In the warm twilight of the apartment, Kakashi made a muffled, unhappy noise and rolled over again, dragging a pillow over his face. Ryouma glanced back again and made a quick decision.

“Sorry, man. Pants before presents. Wait a second.” He stacked the be-ribboned cake box back on top of the slim wooden one in Asuma’s hands and dodged inside, shoving the door nearly shut behind him.

He still had a pair of jeans and a few semi-clean shirts in the sports bag Kakashi had kept, now stowed a little more tidily on the floor of Kakashi’s closet. At some point both laundry and shopping were going to be necessary. In the meantime, though, he dragged on jeans and a dark grey Shutdown Assassin tee-shirt with a silk-screened skull-and-flower motif flowing down the side. It was cold out there, but Asuma hadn’t been wearing a sweater. He forwent the red Atomic Sunrise hoodie out of principle and collected his shoes from last night’s haphazard pile.

Kakashi stirred again. Ryouma stepped close and pressed a hand to his shoulder. “I’m goin’ out for a bit. Hold down the fort.”

The vague mumble didn’t quite translate into words, but the reflexive loose grab at Ryouma’s wrist was clear enough. Ryouma hesitated a moment, then set his jaw and eased his hand free. “Someone I owe somethin’, waiting outside. I’ll bring you back cake.”

He headed for the door again. Asuma was still waiting, a little to Ryouma’s surprise, mouth curled around his cigarette in what seemed to be a permanent expression of faint amusement. “He let you out to play?”

“I have to be back for naptime,” Ryouma said, pulling the door closed. “And no peeing in the sandbox.” He checked the angle of the sun; probably three or four hours before he should head to meet Reiko at HQ. Time enough to find out what Asuma wanted, and what amends Ryouma could make for Kakashi’s life. “D’you like hangin’ out on doorsteps, or d’you want to head someplace friendlier?”

“I would kill for a coffee,” Asuma said promptly. “I know this great place near the river with a pretty barista.” His brows arched expressively. “Bet they’ve got some pretty boys, too.”

“What, aren’t you pretty enough for me?” Ryouma pursed his lips and gave the boy a slow, thorough once-over. The height was a surprise; he’d seldom met anyone in Konoha who could match him. Solid, dense musculature of the sort Ryouma would have to work his ass off to acquire again, with a shock of thick black hair and a scruffy, hopeful attempt at a beard. If Asuma’s features hadn’t been so square, broad cheekbones balanced by an assertive nose, they might have passed for brothers. Ryouma smiled at him, soft, warm. “Always did like brunettes.”