Alnitak8: Thank you!

Akari Wolf Princess: Seriously those days suck. Definitely incorporated some of my own memories in the last chapter. lol Thanks for the review!

bored411: Thanks for the review! More drama en route!

Nana-san14: Kyoya will definitely be interacting with the children more in the future. ;) pinky-promise

Ale250496: Yeeup! This is a romance story but it's also very much a family story for both Kosuke and Kyoya. The children are really important to Kosuke's story.

Nina9802: Thank you! The children took a backseat in the story for a little while to focus on Kosuke and Kyoya's relationship and the loads of other familial issues, but they're still very important to Kosuke.

Mili San Luis: Well, a few reasons. Firstly, Kosuke would never use her name or money for something like getting into a restaurant without a reservation, no matter how convenient it would be for her. She just isn't the type to do that, especially since she's not exactly happy that she's an "Amida" now. Secondly, the issue wasn't that she couldn't afford going into the restaurant, but that she didn't have a reservation - meaning that the restaurant was booked and had no available tables. So she'd either have to buy out another person's reservation (which would be very rude), or she'd make the restaurant accommodate her with a new table and more guests that they didn't plan for (also very rude). I hope that clears things up; sorry if it was unclear.

Hey all! Thanks so much for your reviews, they're always greatly appreciated! Apologies for the delay in updating. I know it's been a month since the last, but I just started my junior year at college and finding time to actually write has been a hassle. Hopefully I can get a real schedule figured out and have regular updates.

Anywho, here's the next chapter! More familial issues (and even more in the chapter after this!) but then we'll get some more fluff/relationship development. Thank you all!

Kosuke is waiting just outside the door when Kyoya is leaving class one day. She steps forward, and says nothing. Kyoya waits, and waits, until finally she just blurts, "Just wanted to say hi. See you later!"

Kyoya is in his office categorizing metadata when his phone rings. It's the first time Kosuke has called him while he's working, but all she says is, 'nevermind, bye,' before hanging up.

They're in the halls of Ouran and they spot each other across the way. She starts walking towards him. Kyoya waits. Then, halfway across, she stops cold, waves hello-slash-goodbye, and disappears back into the stream of students.

Kyoya's confusion turns into worry, then annoyance. It comes to a head when he's once again at work, having just put his hand on the doorknob to his office when the new, young, and horribly timid office assistant walks up to him and stutters, "M-Mr. Ootori, sir, your girlf—um!—fiancée is in the lobby. She's asking if you're—available?"

He returns to the elevator thoroughly convinced that something is wrong, horribly so, and seeing Kosuke pacing back and forth in the lobby does nothing to ease his fears. She stops when she sees Kyoya coming, and her already-wringing fingers suddenly seize each other in a vice. Kyoya walks up to her, and she opens her mouth…

…and closes it. And takes a step back. And turns for the exit. "You know, I just—remembered I have to go do something, and you're probably busy anyway, so I'm just going to—"

"Stop."

She stops.

"What do you need to tell me?"

She faces him again in surrender. Kyoya almost feels bad for chastising her again, but he can't take another round of hair-pulling miscommunication between them.

Though she rubs the back of her neck and doesn't look at him, Kosuke speaks. "I'm sorry if this is too much. I thought you were on your lunch break right now."

Technically, he is, in that Kyoya's lunch break is supposed to be an hour long but he never lets it go longer than fifteen minutes. Have I mentioned my schedule to her, or did she investigate? "Regardless if I am or not, this is clearly a pressing matter to you and you should tell me what it is already."

She rubs her neck a little harder at that, but at last looks him in the eye. "Do you want to come meet my family?"

Kyoya can't help but narrow his eyes—and regrets it, as she immediately ducks her head. "Is that what's making you so jittery?"

"I'm not jittery."

"Your past attempts to talk about this amounted to three rounds of Peek-a-Boo, so yes, you are."

She doesn't argue, but she does pout. "It's just…I've met your family before—some of them, anyway—but you've only met my father. And us getting married is kind of a big deal for Minami and Hitsuji, and it's weird for them to know I'm getting married but not who I'm getting married to. I think the longer we put it off, the stranger it is for them."

"All valid points, but why this much anxiety over it?"

Her fingers twitch as though fighting not to rub at her neck again.

"It's…not just my siblings who I'd like you to meet."

Kyoya thinks he understands her stress that following Friday, as his lungs are being crushed like empty soda cans.

"Airi, dear, you'll kill him!"

"Uh-oh!" Airi Suzuki pulls him back from the brink of death by letting go of him. Her shirt fits loosely on her, but he knows for a fact she is more chiseled than any sixty-plus-year-old woman he has ever met. Her face is a stark contrast, smiling from ear-to-ear with enough stars in her eyes to light up a night sky. "Sorry about that! I forget my own strength sometimes…I'm just so happy to finally meet you!"

Kyoya straightens out the front of his blazer and hopes he's not hearing his bones pop back into place. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mrs. Suzuki."

