Work Text:
The host club is now open.
Like every other week, the members of the Host Club were obsessed with something they viewed as “proletarian”, and by that you could understand : the “king” was being all excited over something completely trivial, and the others were following out of curiosity, if not boredom. Except for Haruhi, of course, the okama made a deal this time to avoid the mess taking place in the fourth music room.
She was watching the disaster from afar, with her usual customers, and she must admit she was having a lot of fun with the show. Their table being the nearest to what was happening they had the best view for the ridiculous show the hosts were making.
In the center of the room, surrounded by their customers, who were giving them encouragement, were the hosts fighting tooth and nail against their task. They were failing miserably. The girls around them were sympathetic to them, calling them on their efforts, squealing with appreciation with each movement from their idols, clapping when something seemed to go right, and were tearing up alongside their “heroes” at each and every failure. It was a complete mess. Haruhi was biting the inside of her cheek to not laugh at the lot of them.
For their part the boys were really trying their hardest. Masculine grunts of exert were falling from their lips. Sweat was falling from their brows. Snides comments, and useless movements, which were usual, were being kept to a minimum. The laters absence was miraculous knowing them. All of that was seasoned with copious amounts of moans of despair, pain, short lived pride, and frustrations. For once they looked like men doing efforts, instead of pampered spoiled boys.
To Haruhi the whole thing was pathetic, but the cumulation of their efforts, and their childish innocence for the whole ordeal was making this mess kind of cute. And wasn’t it something, if the stupid antics of the hosts were making her look at them fondly instead of frustration? She had made a great deal by keeping herself out of this mess though, no matter the boys begging or the hopeful eyes of their customers. She had stayed firm, and was enjoying the result of her resolve.
Until the timer on the table ran out, she wasn’t getting herself dragged in this… whatever they were trying to do, and wasn’t what it was supposed to be. Her customers had tried to convince her, the other girls too, to participate with the other hosts. They were faced with failure themselves. Poor things were not used to being told no. The hosts (even Kyoya!) had tried to convince her to participate before the time was up. She had refused continuously, and was now smiling like a cat who got the cream at what was happening.
She wasn’t sure of how or why but the girls, even Renge, were believing that her attitude was akin to that of a benevolent father, or mentor, helping his charges to learn an important life lesson by trial and error, before showing them the right way. In their words, it was admirable, manly, and moe... How they came up with such an idea was beyond her, and she doesn't want to know how it happened anyway. Rich people were weird.
The timer bell went off rather loudly in the room, and once it stopped its shrill ringing a deadly silence overtook the usually lively room. It was time for the “commoner” to judge the result her fellow hosts got. Haruhi finished her cup of instant coffee without a rush, and rose gracefully from her chair before walking to the thing the boys had built, to pass her judgement with her usual bluntness, and honesty.
What was in front of her was… indescribable, and nowhere near what it was supposed to be. At this point her intervention was going to look like the benevolent intervention of a merciful god. Around her all the girls were holding their breath, and from the corner of her eye she could see Renge, her mike in her hand, and her “this is going to be epic MOE” glint in her eyes. They looked excited and anxious at the same time, which was rather stupid in the okama opinion, rich people were so weird about common stuff… always overreacting. But they think it will make them happy and entertained so...
For their part the boys weren’t looking like their usual cocky happy go lucky self, in fact they looked more like children caught red hands in the cookie jar. Gone was the pride and easygoing smiles, instead she could see shame, red cheeks, and bitten lips of frustration. With a raised eyebrow from her, they let her approche. Mori-senpai picked up Honey-senpai before taking a step back. The usually stoic young man was looking at his shoes in shame from his obvious failure, and his precious cake loving cousin had set his jaw ready to face defeat, a rare serious and mature expression on his youthful face. Something that rarely happens to either of them to show such expressions in front of their clients and friends.
They were fighters to the core, and right now they were facing the humiliation of being weak, something they hadn’t known for years. She knows how prideful men could be, and that the both of them were undefeated fighters.Until now that is.
