A/N: Oh my goodness – I had no idea how much fun these two were to write – or I would have done so a long time ago!

Slight spoilers for Chapter 26 of the anime… I know, usually I'm a stickler for manga canon, but they really did a cute job on the anime, so I accept it. XD

FLUFF warning – if you have any kind of intolerance for sweets – turn back now!!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Ouran High School Host Club

Italics - - flashback/memory

It had been one week since they danced. Seven days since he had gently guided her around the dance floor. 168 hours since his world had simultaneously exploded and collapsed, leaving Tamaki in a permanent state of awe and confusion.

- - - - - -

When the slow music began to play, Haruhi tentatively moved closer to her partner, aware of what the reduced tempo indicated. Her small palm met his – although his pampered hands were soft, hers were infinitely more so. Doubtless another case of commoner magic, he decided.

Without thinking, he brushed his thumb over her smooth skin. She raised her gaze to meet his, dark eyes wide with an unspoken question. As if suddenly realizing exactly what he had done, he moved to withdraw his hand… but stopped as he felt a slight pressure on his fingers.

He glanced up in surprise, only to find Haruhi smiling at him in amusement. She continued to smile as she guided his hand to encircle her waist. A bright pink blush stained her cheeks, but she didn't desist; draping her arms over his shoulders, bringing her body full against his.

Tamaki suddenly realized he had stopped breathing and took an awkward gasping breath. Startled, she took a small step back, concern visible in her dark eyes. Alarmed, he quickly grabbed the petite woman, pulling her back into position against him.

Haruhi merely smirked at the typically suave host, resting her head comfortably on his chest as they swayed to the music, utterly oblivious to all else.

- - - - - -

And now his thoughts were in turmoil. For so long, he had convinced himself that the only feelings he had towards her were parental. But that failed to explain the thrill he had felt upon seeing her driving up in the horse-drawn carriage. Nor the adrenaline-infused panic as she fell over the edge of the railing and out of sight. And it hadn't just been the emergency that caused his heart to thunder against his ribs as he carried her to shore.

He'd tried everything to force his heart to comply with the position he'd established in his mind for her. His repetitive "otoosan" mantra did no good, nor did his attempts at visualization. His mind-theatre stubbornly resisted – forcing every fantasy into the same one involving himself, Haruhi and one very un father-like kiss. He sighed happily as yet another variation played itself out in his mind before breaking out of his reverie.

He ran his slender fingers roughly through his hair. It was just no use. His delusions were shattered and they couldn't be rebuilt. His head snapped up with determination. If that's how it was, there was only one thing for him to do.

- - - - - -

"Haruhi, I've come to declare my love for you!"

An apron-clad Haruhi appeared from the kitchen, wiping wet hands on a dish towel.

"What?"

He bent down on one knee, flourishing a rose in her direction, glad his host skills had not deserted him in his hour of need, "Haruhi, I've realized that I cannot live without your love – please tell me you feel the same."

"Oh, I guess I thought that went without saying."

He toppled over.

Unperturbed, she plucked the flower from his prone form and wandered into the kitchen in search of a vase.

He followed after her, certain she must not have heard him properly, her petite form busy rummaging through one of the lower cabinets.

He reached out a hand helplessly, "H-Haruhi, did you not understand…?" Nimbly she evaded his grasping hands, carrying her rather forlorn vase to the sink.

"Of course I heard you; I just though we already understood each other." Once the vase was full, she inserted the single blossom, setting it neatly on the kitchen table. "I chased after you like a maniac that night," she continued, ticking the items off her fingers as she went, "I barely danced with anyone else," she turned a little pink at the next, "and I certainly didn't dance with anyone the way I danced with you."

Satisfied with her list, she pulled the ties at the back of her apron, folding the article in half – and was abruptly grabbed from behind in a tight hug. She squeaked and attempted to wriggle out of his tight grasp. "Senpai, I can't brea—" her words trailed off as she was turned around, meeting his intense violet eyes.

Uncharacteristically quiet, he threaded his fingers through her short hair, caressing her cheek with his thumb. For once, the two were in complete agreement as he drew her face close and captured her mouth with his.

Haruhi sighed softly and met his kiss eagerly. With one arm resting on the small of her back, he eased her more closely to him. Her knees felt frighteningly unsteady and the apron she held fell to the floor unnoticed.

Despite her long charade, Tamaki realized it was impossible to mistake this woman for a boy upon holding her. He vowed never to allow anyone else to discover this. Her curves were subtle but they were there. Her waist had a delicate slope that gently led into her slender hips. And his male brain was distinctly aware of her small breasts pressing against his chest.

When she angled her head, parting her lips, he moaned against her mouth before slipping his tongue in to entice hers. A low "mmmmm" escaped her throat, causing Tamaki to grin, delighted with her response. He was moments away from suggesting they move to the couch when the front door abruptly flew open.

"Haruuuhi – I'm ho—"

Still tangled in the blonde's embrace, Haruhi managed to get out one word: "Otoosan."

And Tamaki promptly fainted.

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