I had one review for my story Of Piano Keys and Uniforms say that Kyouya would never say the f-word unless he was extremely angry. Personally I thought it was rather funny that someone was so certain they could know what he would say on what occasion, but regardless, I think that Kyouya is someone who would have no qualms about swearing—but probably wouldn't do it in front of the ladies. The same goes for Tamaki, although I don't think he would swear regularly. I just think this kind of situation would be an exception.

If you're going to flame, do it properly and with some class. Don't just say that Kyouya and/or Tamaki wouldn't swear. It doesn't help my overall writing in the least.

Thanks! Praise or flame, I'm grateful all the same!

"Kyooooouyaaaa…"

Kyouya sighed, pressing his lips tightly together in an attempt to control his irritation. "What?" he asked, his fingers never pausing in their furious typing.

"Do you fuck your laptop?"

Never mind that it wasn't physically possible—Tamaki Suou had not just let those words pass his lips.

Kyouya's fingers slipped across the keyboard, resulting in several random letters splayed out amidst notes, statistics and calculations. He shook his head, tapping the backspace key automatically. "I must have heard that wrong. Did you just ask me—"

"Well, I don't know." Violet eyes blinked up at him innocently—too innocently. If Kyouya squinted just a little he could see the laughter in their depths. "You seem to like that laptop an awwwful loooot…" Never let it be said that Tamaki Suou was a bad actor—throughout the entire thing, his face was perfectly straight, despite the amusement and mischief that was swimming closer to the surface of his eyes with each word.

Kyouya sighed, his lips twitching in spite of his best efforts to keep his own face flat and expressionless. "Tamaki," he began, his fingers positioning themselves on the keys once more, "I fuck no one but you. May I get back to work now?"

"Hm." Tamaki curled into Kyouya's side, laying his head on the few inches of Kyouya's lap that were not occupied by his computer. "I suppose so. But you'll have to make it up to me later."

"If only your fans knew you were jealous of a laptop," Kyouya remarked, resuming his typing—one-handed this time, even though it was slower and awkward and frustrating, because the other hand had better things to do.

Tamaki sighed happily at the long, slender fingers combing through his blonde hair, obviously too content to respond to the teasing.

Sometimes Kyouya wondered why he tortured himself like this—taunted himself with happiness and love when he knew it would only be snatched away. He was going to marry a nice, respectable girl who could cook and clean and wouldn't mind having a cold, calculating tycoon for a husband—or perhaps whoever his father chose for him. Tamaki was probably going to fall truly, madly, deeply in love with a beautiful girl who didn't mind his antics and could calm him down without the use of sedatives and could provide him with several healthy, beautiful children, all for Tamaki to spoil and cherish and dote upon.

They were worlds apart, Tamaki and Kyouya—their common ground only uniforms, a club, teenage hormones and a few stolen kisses in dark corners when no one was looking.

They would go their separate ways—Tamaki to his happily-ever-after and his castle in the clouds, and Kyouya to his laptop and calculator. It wouldn't really be so hard to deal with, but Kyouya knew that now that he had had his glimpse of all the things of which poets and bards sang so prettily, it would be hard to forget it all.

Still, for now he would try to define the exact shade of violet in Tamaki's eyes—the words eluded him, slipping through his fingers each time he managed to grasp them—and pretend he knew nothing of what the future had in store for them. For now, Tamaki's hair was very soft, and his cheek was very warm on Kyouya's knee.

For now, he would be happy.