Takashi was feeling ashamed, he had failed not only his cousin, but the young okama whom he was feeling protective of as well. The task had seemed so easy, and his failure left a bitter taste on his tongue. He was defeated, and he felt like the only thing keeping him rooted at the moment was Mitsukuni. He needed the presence of his cousin to face the judgement of the girl he was holding close to his heart.
Honey wasn’t faring any better. The cake lover was feeling frustrated at himself because not only was he the oldest, but also used to challenges harder than this one. And he still failed. He and his cousin were not really caring about the result of the task, for them the most important thing was Haruhi’s opinion. She wasn’t like the others to them, she didn’t judge them by their family name, their fighting prowess, their fortune, their status as heirs, their tastes in life or even their appearance. When she looked at them, she saw them as they were, and it meant so much for him, for both of them.
To Haruhi the crestfallen look on their face made her want to cuddle with them, but it wasn’t an option at the moment. She would do something nice for them later.
The twins were on the ground, pressed against each other trying to rely on the strength of the other. They were always trying to cause mayhem, to liven things up, make their life enjoyable, but right now the joke was on them, and they felt more alone than when it was just the two of them when they were kids. Because it was Haruhi who was looking at the fruit of their efforts, and they couldn’t bear the disappointment she was going to show them. She was the one who completely broke their bubble after all. For them there was a before Haruhi, and a after her, and now it was a whole world by her side. Neither could really imagine going back to a world where the okama wasn’t a part of it.
For once Haruhi thought they were looking fragile, honest even, not another of their play of benign in forbidden love with the other. How anyone could mistake them for the other, and fall for their embarrassing act was beyond her.
Tamaki, their fool of a king, was clutching a board like it was his precious favorite teddy bear, and like she was going to rip it from him. His eyes were full of tears too, real ones, not the fake ones meant for the customers. He had been so happy to try this new commoner experience, with her and the others. He had been making plans of refurbishing the whole club with furniture made by them after this. And even frame the current project, if it had been a success. It was not, and he looked heartbroken. Usually Tamaki was always moving, always smiling, always bouncing, having ideas, and being excited about anything, and everything. Even when he was being rejected and was wallowing in a corner he was moving and being flamboyant in a way. Now he was still, and it was weird.
Haruhi thought he had never looked so much like a lost little boy, he really took things too seriously.
As for Kyoya… The shadow king who was always collected in front of the customers. The charming young man with a silver tongue. The real reason Haruhi was a host. The only person who drinks instant coffee by the gallon among the hosts, since he discovered how it helps him wake up in the morning far quicker and cheaper than his usual pricey brand, the great mastermind… Was looking dejected after his failure. This young man, who is the pillar of the host club where Tamaki was the heart… was looking furious in his defeat. He was clutching the paper in his hand so hard his knuckles were white, and she was sure his grip was strong enough to leave marks on his alabaster skin.
Haruhi had never seen him lose his composure like that, he looked human for once, approachable even.
All of them were waiting for her to speak, and give judgement. And she wasn’t going to disappoint them in the least, even if they looked ready to break down she wasn’t going to coddle them and have mercy… yet. She was honest, not cruel.
“What is that supposed to be? Modern art?” Her voice was as soft as silk, but her words cut them like a chainsaw. She was honest, not cruel, but oh so very blunt… They should be used to it by now.
Oh their faces! Their pain and humiliation was on full display, and they were moaning in pain as if she had kicked them between the legs. Snowflakes.
Her father was right, a man's pride was his downfall, slapping their ego with words was super effective. As for the customers and Renge, they were gasping alongside the hosts, crying at her words, and wanting to comfort their beloved golden boys, but refraining just barely from moving to hug them to watch the scene before them unfold to the climax. They had never seen a scene like that, it was new, exciting, and in their words “full of moe!”. Renge was practically frosting at the mouth. Somehow she was pretty sure their dear manager was taking pictures like crazy, and would make a more than generous benefit selling them.
She may have looked heartless with her assessment of the result the boys got, but she couldn’t find it in herself to say anything positive about the pitiful heap of boards and screws in front of her. It was already a miracle none of them got hurt with the way they had been going at it with hammers and drills.