"We're honored you could make it today," says Sugimoto, who is as polar opposite to his wife as he could possibly be, gentle and quiet with a soft middle behind a cable-knit sweater far too hot for the summer weather. Kosuke is standing right beside him, but he's oblivious to how she's shielding her eyes away from her grandmother. "Kosuke's told us that you have quite a busy schedule."

"This takes priority over work. I just want to apologize for not being able to do this sooner."

Kosuke makes a face that comes and goes at the speed of light. Sugimoto and Airi both shake their heads, Sugimoto trilling, "Don't be! We're just happy to be doing this now! Now, come in, come in. And let me take those! They're so lovely, thank you!"

The hydrangeas have been crushed to pulp in Airi's embrace, but Sugimoto whisks them away for a vase. The inside of the Suzuki reminds him of the lodge at Nagata Park, all oak floors and tight corners. No grand staircase or floor-to-ceiling windows, just a single flight against a wall and small squares of glass curtained with lace.

"There you go." Airi points him to a small shelf in the corner, wooden and scratched and holding several pairs of shoes. Sometimes Kyoya forgets that this is the norm—he's so used to hearing his footsteps echo on marble tiles. "And hang that thing up while you're at it. Make yourself at home."

That word sticks with him as he shrugs off his blazer and hangs it on a cast-iron hook. Home. For some reason it suits this place better than the mansion he's lived in his whole life. Cozy. Warm.

"Uh-oh. Be careful, I think Ringo likes you."

A collared Shiba Inu trots over to him, and Kyoya bristles, fearing that this dog will be like Tamaki's beloved Antoinette—as affectionate as her master, but much slobbier and hairier. Thankfully, thus creature sniffs at his extended hand and leaves it at that. A very polite greeting.

"Okay." Kosuke rubs her hands together and leans her head down the hallway. "Minami? Kyoya's here; come say hello."

A head of wild brown curls peeks around the corner.

"A little closer, please?"

Minami (Amida? Did she take Shigeo's surname, too?) creeps forward without taking her round brown eyes off of Kyoya—the same stare children reserve for large, barking dogs with sharp teeth. He'd caught glimpses of her at the campsite, but now that she's up-close, Kyoya is confused. She and Kosuke look nothing alike, not in the slightest way. Blonde versus brunette, blue eyes versus brown. She's a few tones darker than Kosuke, too, olive-skinned. It must have all come from Kosuke's stepfather, whose name Kyoya cannot find at the moment.

The young girl's snail's pace stops when she's at her sister's side, and when she doesn't make a sound, Kosuke puts a hand between her shoulders with a faltering smile. "Don't you want to say hello?"

"Hello," Minami greets dutifully.

It's rare that Kyoya ever interacts with a child. Awkwardness is a given, but he'd expected it to be because of the shyness all children have meeting a new adult—Kyoya used to be like that, albeit not for long; he was probably four when his father demanded him to greet people "properly."

This…doesn't seem like shyness, though. He thinks—no, he knows—that Kosuke's younger sister actively dislikes him.

So, knowing that, Kyoya does not kneel to her level or try to coax her to come closer. She wants him to stay back, and he does just that. "Hello. It's nice to meet you."

Minami doesn't make a peep, and Kosuke shuffles in place with no idea of what to say.

Airi decides to brave the waters first, for better or worse. "Do you want to tell him something about yourself? So you can get to know each other better?"

"I know Kyoya's quite the mathematician," Sugimoto tries with fervor to match his wife's energy. "And math is Minami's favorite subject at school! Isn't that right?"

Minami answers by tugging on Kosuke's hand and asking, "Can I go back upstairs?"

Though she visibly bites her cheek hard enough that Kyoya almost warns her to stop, Kosuke says, "Okay." She gives Minami's curls a ruffle and then Minami goes, bounding up the stairs two at a time, blinking out of sight just as quickly as she came. Ringo bounds up the steps behind her.

Thus concludes Kyoya's first meeting with his future eight-year-old sister-in-law.

Kosuke's fingers are wringing again. "Hitsuji was going to be here, too, but he had a little play-date with a friend at school."

"Don't sound so disappointed, love, he'll have plenty of opportunities to meet Kyoya later!" Catching Kosuke's look up the stairs, Airi adds, "And Minami will come around eventually; don't worry."

"As for now, we have a grandson-in-law to catch up with. Right this way, Kyoya. A bit of tea before dinner."

Again comes that fleeting look on Kosuke's face. Maybe there was another reason she worried about today, but Kyoya hasn't spotted any red flags so far.

He's surprised when they start moving in opposite directions. "I'm going to get started on dinner. You three go ahead."

Sugimoto frowns for the first time in the evening. "Kosuke, really, I wish you would've let me take care of that. The guest doesn't usually cook for the host."

"No, I want to. I've been so busy this week I haven't had time to cook anything, so I'm getting antsy anyway."

Airi gives her husband a nudge that her superhuman strength turns into a shove. "Come on, Sugi, if our supreme chef of a granddaughter wants to cook for us, let her!"

