Chapter Text
A/N: I don’t own Ouran. Never have, never will. ;-; I’m just a commoner.
Kyouya Ootori sat at his computer as his fellow hosts fawned over guests (okay, Tamaki fawned over their guests – the others just chatted) and entertained their guests. He overheard his name from one of them, hearing an explanation. “Kyouya is cool, calm and collected.”
Cool. Calm. Collected. Kyouya nodded, sucking on his teeth for a moment. Just another mask in an array that draped over his covered face. Under his hosting and manager mask, the studious representative. Honours student, class representative, risk taker. Under that, his father’s financial manager for one of many dummy companies – or, more well known in the Ootori household, one of the tests. Under that, the Hosts clubs’ odds and ends errands boy – and the imagination of Tamaki Suoh’s personal whipping boy as Kyouya worked long and hard to make every fantasy that came out of Tamaki’s mouth come to life. Affectionately called a ‘miracle worker’… When the temper tantrum subsided. All in all, a display of perfection. Perfect son, perfect student, perfect host. Yet, underneath all that, there was another mask. The last was called ‘demon lord’.
At least, that’s what the Host Club referred to it as. Sometimes, it was “The Shadow King”, or “The Beast”. From his current understanding, it was due to his hypotension, an affliction all Ootori’s held. Excluding Fuyumi but, she was the exception to everything. At least, his mother would tease her about it when she still came down for breakfast and didn’t traipse around the world.
Whatever it was, this sentient being lipped into conversations with a snarky retort or a quick wit, usually filtering into everyday life. The girls he hosted didn’t seem to take offense to the slips, usually finding him even more endearing or amusing. The classmates that did, Tamaki was quick to fix. There was another aspect to it, he knew. Another word that would encompass it beautifully. Tired. Kyouya was balancing on exhaustion, teetering on the edge of burn out.
It was one of the reasons he became interested in budgeting for the Host Club, aside from the obvious need to direct and manage. It hadn’t occurred to him that mental exhaustion might factor in. Yet, he found it less demanding than some of his other extra curricular activities – and yes, there were several of those. As he became an overachiever, he used the same information for numerous activities.
For one, his duty of vetting potential clients to scope and decline invitation to the Host Club (specifically girls that would be worse than dealing with the Zuka Club) also allowed him to monitor these clients, gain their trust and, thereby, their alliances and gauge their usefulness to the Ootori Group. In some cases, he became their confidant. Any blackmail or secrets he was privy to would go on a crypted USB (updated automatically, top of the line, serviced monthly by a discreet IT guy if you paid him upon delivery).
His various spreadsheets included charts for Tamaki when he became too ridiculous to manage, stock market waves, financials for the Host Club (where he spent most of his time having a mental breakdown over Hani’s love of sweets), request averages of each host on a daily, weekly and monthly basis, quarterly reports for the hosts and his own companies, event plans with checklists and notes written on the cells next to completed dates or potential problems, merchandising, his own to do list of homework with extra time for the subjects he disliked most and a spreadsheet with every possible outcome ranging from most likely to least.
His word documents were filled with homework, university essay’s, business proposals, propositions and the scripts for the hosts’ to use if they needed to (Haruhi’s were difficult to write as Kyouya really couldn’t imagine what a commoner’s life would be like).
Funnily enough, it was the e-mails he hated the most. To be more precise, the e-mails in his personal e-mail. The Host Club e-mails were usually Renge’s dojinshi (most of which he rejected on principle), Kaoru’s designs (most approved as usually tasteful), record keeping and keeping tabs and suggestions from their guests (most of which were really just two of the hosts reenacting a love script – which, since it would be lucrative to hint at, Kyouya had read through and stolen a few lines from while he wrote scripts for each of the hosts’ segments such as Brotherly Love – if it were tasteful).
No, his own e-mails were far more depressing, usually containing a few urgent business meetings he had to attend, Fuyumi’s incessant rambling about new commoner things (which, out of the goodness of his heart, he’d reply and try to sound interested despite finding the subject drole) and, worst of all, orders from his father. These orders he hated the most but, since they were far between (for now), he indulged. The second worst would be his ‘pen pals’ – women his father wanted him to get close to for power purposes. Even if he enjoyed the conversations he and these pen pals would share, he’d have to ghost them the second they lost favour.
Kyouya sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as someone tried to gain his attention. Tired. So, so tired. He lifted his head, raising an eyebrow as Tamaki began flailing his arms. He sipped his instant coffee, cold from the lack of attention. All he could hear was gibberish. How did Sheldon Cooper put it? Yes, he could paraphrase. ‘blah, blah, hopeless Haruhi delusion, blah, blah, blah.’. Though, judging by the twins, he’d be saying –
“Mommy! The devil twins are being devils!” Tamaki interrupted Kyouya’s analysis, running by him and favouring the corner behind his desk. His six foot two frame cowered like a child, his blond hair covering his eyes.
“What do you expect me to do about it?” Kyouya asked. His grey eyes scoured the room, noting it must be shortly after five as Mori and Hani would attend Kendo (rather, Mori would – Hani would cheer him on). That left Haruhi and the twins. At this point, Kyouya could pin down the situation almost immediately. What threw him off was Tamaki’s next sentence.
