fic: On A Champagne High
May. 31st, 2009 08:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: On A Champagne High
Series: Ouran
Character/Pairing: onesided!Kyouya/Tamaki, Tamaki/Haruhi
Summary: Kyouya, like any good best man, fixes the tie of the groom on his wedding day. Onesided Kyouya/Tamaki, implied Tamaki/Haruhi.
Rating: PG-13 for the nature of Kyouya’s thoughts.
Word count: 1,115
A/N:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic: Kyoya/Tamaki, now he's getting married and there's nothing I can do about it. The title comes from the song Champagne High by Sister Hazel.
--
Everything is draped in white in the perfect Western wedding. Kyouya sips at the champagne and feels a part of himself dissolve with the bubbles hitting the roof of his mouth. White roses, white dresses, even Tamaki’s tuxedo is white. He is the only one in black, as if he were going to a funeral and not a wedding.
Tamaki primps himself for the happiest day of his life and Kyouya watches. His glass is near empty now. He’s never liked champagne much, but it is expected for him to down it, so he does. Still, Kyouya limits himself at one glass even if more sounds tempting. Control is of the essence. To lose it would be unthinkable.
They are in the back room and he can already hear chords being practiced on an organ in rooms past. A grand cathedral with stunning stained glass, the light that poured through in dappled colors, the priest in his elegant garb. Surely there will be gilded trumpets and doves released and a rain of rice scattered over them. It is all out of a fairytale, and Tamaki wouldn’t have it any other way.
Kyouya knows that Haruhi will be less thrilled by the prospect of such a noisy wedding, but she’s known Tamaki long enough to simply sigh and take his eccentricities.
Kyouya sets his glass aside. He pushes up his glasses and makes those last steps to Tamaki .Despite his care, Tamaki never could get the knots of bow ties and ties done correctly. It was always Kyouya’s skilled fingers who twisted the material properly for him.
“Your bowtie is crooked,” Kyouya states.
“Oh, thanks, Kyouya!” Tamaki practically chirps. He is effervescent in more bliss than Kyouya has ever witnessed in him before. Considering Tamaki, this is saying something. He hums as he attempts to readjust it.
Surely the twins are up to something out there, and Mori will stand beside Honey as still as a suit of armor. At the end of the hall will be Haruhi, in her mother’s wedding dress. It’s all so damn perfect, Kyouya can’t stand it.
Kyouya is selfish. Tamaki is the only one who he’s ever truly giving to, and not all of those reasons were unselfish ones – most of them were for his own reasons. When it comes to Tamaki, he always has a reason.
He thinks of pushing Tamaki against the wall and kissing him there. He thinks of pulling that tie off and licking up Tamaki’s neck, of pulling off the buttons one by one. He thinks of his hands twisted in those golden locks, pushing Tamaki’s head down. What a confession that would be.
It wouldn’t be one of those dramatic declarations of love mid ceremony (the priest asks if there is a reason why this marriage should not be and the lover runs in at that last moment).
And if someone caught them, all the better. Kyouya is in the mood to get caught, or perhaps more precisely, he is in the mood to be destroyed. He has been so tangled up in Tamaki these years, he can barely think of what it will be to be separate. For years they have been two sides to the same coin and now losing him is like losing a limb.
Kyouya didn’t realize how deep Tamaki had gotten to him. Only now, only today does he fully know. He remembers nicknames and the way Tamaki in all his idiocy wore away something pristine, a barrier that Tamaki hadn’t felled, but slipped beyond. He remembers pressing Haruhi down, as a lesson for Tamaki. He remembers balls and being ‘Mommy’ to Tamaki’s ‘Daddy’ and every time she found out his real reasons. Did she know, even now? She is a very shrewd girl. Maybe they all know and Tamaki is the only one that doesn’t know that his best man is in love with him.
“Your bride is waiting,” Kyouya says and his face is as blank as his voice. He’s good at this, hiding whatever feelings come up. He’s always been the perfect managerial kind in this respect.
“You always used to fix it for me,” Tamaki says, thinking back. He tugs at his tie again and only manages to make it worse.
Kyouya sighs again and straightens it. His hands linger there, at Tamaki’s neck. Kyouya thinks of pulling that bow tie off and binding Tamaki’s wrists with it. He thinks about writing his name on Tamaki’s skin, a tattoo with ink so deep he will never be able to wash it off. Kyouya is selfish. He thinks of stealing away the groom and taking him off to some far off place. Marseille, perhaps. He could locate a townhouse in the best district. Then Tamaki would be with his mother and that’d make him happier than Haruhi ever could.
He doesn’t hate Haruhi. He respects her but a part of her sees her as a rival and quite a worthy one. But it is dangerous to be a rival of Ohtori Kyouya. Perhaps if it was any other person, he would’ve fought as ruthlessly as possible but Tamaki has always been his one point of unselfishness. This is why instead of pressing him back, kissing him, conquering him and taking Tamaki as his own he steps back. He lets Tamaki slip out of his grasp.
Tamaki looks back expectantly, his expression like a young, pouting child.
“Aren’t you coming? I can’t get properly married without my best man by my side!”
“I’ll come in a moment,” Kyouya says.
Kyouya is nothing if not composed.
Kyouya removes his glasses, the very picture of control as he rubs them clean and counts down until the wanting has waned to a manageable point. He thinks sour grapes thoughts: love was a distraction he couldn’t be bothered to have. A relationship with a male would have caused scandal if it had been found, nothing good could come of it. It is for the best. It is for the best.