"Oh, alright. But you come get me if you need any help at all!"

"Sure," Kosuke says. There is a forced bubbliness in her voice, but then she's gone.

He follows the Suzukis towards the back of the house, and he sees that it's so loved and lived-in that he's almost overwhelmed by all the details—forgotten cups of coffee on end tables, a pair of slippers beneath a reading lamp, reading glasses resting dangerously in a bundled woolen blanket. There are photographs on shelves and walls, each with a different scene—a birthday party, a picnic, a vacation—but the same two people.

The massive family portrait is the closest thing the mansion has to family photographs. Jin had always found them tacky, said that they would clash with their kintsugi vases.

Kyoya thinks he spots one of them and Kosuke, then realizes it isn't Kosuke at all. Though it's her spitting image at a distance, up close Kyoya sees the lighter hair and the darker eyes, slightly thinner lips. The Sugimoto and Airi behind her do not have crow's feet or laugh lines.

He'd kept his promise and hadn't looked into Kosuke's family tree, either in Amida Health or Suzuki Pharmacies. It used to be so tempting, but now he feels as if he's invading. He'd been so uncomfortable with Kosuke becoming a part of his life that he hadn't braced himself for being a part of hers.

Kyoya can't look at the photograph for long, as if it's sunlight in his eyes. That very same guilt he'd felt on the night of his and Kosuke's first date, of being so cold to her after she'd gone through such a tragedy, returns even thicker than before—mixed with pity into a sludge that fills his chest cavity. And sure, he has countless issues with his mother, but at least he still has a mother to have issues with.

The feeling is so horrible that Kyoya forces himself to be distracted just by the grooves in the wooden floorboards. Shortly, though, he's granted a grander diversion.

He'd seen the greenhouse when he'd approached, but the outside didn't do the inside any justice. It was finds in here than it was in the surrounding forests. There had to be some order to it all, but Kyoya found none. Bowls of ivy hang from the ceiling, some long enough to touch the tile floor. Here, a line of ferns. There, a nebula of flowers. There are pots and tools and a small workbench that have all been swallowed by the flora. It's warm, but not muggy, and it smells of wet dirt and moss.

Perhaps the messiness of it all should annoy Kyoya, but for some reason he finds it endearing. Airi and Sugimoto lead him to a small table surrounded by four cushioned chairs. Sugimoto is pouring tea into cups long before Kyoya can even sit.

"I hope you don't mind Darjeeling."

"Not at all. Thank you."

"Alright, alright!" Airi plops down into her seat but still buzzes with energy. "No more chitchat, it's time to tell us all about you."

"We have a lot to catch up on," Sugimoto agrees.

Kyoya sets his teacup on his saucer and starts to recite his long-practiced introduction. "I am the thirdborn son of my family, and am currently enrolled at Ouran University studying Business Administration and Man—"

"No, silly, not just the facts!" Airi waves a hand at him, laughing. (He is grateful that hand did not land on him, because its strength looks bruising.) "Kosuke's told us all that. We want to know more YOU-you."

You-you?

Kyoya contemplates for a moment. "I currently work at Ootori Medical and aspire to contribute to the future of our family business."

Sugimoto nods. Slowly. "Right…And?"

"I have been the top student in all of my classes for the past five years."

"…And?"

"I can type at a speed of 120 words a minute."

Airi and Sugimoto share a look with one another, but Kyoya doesn't know what he's saying wrong.

"We were hoping," says Sugimoto, "to know more about your…interests. Hobbies, things like that."

"Kosuke said you and Tamaki are part of a…Party Club? Where you host parties for the students?"

Airi perches her chin atop her fingers expectantly, and though the answer is simple, talking about the club (that he had enjoyed immensely) has gotten no easier over the years.

"The club we were in stopped in high school, and though it was called the 'Host Club,' we did not host parties." Look them in the eye, keep your voice straight, try not to be too ashamed. "The intention of the club was to invite the young women of Ouran to spend time with Tamaki and our other members."

He smiles, but Sugimoto also furrows his brow. "For tutoring? Something like that?"

This used to be easier. Back in high school, Kyoya could placate critics with his most charming smile and a promise that the Host Club was nothing but honorable. But convincing a stranger that a club centered around flirting with young women is worthy of respect is one thing. Convincing the grandparents of your fiancée is another.

"No, it was more just so have conversation. Tamaki and the other Hosts would entertain our customers with their unique personalities, and sometimes we would have special events, such as days in which we dressed in thematic costumes, or celebrated a holiday."

"Oh, I get it!" Airi snaps her fingers. "You'd flirt with them, right?"

Sugimoto chokes on his Darjeeling, and Kyoya wishes he were drinking his to have more time to think of his response. "Darling!"

"Is that not it? It sounds like one of those butler cafes, you know? A bunch of cute boys spending time with you."

"I don't think Kyoya was part of a butler café, dearest. I'm sure it was just a social club."

"It wasn't unlike a butler café." Kyoya gets that out of the way, then goes on, "But I assure you, I was not a Host myself and did not interact with our clients in such a way."

