title: December 13th
fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
characters/pairings: Kyouya/Tamaki
rating: G/Teen
warnings: drunkenness, foreplay
summary: Kyouya and Tamaki, by the fire.
notes: for meritjubet, for her prompt for my advent ficalendar. *snugs!!!* ^_^

When Tamaki giggled, he sounded exactly like a six year old girl. Kyouya found that amusing, but he might not be so cavalier if he wasn't a little bit drunk himself.

A little bit. Just a bit. Not very. Hardly at all.

Much less so than Tamaki, who was giggling. Like a six year old girl. And spilling brandy on Kyouya!

"Watch it now," Kyouya chastised him, his tone that of an indulgent nanny. "That's good stuff. Expensive. It's forty-three years old. Do you know what that means?"

"Yeah," Tamaki giggled, putting his head on Kyouya's arm. He looked up at Kyouya adoringly. "It's as old as your dad."

Kyouya shook his head and quietly took away Tamaki's brandy, ignoring his small squeak of protest. No more brandy for Tamaki. More brandy for him.

He sipped his brandy (he deserved brandy because he didn't spill) and stared into the fire. It had been Tamaki's idea to spend a week in the Alps. Tamaki sometimes had good ideas. Though Kyouya's ideas were better. And Kyouya's ideas made Tamaki's ideas work. So.

He won.

Tamaki moaned piteously, like a neglected puppy, and slipped his arm around Kyouya's waist. Ah, his hand was moving up under Kyouya's shirt.

See, that was a good idea, too...

"Kyouya... mon ami... Pourquoi sommes-nous ici?" He had reverted to French. How annoying. And sexy. But mostly annoying.

He jostled Tamaki, and then tapped on his thick head. "Speak Japanese. And this was your idea! It's almost Christmas, so the best place for a bachelor's party is in the Alps, you said. Skiing and drinking and anything else we wanted, surrounded by the purity of... I forget what you blathered on about, something about the snow concealing all or something, anyway..."

"Non, no..." Tamaki shook his head, slipping down a bit. He clung to Kyouya's waistband, and looked up Kyouya pleadingly. "Why are we here? Aren't you going to take me to bed?"

Kyouya set his brandy snifter aside, and he looked down into Tamaki's watery eyes. He sifted his fingers through Tamaki's golden hair, watching the way they picked up and reflected the firelight. Damn him. "But you look so pretty in this light."

Tamaki perked up, as he always did when complimented, and it was good that he was too drunk to object to the use of the word pretty. "Kyouya. Kyouya, why are you marrying that girl? Do you love her?"

He could laugh, but he wouldn't, not right in the face of Tamaki's sincerity. Not everyone had the luxury of building a life with the one he loved in his bed and by his side. This was close enough. He slipped off his glasses, and set them on the hearth. "I love enough about her to be satisfied."

"Kyouya," Tamaki said sadly. "That's bleak."

"Is it?" Kyouya asked, pushing Tamaki down. He was always so easy when he was drunk. Lovely. "Then make it less bleak."

Tamaki had the luxury of love, since he was, by nature, a person of excess. He had enough, then, to share. Tamaki's hands clumsily moved up to take off Kyouya's shirt, and then Kyouya pinned his wrists down. He grinned, and kissed Tamaki, hard.

It was really unfair, after all, that Tamaki looked so damned good in the firelight. Kyouya was allowed a luxury like this, from time to time.