Kakashi expected Raidou to refuse. Boundaries. To his surprise, Raidou looked relieved; he stepped over to Genma, shoulders loosening, and proved himself actually capable of dancing — and dancing well. Genma’s face lit, startled then pleased. They didn’t get close, like the rejected man had tried, but they moved together better than the group of strangers had. Familiarity lending itself to skill.

Kakashi propped his chin on his hand, fingers curling over a small, hidden smile.

“Antisocial, Hatake,” said a warm alto on his blind side.

“You’re late, Yuuhi,” he said.

“I’m sure you’ve been waiting for us,” Kurenai said, sounding amused. “I admit, I didn’t expect Tousaki and Team Thirteen.”

Kakashi turned, bringing her into his field of vision. She held a pale drink in one hand, and her hair curled loose on her shoulders. Her dress was the dark scarlet of a dying sunset and had more in common with bondage than coverage; it looked like it had been constructed from skin-tight satin ribbons, which criss-crossed over every dangerous curve. The hem skimmed high on her thighs, and two straps barely held up the plunging neckline.

To Kakashi, it said: Beware.

“Wow,” he said, at length. And then frowned. “You didn’t expect Tousaki? It was his idea.”

“You’re not—?” Kurenai laughed, soft and rueful. “Gods, no, of course you’re not. Do you want another drink?”

Kakashi gave her a baffled look. “What context did I just miss?”

Kurenai studied him for a moment, thoughtfully, running a finger around the rim of her glass. Her eyes were the same red as her lips. “Why’d you agree to come?”

“Because I said I would,” Kakashi said. “Why do you answer every question with a question?”

“I’m naturally curious,” Kurenai said. “And in five minutes, I expect Satomi to cut Tousaki out with Usagi. Who do you think he’ll choose next?” There was just the faintest hint of a bite in her words.

“Usagi choose him,” Kakashi said slowly. He replayed the conversation, starting at I didn’t expect Tousaki and Team Thirteen, and ending with, You’re not—

Jealous?

“Are you worried for me?” Kakashi asked at last.

She took a sip of her drink. “I can see I needn’t have been.”

That wasn’t precisely a no. Kakashi scratched the back of his head and looked down at the dance floor. Satomi had appeared in the far corner, lurking like a tiny bald wraith in black clothes and silver piercings, watching Usagi and Ryouma. They had yet to notice her. Usagi was laughing as Ryouma twirled her. Ryouma was loose-handed and smiling, sweat darkening his shirt between his shoulderblades.

He looked like he was having fun, after weeks of none.

Raidou and Genma had moved closer together, heads bent like they were talking. Ginta had lost his shirt and somehow gained body-paint: blue handprints glowed on his ribcage.

And Kurenai, who’d hated Kakashi — well, at least frostily disliked him — up until the last few weeks, had come up to stand next to him.

“Let’s get that drink,” Kakashi said.

Kurenai’s red mouth curved, wry. She tossed back her drink and set the glass down on the rail. “You’re buying.”

There was a soulful expression Naruto trotted out when he wanted something — usually dessert — that was especially hard to say no to. Kakashi reset his face and let his head wilt sadly to one side. “But I’m heartbroken and alone, Yuuhi.”

Kurenai, consummate heartless Intel agent, said cruelly, “I’m sure that face would work if I could actually see it. You’re still buying.”

Kakashi straightened up. “Worth a shot.”

He set out for the bar. Behind him, there were two beats of silence, then Kurenai said darkly, “Was that a pun?”

“Was it?” Kakashi said, and ducked between dancers and drunks to reach the bartender.