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“I don’t need a set of salt and pepper shakers,” Haruhi says, stubborn, and pointedly not looking at the box in Hikaru’s hands. To her credit, the pair of misshapen cow and chicken are a bit ugly.
The cows got one ear noticeably bigger than the other, and the chicken is painted lopsided enough to look personally offended at being on sale.
Kaoru’s tempted to say as much, just to see the flash of red run up his twin's ears. Hikaru’s always been fun to rile up. Dating Haruhi has only made it easier.
“Yes, you do,” Hikaru insists. If he had his way, they’d have fully furnished Haruhi’s new apartment a week before she moved in. If Kaoru had his way, she’d have taken one of the spare rooms in their estate.
They could have all shared. He and Hikaru have since the day they were born; Haruhi could have slotted into place between them and saved everyone the headache of trying to evenly divide up their time.
Baby steps.
The thing between them—all of them, is still new. Fragile and murky in undefinable lines that haven't had the chance to settle. They’ll get their eventually. Until then Tamaki did give Haruhi an entirely too comfy and over the top living room set with more than enough couch space for the three of them.
A necessary ’familial investment’ that had shown up, assembled, three days after move in day. If Haruhi’s building is a subsidy of the Ootari, the rent’s low enough to overlook Kyoya probably having a key. He would have made one himself anyway.
“Salt already comes in a perfectly usable container.” Haruhi reaches out, flipping the box until she can see the price tag. “5000 yen is way too much.”
“They’re imported!”
“From China,” Haruhi says, deadpan.
Kaoru couldn’t have hoped to stop himself from laughing if he tried.
Don’t take his side,” Haruhi says, there’s a smile tugging up the corners of her mouth and no heat in her words.
“I’m not taking anyone's side,” Kaoru says, leaning heavy on the cart he’s been pushing. It’s mostly empty with a handful of overly processed convenience food smuggled under ingredients for tonight's dinner. “I think the cow is cute.”
“His eyes are crooked.” Haruhi begins walking away. Case closed.
Only, it’s physically impossible for Hikaru not to have the word. “You can’t expect artisan quality from Maruestu.”
“No,” Haruhi agrees, “but if I’m spending that kind of money on something it should be worth it.”
Haruhi always gets funny when it comes to buying anything aside from food.
Old habits die hard and all that. Never mind the fact that she’s got a good salary or that they were born with more disposable income than 97% of the population could hope to see in a lifetime.
Haruhi still compares every brand and automatically reaches for the cheaper option.
So, it's important, for the state of her apartment, that they needle her into splurging and don’t bring up the fact that everyone sneaks things into place whenever she’s not looking.
It definitely has nothing to do with the fact that they all like seeing themselves reflected in the ways they’ve helped make her house a home. Kyoya matching plates. Honey’s rabbit stamped tea set. Mori’s non-stick pans. Just the normal growling collection of gifts from the host club.
The apartment’s still undeniably Haruhi’s, but every time Kaoru walks in, he catches little traces of all of them.
“So you’d let us buy you ceramic salt and pepper shakers?” Kaoru asks, nudging the cart forward with his hip to catch up. “Because I know a great studio in Belgium.”
“Absolutely not.”
“They’d be hand crafted.”
“No.”
“One of a kind.”
“Nope.”
“Blessed by nuns.”
“Why would they be blessed by nuns?” Haruhi asks, finally turning to look at him.
“Quality control,” Kaoru says, like that’s just thing that rich people do with all their glassware.
Haruhi rolls her eyes, the expression on her face tells him she doesn’t quite believe him, but evidence has shown her shouldn’t discount the eccentricity of wealth. Deciding not to touch that Haruhi turns, going in the exact opposite direction that they’d originally been heading.
Kaoru winks at his brother, sprinting to redirect Haruhi’s attention over to where the novelty mugs take up most of an aisle. There’s next to no chance he can convince her to buy any one of them, but fine. He’d pointed left the cart behind and grabbed one that says “World’s Okayest Lawyer”.
If Hikaru manages to smuggle the set under a pile of bok-choy, well Kaoru can be really distracting when he wants to be.