Deidara held Ino up in a side-hug as she collapsed into a helpless laughing fit.

"Wow," said Deidara.

Ino shrieked-laughed and poked one finger with another finger, replicating the incident for Deidara's benefit (he did not find it amusing) and disintegrated into more laughter.

"I'm – crying," sniffed Ino.

"It wasn't funny, it was an outrage," said Deidara.

"My face, I can't feel my cheeks. I need a tissue…"

"How about you try standing up first," said Deidara, hefting her back onto her feet.

"I'm – I can't – no, just…you being so certain you're right, and Pierre knowing you're not, and you insisting that you are, and he can see, he knows, it's right there, your dick, he knows you're wrong…And you tell him off, all smarmy, like you always are, 'buddy,' like he doesn't know his own job, like he can't recognize a bulge when he sees one…and he…he pokes…your…"

Ino's hands gripped weakly at Deidara's shoulders and she fell into him with more breathless giggles. "He – poked – it – with the measuring tape…"

"I know," said Deidara in a flat voice. "I was there."

Ino took a breath to steel herself and wiped her eyes. "Oh my god. Why is this so funny…?"

"It's not," said Deidara, though, as he watched Ino's fresh paroxysm of giggles, there glimmered just the tiniest hint of amusement behind his annoyed façade.

"Okay," said Ino, fanning her face with her hands. "Breathing. Need to get a grip."

"Seriously. You're embarrassing me."

Ino looked at the tourists and passersby that were streaming on either side of them on the busy sidewalk. She found a tissue in her purse and dabbed at her eyes. "Pff, like I care what any of these randos think about me…"

"They're going to think I made you cry."

"You did," said Ino. "And anyway, who cares what they think. Look at them – masses of them, clogging up my favourite LV and Tiffany's and Chanel stores when they can't even afford to shop there – ugh…I hate them…"

Deidara, who still had an arm around Ino's waist, ostensibly to keep supporting her, pulled away. "Man…every time I think you might be likeable in some tiny way, you remind me of what a little snot you are."

Ino straightened up and took a step away herself. "Well, every time I think you might be likeable in some tiny way—"

"What tiny way?"

"Like, easy on the eyes, in that suit – you remind me of what an uncultured rustic you are. But hey, at least now you know which way you dress, right?" Ino's eyes flicked down to Deidara's crotch. "On the right. That's…unusual."

"It is?"

"Yeah."

Deidara slid a hand in front of his crotch. "Stop eyeing me like you wanna feel me up."

"I'm intrigued," said Ino. "And it looks like it's making you uncomfortable, so, bonus…"

Deidara narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I owe you several uncomfortable moments," said Ino.

"What – you're keeping track?"

"Oh yes," said Ino with a little smile over her shoulder. "Come, I need to find somewhere quiet to make a call."

They made their way off Fifth with its unwashed hordes and found a more-or-less quiet coffee bar. Ino ordered something frothy and sugary, so, of course, Deidara got something black and strong.

Then Ino walked to the window and made her phone call, and paced to and fro, and looked pretty for the people passing the window as well as for Deidara.

"So who was that?" asked Deidara when Ino returned to their table.

"Carbone," said Ino.

"You know Carbone?" asked Deidara, looking oddly impressed.

Ino raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes…Do you know Carbone?"

"The mafia guy?" said Deidara at the same time as Ino said, "The restaurant?"

"Oh," they said together. And they looked at each other and were reminded of the immensity of the gulf that separated their lives.

"Anyway," said Ino with a little shake of her head, "my Carbone is an Italian place. Only one Michelin star, you know. Seigo never did have any taste. We're going to be there tonight."

"…Why?"

"Because it's Sunday," said Ino, as though that explained matters.

"I know it's Sunday," said Deidara. "Do you think I don't know what day it is? I'm counting down the last hours of my life until goddamn Friday. What's the connection with your boyfriend?"

"Ex. On Sundays, Seigo and his mother have dinner at Carbone. Tonight, we're going to happen to be there, too."

"Sounds like an annoying fancy place full of annoying fancy people."

Ino sipped at her vanilla crème. "It is. But I'm paying; you're just there to look pretty. And help me antagonize Seigo into saying something stupid."

"What? That's your plan? That's why I'm all dolled up?"

"Yes. What did you think you were getting dolled up for?"

"I dunno, infiltration? Spying? Something cool?"

"No," scoffed Ino. "We aren't trying to infiltrate Telwave. Neither of us has the abilities, equipment, or expertise required to infiltrate a tech company. And not only would we fail miserably, but also, it's illegal."

"So's putting a price on a man's head, but that didn't stop your boyfriend."

"Ex. And I don't do illegal things. My entire career is predicated on upholding the law, not breaking it."

