"Haruhiii—isn't it romantic! The large sweeping boulevards….the flourish of haussman architecture…the–"
"The piss smell," Haruhi grumbled.
The couple had been walking around Montmartre for a good half of the day with Tamaki spouting adorations for every nook and cranny of the arrondissement. At first, Haruhi found it quite charming that he loved his old city so much—but after missing breakfast and nearing the end of Parisian lunch hours, she was feeling too hungry to appease his rose-colored world.
Sensing her hunger, Tamaki pulled her into the nearest Brasserie and swiftly flagged down a waiter to take an order that Haruhi hoped was a lot of food.
"I'd want to raise our kids in France–well, half the year–maybe more at the beginning so they can get a handle on the language and–"
Haruhi choked on her water.
"Tama, we aren't even married yet, I'm not going to talk about the language acquisition of our make-believe children." Despite her dead-pan response, Haruhi started picking apart a piece of baguette that was left on the table. She felt nervous–why was she feeling nervous?
"Haruhiiiiii, it's only proper that we discuss these types of things before marriage! What if, god help us, we disagree on something for our beautiful future! I was watching daytime TV and a couple broke off their engagement over painting colors for their bedroom—."
Haruhi burst out into a fit of laughter, nearly knocking both the bread and the carafe of water onto the floor.
"Well let me eat first then if you are about to pull out paint swatches." Haruhi chided as she composed herself.
When the food came, they ate in silence with Tamaki touching his hand on her leg every so often under the table. Haruhi loved these kinds of moments with him. Where neither of them felt like they needed to fill the silence, they could just be comfortable in it. As they ate, Haruhi noticed something different about Tamaki as well. His face was rosier, with the cool autumn air rouging the tip of his nose. His eyes had a glint in them, and despite not understanding a word of french, she could see the delight in his face to talk to every person they encountered. He felt home.
Full and satisfied, they walked back up the butte to Anne Sophie's apartment with a laziness that can only come from eating too much. Just as they walked down a small side street, Tamaki tugged Haruhi into a pin against a cobbled wall.
"Gotcha!" Tamaki sang out as he pushed his body against hers.
"Hey, what are you–" but before she could finish Tamaki had put his mouth over hers. Something felt different. They had kissed before in Boston obviously, sometimes maybe doing a little more than kissing, but there seemed to be a force in Tamaki's lips she hadn't quite felt yet. It seemed intoxicating, like he had been holding this big ball of affection inside him and just forced it onto her. Without realizing it, she had curled one of her hands into his hair, letting her fingers slip down the newly grown out strands.
Tamaki pulled back, and put his lips to her ear. He spoke softly in french, brushing his lips against her ear making her shudder. One of his hands had moved to her neck and he let his thumb stroke her skin softly. The world felt gone under him, she was starting to feel that deep feeling again in her stomach. That same feeling she had sleeping next to him…..
Ahem, alors, c'est pas encore le soir vous saviez? Doucement un peu mon gars!
Haruhi's eyes flashed open to find a man smoking a cigarette just a little farther down the path.
Oh my god they were still outside. In public.
Haruhi turned bright red and started slapping motions to push Tamaki far and away from her. Somehow finding it more funny than embarrassing, Tamaki grabbed her waist and turned them to walk back down the road, yelling a response behind him to the man who in turn made a laughing snort and continued his cigarette.
"Tamaki, you can't do that!" Haruhi hissed at him as they turned the corner back onto a busier thoroughfare.
"Hmmmm, do what?"
" You, you know…"
"Oh, kiss my girlfriend, whom I love, in the city of love, got it." Haruhi sighed. It was impossible with him.
"Ohhh you're so cute when you're angry! It just makes me want to keep doing it!" He wiggled his fingers still wrapped behind her waist and she quickly shoved him off her.
"Gah, you idiot."
They made it to Anne-Sophie's apartment, where through the open windows music was wafting out into the street. Inside, a record was playing on a player that Haruhi had thought was just an antique with Anne Sophie in the kitchen working through cutting a huge basket of potatoes.
"Maman! You know you can just get a maid to do these things! Why do you bother yourself with chores when you are still sick…" Anne-Sophie turned to give Tamaki bisous with her hands covered in potato bits.
"Ah, mais non! There's nothing better than cooking with love, n'est pas?" She went back to cutting the potatoes, gently placing the skinned wholes on one side to be further dealt with.
"Can I help?" Haruhi offered, going to wash her hands. Tamaki had already wandered over to the couch next to the record player to lay down, with Anne-Sophie's dog in tow.
Finally taking in the meal prep, it looked like Anne-Sophie had gathered enough potatoes for a tiny village. She could also see waiting to cook a full chicken that she had stuffed with herbs and garlic.
"Uhm, Anne-Sophie. Don't mind me asking but—don't you think this is a lot of food?"
" Oh non! This is the perfect amount! I have a gift of not wasting any food either. You see the key is to have 3 potatoes a person and–"
"Wait, but who is coming to dinner then?"
Anne-Sophie continued cutting. " Oh you know! You, me, Tamaki, and his father and yours of course!"
Haruhi felt a cold chill run down her spine. Ranka was coming to France. To stay with them. And she was sharing a bedroom with her boyfriend.