"See? I told you." Airi nudges her husband's shoulder, which does nothing for Kyoya's nerves.

"I was in charge of the finances of the Club, that's all. Which isn't to say that I didn't participate; I attended all the events and dressed to the theme, but as for the actual flirting I had no part—"

"Kyoya, alright. Alright." Sugimoto laughs and waves him down. He'd been aghast just a second ago, but now he only looks amused. "We understand. I didn't mean to come off as judgmental; I apologize."

"Hell, it sounds like you missed out on the fun stuff, am I right?" Airi slaps her knee and guffaws. "There's no shame! I think it sounds fun."

Kyoya is relieved enough to finally take a drink of tea without snapping the stem of the cup between his fingers. Despite being shrouded in mystery, he feels more pressure to make a good impression for the Suzukis than he had with Shigeo. How can their warm welcome put him on edge so badly?

"Though I didn't actively participate, the Club was a regular activity that I took part in with my friends. It had its challenges—" A new manager forcing us into a movie, getting lost in an indoor jungle, a rival club kidnapping one of our members… "—but I'd be lying if I said I had no good memories of it. It did provide some experience."

"We've heard that you have a passion for finances."

Airi's nose crinkles. "Could you say it any drier, Sugi?"

"No, no, that wasn't—! I didn't mean…"

"No, Mrs. Suzuki, I take no offense. It is rather difficult to explain."

"Hey, hit me. I'm trying to learn everything I can over here."

Kyoya tries to remember how he'd explained it to Kosuke. "It's just very easy for me. My interest in it comes less from solving equations and more from…"

"Solving problems?" Sugimoto offers, smiling. "I completely understand. Being a pharmacist wasn't always the most riveting thing in the world, but I always enjoyed knowing I was helping someone."

Airi adds, "Every job in this world is necessary, and the more passionate you are about it, the better your work will be."

"Yes, I agree. Of course, I am most passionate about contributing to Ootori Medical. It's my duty as a son to benefit it the best that I can, so I strive to perfect my work."

This time Airi and Sugimoto do not answer, and simply sip from their tea. Sugimoto then looks past Kyoya, and calls, "Come here, sweetie. No reason to be scared."

Minami creeps forward, clutching a doll to her chest and Ringo trotting close at her heels. She rounds Kyoya to get to Sugimoto, and keeps her back to him as she hands Sugimoto the doll, then two tiny boots made from soft plastic.

"Never understood why they made these things so difficult," Sugimoto complains as he squeezes the boots onto the doll's little feet. "They know they're made for children, right?"

"Minami," says Airi, "Do you want to join us for a minute? Get to know Kyoya?"

Kyoya can tell that Minami struggles not to at least glance his way, but she restrains herself—and he supposes he can admire that will in someone so young. "No."

"Are you sure? You don't want to—"

"Here you go, buttercup." Sugimoto passes the doll back over. "Commence the fashion show."

Minami and Ringo flee once more.

"Please don't feel bad," Sugimoto tells Kyoya as they watch her go. "She's just…Well, this is very confusing, from what Kosuke says."

Kyoya hums. "I imagine such a drastic change in environment can be quite confusing."

"Yes, but…More than that."

"Can I ask what you mean?"

Sugimoto's lips pucker, he traces the rim of his teacup as he explains, "Kosuke and her siblings were raised in the average life, as you know. They never had any reason to think any of them would be in an arranged marriage one day, so they grew up being told that people only get married after they've dated for quite a long time and really come to love each other. Not that you and Kosuke don't love each other! I just—"

"It's just that Minami thought she would meet you before you and Kosuke got engaged, not after," finishes Airi. She looks piteously at her husband as he sweats and fidgets. "Which isn't just exclusive to them, you know. Rich or poor or in-between, you'd want to meet the newest member of your family before they joined, huh?"

Kyoya just nods and sips his tea and reminds himself to be careful. It's important to keep in the good graces of all your in-laws, regardless of their age—he just hopes this cold shoulder is only initial, and Kosuke's sister will warm up to him eventually. And he hasn't even met Hitsuji yet.

Was that why she was so anxious? For her sister?

"Not to divert attention away from the present—"

"Mm-hm?" Husband and wife urge.

"—but perhaps we should arrange for you to meet my other family members as well. My sister would be the most eager, but my father would also like to make your acquaintance, I'm sure."

Kyoya says this lightly, trying to make a meeting between the two houses sound casual, but Sugimoto and Airi instead glance at one another. It confuses Kyoya how quickly their eagerness waned.

"That's…" Sugimoto coughs. "That is not at all a bad idea."

"It's just that…" Airi coughs. "Kosuke thinks that maybe we should wait a while…"

He can't help but frown. "Why is that?"

"I—well. She could explain it better than us. But I'm sure you'll understand."

That doesn't ease his worries in the slightest, but then Sugimoto claps his hands, stands up, and declares, "Anyway! I'm getting impatient. You sit here for just a minute and I'll be right back."