Deidara looked at the ceiling with an expression of pained boredom. "Okay. Whatever. So explain this quote-unquote plan to me, 'cause it's obviously not what I had in mind…"

"Seigo is a jealous, possessive asshole of a man. Just seeing you there with me tonight is going to set him off."

"Why? I thought you broke up."

"We did." Ino stirred her drink so that the whipped cream dissolved into sugary froth. "I ended it. For many good reasons. And he remains a jealous asshole: he can't stand someone else having what he thinks should be his. You'll see tonight. Anyway, when he gets pissed, he runs his mouth. If we play our cards right, he and I will get into a fight in the middle of the restaurant, and I'm going to bring up certain, ah, elements of our relationship, and then we'll see if he doesn't drop a hint as to whether or not he's idiotically put out a hit on my father."

"Well, if you want my opinion—"

Ino sucked the last of the whipped cream off of her stirring stick and pressed it to Deidara's mouth. "I don't."

VVV

"Your plan sucks," said Deidara when the waiter had taken their order. "They aren't even here…"

"Not yet," said Ino. "I grabbed an earlier reservation because I wanted to position myself more strategically…"

"What's strategic about this?" asked Deidara, gesturing at their position in the middle of the restaurant. "High viz, windows right there, far from the exits, and the crossfire? This is the worst position possible…"

"This isn't a shootout," tutted Ino. "It's a different kind of fight. I want him to be able to see me no matter where he sits."

"Oh."

Ino ran a hand through her hair. Deidara watched her arrange the long white-gold waves so that they fell to her waist just so.

"And then," Ino whispered, leaning towards him, "then, when I know he's watching, I'm going to sit here all gorgeous like this and laugh at all your jokes, and play footsie with you under the table, and hold your hand, and stare into your eyes, like you own my soul in a way that he never did."

Ino placed her chin on her hand and parted her lips and demonstrated the soul-stare. And Deidara – Deidara wasn't prepared for it and so lost himself in it, in those opaline eyes and that skin of cool porcelain, and those lips, pale pink as a December sunrise…

And so he sat there, spellbound, until Ino tilted her head back and laughed to put him back at ease – like this had been a good joke and not a terrifying demonstration of her power.

"He's going to freak," said Ino.

Deidara blinked like one coming out of a trance. "Shit. You're…evil."

"Hell hath no fury," said Ino, bringing her glass of Chardonnay to her lips.

"I don't know if I'm looking forward to seeing this," Deidara said as he downed his drink, "or scared."

Ino watched him glug it down. "Hey. Easy on the liquor. I need you to be sober."

"What was that?" said Deidara, looking at his glass. "I thought I ordered a whiskey…"

"Whatever the finest whiskey is," said Ino with a shrug. "They don't serve that nasty gasoline shit you're used to in this kind of place."

"Damn." Deidara waved to the waiter for another. "That went down smooth."

Ino glanced around. It was almost eight o'clock; Seigo would be arriving any minute now. She ran her nails along the base of her wineglass in tight circles, finding herself a little anxious now that his arrival was imminent.

"So, what about you?" she asked Deidara in an attempt to keep herself distracted. "Any crazy exes?"

Deidara, who was discreetly licking the last drop of whiskey from the rim of the glass, seemed nonplussed by the question. "Uh…not really. You saw my record. Spent most of my teenage years in juvie and a good chunk of my twenties in prison. So my relationships have mostly been…casual."

"How old are you now?"

"Twenty-nine."

"Oh," said Ino. Before Deidara could open his mouth to echo her question, she tssked. "It's rude to ask a lady her age."

Deidara pointed to himself. "Uncultured rustic, remember?"

"…Touché."

"So how old?"

"Guess."

"Nope," said Deidara, shaking his head. "Nope nope nope. That's a dangerous-ass game. You'll think I'm lying if I go too young and you'll get all pissy if I guess too old."

"True." Ino took a sip of wine and tilted her glass in his direction. "Guess anyway."

"No. Just tell me."

"No."

"Forty," said Deidara.

"Funny."

"Forty-five," said Deidara. "You know, you look great for your age. You have an ass like a—"

"Deidara," cut in Ino with a glance at the nearby wait staff, "don't be vulgar."

"I'm gonna get really vulgar if you don't tell me."

"Don't. They know me here. I have an image to maintain and I don't date boors."

"So tell me."

Ino sighed into her wine. "…Twenty-six."

Deidara sat back with a look of smug gratification.

"What?" asked Ino. "What was your real guess?"

"Twenty-six," said Deidara.

"Pff. I don't believe you for a second."

"It's true," said Deidara, looking so self-satisfied that Ino suspected he might not actually be lying.

A waiter interrupted them with a platter of thyme-dusted bread and olive oil.