She was not their mother after all, and she had no obligations to act like one toward them. But knowing their families, it was maybe better she wasn’t acting like their mothers… Tamaki-senpai calling himself her father was weird enough already. In fact every time she had to face a new member of their family, she felt like she should just change her plans from going to be an attorney like her beloved mother, to be a therapist for the hosts. But that wasn't the subject right now.
They had tried, and failed spectacularly, to build a simple cabinet after all. And the result wasn’t even looking like anything remotely close to a cabinet, or any piece of furniture known to mankind.
“You remember the deal don’t you? You had three hours to build a cabinet between the six of you. The time is up, and this is not a cabinet, far from it. You know what that means.” (they groan in frustration, and in perfect unison, how cute) “Now it’s my turn to try, and you know what I want when I have the cabinet built.” Oh they know, that is why they don’t want to see her succeed where they had failed. The customers however weren’t in the know of the later part of the deal, and were now crazed with the word MOE at their lips, like mindless undead creatures with the word brain in bad zombies movies.
A few steps and she was holding her hands in front of the Shadow King. “The instructions if you please sempai.” The look of utter rage and humiliation in his eyes should have made her recoil in fear for there will be hell to pay for her later. But she wasn’t blind, he wanted to see her do what he wasn’t able to do, it was something he found sexy for some strange reason, seeing her doing something he failed at. That and he was a man of his words, her debt would have to be settled one way or another later anyway.
She then took the tools from the others, not wanting for them to hurt themselves while she worked, and started to dismantle the thing that wasn’t a cabinet after removing her jacket. In a way she was impressed at the boys' result, because it looked like nothing, but in creating this, none of them got hurt. It was a good thing!
It took her a few moments to understand what she needed to do to take the thing apart, in a way it was like playing a twisted form of jenga. But once she got the first plank off, the rest came apart easily. In fifteen minutes she had sent the efforts of three hours of six wealthy, and healthy young men back to the first square. She chose to ignore the customers who were either mewling at the other hosts, or gasping at her dexterity, and pretended manliness. She also chooses to ignore the hosts' laments at the destruction of their result. She had better things to do.
It took her another thirty minutes to finish building the thing: a simple cabinet. She could see the mix of admiration and humiliation in the hosts' gazes. And of course there were the squeals of adulation from the customers, along a row of applause, they made her cringe at the sheer volume they could reach. The deed was done, she got up and put on her customary smile.
“And done! See? This was what it was supposed to look like.” Who would have guessed that building a simple IKEA cabinet was going to be such an herculean task for the future elite of the nation? She was biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing at their reactions. They looked like they were going to worship her like she was some kind of carpenter goddess. The boys still looked pained though, it was time to appease them.“I must admit you did good, for a first try. Sure it wasn’t anywhere near a cabinet, but at least none of you got hurt.” See? She could recognize their efforts.
Until now she had escaped a lot of things: participating in the failed attempt at building the cabinet, being coerced by the clients into joining the masquerade, and putting on another ridiculous costume picked by Tamaki for today’s activity and theme. Now though she wasn’t going to be able to avoid the group hug from the hosts.
She would never admit blushing at being hugged by a group of bishonen in construction workers clothes… Even if they really did look good on them.
Ah Ouran Host Club… This anime is a blessing, a too short one, but a real gem !
I can always count on it to cheer me up everytime I watch it.
I had a lot of fun writing this one. It's short and fun, and nothing really happens but you must admit that there is a good chance none of the boys would be very good at doing something as menial as building a piece of furniture meant for everyday use by most people. Not when they are used to state of the art custom made pieces.
Mori and Honey are probably more used to breaking planks of wood during their training than assembling them to make something. Kyoya probably would have a blue screen over the minimal and confusing instructions which would fuel his distaste, and would probably show something he has in common with his sister (whom we don’t see enough!) The twins may be the most manual of the lot doesn't mean they would understand how to work with the others and get how to build something like a cabinet. They are more fashion and tech oriented than artisanal things. As for Tamaki… just for the fun of it he would try anything if it meant spending more time with his friends. But he wanted to succeed to have another great memory with the hosts.
It is just not how he envisioned it.
What did Haruhi win with her bet with Kyoya? Only the both of them know, but it does not involve a reduction of her debt, just something about costumes apparently.
Thank you for reading !