“Mommy, we should do performance reviews.” The pout was evident in the blondes voice. Kyouya forced himself to swallow his coffee, nearly choking on it. Momentarily, he saw his life flash before his eyes. Weeks of research, prepping, charts, averages… Okay, he had a handle on the averages. He tried his best to appear thoughtful as he contemplated how to go about it. How would he even evaluate this? Ever so slightly, clenching his jaw, he tilted his head at the twins who sniggered behind Haruhi, their devilish smiles almost like the Cheshire cats. Symmetrically, they high-fived each other before resting their elbows on the other’s shoulder, their amber eyes closed with their smugness. Kyouya narrowed his eyes, glad that the light blocked the sight. Still, the gears in his mind went.
Probably because the twins numbers increased. Kyouya reasoned. He thought it impressive though, he would not feed their egos with that intel. Based on Tamaki’s reaction, they teased him about being the New Kings of the Host Club. And didn’t consider the consequences of their actions. I’ll make their life hell if I have to live through performance evaluations.
He knew he wouldn’t but still, the thought made him a little happier. Using his middle finger to push up his glasses, he bit down a dangerous smile, holding his tongue. Even if his assumptions were correct 99.9% of the time, he still needed confirmation. Even Haruhi rolling their brown eyes and sighing with exasperation wasn’t enough. A theory was a theory until proven otherwise. “Intriguing. Though, I’m curious as to what brought this on.”
“Your devilish sons swear that they’re better than their father!” Again, with the dramatics from Tamaki. This time, Tamaki had his hands on Kyouya’s shoulders, shaking him. Years of reflex taught Kyouya to try and relax though, he still wasn’t comfortable with being touched.
“What’s wrong, Boss? Afraid we might be right?” Hikaru taunted. Stop, you’re making it worse! Kyouya thought, currently on a seasick ride. Tamaki let go, arguing with Hikaru.
“Our numbers are solid, Boss.” Kaoru explained, offering Kyouya an apologetic smile. “The guests seem to enjoy the new scripts for the brotherly love act.”
“And, there’s nothing wrong with a little healthy competition.” Hikaru added, that familiar mischievous glint in his eye.
“It would help to get some feedback. Maybe do a survey.” Haruhi admitted under her breath, her eyes on the clock. “Self-improvement and maybe we’d be able to cater better to the guests.”
Three. Two. One. Kyouya nodded just as Tamaki chirped up again. “An excellent point, Haruhi!”
“You do realize that a lot of what the Hosts do relies on reading people.” Kyouya asked, trying to divert the work from himself. “We shouldn’t need the girls’ feedback.”
Apparently, he was overruled. Just one more thing. Tamaki, naturally, struck a pose. He rested his hand on Kyouya’s desk, his other hand on his chest as he flung his head back. “Of course we’re naturals at paying the utmost attention and skilled at reading our guests. Each princess wouldn’t be satisfied if we weren’t.”
“Some of us are better than others.” The twins sung together. Kyouya inhaled deeply as Tamaki started arguing with the Hitachiins.
“… Anyway.” Haruhi interrupted before Tamaki could get too deep into the argument. “What do you think, senpai?”
Kyouya tapped his chin as though in thought. Obviously, with the budget the way it was, it couldn’t hurt. Plus, it would assist in performance reviews he’d have to give in the future. Childishly, he wanted to keep it in the future. But, just because he didn’t want to do it wasn’t enough reason. With that stricken, his list of pros outweighed his list of cons. He hoped no one noticed the terseness in his voice. “It would be… prudent.”
“Perfect!” Again, Tamaki sprang to life. “What if we did it in a week from today?”
From the glare echoing in Kyouya’s eyes, Tamaki backed off. The other hosts stepped back. Kyouya shook his head, trying to seem reasonable though, he was seething. “One month.”
“One month? What, too –” Hikaru started. Kaoru covered his twins mouth before he could insult Kyouya. A wise decision.
“If I may, why a month, senpai?” Haruhi asked.
Considering she was pushing, Kyouya tried not to frown. He liked the commoner and, from what he could see, her only reason to push would be to look at the numbers in correlation to her debt. He readjusted his glasses that were slipping down his nose. “If we’re to give surveys to our clientele, we’re going to need to give them time. We should also evaluate an event. Speaking of which –”
“Costumes are done.” Kaoru assured. Kyouya opened another Excel spreadsheet, checking off that item. Which left catering and decorations. Kyouya had already sent the notices, pinned the fliers, confirmed the florists. He wracked his brain, trying to remember if he had gotten confirmation from the cleaning crew and double checked if the caterers were supplying the wait staff. Or, was that for a different party? Did he need security for this one? Probably not. He opened another excel, starting a checklist for the performance reviews and creating a template for the surveys.
“Kyouya!” Tamaki whined.
“Hmm?” He blinked twice, trying to offer the closed off smile.
“Obviously, you’re doing the performance reviews but, who’ll do yours?” Hikaru questioned, brow raising.
Kyouya shrugged. “I’ve got a month to figure that out.”