Ino waved the bread off towards Deidara because carbs. "Anyway, I got side-tracked from my initial line of questioning. Which – congrats – doesn't happen often. So, you're trying to tell me you've never had an actual girlfriend?"

"Nope," said Deidara.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah…?" said Deidara around a mouthful of focaccia. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

Ino had her reasons, reasons that she didn't want to share because they'd be too flattering for him ("you're too pretty to have been perpetually single") and embarrassing for her ("like, I mean, you're really doing it for me all cleaned up in this suit and if this wasn't a pretend date and you weren't a convicted arsonist I'd be thinking bad things").

She subdued these thoughts with ferocity. "I don't know. It's just weird."

"I don't do the girlfriend thing. Girls are a pain in the ass. Clingy. Moody. Whiny—"

"Excuse me?"

"—Never wanna do anything fun. Always lecturing about something. Always think they're right…"

"Excuse me?" repeated Ino.

"Case in point." Deidara gestured towards Ino in a grandiose fashion, like she was the living proof of this theory of his. "Literally everything I just said."

Ino straightened up in her chair. "I'm not clingy."

Deidara ran his fingers along one of his shoulders. "Really? 'Cause I have all these teeny bruises from you hanging off me at the club last night, and even more from the elevator. You know, when you wanted to use my corpse to cushion your fall, 'cause you're caring like that…"

"…I'm not clingy in the figurative sense," said Ino after a momentary hesitation because goddamn, he had her there; had she really left bruises? "And anyway, you can't use me as your case in point. You'd never be in a position to do the girlfriend thing with me in the first place."

Deidara opened his mouth to reply but a waiter approached to refill their drinks and forced him to bite back whatever retort he might've had lined up.

Ino didn't allow him the opportunity to revisit the topic of her clinginess. "So," she said as soon as the waiter had retreated, "if you don't do the girlfriend thing and you don't do the hooker thing…what do you do?"

"I told you, I keep things casual," said Deidara. He looked her up and down. "Why're you inquiring into my history?"

Ino lifted a shoulder into a refined little shrug. "Curious."

"But why do you even care—"

"He's here," interrupted Ino.

And so he was. Seigo stood at the entrance a small distance away helping his mother take off her shawl.

Ino picked up the wine list to hide her face from Seigo's immediate line of sight. "Don't look up."

"Great," said Deidara, staring at the table. "What am I supposed to look at now?"

"I don't know," said Ino. Then, seeing Deidara stiffly staring at his butter knife, she nudged him under the table. "Act natural…"

"Acting natural is looking around…"

"Not yet. I want him to get settled in without noticing us. Stare at my cleavage, if you must. I know you've been fighting to avoid doing that for the last half hour…"

"Not true," said Deidara.

"Tch. Liar."

"Fine, okay, it's hard not to when you keep leaning forward to talk to me…"

So Deidara stared at Ino's cleavage and Ino held up the wine list and covertly watched Seigo and his mother being ushered to a table about thirty feet away.

Seigo hadn't changed since she'd last seen him six months ago; since that last, final, furious blowout between them. He was looking as handsome as always – tall, dark, immaculately dressed. He pulled the chair out for his mother like the well-mannered man he was and smiled and made pleasant small talk with the waiter, and gestured at something on the menu with his beautiful hands…

It still hurt Ino to look at him, this man who had been her fiancé, this man who had been so close to becoming her husband.

This man who she'd actually loved.

"Are you…okay?" asked Deidara.

"Yes," said Ino, lowering the wine list now that Seigo was getting settled. "I'm fine."

Deidara studied her and, to her annoyance, Ino felt him detecting the fissures in her composure: the lovely lines of her jaw that were now clenched, the glitter of something sharp and angry in her eyes.

"You don't look fine," said Deidara. "You look pissed."

"I'm fine."

"…This was a bad idea."

"You're the one who suggested checking out rival companies," hissed Ino. "I have now brought us into the immediate proximity of Telwave's CEO. I don't see you doing better."

"Yeah," whispered Deidara, "checking them out, like investigating at a safe distance – not eyeballing the CEO like you're about to break your wineglass and go stab him with the pieces…"

Ino looked at the delicate glass of Chardonnay whose stem quivered between her fingers. "That is such a good idea…"

"No." Deidara pressed her wrist down so that the glass rested on the table. "What the hell? Why are you shaking like this? I thought he was just your ex…"

"He is just an ex. He's nothing to me," said Ino, trying to convince herself of this even as, under Deidara's hand, she trembled with a rush of unexpected anger.

"So why are you fixing to murder him in the next five minutes?"

"I'm not," lied Ino.

She loosened her grip on her glass and tucked her hands into her lap so that Deidara could no longer see her angry trembling.

