Suns, Sons, and Time

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"You know, your eyes are already bad. They're not going to get any better if you keep stressing the poor things like you do."

Kyouya flicks the eyes in question over the brim of his textbook. Tamaki, sprawled on the couch like a lifeless doll, stares vacantly at the ceiling. Not changing his expression, Kyouya turns back to his studies, crossing his long legs at the knee. "Unlike you, I am preparing for finals. Which are a short week from now, if you weren't aware."

A dramatic sigh deflates Tamaki's chest. Slender fingers thread into sunlit hair, violet irises turning to rest on the other boy as a page is turned in silence. "You've been studying for hours, Kyo. It's not like you need to, anyway. You're a genius."

Scoffing, Kyouya wrinkles his nose before his expression flattens again. He says nothing, because denying it would be lying, and humoring Tamaki would distract him from his studies. Using a curled finger, he shifts his glasses further along the bridge of his nose and brings the book closer, blocking Tamaki from his view. Usually he kept a good distance away from Tamaki when important tests were coming up because the boy was notorious for being a distraction, but due to recent ... developments in their relationship, not only was trying to keep Tamaki away impossible, but now the blonde was convinced that they were required by some unwritten boyfriend code to spend every minute together.

Kyouya pinches his lips and looks over the edge of his book once more. Tamaki has been reduced to pouting to himself, one arm and one leg dangling over the side of the couch toward the floor. Somewhere, a clock ticks. Kyouya counts the ticking in his head as he examines the yellow shards of hair slicing across Tamaki's forehead, and the way his fingers are delicately curled just a breath's width from the floor, the white dip of his neck and -

Huffing, he all but stuffs his face back into the book. No, he tells himself firmly, flipping pages louder than necessary. Just because Tamaki is now his boyfriend - a term that pains him to say aloud or to even utter mentally because it's so elementary - doesn't mean that he pitches his priorities out of the window. Still, Kyouya thinks, eyes slowly drifting over his book and to the still pouting Tamaki, fiddling with his shirt collar, wasn't it now a duty of his to make sure the other boy was happy as often as possible? Kyouya frowns. He doesn't know - this kind of thing doesn't come with a manual. He can't study for How To Be a Good Boyfriend 101.

"Why don't you go play something?" Kyouya grumbles, staring at the words but not reading them. "I'm sure my sister would love it if you taught her one of those commoner games that Haruhi showed us."

"I didn't come here to spend time with your sister. She's lovely, but ..." Tamaki waves a hand high in the air before letting it slap against his chest. Turning his head, the sun from the windows on the far side of the room making his purple eyes glow like Christmas lights. "She's no you."

It was a completely cheesy, cliche, overly romantic, and a totally Tamaki thing to say, but Kyouya still feels a significant amount of blood run to his cheeks. Diving behind the books again, the boy manages, stiffly, "Too bad, Tamaki. I have a GPA to maintain, a father to please, and a future that I don't intend to ruin just because you're bored."

"Speaking of Papa Ootori." Tamaki claps his hands together and gives his long legs a little swing to propel him into a sitting position. Positioning his elbows on his knees, the now softly smiling blonde props his chin in his hands. "When do we tell him about us, hm?"

Kyouya's throat dries up instantly. The book feels heavy in his hands, like the pages had all turned to lead.

He hated thinking of the future. The present was already terrifying enough as it was - he did not enjoy entertaining the daunting task that lay ahead of him, when he would eventually have to tell his father that he planned on living - being - with Tamaki. The boy lets the book slap open on his lap before pressing the heel of his hand between his eyes. His father wouldn't understand. He would get angry. His brothers would be just as awful. If Kyouya was lucky, his father wouldn't disown him completely and he might still have his sister left on his side when it was all over.

"We don't have to tell, Kyouya." Tamaki's voice is soft now. When Kyouya raises his head, he sees the blonde's eyebrows flickering down with concern, hands splayed on his knees. "I was teasing."