With that he walks of to watch his closest friend, the man he loves get married to another woman.
Series: Ouran
Character/Pairing: onesided!Kyouya/Tamaki, Tamaki/Haruhi
Summary: Kyouya, like any good best man, fixes the tie of the groom on his wedding day. Onesided Kyouya/Tamaki, implied Tamaki/Haruhi.
Rating: PG-13 for the nature of Kyouya’s thoughts.
Word count: 1,115
A/N:
comment_fic: Kyoya/Tamaki, now he's getting married and there's nothing I can do about it. The title comes from the song Champagne High by Sister Hazel. --
Everything is draped in white in the perfect Western wedding. Kyouya sips at the champagne and feels a part of himself dissolve with the bubbles hitting the roof of his mouth. White roses, white dresses, even Tamaki’s tuxedo is white. He is the only one in black, as if he were going to a funeral and not a wedding.
Tamaki primps himself for the happiest day of his life and Kyouya watches. His glass is near empty now. He’s never liked champagne much, but it is expected for him to down it, so he does. Still, Kyouya limits himself at one glass even if more sounds tempting. Control is of the essence. To lose it would be unthinkable.
They are in the back room and he can already hear chords being practiced on an organ in rooms past. A grand cathedral with stunning stained glass, the light that poured through in dappled colors, the priest in his elegant garb. Surely there will be gilded trumpets and doves released and a rain of rice scattered over them. It is all out of a fairytale, and Tamaki wouldn’t have it any other way.
Kyouya knows that Haruhi will be less thrilled by the prospect of such a noisy wedding, but she’s known Tamaki long enough to simply sigh and take his eccentricities.
Kyouya sets his glass aside. He pushes up his glasses and makes those last steps to Tamaki .Despite his care, Tamaki never could get the knots of bow ties and ties done correctly. It was always Kyouya’s skilled fingers who twisted the material properly for him.
“Your bowtie is crooked,” Kyouya states.
“Oh, thanks, Kyouya!” Tamaki practically chirps. He is effervescent in more bliss than Kyouya has ever witnessed in him before. Considering Tamaki, this is saying something. He hums as he attempts to readjust it.
Surely the twins are up to something out there, and Mori will stand beside Honey as still as a suit of armor. At the end of the hall will be Haruhi, in her mother’s wedding dress. It’s all so damn perfect, Kyouya can’t stand it.
Kyouya is selfish. Tamaki is the only one who he’s ever truly giving to, and not all of those reasons were unselfish ones – most of them were for his own reasons. When it comes to Tamaki, he always has a reason.
He thinks of pushing Tamaki against the wall and kissing him there. He thinks of pulling that tie off and licking up Tamaki’s neck, of pulling off the buttons one by one. He thinks of his hands twisted in those golden locks, pushing Tamaki’s head down. What a confession that would be.
It wouldn’t be one of those dramatic declarations of love mid ceremony (the priest asks if there is a reason why this marriage should not be and the lover runs in at that last moment).
And if someone caught them, all the better. Kyouya is in the mood to get caught, or perhaps more precisely, he is in the mood to be destroyed. He has been so tangled up in Tamaki these years, he can barely think of what it will be to be separate. For years they have been two sides to the same coin and now losing him is like losing a limb.
Kyouya didn’t realize how deep Tamaki had gotten to him. Only now, only today does he fully know. He remembers nicknames and the way Tamaki in all his idiocy wore away something pristine, a barrier that Tamaki hadn’t felled, but slipped beyond. He remembers pressing Haruhi down, as a lesson for Tamaki. He remembers balls and being ‘Mommy’ to Tamaki’s ‘Daddy’ and every time she found out his real reasons. Did she know, even now? She is a very shrewd girl. Maybe they all know and Tamaki is the only one that doesn’t know that his best man is in love with him.
“Your bride is waiting,” Kyouya says and his face is as blank as his voice. He’s good at this, hiding whatever feelings come up. He’s always been the perfect managerial kind in this respect.
“You always used to fix it for me,” Tamaki says, thinking back. He tugs at his tie again and only manages to make it worse.
Kyouya sighs again and straightens it. His hands linger there, at Tamaki’s neck. Kyouya thinks of pulling that bow tie off and binding Tamaki’s wrists with it. He thinks about writing his name on Tamaki’s skin, a tattoo with ink so deep he will never be able to wash it off. Kyouya is selfish. He thinks of stealing away the groom and taking him off to some far off place. Marseille, perhaps. He could locate a townhouse in the best district. Then Tamaki would be with his mother and that’d make him happier than Haruhi ever could.
He doesn’t hate Haruhi. He respects her but a part of her sees her as a rival and quite a worthy one. But it is dangerous to be a rival of Ohtori Kyouya. Perhaps if it was any other person, he would’ve fought as ruthlessly as possible but Tamaki has always been his one point of unselfishness. This is why instead of pressing him back, kissing him, conquering him and taking Tamaki as his own he steps back. He lets Tamaki slip out of his grasp.
Tamaki looks back expectantly, his expression like a young, pouting child.
“Aren’t you coming? I can’t get properly married without my best man by my side!”
“I’ll come in a moment,” Kyouya says.
Kyouya is nothing if not composed.
Kyouya removes his glasses, the very picture of control as he rubs them clean and counts down until the wanting has waned to a manageable point. He thinks sour grapes thoughts: love was a distraction he couldn’t be bothered to have. A relationship with a male would have caused scandal if it had been found, nothing good could come of it. It is for the best. It is for the best.
With that he walks of to watch his closest friend, the man he loves get married to another woman.