Airi smiles, silently begging him not to comment on the obvious change in subject, and Kyoya doesn't.

Sugimoto emerges with a small black box that he sets before Kyoya. So confused, it takes them encouraging him to open it twice for him to actually do so.

Kyoya thinks it'd be more polite be awestruck or mesmerized, but he can only call himself stumped.

It's a watch. A very beautiful watch, silver and shining with the face lined in microscopic floral patterns, hands that move in smooth circles. Yet its beauty, and Kyoya's gratitude, does not change the fact that his gift is nowhere near this value. Should they be giving me gifts at all?

"It's…" He clears his throat and sets the top of the box aside. "It's outstanding."

"Thank you!" Airi does a little happy dance in her seat. "It took a good long while, but I'm happy with how it turned out."

Kyoya almost reels back. "You made this?"

"Not the mechanisms and all that, no, but everything silver was me." Airi twines her fingers once more, and Kyoya sees that they are covered in tiny little scars, cuts and burns from the tips to the wrist. "It was good practice for detail, but I'm sorry if there's any mess-ups."

"Not at all. Your craftsmanship is amazing." Flowers. All he brought was flowers. "But I—"

"Oh, look on the back!"

Kyoya lifts it up from the box and turns it over.

To Kyoya,
Our family
Our son

"And that's not all!"

Kyoya hasn't even recovered before Airi takes off as well. The script is just as delicate as the rest of the detailing, but the skill isn't what's leaving Kyoya at a loss for words.

Airi returns with a bundle of fabric wrapped only in a shiny blue bow. Kyoya doesn't have to take it off to see that it's a white cable-knit sweater, not unlike Sugimoto's but with a different pattern. It's as soft as heaven beneath his fingertips.

"I was worried I wouldn't get it done on time," says Sugimoto, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I wasn't sure what color to do, but I thought white was a safe choice."

Now Kyoya sees how all the threads braid and twine together, and he sees each laborious minute this must have taken—just for him. He looks at the sweater and the watch and knows that even if he tried he couldn't come half as close to a gift so grand.

"These are both amazing gifts. Thank you." Kyoya stands to his feet to bow to them, so stupefied he forgets to put said gifts down. "But I was not nearly as thoughtful with my own gift. Forgive me."

Sugimoto near-begs him to sit back down. "No, there's no need. Oh, we didn't mean to make you feel bad. We're just happy that you're here."

"We're honored to have you join our family, Kyoya. Excited, even!" Airi places a hand over her heart in such a gentle motion that Kyoya almost forgets how easily that hand could crush him. "Don't think of us like strangers you need to impress. We're your grandparents and you're our grandson."

For a moment Sugimoto and Airi become Yoshio and Jin…and then the moment passes, because they would never act like this. They'd never sit just to have tea, his mother only gifts him some kind of tie at every occasion, and his father only acknowledges that they are family as a warning.

This is pure kindness, but Kyoya feels something sour inside him—jealousy towards a certain blonde who knows this as everyday.

But he chases that feeling away and lets himself feel as welcomed as the Suzukis want him to be. "Even so, I can't thank you enough. I know you said there's no need to apologize, but if there's a way for me to come even close to repaying you, please tell me."

"Well…You could do me a little favor." Sugimoto leans closer. "I'm still worried about Kosuke—"

"Oh my goodness, Sugi…"

"—but I know she'll never accept any help. So could I maybe ask you to check on her for me? Just poke your head through the door and make sure everything's alright."

"Of course."

Kyoya bows again before he leaves to the sound of Airi admonishing her husband's worrywartiness once again. This time when he enters the house, he realizes it will be far from the last. He wonders how often he will be visiting; he wonders, when he and Kosuke are living together, if these little touches of life—framed photos and forgotten coffee cups—will find their way into their shared home. It's the first time he imagines being forever bound to Kosuke and finds something he does not mind.

He remembers the way back to the kitchen well enough, but if he hadn't, the smell would have led him there. Kyoya isn't one to wax poetry about food—"delicious" is as lyrical as he gets—but for once he's compelled to. Of course he'd heard over and over that Kosuke's talent in the kitchen seemed divine in nature, and now he knows that to be true, because the aroma permeating through the house comes right from heaven.

From what Kyoya sees, the sources of that God-blessed aroma are a batch of glazed carrots dusted in parsley, a bowl of smooth mushroom rice, and—in the oven—a pan of Cornish hens, so tender and succulent in sight alone that Kyoya's mouth waters. He doesn't compose himself because he doesn't need to; the other sight in the kitchen halts him in the doorway.

Kosuke is gripping the edge of the counter hard enough to break it. She's quaking where she stands. Her eyes, shrunken in terror, look down at…

…chocolate?

"Kosuke?" She seizes so violently she seems possessed. When she breathes again it seems her lungs have shriveled in her chest. "What's wrong?"

"Everything. Nothing." She squeezes her eyes and shakes her head just as violently, and Kyoya only braves a step forward when he thinks she's about to slap herself across the face. "Everything is fine, I'm just being stupid."

