A/N: First of all, thank you, dear readers, for your wonderful reviews! They have all been so positive and supportive.

Next, here's another chapter as promised. I feel like I'm pumping these out really fast; so fast, in fact, that more often than not, I have to go back and read the last chapter to figure out what's going on.

Though I don't really think that's a bad thing. I mean, I'm enjoying this as much as you all are. I'm constantly sitting at my keyboard making sympathetic noises for Kyouya or laughing at something one of them thought.

Yes, it's lame, but it's happening all the same. (That was a rhyme.) Anyway, enjoy this chapter coming at you from Haruhi's point of view.

Disclaimer: OHSHC or any of the characters mentioned in said series do not belong to me. If they did, I would have a lot of money and would be driving a nicer car than I currently am.

I was vaguely surprised that Kyouya actually deigned to grace my commoner abode with his presence. After all, I didn't really think he would come inside; it was just a formality- that invitation. Even that little bit of cajoling was being polite… but I knew I was lying to myself.

I wanted him to come inside; I was fascinated by him in a way that I didn't understand myself. He was so different from the other members of the Club, it was like night and day.

But nonetheless, he came inside. Maybe he thought that denying my request- in turn, being rude- would hurt him more than it would benefit him.

Either way, I was stuck with this brooding, yet undeniably alluring, presence in my home. Crap, I should have just taken the bag, thanked him, and let him go on his way. But no, old habits die hard; and besides, what would my mother have said if I was so rude to someone who had helped me?

Even if my savior made me so nervous that I couldn't even breathe regularly. My breath was hitched in my throat and my heart was somewhere net to it as I scurried back to the kitchen; the tea pot was already filled with hot water, curls of steam were tracing the air above it.

I wondered the whole time I was in there, steeping the tea, what I had gotten myself into.

Part of me was harried and worried, but the other part- the part that was slowly winning out- was the part that told me that I was over-reacting.

I placed the tea pot and two glasses on a wooden tray that I had wrestled from the depths of the cabinet under the sink, trying to keep my hands steady. There is nothing to worry about; obviously, he's not mad at you. He accepted your invitation to come inside. Calm down, Haruhi.

I took a steadying breath and picked up the tray, almost smiling because my hands were barely shaking. But I didn't have time to enjoy the pride in my minor triumph because the tray was taken out of my hands.

I looked up to see the very object grasped tightly in Kyouya's hands, a look of calculating determination on his face.

Well, crap, I thought, surprised enough to gape at the bespectacled man. That's unusual. But… it's not unwelcome.

He seated himself casually at the table in the den, looking at me expectantly. "Well," he asked me, smiling shallowly.

There was something in that smile, but I decided to ignore it because, quite frankly, I was curious about this new change in attitude. "Aren't you going to sit down?"

He seemed expectant, like he knew I wouldn't refuse. He was right (as usual) and I sat down across from him. I was sure that all kinds of confusion were drawn across my face, but I was determined to participate in whatever he had in mind.

I was sure that I had offended him in some way this afternoon, and when he showed up at my door, looking like the Devil himself, I had pretty much confirmed my own suspicions.

But after I brought the tea out, he was magically changed into an angel- albeit an angel more along the lines of Lucifer himself.

We sat in silence for less than a moment, but something flashed across his face, through his eyes. I wasn't sure what it was, but it reminded me of all the times I had seen him and there had been a significant cash inflow for the Club at the time.

"Well," I said finally (though in reality, I spoke almost as soon as I sat down), drawing the word out long. "It's nice that you were able to stay." I meant the words, but somehow they felt forced coming out of my mouth.

My heart was in my throat as he studied my face, his eyes unreadable behind the planes of clear glass perched from his nose. I fidgeted with my empty glass, twirling the glazed cylinder in my hands.

"Yes," he murmured finally, slipping the green piece of porcelain out of my sweat-slicked hands. A thin stream of transparent brown liquid slipped into the cup, the tea pot held expertly in his pale, slender hands. "I was glad that you invited me. I would hate to have to wait outside in that heat for my ride to come pick me up and take me home."

I knew I shouldn't have been, but I was surprised to find out that Kyouya knew how to hold a tea pot, much less operate a tea pot. I mean, doesn't he have people at home that have done that for him since he was born?

"Wait, you don't have a ride home?" My brows furrowed as I tried to remember if there was a limo or other expensive mode of transportation outside behind him on the street below. Why would he have a ride here but not home?

The raven-haired boy nodded slightly, and everything clicked together. The irritation, the disheveled clothes… I gasped, sitting forward on my knees. "I'm terribly sorry to have put you through that trouble, senpai!"

He smirked, passing back my now steaming cup. I hesitantly sat back, clasping the glass between my hands. I stared down morosely into my cup, the liquid revealing no answers to assuage my guilt. How selfish was I? Not only did I make him angry, but I made him bring my books home as well.

Though I wasn't left long to my own thoughts; I felt a hand under my chin, lifting my face to meet a smirking one. "It was no trouble, Ms. Fujioka," Kyouya murmured, making my heart jump and something stir low in my stomach.

"Though, for some reason, my driver isn't picking up his phone. I may have to stay here for a little while longer." He paused, his sensual eyes (Sensual? Where the crap did I come up with that?) glittering with that same money-counting look. "Is that okay with you?"

"Erm, no…" I blanched. "I mean yes! I mean no, I don't mind." He laughed lightly, pouring himself a cup of steaming tea. He took a sip (leaving me staring at the shape his lips made made, imaging things that no virgin had the right to imagine), while I tried to compose myself.

He laughed lightly, smiling at me with an unaccustomed softness. "Thank you, Haruhi. You're too kind." I looked down, a bit embarrassed.

"Ahh…" I managed to choke out, my eyes on my cup again (we were become very good friends, me and that cup), before his lips came down on mine. How did he manage to lean across the table so fast? My mind went pleasantly blank as we both went forward on our knees to adjust to the new position better.

Hopefully, my father won't walk in… I ripped my lips away from his, my whole face seemingly on fire with a fierce blush. What in the CRAP was I doing? And with Kyouya of all people!

Now, wasn't that another cliff hanger? It's a bit shorter than my other chapters, but I wan't most of what's to come to be in Kyouya's perspective; I think it'll work out better that way. Anyway, please, please, please review.

Until next time.