Chapter Text
Knock, knock, knock, and somehow it sounds aristocratic against the cheap door of a uni student dorm.
It slowly opens, revealing a raccoon-like woman in her dad’s comfiest.
“Kyouya-senpai?”
“Hello, Haruhi.”
“Hello? Are you okay?”
“Perfectly fine, thank you. Yourself?
“I’m…fine.”
“I am glad to hear it. Teach me how to drive.”
“…”
“…”
“Sorry, Kyouya-senpai, I thought I heard you ask me to teach you how to drive.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Of course, you didn’t ask me to teach you how to drive.”
“No, I told you to.”
“Oh, haha…what?”
“Haruhi, I hope you will consider this. All my drivers are actually my father’s, and I have found I don’t strictly need one nor do I wish to hire one out of pocket. Moreover, I need to take this step towards independence from my family, I just need you.” He suddenly coughs. “To teach me, I need you to teach me.”
“Wait wait wait wait— Senpai, you can’t drive?”
“Yes, I can’t.”
“…”
“…Fujioka?”
“You can drive.”
“What, are you trying hypnosis, this early on? It won’t work on me.”
“No, I mean you can already drive!”
“Oh? Why didn’t you tell me, I wouldn’t have come all this way. Haruhi,” he interrupts himself before she can, “have you ever seen me drive?”
“Yes!”
“When?”
“Last Saturday, you drove, we all drove!”
“Last Saturday, when we went go-karting.”
“Yes! We…you…” Haruhi loses her righteous steam as she comes to a realization. “Oh. I saw you drive a go-kart. I’ve never seen you drive a real car. You can’t drive?!”
“Haruhi, this is out of character,” he takes off his glasses and elegantly scratches one eye. “You’re being very silly today.”
She shakes her head, wide-eyed. “You have four cars and you can’t drive any of them, senpai, that is even sillier.”
“Indeed,” he puts his glasses back on, “you speak to the town idiot.”
“Why can’t you drive?”
“I never had to.”
“Oh. I can’t believe that didn’t occur to me.” She doesn’t say rich bastard, but he’s glad to be able to read it in her face all the same.
“Yes. Isn’t that a good reason to not know something? Can you perform brain surgery?”
She laughs a little in surprise, he hides his smile in his scarf. “You just assumed I can’t, how rude. I won’t answer that.”
“I actually wanted to know, but okay.”
“Well, you just open the head and fix whatever’s wrong. Can't be that hard.”
“You could do it if you put your heart to it.”
“Yes. Carry that philosophy to your driving.”
“I intend to. Brain surgery and driving are the perfect fields to apply our newly found can-do spirits.”
“Very low stake fields. Hardly any deaths.”
“Virtually none."
"Many more lives saved."
"And that’s just from my driving. Still, doesn’t hurt to take some lessons.”
“You’re very humble.”
“You’re only noticing.”
She simply grins, and Kyouya kind of loses the thread of his thoughts. Then he grabs it before it flies too far away, and with a slightly more frazzled than elegant inhale, asks:
“So, will you?”
“Will I what? Oh. No, I am not interested.”
“Why?”
“I’m very busy.”
“On holidays?”
“Yes. Work. My dad. There are schools for this, you know?”
“I don’t want to go to a school.”
“Why?”
“Busy. Very.”
“On holidays?”
“Yes. This and that. Evildoings. Plus, driving lessons with you— My schedule is bursting at the seams.”
Haruhi crosses her arms, looking like the woman she is.
“Kyouya-senpai, this is a little annoying. You just assumed I have nothing better to do.”
“I value your time. Name your price.”
“My price is crazy. Very high demand. Not even you can pay it.”
Ootori Kyouya, unprepared for a negotiation? Not in this lifetime. As always, he starts with the offer whose only purpose is to be rejected so she can feel like she won when she finally gives in.
“How about this, a lunch per hour wage. Each hour you dedicate to making me a good driver, one lunch paid at uni. You can pick whatever you like.”
“Pathetic offer.”
“February is tuna month.”
“I—I accept.”
Kyouya looks away and coughs something that sounds like, “Cuna hut.”
“What did you cough me?”
Kyouya looks straight at her and enunciates, “Tuna. Slut.”
Haruhi bristles, it’s fun.
“I will stretch out your lessons so much, Kyouya-senpai, you will die having never touched a driving wheel, and I will die fat with tuna.”
“Obviously, it is only logical for you to do this. Not to worry, I have a counteract to the temptations generated by the wage system.”
“Which is?”
“I will behave very poorly.”
She tilts her head, and as always, takes everything he says seriously in the same breath she uses to wilfully miss the point. “I believe you’re incapable of behaving poorly, senpai.”
“How nice, and at the same time, how wrong.”
“You’re the nice one.” And Haruhi smiles that Haruhi smile, a smile he hadn’t seen in a while. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Kyouya won’t say he had missed it. But he won’t say he didn’t not do the opposite of missing it.
“You still think I’m nice.”
“You still think you’re not.”
“I know so.”
“…You know, senpai, I got to meet a lot of people here. All kinds of people—rich, poor, lazy, hard-working, gentle, rough. You are nicer than all of them.”
Kyouya sighs, resigned to the effect these words have on him. He just likes that even she can be biased and wrong about everything. That’s all. “As I thought, I’ve caught you on a very whimsical day. Tell me how you want to do this, Fujioka.”
“I can only do Sundays or late nights.”
“Still have to work after my generous bid?”
“Hm. Tuna lunch…is only one of my many extravagances.”
“Yes, I know. Why don’t you marry one of us?”
She laughs. “I can’t tell yet who’s going to be richer.”
Kyouya smiles. “You are.”
“Ha!”
“You’ll have to settle for second best.”
“Maybe even third.”
His heart skips a beat, but it’s just the usual ghost of patheticness that haunts him. Who hears ‘third’ and thinks of himself?
“Whatever. Text me the details, I will be available.”
“For a wedding?”
“Not unless it’s mine. For driving lessons.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you, Haruhi. I will make it worth your while.”
“Okay.”
“I should leave you now.”
“Okay.”
“Stop saying okay.”
“What, forever?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“…”
“…”
“I came all this way.”
“Yes. Could’ve called.”
“But instead, came all this way.”
“…Oh! Then, would you like to come inside for some tea?”
“You’re losing your touch, Natural One,” he says, already stepping into her apartment.