Mommy Dearest

His attention was focused upon his host club agenda, and so at first Kyoya didn't notice the crowd of girls blocking the entrance to the third music room. The sea of dresses was so thick he could barely enter the hallway.

“What's going on? Is there some sort of problem?” He began to press through the crowd, but no sooner had he finished speaking then they turned to face them.

Each girl's face expectant; excited. He found himself the center of all of their attention.

Oh, no. They weren't here because...

“KYAAAAAAAAAA!”

“It's him, it's him!”

“Ootori-san is SOOOOOOOO CUTE!”

“WAH, Ootori-san and Suoh-san together, I CAN'T TAKE IT!”

He pressed through the swelling mass of females. It wasn't an easy task considering most of them were reaching forward to touch him or shove love notes into his pockets and hands. Kyoya was thankful for his natural knack for civility. “I am grateful for your attention, but please, the host club is not open yet. Now if you'll excuse me...”

He fumbled with unlocking the door, gave them a quick smile- then slipped into the room and slammed the door shut, locking it immediately. Now he allowed himself to lean against the door and let out the breath he was holding.

It wasn't over yet: they were trying the doorknobs and the force of many bodies shook the doors. He pressed his body against the other side in some feeble gesture to make them stop. “Come back in half an hour! Please!”

Exasperated, he turned his attention to the room. No one was currently in it except for Mori, who appeared to have watched the whole fiasco. He hadn't said a word, but the smile on his face spoke volumes.

“Oh shut up, Mori.” Kyoya watched as the other man shrugged and walk away silently.

He took his weight off the door and paused a moment to make sure it wouldn't come tumbling down. Satisfied, he followed Mori into the back room. The rest of the host club was huddled in this location, changing into today's themed outfits.

“Kyo-chan! We're going to have so much fun today~!” Honey approached. Both he and his rabbit were wearing light blue aprons and he carried a spatula.

“Ah, bakery themed?”

“Mm-hmm! I'm making something REALLY big!” His face shined with happiness.

Kyoya smiled, and went to retrieve his own apron... but his mood soured once he saw it.

“Tamaki, where are you?”

“Ah! Is that Mommy's precious voice I hear calling?!” He emerged from behind a curtain. It seemed Tamaki's idea of chef wardrobe design was much more elaborate, judging by all the utensils and kitchen gadgets spilling out of his apron pocket. He was also wearing a very French, and very fake looking moustache.

Kyoya held up his outfit. “Tamaki, it is embroidered with the letter 'I', followed by a heart, followed by a drawing of your face.”

“Isn't it so cute?! Here, let me help you put it on...” Kyoya sighed and accepted this. At least he didn't have to wear a hat.

“Where is Haruhi at? Have you spoken to her today?”

Tamaki paused in the middle of tying the apron strings. “She's not going to speak to me, remember?” His lower lip wibbled, then he threw himself into Kyoya's arms. “That's why I have to dote on you sooo much today! Right? Right?!”

Kyoya sighed and patted his back. Over Tamaki's shoulder he caught Mori still smirking. *My life must seriously be hell if even he thinks it's funny...* he thought to himself glumly. Or maybe Mori was a dick and he'd never noticed before.

They emerged to face the onslaught of females in their bakery outfits. Kyoya noticed that the twins (dressed as some sort of Strawberry Shortcake abominations) were in a very good mood. He was going to be keeping a very close watch on them.

At least he planned to, but then the doors to the club were opened and the girls rushed in. Kyoya opened up today's request sheet on his laptop, and very nearly dropped his face into the desk. 80% of the clients wanted alone time with him.

“It will... be good for business...” he tried to convince himself through gritted teeth.

*****

An eternity of lusty female faces and evading Tamaki's affections filled his every moment until finally, halfway through the day's meeting, Haruhi arrived.

She had barely stepped into the room before they were upon her.

“HARUHI!” Mustache trembling, Tamaki rushed forward. “You are so late, Daddy was worried! Where on earth have you been?”

Before she could even fully turn to face him, however, she was wrapped in identical embraces. “Do you want some cupcakes, Haruhi? We made them just for you...”

