Usagi gestured at them and mouthed, Dancing!

Kakashi held his glass up and signed back, Drinking.

Usagi rolled her eyes, chose Genma as her next sacrificial victim, and dragged him by the wrist out onto the dance floor. Ginta followed them, laughing. Kasumi led her male friend — boyfriend? husband? — to the lower bar, making an expansive gesture with her hands that looked a lot like: See what I have to deal with? Abe trailed after her, shielding his injured arm from accidental knocks. Raidou looked up at the balcony again, hands propped on his hips, and gave a decisive chin jerk. Get down here.

“I need to be drunker than this,” Ryouma muttered, and threw back his entire rainbow drink.

“This was your idea,” Kakashi told him.

“Yeah, well, sometimes I have terrible ideas.” Ryouma tore his gaze off the dance floor and looked at Kakashi. For the briefest of moments, his expression did something complicated and inexplicable. His eyes were so dark, Kakashi couldn’t tell where the pupils ended and the irises began. Ryouma dropped his empty glass on the nearest table, and said with fatalistic cheer, “At least you can always kick my head in if I make a mistake.”

He headed down the stairs.

Kakashi stared at his back, puzzled. The last time he’d really kicked Ryouma’s head in—

Would have been the morning before they’d left on their second mission, two days after Ryouma had crowded Kakashi against his kitchen counter and obliterated Kakashi’s calm. He’d apologized later. I was a dick. And it wasn’t like Kakashi had made a particular habit of being kind to Ryouma in those first few weeks, or after.

He hadn’t really thought about it since Ibaragashi. There’d been more important things than Kakashi being bad at people, and Ryouma being bad at Kakashi.

What, exactly, was Ryouma thinking about now?

Kakashi braced his elbows on the railing again, watching the tall, dark-haired shadow cut through the throng below, arrow-swift, to reach Raidou. They exchanged a few words, then Usagi whirled out of the crowd, grabbed Ryouma by the back of his shirt, and hauled him onto the dance floor. Raidou flung his hands up in the air and strode grouchily after them.

Ginta had commandeered Genma, along with a few unfamiliar ninja, into a loose circle in the middle of the floor. None of them had partnered up; they were dancing as a group, trading their best moves back and forth. A vicious hip roll, killing hands in the air, loose shoulders and flexible spines. The music stutter-stepped and Genma echoed it, fractal pauses translated into a pulsing heartbeat. A lethal-looking kunoichi spun to press back against him; Genma’s hands curved over her hips. She gave him a sly smile over her shoulder, and twisted away. A man stepped into her place. Genma smiled and didn’t miss a beat.

Usagi pulled Ryouma’s arms around her shoulders and tipped her head back against his chest, body moving with muscular grace. Ryouma didn’t seem to mind the kidnapping; he fell effortlessly into time with her, a slice of darkness against her red flame.

Abe, Kasumi, and her — boyfriend? probably boyfriend — returned with drinks, settling into a booth on the quieter side of the club.

Kakashi finished his Winter Dog and set the glass down.

Genma’s partner got more handsy, one palm sliding down to the small of Genma’s back. Genma bent his head, said something in the man’s ear. The man gave him a rueful smile and stepped away, disappearing back into the crowd. Genma glanced around, visibly marking where his people were — Usagi and Ryouma, the group at the booth, Ginta in the middle of another circle, Kakashi — and Raidou, who looked like he didn’t know whether to rescue Ryouma, join the booth, or get himself a drink. Genma’s expression softened. He caught Raidou’s eye and tipped his head invitingly.