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It was a bad plan. Kyouya realized that almost immediately.
It was hardly a plan at all, really, which was a large part of the problem. Just a flash of an idea that had come to him when Haruhi crashed suddenly through his door running for the toilet. An idea he'd latched onto without much further thought, unwilling to let such an unexpected opportunity slip by if he could possibly use it to nudge things back to normal. Host Club profits really did tend to drop dramatically when interpersonal issues were allowed to run amok, after all.
But it was a mistake. Kyouya knew that as soon as he pulled Haruhi onto the bed, climbed over top of her, and looked down to meet her deep, warm, brown eyes. Had he ever really seen her from this close before? She simply blinked up at him slowly, placidly. There wasn’t a hint of fear or even concern in her face, just momentary confusion before her eyes widened with realization in that way that meant one of her unintentionally devastating moments of blunt insight was imminent.
He mentally braced himself for it and still felt thrown off-balance as Haruhi calmly said her piece. “You won’t do it,” and, smiling as he retreated, “You’re actually a very nice person.”
It was a stroke of luck that Tamaki barged in when he did, both because it forced him to actually speak with Haruhi and settle their inconvenient conflict, and because it gave Kyouya a chance to slip away. Away from Haruhi and her understanding eyes and gentle smile, sitting comfortably on his bed in her thin nightgown.
He didn’t foresee himself sleeping well that night.
Whether or not his questionable plan had anything to do with it, things were distinctly changed - and for the most part, improved - after returning home from the beach trip.
Tamaki and Haruhi were back on speaking terms, and Haruhi seemed generally more at ease among the rest of the club members, less reticent and more willing to be dragged along into some of the more benign chaos that they tended to generate. All of which was, of course, good for business.
There were a few other changes that Kyouya was… less certain about, however.
For one, Haruhi also seemed to be more comfortable around him, which he wasn’t quite sure how to handle. He’d never wanted her to be actually afraid of him, exactly - another reason his ‘plan’ was a poorly considered one; how easily that could have gone wrong… - but he still wasn’t completely settled on how to feel about her losing that subtle, constant wariness when he was around. Now she just sat herself down next to him without any apparent concern, often seeking refuge at his table when dealing with the others became too cumbersome, peeking over his shoulder at his ledgers or idly asking questions about Host Club history and management.
It would be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy the company, but fortunately no one ever asked.
And as for himself, well…
He had long since noticed the ways Tamaki and the twins - and sometimes even Hani-senpai and Mori-senpai - often fell all over themselves to get close to Haruhi, vying for her attention, pushing boundaries, finding any excuse for just a moment of physical contact. He’d always considered himself above all that, never even deigning to touch her beyond something like a brief tap on the shoulder to draw her notice to some important detail, but now…
He remembered the feel of her wrists held beneath his hands, the steady, untroubled thrum of her pulse against his palms as she smiled up at him, and the warmth of her thighs as he pressed his knee up between them, all kept in a brief, sharp moment of startling clarity before he quickly pulled away.
He remembered… and he wanted. Never so obviously as the others, of course, but more and more he found himself seeking out his own excuses. A hand at the small of her back to guide her toward the next table of eager clients awaiting her presence. Fingers brushing against her throat as he adjusted the crooked collar on her latest Host Club event costume. Leaning in just a bit too close to explain whatever old family connection or business-related drama was playing out between the students in front of her today.
All subtle and innocent enough in their crowded club room, and if Haruhi ever even noticed, she made no protest, still seemed just as at ease in his company.
And then came the incident at the shopping mall.
At first, he was too annoyed with Tamaki’s thoughtlessness and then relieved at Haruhi’s timely appearance to truly appreciate the situation, but with some food in his stomach, he settled down enough to really realize that he was, essentially, alone with her, at least in every way that mattered. No Host Club, no other Ouran students, certainly no important associates of his father. No one whose opinion he was forced to care about.
As they left their table, walking side-by-side through the crowds, Kyouya found himself eyeing up other pairs walking together in a similar way, although they often had joined hands or linked arms. He shifted his attention back to Haruhi, letting his eyes linger at the nape of her neck for a moment before dropping down to her hand swinging loosely by her hip. He flexed his fingers, started to reach out…
And then resolutely shoved his hands into his pockets and strode quickly forward, taking the lead on their way to the expo booths.
It turned out there was another opinion he cared about, maybe, somehow, even more than any of the others. And the idea of Haruhi pulling back and rejecting the advance was too much to even consider.
He would need to sort himself out, find the right time, and be direct with her, if he was going to do anything at all.
The festival, after all its many dramatic ups and downs, left Kyouya feeling flush with victory in the end. The Host Club had been saved, his father was impressed in every way he'd hoped - with both Kyouya and the company he kept - and the dance had been… a very nice way to conclude things.
The next few days seemed oddly quiet and peaceful after all that, and it seemed like the right time. As everyone trickled out of the club room one afternoon, Kouya reached out to put a hand on Haruhi’s shoulder.
“Haruhi,” he said, “there’s something I want to talk to you about, if you have a moment.”
Haruhi tilted her head, curious, then nodded and turned around to face him. “What is it?”
He paused for a moment, glancing past her and through the doors to make sure the hallway was largely clear. Then he began to speak briskly. “I’m sure you remember our… unplanned outing together at the shopping mall not too long ago. I was looking over the numbers recently and realized that I never did extract that repayment from Tamaki. Before, I would have simply reduced your debt to settle things, but as that’s no longer a concern…”
Haruhi quickly held up her hands and shook her head. “Ah, you don’t have to worry about that, Kyouya-senpai. I was happy to help, really.”
But Kyouya shook his head in turn. “No, I insist. I prefer to have my own debts cleared as well.” Here he hesitated, a strange flutter of nerves suddenly making themselves known in his chest. He swallowed hard to push them down and continued, as smoothly as he could manage, “I thought perhaps I could repay you with the same favor and accompany you for a meal and event, this time somewhere that I know well instead. This weekend, if you’re free?”
Haruhi blinked at him twice, and the silence stretched on for long enough that Kyouya began to mentally run through all the ways he might believably backpedal, but then her eyes widened in a familiar look of realization.
He braced himself again, but she just smiled and said, “Ah. You mean a date. Sure, I’ll be free.”
Blunt as always, but this time, he didn't mind so much.
Perhaps, in the end, it had been a good plan after all.