“Well, we did promise Usagi to Satomi when we made this date.” Ginta toasted the air in the direction of the two women. “It’s only fair. I guess we’ll just have to dance with each other.”

“You say that like it’s a punishment,” Ryouma teased.

“Maybe I like punishment.” A flicker of something in Ryouma’s eyes said that was a topic worth pursuing further.

“What else d’you like?” Ryouma had to lean down to be heard.

“Lots of things,” Ginta said. “Silk. Dancing. Tall men. Bare shoulders. You should take that shirt off.” He reached up to tug the hem free from Ryouma’s waistband.

Ryouma went with it easily, shrugging his shoulders free. “I liked yours,” he said.

“My shirt? Thanks. It’s over there.” Ginta pointed to a row of pegs on the wall close to the bar that held a number of similarly discarded garments. “Want to hang yours up with mine?”

That mesh tank was doing Ryouma manyfavors. Ginta kept a hand on Ryouma’s hip, and smiled at him open-mouthed.

“Probably won’t remember it later,” Ryouma said, but he worked his wrist free of the last cuff, balled the shirt up, and lobbed it in the right direction with the pinpoint accuracy of a man accustomed to throwing kunai and shuriken. He took a long drink, then gave Ginta a smoldering look. “Where’s the silk come in? Rope or bedsheets?”

Oh yes, that was definitely an avenue worth pursuing.

“Rope. I’m interested in traditional knot-work,” Ginta said. The music slowed to a more languid tempo. He closed a little more of the distance between them, and leaned in. “Of course learning shibari takes practice. Lots of practice.”

Ryouma rolled his hips with sensuous intent, brushing against Ginta’s waist. Delicious. “Heard of it, but never tried. You got your own—” He looked uncertain for a moment. “Rig?”

“I’ve got everything we’d need.” Ginta rolled back, pressing against Ryouma’s thigh for half a heartbeat, before the music carried him back. “My apartment isn’t far from here. Maybe when this social gathering is over…”

Ginta didn’t get an answer to his invitation. One minute he was getting increasingly confident this was going somewhere, and the next Kakashi was just there, standing at Ryouma’s elbow and looking fixedly at Ginta with a sharp, distrustful eye. Ginta raised his eyebrows, Ryouma turned to look, and Kakashi said “Head kicking,” in a low growl.

Well damn. It probably wasn’t that surprising that Kakashi was the jealous type.

“Is that your safeword?” Ginta asked. “Or a threat?”

“Threat,” Ryouma answered distantly, still looking at Kakashi. “But I didn’t— Weren’t you with Yuuhi?”

“We migrated,” Kakashi said. He tilted his head in Genma and Raidou’s direction, but his gaze never left Ginta’s face, and his scowl didn’t relax in the slightest.

That made two members of Team Six who seemed to think Ginta was secretly planning to do something dire to Ryouma. Debauchery had been on his list, but not actual harm. What in the world had Genma said about him?

“You could have just asked to cut in and have the next dance,” Ginta said, smiling blandly at Kakashi. “I’m a gentleman; I’d have acquiesced.” He winked at Ryouma. “I’ll ‘migrate’, too. Come find me for another dance any time.”

“Don’t go far,” Ryouma said urgently. He turned on Kakashi with a low hiss. "What?"

Ohoho, so Hatake ‘cock-block’ Kakashi wasn’t going to get out of that unscathed. Ginta smirked and let the crowd swallow him. Kasumi and her entourage had come onto the dance floor. And Usagi was wrapped up with Satomi, dancing hands-on. Astonishingly, the angry little Uchiha was actually smiling.

Kurenai was indeed dancing with Genma and Raidou; her scarlet dress made an easy-to-follow beacon. A few strands of Genma’s hair had worked loose, and his bare shoulders were shiny with sweat. Raidou’s blue-grey t-shirt showed damp patches at chest and shoulders, and his jeans might have been too loose in the legs, but they fit his hips like a dream. Ginta grinned, tossed back the last of his drink, and went to join them.