AN: Thanks to My Ashland for beta-ing, and Happy Co-Awesome-versary to CatrinaSL!

Disclaimer: I don't own OHSHC. I used to have some sunscreen, but then I gave it to Tamaki so he wouldn't show up in this fic.

It wasn't every day that Kyōya had someone burst into his room while he was wearing only a towel.

The pink blur that ran by could only be Haruhi, but she didn't seem to see him– or if she did, she ignored him as she rushed into his bathroom.

When he heard retching sounds, he grimaced. That would explain her distraction. In other circumstances, he might have been worried for her, but as it was… he hadn't kept his eyes closed at dinner; it wasn't difficult to guess what had happened.

While she was... occupied, he pulled on a clean pair of pants–ones that didn't have any sand in them. He started to pull out a shirt as well, then hesitated. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. He'd been meaning to talk with Haruhi, after all. For the sort of talk he was planning, a little bare skin could help to set the scene.

The sounds from the bathroom finally stopped. He sat and used the towel to start drying his hair. The toilet flushed; he heard the faucet turn on, run for a bit, then turn off again. Footsteps– and at last, an opening door.

"All done?" he asked when she was silent.

"I'm sorry for intruding into the room of a stranger…"

He was both amused and a bit insulted. If he could recognize her when her features were blurred and indistinct, shouldn't she be able to recognize him when he'd simply removed his glasses? They didn't make that much of a difference. Granted, she was the only person here wearing a dress, but he and Mori-sempai were the only ones (other than her) with dark hair. Or did she think that there was anyone else who would both be permitted to stay in an Ōtori house and willing to stay there without any servants? "How rude. It's me."

"Kyōya-sempai?" Before he could reply to this statement of the obvious, she spoke again. "Oh, I'm sorry, I seem to have gotten everyone worried about me."

He glanced at her sidelong. So she'd finally gotten the message. He wondered if she'd actually figured it out, or if one of the other hosts had spelled it out for her. For someone so smart, she could be really dense sometimes. "I wasn't particularly worried," he lied. Of course he'd been worried. She'd gone up there, alone and defenseless, and confronted two men who were bigger and stronger than her. She hadn't stopped for help, hadn't even told anyone what was going on, and she'd gotten herself thrown off a cliff into the ocean. It was a miracle she hadn't hit her head on a rock and drowned. If she had just thought for a moment, gone to Hani-sempai, or to Mori-sempai, or even to him (he did, after all, have a private police force at his disposal) before she ran up to those girls' rescue, someone who knew how to handle drunk, threatening men could have dealt with the problem.

She might have finally understood why they were upset, but she still didn't think she'd been wrong. She didn't understand why she couldn't just go rushing in. She spent her days pretending to be a man, but she wasn't. She was small and delicate, and she never seemed to notice it. He had to make her see, make her understand, or she'd just do the same thing all over again.

He couldn't let that happen. He just hoped she wouldn't hate him for what he did next.

He pushed the towel back off his head and let it hang over his shoulders, then took a drink from a nearby water bottle. "It was hard to stop Hikaru and Kaoru from trying to beat those punks half-to-death, though." Not that he'd tried. Well, not immediately. He made his way to the light-switch. "Also, there was the trouble I went to sending bouquets to the girls by way of apology, after looking forward to coming along on this trip."

"I'll pay for those flowers myself," she said, just as he'd known she would. She wouldn't take it back, but he knew she'd be surprised at the price. She never could wrap her head around how much money the rich spent on everyday things.

"The bouquets cost ¥50,000 per person, so it comes to ¥600,000," he said, and slowly, deliberately turned off the lights. He turned to face her at last. At this distance, he could see her expression clearly. She was confused, perhaps a bit wary, but not scared.

Did anything scare her?

"Why did you turn the lights off?"

He leaned in close, until their faces were just inches away from each other. "If you want to, you could pay for those flowers with your body." He did his best to look intimidating as he said the words, tried not to show the disgust he felt for himself in saying them, even if he didn't mean them.

Before she could respond, before he could think any more about what he was doing, he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to his bed, practically throwing her on top of it. He followed immediately, positioning himself above her on his hands and knees, trapping her there.

There was a part of him that wanted this to be real. Not the extortion, the use of force. But having Haruhi in his bed, lying beneath him and looking up at him with big brown eyes– a part of him would like it if that was real, if it was more than just an act.

He stared down at her for only a moment before speaking the words that would, hopefully, drive his point home. "You should rethink your own gullibility, that things have nothing to do with a person being a boy or a girl. You've made a mistake in leaving yourself so open."

She gasped slightly and twitched, but she didn't pull away, didn't try to fight him, didn't even look scared.

"Kyōya-sempai, you won't do it," she said confidently. He pulled back slightly in surprise. "I mean, there isn't anything to be gained by getting into it with me, right?"

He very nearly laughed; he did smile. "True enough," he admitted, then sat up, pulling away from her completely and grabbing his glasses before sitting on the edge of the bed. "You are indeed fascinating." Yes, that was the word. Fascinating. She was confident he wouldn't attack her, not because his act hadn't been convincing, but because she knew that he never did anything without a reason, without several reasons, and that there wasn't even one reason for him to go through with what he'd been threatening.