"I'm going to need more reassurance than that."

Finally she breathes deep, clearly counting in her head, and her terror at least lightens to distress, albeit distress so poignant Kyoya is starting to wonder if the chocolate did some horrible betrayal upon her.

"Kyoya, there's something I need to confess."

Kyoya waits patiently, though not without wondering just what he walked into.

"I can't cook anything sweet. And before you start, I don't just mean that I'm scared it won't turn out good enough, I mean I cannot. If it has just enough sugar in it, I will ruin it. I will turn it into inedible garbage. If I serve it to anyone, I may as well just give them a glass of arsenic while I'm at it, because that's how bad I am at cooking sweets."

He was going to protest. He doesn't now, not when Kosuke sounds more grave than he's ever heard from anyone, let alone herself—especially when she finishes with a pitiful wail of, "I'm not sugarcoating when I say I can't even sugarcoat!"

Reassurance obviously won't work here, so Kyoya considers his words as though he's defusing a bomb. Now, how someone could be so cursed and blessed at the same time is beyond him, but that is the fact of the situation and honestly? After all the years in the Host Club, this is one of the most mundane issues he's ever dealt with.

"Is it possible to simply not have a dessert?"

It's impressive—annoying, but impressive—that Kyoya has found someone besides his father who can make him feel like an utter idiot, even if only for a moment. Kyoya's dry words have earned him plenty a glare before, but Kosuke now levels him with a look so flat it truly shames him. For some reason.

"Why don't we just get rid of the silverware while we're at it? Eat straight off the tabletop, because who needs plates? No, it's not possible to 'simply not have a dessert.' You do not promise a good, filling meal and then shrug off the finale! If desserts were not important, then why would we have come up with a term for them?! Desserts perfectly balance off the flavors of the rest of the meal, and is near-universally accepted as the signal that the meal is ending. If we didn't have desserts—"

"Nevermind. Do you have any other ideas?"

Kosuke lets the rest of the fury out like a deflating balloon. Sheepish (but not apologetic), she looks back down at her ruinous set of ingredients and taps her foot. "No…there's no way I can make it without ruining it, I know it. Why did I even think I could try…?"

What he does understand is that this is genuinely upsetting to her, so he does try to help in spite of how puzzled he is. "Perhaps you could just explain you didn't make a dessert for safety reasons?"

With that comes another flat look—probably preceding another rant, this one about how her inability does not excuse how unacceptable it is to not have a dessert—that snaps into something else. Kosuke's eyes are round as saucers at him.

"Is there someth—?"

"Kyoya. Wash your hands. Now."

"No, fold it. Fold it!"

"I am folding it."

"No, you're mixing it!"

"It's the same thing."

"No, it's not!"

"Here, you show me how to do it, then."

"No! I can't touch it! Just…don't go in circles like that. Circle-and-flip. Circle-and-flip."

Kyoya takes a deep breath through his nose, but obeys. Kosuke nitpicking his every movement isn't fun. Having a spot of chocolate on his shirt cuff, despite his best efforts, isn't fun. Wearing an apron three sizes too small for him isn't fun. But he's going to do this, because the Suzukis would likely appreciate it if he helped their granddaughter not have a meltdown. (They'd been none the wiser when Kyoya returned to explain he was going to be helping for a minute.)

Kosuke stands behind some invisible shield, fidgeting so much she's practically tumbling in place. Twisting her foot, pulling on her fingers. The only time she stops is when she seems distracted by something—a faraway glaze in her eyes until she snaps out of it.

It's impossible not to notice, but Kyoya doesn't think she's grappling with whether to tell him or not. If she wants to say something, he thinks, then she will. Which she does, not five seconds after that thought.

"So how did it go?"

Kyoya keeps mix—folding as he answers, "Very well, I would say. Your grandparents are very welcoming people."

"Yeah?"

"I am going to have to repay them, though. A bouquet isn't nearly equal to the work they put into their gifts."

"Gifts? What gifts?"

Kyoya pauses. "The sweater and the watch. You didn't know they made those for me?"

"No, I didn't." She gestures for him to keep going. "I guess I'm not surprised, though. I wouldn't worry about trying to repay them, though."

"It's more than just repaying them." He sighs. "I'm afraid by not matching their level of energy, I'm coming off as cold."

"What do you mean, 'level of energy'?"

"As I said, they're welcoming. Astoundingly so. They said I'm already family now."

Saying it out loud almost puts Kyoya into another befuddled stupor, but he keeps himself out by focusing on his circle-and-flip. "Does this look right?"

He turns to let Kosuke look at the batter, but the look on her face makes him forget it entirely.

Kyoya thinks for a moment that the scowl marring her face is directed at the batter. Then he realizes she's not exactly seeing it—the heat in her eyes has nowhere to fire, so it just smolders in her pupils.

When she says, "That's good" and reaches for the floured molds, Kyoya almost feels guilty for noticing how her voice is strangled—she's trying to hide it.