"I'm going to tell him," Kyouya says firmly, trying to make it seem like the issue is not as severe as it actually is. He had already made the decision to tell his father the day he had finally accepted Tamaki's offer to be official - whatever that meant. Because he had spent the better part of a year ignoring Tamaki's advances only to suffer alone in the darkness of his bedroom later, insulting Tamaki unnecessarily harshly whenever the opportunity arose to try and drive his affections elsewhere, and even going so far as to take one of the girls who frequented the Host Club on an actual date (which ranked among the top five most horrible experiences of his life and even recalling the incident caused him to want to put a screwdriver into his eye).

Besides, it's not like Kyouya could pretend. Talented and smart? Yes. Calm and collected? Also yes. A good liar? Unfortunately, no. Not even to himself.

Because Tamaki is Tamaki, with his stupid, corny pick-up lines (was that an earthquake or did you just rock my world?) and his subtle, unnecessary touches (Kyouya's hair and his glasses and his hand and his hips and -) the way he always caught the blonde staring at him just like the girls the Host Club entertains (except with actual depth in his eyes, like he had thoughts and feelings and - ) the way Kyouya had never been moved to tears before and Tamaki never failed.

Tamaki's enthusiasm had drawn Kyouya in. His kindness had lured him further. The piano had locked him inside.

It also didn't hurt matters that Kyouya had never found himself privy to relieving his ... urges on his own, mostly because the act seemed vile and never seemed to do much as far as pleasure went, but as soon as he imagined Tamaki putting those talented piano fingers to better use, the art of satisfaction became much more appealing. Kyouya fought this attraction diligently, really, and he thought he earned a gold star for the effort, but Kyouya was not a young man of denial, nor would he waste any more time than necessary dealing with the fact that his sexuality wasn't as rigid as he had been led to believe.

So when Tamaki flourished to one knee in front of the Host Club - to prove that he was brave, that he would tackle any and all obstacles that came their way - Tamaki gathered one of Kyouya's hands and asked him for what felt like the hundredth time to please, be his.

Kyouya had stared at him, open-mouthed, because Tamaki is the only boy who can make him anything but deadpanned, and felt the slender digits of Tamaki's fingers close around his own. His eyes had turned briefly to each Host in turn - the twins bracing for rejection, Honey's eyes glittering with anticipation, Haruhi with her arms crossed and a certain smile on her face that suggested she knew more than she should, and Mori, who was actually watching the whole incident with interest. And he knew that he cared for all of them, that they were the few people in this place that he trusted and could call friends with confidence, but when he turned his attention back to the ever patient Tamaki, who had stopped pursuing women in the hopes that it would catch Kyouya's attention, who had bought him tickets to the opera even though Tamaki hated it and suffered through an entire evening of it while Kyouya sat in awe, who was the first person to thaw out the frozen muscle of his heart and make him feel anything, and he knew that he could not live without him.

To everyone's (except maybe Haruhi) great surprise, Kyouya had accepted, and Tamaki tried to process several emotions all at once - shock, disbelief, acceptance, ecstasy. The result had been Tamaki nearly tumbling right into a seizure.

Kyouya is pulled from his thoughts when Tamaki stands from the opposing couch and crosses the small space between them. Kyouya's thumb follows the edge of the book as the blonde sits slowly, one hand resting tentatively on Kyouya's thigh. Physically, their relationship is still in the process of blossoming, because for all of girls they have wooed in their days, they're still both hopeless virgins. And, since neither had ever hosted a boy, or even considered such a thing before finding each other, it was still uncharted territory and neither were sure how to approach it.

They had time for that, anyway.

"I'm going to tell him," Kyouya repeats, his voice sounding far away. He lowers a slender hand atop Tamaki's and gives it a squeeze, tilting his lap until the book slides free. He stares at their joined hands and knows that this could ruin the already fragile relationship he had with his father, for as the third son, his worth had been diminished by the births before him, and he would never even get the chance to have what they do, and so he relied on being exceptionally successful in other areas. Before Tamaki, that life had seemed like the only option. Before Tamaki, he had accepted that his destiny was bound to be a cruel, empty one, like a forgotten, dry well.