Well, perhaps there'd been one. But nothing that would be worth the consequences.

"But I did find out one thing," she said as she sat up. "Kyōya-sempai, you're even nicer than I thought."

He put on his glasses and looked back at her, startled. He'd just threatened to rape her, and the experience had taught her that he was nice?

"After all, you were just backing up what Tamaki-sempai said, right?"

He turned away and stood without saying anything. Backing him up? Well, that was one way to look at it. It would be more accurate to say that he had agreed with some of what Tamaki had been saying.

"You intentionally played the bad guy to show me that, didn't you?"

She'd seen right through him. She was incredibly intelligent.

So why had she done something so stupid?

"Haruhi," he said slowly, turning so he could better observe her reactions, "you never really explained. Why didn't you grab one of us before you went up there? Surely it wouldn't have taken too long to yell for, say, Mori-sempai." They certainly wouldn't have thrown him off the cliff.

"Hm?" She looked puzzled for a moment, then comprehension dawned. "Oh. I didn't know about those guys until I got there. I'd seen the girls, and it was windy. I was worried they might fall, and they didn't listen when I yelled for them to come down. When I got up there, those men were drunk, manhandling the girls, and refusing to listen when the girls told them to stop. There wasn't time to get anyone else."

He blinked, hiding his surprise behind his glasses. When seen in that light… "I see. You still should have yelled for one of us, but… I can understand, now, why you didn't." He shook his head. "Did it even occur to you to be afraid of them?"

She opened her mouth to reply, then stiffened at the sound of distant thunder. She turned to look out the window. There wasn't much to see; it was dark, now, and the glass was being pelted with rain.

"Ah… Kyōya-sempai, is there… supposed to be a… a thunderstorm tonight?"

"Yes. According to the weather report, it will clear up before we have to leave tomorrow morning, though. Nothing to worry about."

"I see. Um… I… think I should just be… going, then," she said, getting to her feet. "Please excuse me- eek!" Her sentence ended with a squeak as a flash of lightning lit the room, followed closely by booming thunder. A moment later, light flashed again and she lept at Kyōya, throwing her arms around him and holding onto him as she shook. When the worst of the shaking had stopped, she dropped her arms and jumped back. "S-sorry, Kyōya-sempai. I didn't mean to–" She was stopped by another flash of lightning. She covered her face, curled in on herself and stood shaking for a moment, then spun away from him and started scrambling into his closet, mumbling something about having "something to take care of" in there.

He stared after her for a moment, then sighed and looked around his room. So. Haruhi was afraid of thunderstorms. It seemed confined spaces were comforting to her, as was being held; for the former, the closet was a good choice, but it was too small for him to join her, and he wasn't about to leave her alone when she was literally shaking with fear. Not when he might be able to help. The tables were too low, he was not going to suggest that they bundle up in his bed... His eyes caught on the bathroom door and inspiration struck. Moving quickly, he stripped his bed of blankets and pillows, which he used to make a nest of sorts in the shower stall.

He opened the closet and reached in. "Haruhi, come on."

She was curled up in a ball, with her face hidden by her knees and her hands clasped over her ears. She didn't seem to hear him; she was shivering, and shaking her head, saying, "No, no, no," over and over.

He reached out and gently shook her shoulder. She jumped, nearly hitting her head on the back of the closet. "Haruhi, you have to come out of there."

"Kyōya…-sempai?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Yes, Haruhi, it's me." Lightning flashed and she ducked her head, shaking again. Hesitantly, he laid a hand on her back, waiting for the worst of her trembling to stop before he pulled her out of the closet. She started shaking again and tried to scramble back inside.

"No, no, please, let me go back, just let me stay in there, please, please, don't make me leave…"

"Haruhi," he said firmly. She stared at him, eyes wide with panic. "Haruhi," he said again, more gently this time, "I need you to trust me. Just for a minute." He waited until she gave him a slight nod before he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom.

He sat on the floor of the bathroom stall, with Haruhi in his lap, and wrapped a blanket around them both. She calmed almost immediately. The shaking had nearly stopped. It came back with the next bolt of thunder, but went away more quickly this time. Before long, a slight flinch was the only sign that she was aware of the thunderstorm raging outside.

He wasn't entirely… comfortable… with the situation. He wasn't used to physical affection, to comforting or being comforted; perhaps it would have been better if he'd gotten one of the others, instead of doing this himself. He considered it for a moment; he had his phone with him. He could call Mori-sempai or Hani-sempai; either of them would be willing to take his place here, to hold Haruhi, to protect her… His arms tightened around her and he changed his mind.

It was a while before he noticed that even the flinching had stopped. When he did, he looked down, only to find that her eyes were closed and her breathing was calm and even. He smiled and, without thinking, kissed her head. "Goodnight, Haruhi," he murmured.

He was more than a bit shocked when her eyes slid open. She lifted her head from his chest and blinked sleepily at him. Before he could think of anything to say, she smiled, said, "Thank you, Kyōya. Goodnight," and relaxed against him once more.

He didn't know how long he sat there, simply watching her breathe; sometime between one slow breath and the next, his own eyes closed as he drifted off to sleep.