Now Kyoya considers himself a very smart person, but even a simpleton would realize the obvious connection between this sudden anger and the talk of her grandparents. But even a genius would never deduct how that anger could be at people so hospitable.

He waits until the molds are filled and in the oven before he takes his shot. "I can't help but think there's something about your grandparents that you aren't telling me."

She's embarrassed, but not surprised. She finally comes closer, deeming her presence safe now that the cakes are in the oven, and leans her back against the counter. Even after cooking an entire meal single-handedly, she hadn't looked the slightest bit tired. Now she is exhausted.

"It's going to be a lot," she warns, "but trying to keep it a secret is stupid."

Kyoya folds his arms and waits.

She braces herself, and speaks.

"The reason I haven't mentioned my grandparents before is because I only met them recently. Apparently, when my parents divorced, my mother didn't just leave Shigeo. I hardly knew a thing about them when they reached out."

It takes a second to process, for this reason: "But the way your grandparents act, it's so—"

"Chummy?"

"I was going to say 'familiar.' You seem very close despite having just met."

"We're not, though. It's…" She shakes her head. "Ugh, I'm getting so upset over nothing. Just forget it."

"Perhaps I can't quite grasp why being unable to bake a dessert is so dire—"

"It's unacceptable—!"

"—but I've found that—even if I can't necessarily follow it—you do always have a reason to be upset. I can also tell that this is deeply upsetting to you, more so than baking lava cakes."

She fidgets. Clearly she'd hoped he'd grant her silent plea to drop the matter, but Kyoya feels fairly confident that talking about it (however ugly 'it' is) will give her some peace.

Though as a side note, he wonders when he started to care about giving her peace. Maybe this is me repaying her for the night at the gallery?

"They're nice," she grits out at last, so utterly frustrated with herself. "They are so, so nice. They're sweet and caring and the kids already love them so much and I can tell that they really are happy that we know each other now." Her eyes squeeze shut. "But it's just too much. They call me their granddaughter every other sentence, they want to know about my friends and my classes…any time I so much as hint that I'm having a problem, they want me to talk to them about it."

She glances at him, almost apologetically. "And they kept saying over and over how excited they were to meet you, when they'd only just met me."

Kyoya had left the sweater and the watch behind, but he can still see them vividly. To Kyoya, Our Family, Our Son.

The kindness of the Suzukis was amazing, truly endearing, but also…overwhelming. Kyoya understands Kosuke's turmoil perhaps more than she realizes, because he feels choked by their welcoming arms, but why should he?

"I'm just offering an idea," he says, and Kosuke looks at him head-on, "but perhaps they're just eager to make up for lost time. They're obviously joyous to have you as a granddaughter, and don't want you to feel like you're a stranger to them. Which isn't to say you're not allowed to be overwhelmed, but their intentions seem sincere."

"I know, but…" Here she takes another deep breath, this time leveling her hands out, calm down. "It's more complicated than that."

This time Kyoya says nothing, because now Kosuke looks nothing short of pained. Did he look so agonized when he talked to her at the gallery? Perhaps they are more alike than Kyoya had thought.

"Again, this is going to be a lot, but…The fact that my mother completely cut ties with them, and never talked about them, says to me that something bad happened. I've tried to get them to talk about it, but we either get interrupted or they change the subject. I don't know if all this kindness is an act, or if they really are just good people and it's painful for them to talk about. So it's not just that all this instant affection is too much, it's that I'm wondering if I'm being tricked or something."

It's complicated. Very much so, all at once. Not to mention this is the most forthright Kosuke has been about herself yet, and isn't it always strange when you've known someone for a while but then you finally have your first meaningful talk with one another?

Kyoya would have been speechless, if Kosuke hadn't continued not three seconds later, "I just get paranoid sometimes. Everything's fine! I'm fine!"

Despite how utterly out-of-place he feels, Kyoya replies, perhaps because he needs to repay her a bit more. "I'm not sure how to advise you. This doesn't have an easy answer, I think."

"You don't need to—I don't need advice. There isn't a problem."

"But," he stresses, not to kick her while she's down but to stop her incessant sweeping-under-the-rug, "what I can say is that it seems that you've made up your mind already to trust them, at least somewhat. You let your siblings around them, you talk to them about your life, and you didn't just arrange for this dinner to happen, you're cooking for it as well."

Her gaze shifts from her feet to his when he asks, "Do you think that maybe you're not second-guessing yourself so much as embarrassed that you didn't 'last longer'? That maybe you have decided to trust them, but did it too quickly?"

For a moment, he imagines that if he were talking to anyone else he knew, that they would be boggling at him as if he was speaking in tongues. Kyoya Ootori, offering advice on how to deal with emotions and familial issues.

Yet Kyoya stuffs that embarrassment down, again for some reason he can't exactly place. Maybe, maybe, he's growing more accustomed to Kosuke than he'd realized. Maybe their relationship has changed its place on the spectrum, sliding further away from acquaintance and closer to friendship.

Just—not friends. Because a few pleasant conversations and exchanging advice doesn't mean friendship. It takes more than that. Probably.

