“You weren’t nearly this cuddly before,” Ryouma told the woman burying her face in his ribcage. “See the evils of drink? It makes you cuddle people you’d never otherwise cuddle, and you aren’t even conscious to appreciate it.”

Water hissed in the bathroom. Katsuko shuddered, hands fisting tight in his tee-shirt. “No,” she mumbled against his side. “Please.”

He didn’t want to know what she was dreaming. He just didn’t want her dreaming it anymore.

The wolf had come for him when nothing else could. He didn’t know any jutsu that would help him invade her dreams, but he didn’t need to enter it to end it.

“Katsu,” he said, sitting fully upright again. She curled against his shoulder. He hooked a hand around her back and shook her. “Katsuko.”

Katsuko twitched a full-body shudder and gasped awake. Her eyes were almost green in the early morning sunlight, wide and panicked; her mouth formed a word that didn’t come. He held still, waiting for the world to reform itself around her.

It came slowly, a piece at a time. She drew a deep breath and her eyes found focus on his tee-shirt, only a few inches away. Her brows furrowed. Her gaze dropped swiftly to her own hands, still clenched tight around fistfuls of loose cloth at his ribs, and then lifted again. The top of her head was nearly level with his chin; she had to tilt it back a little to see his face.

Their eyes met. She blinked, squawked, flailed out of his hold, and tumbled off the bed.

Usually, Ryouma liked to tell himself, women competed to throw themselves into bed with him. This was the first time anyone had ever hurled herself out.

He leaned over the edge of the bed and stared down at her. “You okay?”

Katsuko pressed her hands to the sides of her head and squeezed her eyes shut tight. “I just,” she said. “I wasn’t that drunk.” She squeezed an eye open, stared down at her own borrowed tee-shirt, and sighed in fervent relief. “At least nobody’s naked.”

“Were you thinking you’d taken advantage of me?” Ryouma asked, fascinated.

The other eye slitted open for a baleful glare. “Where’s that fluffy-headed bastard?”

“In the shower. Getting significantly less fluffy.” Ryouma dropped on his stomach, pillowed his chin on his crossed arms, and kicked his legs up against the wall. “In case you were wondering, I don’t think he’d be up for a threesome. But you could always ask.”