beams, and that's when the others descend.
"While I find this scene wonderfully touching, would you please care to enlighten us as to the meaning of this 'wookiee'?" Hikaru demands lazily, mouth rolling around the syllables strangely, enunciating the 'oo' and cutting off too abruptly.
"The name 'wookiee' translates out in their language as 'People of the Trees'; they are hairy humanoids, bipedals, of course, who are inhabitants of the dense forests on the planet Kashyyyk. They're known for their short tempers and are bad losers, pulling people's arms out of their sockets in such a case, unlike droids," Haruhi explains quietly without even realizing she's speaking. It's with a shock that she notices their blank stares. "Ano… they're hairy beasties," she amends.
Silence greets her enlightened speech, and, for perhaps the first and the last time, she flushes, a light pink color traveling up the pale column of her neck to sit in hollows below her cheekbones.
"You know, from Star Wars."
"Haruhi," the gentle giant in front of her states, and she looks up at him again. "Invites."
"Well," the brunette rambles, a babbling sort of confused mortification leaking through her speech, "I suppose we can always reschedule, and it is a Friday, so they could all come over and watch the movies. If they don't mind staying over, then we could have a marathon of sorts, and that would explain everything."
With one pointed look from her boyfriend, she turns to them, having, once again, forgotten to extend the invitation.
"Would you care to come to my house? You'll understand when we watch the movies."
"Commoner movies?"
They practically sprint for the door, and all she can do is heave a heavy sigh and try not to regret her decision immediately.
"I've got a very bad feeling about this," she murmurs, pressing her head into Mori's arm.
He pats her back, and though he doesn't say anything, she's well-aware that he echoes the sentiment.
Her father doesn't say anything when they show up. A part of him probably suspected that Haruhi would take pity on her friends and finally explain this huge bit of culture to these poor, handsome, rich boys.
They watch the movies in her darkened living room, crowded around the small screen of her television, too enthralled to laugh or talk or comment or do anything besides stare.
Afterwards, it's like the films imploded in their brains. All of a sudden, they're trying to use lines of dialogue (badly and inconveniently-placed) and having lightsaber battles in the hallways of Ouran (with cheap plastic replicas from the toy store closest to Tamaki's house (he bought them for everybody, but it was their idea to actually use it)) and passing automatic doors just so they can wave their first two fingers in front of them and 'open them with the Force'.
Haruhi regrets her decision to expose them to these 'commoner movies' almost immediately for the sheer fact that she has to be annoying other people by enabling these rich losers to bother other people.
It gets even worse when Tamaki decides that he needs to start dressing like the characters. He ditches the Ouran (expensive) blazer for a tunic and is often seen with a brown cloak slung across his shoulders.
Haruhi is pretty sure that he doesn't understand that the Jedi? They're practically monastic. And, while they aren't required to withhold from sex, the act itself is regarded as self-indulgent and dispensable. She's almost positive that he doesn't understand the religiously philosophical aspect of it all, but the Jedi are new and exciting and really make the girls into otakus.
When Haruhi isn't impressed by his actions, Tamaki feels the need to step in and make her impressed. So, he does what he thinks is best, and then he calls her up when everything's set up.
The ride to her house is awfully silent, and the brunette periodically squeezes Mori's hand to reassure herself that she isn't in this alone. She's worried though: Tamaki keeps bouncing in his seat, and the other members of the Host Club seem to be nonplussed.
When she walks in, though, she just sighs, an impressively dark expression crossing her face until they're sure she's been swayed to the Dark Side.
"Why the hell is there an Imperial stormtrooper costume in my living room?"
Indeed, in the middle of the room, there stands a life-sized, exact replica of a stormtrooper, complete with its eighteen pieces of white plastoid-composite body armor over the sealed, black body glove.
"Well," Tamaki gasps, breathless in his excitement at this perfect present and the opportunity to explain it. If anything, Haruhi will finally realize he's a much better provider than Mori-senpai could ever be because this is something his daughter loves—he saw it in one of his Inner Mind Theatre's, and he knows that any second now she'll go gaga over it and actually hug him. "I know how much you love Star Wars, and I just knew that only you would be able to appreciate this work of design genius."
At his words, Hikaru and Kaoru collapse against the other, oxygen chugging to a halt as their Lord labels this… fashionable.
"Rich bastards."
Mori reaches out and links his index finger under her jaw, and she can see the promise of a movie marathon (of geeky proportions and bad special effects) written in his gray eyes, and she sighs noiselessly.
"No one says that I have to stay," she whispers to him, and he allows a brief grin to kiss at the corners of his mouth.
He lets his girlfriend drag him back out of the apartment, and Tamaki starts wailing. Mori, who has never raised a finger to harm the smallest individual unless in a kendo match (and, even then, he's holding back; he's above hurting others as it goes against everything he's ever learned), just looks back, a silent threat hidden in the passive gray irises.
(Tamaki can still feel the chill induced from his gaze as the giant ducks out with a small brunette clutching his hand.)
"He doesn't like you," Kaoru mutters, catching the slight warning that the senior sends back to the blond Prince with an uncommonly large amount of awareness.
"I don't like you either. You just watch yourself. We're wanted men. I have the death sentence on twelve systems," his twin adds as they plop themselves down at the table once more, both raising identical, golden-red brows.
Hunny chooses that moment to insert himself into the conversation with a honeyed, "This little one's not worth the effort. Come, let me get you something."
He drags the twins away to come sample some of the cakes that Kyoya has had the foresight to lay out, and Tamaki sinks into corner of woe, mumbling something about 'tremors in the Force' and 'don't underestimate the power of the Force'.
Off in a corner, Kyoya looks down at the carefully-dictated notes of his ledger and smirks.
Tamaki has enough angst to pull off Luke, especially with that incest issue added in, and Mori would serve to be the Han Solo to rival his pretty boy ways, a common interest in a Leia Haruhi. The twins would prove to be wonderful Stormtroopers for all the fact their clones, or even C-3PO and R2 with the chemistry shared, and Hunny would most definitely steal the show as an Ewok. And, Kyoya? Well, he's always loved the color black, and, with the way he runs this club, he is essentially Tamaki's father, so it could work.
He lifts his chin to catch the sun in the lenses on his face, allowing another wry snarl to steal at his lips.
In the margin, and unbeknownst to the rest of the group present, Kyoya carefully inscribes the furtive message of: 'No Star Wars cosplay.'
He ponders his words for one moment before he adds, 'Get a black cloak. And stand in Darth Vader position more often.'
It is with that action that he snaps his notebook closed, chuckling at his own sense of humor.
It's heavy with Star Wars info, and all of that knowledge is totally true. Taken from the books and from the movies, as is the majority of the dialogue.
Leave your thoughts in a review because reviews are my crack. Won't you be my dealer?