Kyoya settles on kinship instead, not friendship so much as relatability—and then he snaps out of his mental rant to focus more on Kosuke, who is now twiddling with her fingertips with a face that has eased from pained to tired.

"Maybe?" she offers. "Maybe that's it. I do like them. I guess I'm just scared about being wrong."

"I can only offer an outsider's perspective, but as I said, they do seem genuine."

She opens her mouth to speak again, pausing. "I decided that I was going to give them a deadline of sorts. If they don't talk about what happened with my mother by then, then I'll demand it. I guess the fact that I'm giving them a chance at all says something."

He says nothing more, but he wishes he could. An unexplained fallout with her deceased mother is just such a beast of an issue, he has no idea what he could possibly say to help. He can't even wrap his own mind around it, let alone try to help her do so.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. Just—" She pushes herself off the counter, brushes the immaculate front of her apron. "Just don't worry about me too much. It really isn't that big of a deal."

Kyoya frowns; not that he was smiling before. "It's a very complex issue, it's perfectly understandable to be conflicted—"

"But it's not. A complex issue, I mean. An issue. I'm just—being weird. So don't—Oh no!"

Kosuke starts flitting about, from the carrots to the rice to the oven mitts so she can take out the Cornish hens. "Ah, I got distracted! I've been letting the food sit here and get cold! Can you go tell them dinner is ready?"

He does, apologetically interrupting Sugimoto's explanation (the latest of many, it sounds like) of the difference between cross stitch and embroidery to his wife, and agreeing that it would be best for them to fetch Minami rather than himself. Yet every step he takes through the cozy house, he can't shake this bothersome feeling Kosuke had left him with, dismissing their entire conversation. Not because Kyoya feels annoyed at being undermined, but concerned for her and only her, which he thinks is a perfectly normal feeling to have to someone you have a kinship with.

Despite it, he doesn't resuscitate the conversation when he returns with the others not far behind him. She seems to have recovered anyway, so without further ado they are all seated at the dinner table, Kosuke and Kyoya sit on one side, Airi and Sugimoto at the heads, leaving Minami alone on the other side. One second she's sitting across from Kyoya, and the next she's sitting across from Kosuke, so quick and quiet Kyoya questions his own memory. Kyoya sees how Kosuke's lips purse, and hopes she isn't holding it against the little girl too much. Kyoya can better his first impression later; the dinner table isn't the place to do it.

Before anyone has even had the chance to reach for a spoon, Sugimoto exclaims, "So now that you two are finally here together, I want to know about the wedding plans!"

It's almost as though Kyoya has some X-ray vision the others don't, as he sees the broken innards of Kosuke's smile. "I told you, we really haven't made any plans yet."

"Is that the truth?" On the other side of the table, Airi winks. "Or are you just trying to keep secrets?"

They're good people, Kyoya decides…but terribly naïve, knowingly or otherwise. To not see how they're moving too fast for Kosuke to keep up with is one thing, but to tease about it?

Because he is the only person who can help, Kyoya answers this time, smiling politely, "We honestly haven't. I'm afraid we've both been quite busy."

"That's true. It's not easy work." Sugimoto spoons carrots onto his plate. "But you let us know if you two need help with a single thing."

"Of course." Kyoya doesn't spend long looking for a new topic. One is quite literally hanging over his head. "I meant to ask, did you have an artist commission this?"

Bullseye. Airi glows like the sun, and jumps forward as if she's going to pull the iron chandelier down for him to get a closer look. "I did that myself!"

"You did? How did you do it? It's a very complex design."

"Oh, iron is always tricky to work with. I can't really melt it, see, I can't pour it into a mold like other things. You have to really get at it with a hammer, and that takes a great deal of time…"

Kyoya takes his first bite of Cornish hen as she speaks, and he dares not interrupt, but he could very confidently say that it's one of the best things he's ever tasted, and he's fine-dined all over the world, in places where the food is so revered that they sell single bites for thousands. So while he remains silent, he tries to sign to Kosuke his praises. For all the distance between them, Kosuke is without a doubt her grandmother's granddaughter, blushing into a mirror image of the woman across the table.

The rest of the night carries on, with talk of school and hobbies, a few more awkward inquisitions, Minami not saying a word unless spoken to, and when finally the lava cakes come out of the oven, Kosuke nearly collapses in relief when the insides hold molten chocolate and not poison.

Throughout it all, Kyoya is…guilty. Because even though he knows of Kosuke's discomfort (even if she wish he didn't), he finds himself enjoying it all, which surprises him to no end.

After he's left with many thank-yous and promises to return (and in Minami's case, a mumbled "bye"), Kosuke calls him, asking if he could please keep it a secret that he met Kosuke's grandparents, because even though the dinner was so Kyoya could meet them and her siblings, Shigeo might be upset to know he was left out.

It's curious, but Kyoya doesn't think much of it. When he returns home, he puts the sweater away—it won't be until well into winter that he can wear it—but leaves the watch at his bedside so he won't forget to put it on come morning.