RAWR! Me wants moar OT7!! xDDD Enjoy this non-sensical fic.

To Compensate

Since they couldn't all use her as their date, they compensated.

Sometimes, Tamaki would play the woman, lengthy long legs exposed by a thigh high slit in his favorite red dress, hanging from one of their arms and charming every man, woman and child that they encountered with a mix of subtle charm and flirtatious behavior.

Other times it was Kaoru or Hikaru, never partnering each other and always in some hideously strawberry blond or brunette wig, with made-up faces and tiny shoes. Hikaru did not hang, but floated, stunning the politically correct gentlemen that expected a blank answer from his mouth, and entertaining women with various tales of whoever his date was that evening's childhood; Kaoru, on the other hand, did not float, but glided, more than happy to stay quietly off to the side until he felt the mood was proper to interject into the talk with some suave opening line that often bordered on an insult and a compliment.

Hunny, of course, would be what was commonly referred to as a 'baby-doll-bride', the type that looked too young to be married, but there was otherwise no reason for "her" to be there, so much be despite age/looks. He would always favor a shade of pink, bright and outstanding, and twirl around the room, demanding his date 'dance' with him or else bring him more cake. Several cute-sy, girly giggles were thrown into the mix as well.

For their part, neither Mori nor Kyouya ever played the part of woman. Mori was too tall, too imposing and too manly, and Kyouya was too...not pretty ("Handsome," Tamaki always insisted when he was a little drunk and pushing his fake breasts against Kyouya's front when they finally reached the car. "You're - hic - hansom, mon ami.") Besides, it was mostly them two that invited to such parties to begin with, and that left them with four young men eagerly scrambling to cross dress in order to be their dates, and one - very bemused - woman standing off to the side.

And so it was; since Haruhi was busy or uninterested most of the time, that left lots of room for compensation. And, of course, when her boys returned home - drunk, make-up smeared, tired and itching to get out of their mini-skirts and cocktail dresses - she would welcome them into bed with her textbooks and ask them how it was.

The responses varied. "Great!" "Fucked." "Pretty lame." "Wish you were there." "The moron drank too much." "Last time I ever take you on a date." Hiccup. "Hmm...We'll talk about it in the morning."

And as they had learned to compensate, she had learned to simply. Not. Ask.