“Me, of course!” Tamaki inserted.
Kyouya stared blankly at Tamaki. Thankfully, he wasn’t the one to hurt him. Kaoru chimed up. “No way, that’s no fair!”
Realizing Hani and Mori were not aware of the performance evaluations happening the next month, Kyouya texted them. Of course, he’d have to schedule these for after club hours. But, that wouldn’t include the guests feedback which, he’d also need to observe to see how they feel about the situations. And, it’d need to be split into categories of individual and pairing. He was grateful that Haruhi had suggested the survey – it would gift him a feedback loop and reduce the amount of work he’d have to do. Though, of course, he’d have to sit through an act to verify if the comments are warranted. Mori, Hani and Haruhi he could sit through. Hitachiin, possibly, if they didn’t do the brotherly act. Tamaki? A shudder went up his spine. He did not need to be called a mermaid princess at this time of his life.
Another thought crossed his mind as he considered having to sit through. So would his evaluator. Out of all the hosts, his numbers were the lowest as he was more focused on marketing and merchandising. Granted, guests who were new and unsure of which type they liked sat with him and requested him until they were more confident in who they liked which made the private sessions easier to schedule. Shy types tended to Mori, anxious types to Kaoru, types suffering from self-esteem issues… Well, Kyouya would set them with Tamaki who could make them feel beautiful.
That left him with who could evaluate him. Tamaki was out of the question. Ten hours of being told how to host? No, thank you.
The Hitachiin twins were out – both together and individually. If he asked Kaoru, who could keep his mouth shut, there was a chance of Hikaru hijinks. And that spelled disaster.
Haruhi would see his numbers and would criticize that she does more hosting than he. Which, while true, felt like knowledge she shouldn’t have.
That left Hani and Mori.
Hani could be observant yet, it could also go one of two ways. Either he wouldn’t take it seriously and eat cake or he would criticize and chastise. Fifty-fifty. Those were odds Kyouya didn’t like.
His mind settled on Mori. Kyouya could explain the situation to him. The giant had helped him numerous times with checking on the others when Kyouya was occupied. Mori would also stay silent about the number of guests Kyouya brought in. Except, maybe to Hani but, if Mori understood Kyouya’s actual role, Hani would keep his mouth shut. The only question was whether Hani would be okay. Being separated from Mori for… Two hours, tops, since they’d be monitoring guest reactions. The average actual review would be fifteen to half an hour. Though, Tamaki and the twins would extend the average, knowing them. Still, Kyouya’s should only be fifteen minutes. But, what day? He’d have to schedule it and hope that his father wouldn’t send an urgent message to him.
“Mommy.” Kyouya blinked back his thoughts to find no one near him. Cautiously, he turned, finding Tamaki in the corner behind his desk, hunched over. Time was a valuable asset… And expense.
He pushed up his glasses. “Tamaki, the cleaners will be here any minute.”
“So?” The infamous puppy pout. Kyouya turned his back, inhaling deeply.
“So, it’s late. We should be going.” No answer. Kyouya checked the time. Five forty-five. Mentally, he slapped himself. “What did you need.”
All at once, too much energy, Tamaki bounded to his feet and shoved a magazine in Kyouya’s face. “A Victorian-England inspired event! Picture it –”
As Tamaki rambled, his blue eyes glistening with excitement, Kyouya tried hard to keep himself from tearing out Tamaki’s fingernails out one by one. “One event at a time.”
The tears formed in Tamaki’s eyes as Kyouya packed up. He ignored the puppy dog pout, busying himself. Sure that the longer he stayed in the blonde’s presence, the golden retriever would pester him. By the time he stepped out of the school’s double doors, it was five after six. Tachibana stood outside with the limo door open, closing it after Kyouya seated himself. In the confines of the limo, Kyouya leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He needed to finish the survey template, send those out, print off a thousand… No, two thousand, copies for those who didn’t do anything by e-mail or had more suggestions and finish that stupid essay he’d been working on for a week. Oh, and a long distance meeting at two am… Just in time for his seven am wake up to get up and do it again. Tachibana delayed his plans. “Business meeting.”
“Business or business?” Kyouya asked, the latter word dripping with disdain.
“Business.” Tachibana’s also held disdain, echoing Kyouya’s sentiments. Kyouya fixed his hair and changed out of his clothes into a business casual outfit. He noted the coffee in the backseat, sure his second father had given it to him. His eye fell on the bag he carried, a heaviness that he became aware of in the past year. He remembered the words Tamaki used when ushering new clients into the Host Club. “It’s made up of the school’s handsomest boys with too much time on their hands to entertain wealthy young ladies, such as yourselves, with too much time on their hands.”
Not for the first time did Kyouya wonder if he was an imposter. He was a man with no time.
A/N: Okay, I have a theory about Kyouya pushing his glasses up. Index finger is usually delivered by a snide if not condescending comment. Index and middle finger means that he has had to think about the tom-foolery and, though he hates to concede, there is an excellent point made that he now has to consider that he didn’t think about. Middle finger is literally him cussing someone out in his mind while he formulates his thoughts to the best response.