But Tamaki had kicked away the cover and shone down like the brilliant sun he is and once blinded by the light and consumed by the warmth, darkness never stood a chance.

"There's no rush at all, Kyo." The blonde gives a rogue smile. "I could even pretend to be your roommate who shares a bed with ... or just hide beneath the bed if your dad ever came to visit ... or we'll fake my death and then no one will ever suspect that -"

A cool finger pressing against Tamaki's lips stills them. Purple eyes swivel to meet Kyouya's dark ones, and Kyouya is again taken aback with how completely swooned Tamaki is, as if the Ootori boy is a hundred first sons.

"I have spent too much of my life trying to be someone I detest and that has resulted in nothing but self hatred." Kyouya shifts his finger across Tamaki's lips, watching them part with a silent breath, and follows the sharp line of Tamaki's jaw. "I'm going to tell my father about you because you make me someone I don't hate." Kyouya's lips manage to soften into a smile. "I have to make up for a lot of lost time."

Tamaki's eyes are strangely serious, a kind of maturity that is so often absent. "I'll be there with you," he says, and he's not saying it to be sappy and romantic - he's saying it because he actually means it. "Always," he adds, and Kyouya's hand flattens on Tamaki's cheek before drawing him closer. Their lips meet with mutual sharp gasps before they close over one another, the kiss warm and tender, and Kyouya sees all kinds of fireworks erupting behind his eyelids just like the first time and every time after. Tamaki's hands curl around Kyouya's narrow hips, a choked moan sounding somewhere in his throat as he pulls the other boy onto his lap. Kyouya, so revered for his outstanding self-control, can literally feel it slipping out of the holes in his ears as he molds himself closer to Tamaki, feeling the blonde's tongue swipe deliciously over his lower lip. Kyouya pulls back with a gasp that slips into a moan when Tamaki presses his hips upward, an agonizing fire sparking to life in his gut. Kyouya pants loudly, hands fisting into locks of sunny hair as he closes their mouths together again. Teeth nip at flesh, hands roaming wildly over the expanse of their torsos, hips grinding against each other like rocks hoping to bring forth fire when -

"Shit," Kyouya breathes, rolling sideways and scooping his book up with him. Tamaki is left with empty arms, red lips, and a bewildered expression on his face. He blinks slowly at Kyouya, about to open his mouth to question him when Kyouya's sister swings into the room. Kyouya dives behind his book to hide his flushed face and fogged glasses as Tamaki runs his hands over the back of his now very ruffled hair.

"Kyouya, I think it's time for a study break!" His sister smiles from behind the other couch.

"I just had one." Kyouya turns a page. "But take Tamaki with you. He's about to combust with boredom."

Kyouya feels rather than sees Tamaki's eyes shoot toward him, as if saying, yeah, I'm about to combust with something, that's for sure.

"Go on." Kyouya nudges a foot into Tamaki's thigh. "Show her a commoner game."

That lights his sister right up. Tamaki's mood spikes again at her enthusiasm, shooting right to his feet and gathering his sister before heading toward the door. He stops before heading out, making sure Kyouya's sister isn't looking before Tamaki gives the dark-haired boy a wink and a kiss blown from the palm of his hand.

It's cheesy and stupid, but so Tamaki, so Kyouya rolls his eyes and lifts a hand, curling his fingers into a fist to indicate that he had captured the gesture.

With another wide smile and a flurry of yellow hair, Tamaki is gone, leaving Kyouya to feel just a little bit braver with a kiss in his hand.

A/N: I consumed this anime in the course of a day because when I anime, I anime binge hardcore.

Anyway, Kyouya/Tamaki is my OTP and I love them and ;~; Hopefully there will be more of them in the future.

Hope you enjoyed! Review if you did.