DISCLAIMER: (copied from the talented Author: vampyremiyu)
"Ouran High School Host Club is a brilliant piece of work by creator Bisco Hatori. Originally published in 2003 by HAKUSENSHA, Inc., Tokyo, Japan, this masterpiece is being translated and published by VIZ Media for fans in America and Canada. I do not own a single piece of the characters used in this story."

The moonlight let the guard see her yawn and settle into bed for the night. He stood guard outside her gate and watched through a slit in the curtain. Plucking open his blackberry he texted his boss. "She's asleep."

Kyouya smirked at his empty office. Finishing a small business transaction on his laptop he stretched and walked out to his limousine. Tachibana drove him through the quiet streets until they reached a small home complex. "Make sure no one sees me," Kyouya commanded, though Tachibana had been around the youngest Otori long enough to know that if Kyouya had come personally, and without some member of the host club dragging him, it must be a matter of utmost discretion. He swung the door open for his master who carried a box under his arm and accompanied him into the inn. Using his free arm Kyouya unlocked the recently greased apartment door to a certain Haruhi's room and placed the box next to her pillow. Her birthday party would be lavish at the host club the next day, Tamaki would see to that, but he selfishly wanted to be the first to wish her a happy birthday. The stoic Shadow King was unable to find the courage to write his name on the box, but she would know. Somehow she always seemed to know. She was quite observant, but unlike himself she actually showed concern about the people she observed. Well, she was apparently perceptive only until it came to matters of the heart. They shared that in common. How long had it taken him to figure out his own feelings toward the shy girl that captivated everyone with her honesty, that honesty which was hardly found amongst the rich and never in the Otori household (except maybe his sister). No wonder it would take no less than a parade proclaiming his feelings for her to catch on. And he had no intentions of parading his feelings anytime soon. It would suffice for her to awaken to a carefully wrapped box. He had to wonder if she would realize he had wrapped it himself. What had happened to him that he was so unlike his old detached self? He sighed as he looked down on her face in the cool light. "Beautiful," he murmured. She smiled in her sleep and he blanched in fear that she might have heard. Since when did he fear anything? He let out another sigh. He never imagined his greatest weakness would be a cross-dressing commoner. He shut the door behind him with a soft click.

The light coming in through her window woke her before her alarm clock. She kept them closed until it rang its alert, though, dreading the day to come. She knew the host club would be planning something outrageous and exhausting. She blindly reached over to shut it off and her hand collided with something hard. She opened her eyes and after they adjusted she could only gape at a finely wrapped box sitting next to her hand. Upon closer inspection the delicate paper with what looked like real gold filigree ruled out her father as the gift bearer. So it had to be the host club. She carefully started to unwrap it when a thought struck her as odd. If it had been professionally wrapped she was sure it would be a flourish of pleats and such, yet the paper was beautiful but simply wrapped. And then the details hit her: the rough edge, the uneven corners, the simple wrapping. Whoever did it did it himself. She chuckled imagining the twins or Tamaki attempting to wrap a gift. Careful not to tear the beautiful paper she uncovered an armful of tulips set in a very memorable antique vase. She ran her fingers over the surface, noticing the spidery lines where the pieces had been meticulously reconstructed. A simple ivory card held a short note. In elegant black script it read, "Breaking that vase was the best thing that ever happened. Forgive my deceit, since your debt was paid by your friendship long before the Festival." Your debt? Kyouya! Wait…friendship?

"Umm, dad?" She looked at Ranka over breakfast. "why did you give Kyouya a key to the apartment?"

Ranka sputtered, Haruhi's bluntness never failing to catch him off guard despite having had to raise her alone after his wife passed away. "Why would I do something like that?"

She shrugged. "Kyouya tends to be very…persuasive, no? I woke up to a birthday present from him on my pillow."

Ranka's look of surprise morphed into a smug smile. "He told me that he should have one in case of an emergency." He then muttered "about time" under his breath.

He felt like a fool. Peaking over his laptop, glances hidden by the reflection of his glasses. He couldn't wait for Haruhi to run into the Third Music Room, late as usual. Today the room was Hunny's dream. Bright silk streamers, strawberry shaped balloons, and all sorts of sweets and cake. As expected, she barreled in panting, "I'm sorry I'm late, I was at the library and…" "SURPRISE!" Despite having expected something from the odd group she was stunned and speechless at the extravagance. "Haruhiiiii!" The twins draped arms around her and Hikaru held up a chocolate covered strawberry to her lips. She bit into it without malice and the girls screamed MOE while Tamaki went into a frenzy about those devils perverting his daughter. She slipped away amidst in the chaos.

Kyouya couldn't seem to calm his nerves. Was she going to confront him about the gift or just thank him quietly and move on? What's worse was he didn't even know what he hoped she would do. She most likely would say something to the point like that day at the supermarket. "You act selfishly on purpose but since you really aren't like that, it seems odd to me." The words still rung in his head. And how true they seemed in retrospect. He had become so used to his dispassionate mask he hardly ever admitted his own weakness – for what else could empathy and emotions be labeled – to himself, let alone others. But Haruhi seemed to see right through him and therefore inadvertently drew out the best in him. She saw his potential and when he was around her he felt eager to live up to it. She thought him calculating, sure, but then again he was calculating so that was no insult. She had feared his continual additions to her debt, but she should fear it since he did so on a whim, just to make sure she could not leave the club. She had brought a life to the group of male students that was priceless (as well as quite a profit as a host). He glanced up again at where she was currently slipping away from the twins, munching on a strawberry they had fed her. He wished he could mask his heartbeat as she made a beeline to his chair. He started typing furiously, hoping to look busy. She walked up to him but didn't speak. His curiosity eventually got the best of him and he looked up. She took advantage of his momentary distraction and picked up his notebook.

"Suddenly interested in finance?" he asked in a level voice, but his mouth felt dry to him.

"No, just looking at your handwriting. It really was your present wasn't it?" She smiled at him and put the notebook back down.

Damn, he had to keep in mind that no matter how naïve, she was in Ouran on a scholarship and therefore she was truly smart. Unable to keep his eyes trained on her, afraid she would look into their gray depths and know what lay beneath them, he started typing again. "Yes, yes it was."

"Thank you. I'm glad you think of me as a friend. That was the best part of the gift." She then feathered a kiss on his cheek. He turned a fiery shade of red. It was bad enough that she had kissed him, but knowing Haruhi was hardly one to go about being emotional and rarely hugged the members of the club willingly, he was more than honored. He was shocked, elated, and incredibly confused. But just as quickly as she came to him she left. He blew out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.