“Huh?” She looked down into a pan of baked goods the Hitachiin twins were holding up. All the cupcakes were arranged in trios: the three of their faces were frosted on top of each set.

“These are so precious.” She smiled. “Much too cute to eat, even.”

Hikaru picked up one (with his face? Harder to tell them apart in frosting form) and pressed it on her nose, leaving some of the sugar there. “Oy, Haruhi, you made a mess~!”

“Poor Haruhi,” Kaoru lamented, “May I get that for you? Ah, but I'm holding this tray with both hands now so I'll have to use my tongue-”

“Cease! Desist!” Tamaki had finally reached them. “Daddy takes care of any Haruhi related messes.” He lifted the corner of the apron to her face. “Come to me, sweetheart, don't let these hormone crazed deviants near you!”

Blinking, Haruhi reached up and wiped off the frosting herself. “It's okay guys, I got it. Thanks for being concerned though.” With an oblivious smile she stepped around them. Three pairs of shoulders slumped in equal despair.

“Kyoya-sempai.” He was currently listening to a customer prattle on about how much she likes glasses, but Haruhi's voice raised him from his daze.

She was coming towards him and waving. A plastic bag swung from one hand. “Kyoya, how is it going?”

With a pleasant face he excused himself from the table, cupped Haruhi's elbow and led her into the back room. Only once they were alone did he allow his expression to change from his normal polite smile.

“It's a nightmare,” he told her seriously. “You don't even want to know how much cake Tamaki has fed me today. I could puke at any minute. And I need earplugs; the constant shrieking by these women is making me deaf.” Kyoya paused long enough to take in her reaction, and he wasn't amused. “Stop laughing! This is your fault to begin with.”

“But!” She covered her mouth from another giggle. “It sounds so entertaining! I'm sorry I missed it.”

“If you're really sorry you'll go tell Tamaki that you won't ignore him any more.”

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “I don't think I'm going to do that actually.”

He returned her look with a smirk and leaned a hand against the wall. “Why not? While you're at it, you could tell him you're in love with him too. Get that out of the way.”

Haruhi's brow furrowed. “Now who said anything about that?”

“Doesn't even need to be said. Which is why our whole bet is ridiculous.” Kyoya's gaze traveled down to her hand. “What is that anyway? Is that why you're late?”

“Oh. Yeah.” She reached in and produced a round, wrapped object. “I got it for you.”

He took it, smelled it, and looked back at her flatly. “This is a WcDonald's burger.”

“It is. I remembered that today was bakery day and that you don't really like sweets.”

“Did you remember that I don't like fast food either?”

She cast her gaze downward. “Yes, but I had to go shopping for dinner with the twins tonight, and afterwards I didn't have enough money for anything else. Sorry!” Haruhi looked back up at him. “At any rate, you wouldn't turn down a meal someone else bought for you. So be thankful!”

“Dinner with the twins?”

“I'm trying to get them on task so they don't fail all their midterms, so I invited them over.”

Interesting. He made a mental note, then took a bite out of the hamburger. It did settle in his stomach easier than all of the cookies from earlier. “Thanks for this. I guess.”

Haruhi started to walk out of the room, then turned back towards him. “So he's been paying a lot of attention to you, huh? Has it made your heart pound yet?”

“I don't love Tamaki, Haruhi.”

“Your apron says otherwise.”

Kyoya sighed. “You can be surprisingly witty, at times. But I'm sure this apron was created purely as an example to you that we are a loving family.” He chuckled. “You should see his notebooks; I don't know if there's a single page without your name written in the margin.”

“Hmm, really?” She decided to press him. “What about your margins?”

His face fell. “What?”

“I mean, who's name is written there? Since you're so adamant it's not Tamaki's, you must have someone else in mind.”

They stared at each other for a second longer than was comfortable, and then Kyoya focused his attention on finishing his hamburger. When he was done, he threw the wrapper away, put his hand on her back and used it to lead her out of the room and back to the host club.

Without looking at her he responded, “I don't write in my margins, Haruhi. I prefer to keep my thoughts in my head, where no one can read them.”