Deidara was staring at her in disbelief. "Hey. You said you were going to pretend to be having the time of your life with some other guy to piss him off. But now we're here and you're failing at looking like you're having the time of your life, and he's pissing you off just by being here. He doesn't even know you're here yet…"

"It's fine."

"Your plan is fucked if you don't keep it together." Deidara's gaze ran up and down Ino's svelte frame – her tense shoulders, her hidden, shaking hands, the shallow breathing that made her chest rise and fall. "He isn't just your ex, is he? He was more than some boyfriend…"

Ino looked down and didn't have the strength to lie about it.

"You said there'd been talks of a merger. Yamanaka, Inc. and Telwave." Deidara leaned forward and searched Ino's eyes. With a degree of perception that irritated her, he asked, "It wasn't just a business merger, was it?"

"I don't want to talk about it," said Ino in a clipped voice, turning away.

"There was going to be a wedding."

"Stop talking," said Ino.

"So I'm right."

"Fuck off."

Deidara sat back and crossed his arms. "Damn. And here I had you pegged as a heartless rich bitch. But he hurt you…Look at you…"

"Drop it."

"You do have a heart. Shit. I was wrong."

"Shut up."

They were interrupted by the waiter bringing them their orders and topping off their drinks. It was a beneficial interruption: first, it made Deidara shut up and thus avoid getting impaled by Ino's stiletto under the table, and second, it forced Ino to smile and be gracious to the waiter and the sommelier and so dulled the edge of her anger.

They ate. Ino's stabby urges were fulfilled in dealing with her chicken scarpariello and she felt much better afterwards.

Deidara poked something with his fork and held it up. "Wow. Look at this. Ghost broccoli."

Ino looked at the thing, looked at Deidara and his fascinated expression, and surprised both Deidara and herself by bursting into a laugh. "That's…cauliflower."

"Oh."

"Idiot."

"Whatever," said Deidara, chewing on the cauliflower. "At least I don't think a palette knife is a shiv."

Ino, who had forgotten that particular display of naiveté on her part, conceded with a graceful nod. "Point taken."

Their meal was interrupted here and there by Deidara's exclamations as he found something new and exciting on his plate, like chives ("grass, legitimately grass") and aioli ("yeah, right, it's the chef's special sauce and I'm not eating it").

Ino was relieved to find that the sharpness of her unanticipated rage faded with these little conversations about stupid things, these dumb arguments about blue cheese gnocchi versus frozen waffles, and what are capers, and where does aioli really come from and is it actually jizz?

It dawned on Ino after a handful of these exchanges that Deidara might be doing it on purpose. Which was a kind thing to do as well as a clever one, to talk her down from her tower of rage by teasing and acting like a moron, and so distract her from the wrath that might have jeopardized her whole plan…

Yes, decided Ino as Deidara questioned the very existence of celeriac, he was doing it on purpose.

"Thanks," said Ino.

"For what?"

"You know what."

"No idea what you're talking about," said Deidara.

"Right." Ino put down her fork and passed a hand over her face. "I don't know what came over me. I didn't expect to be so, so…"

She trailed off and took a generous sip of wine – her second glass that night; apparently, she needed it. "This is the first time I've seen Seigo since we broke up. So I guess I still have some – some anger to work through. That, coupled with the fact that I suspect he might be the one who wants to off my dad, well…"

Deidara toyed with the last ghost broccoli on his plate and said nothing.

"It still hurts me," said Ino, staring at nothing in particular. "That I wasn't enough for him. That, like so many rich men before him, there was – there was always some other acquisition to pursue. Some other woman . And, of course, he was everything I thought I wanted. Ambitious, well-educated, a family almost as wealthy as mine, upper crust. And the jealousy thing, I thought it was because he loved me so very much, but I was wrong. Magnificently wrong. I was just an asset that he wanted sole ownership of. Meanwhile, he was out looking for more like me, because that kind of man, whatever they have is never enough. They're climbers. They want to own the world. That's the drive that makes them excel."

Ino glanced up to where Seigo sat, engrossed in conversation with his mother. "Look at him – entrepreneur of the year at twenty-eight, businessman of the year at thirty-five. He owns all the major telecoms corporations in the southern states, so now he's moving north into my father's territory. And I – I should've known I'd never have been enough for him. I should've known I was just a – a business venture, just one of many paths for him to acquire my father's company and…"

Ino took a long drink of wine, held her glass to her chest, and stared at her plate. "…Why am I telling you this?"

She could feel Deidara studying her – not with the disdain that had grown familiar now because every two words she said something too princessy – but with a look that was rather more thoughtful.

He shrugged. The thoughtfulness disappeared. "Two glasses of wine."

"That would do it."

The waiters came by and cleared the plates in a flurry of white-gloved hands. Ino agreed absently to whatever dessert they proposed to her. Deidara ordered another whiskey – his third or fourth, Ino had lost track, but she did give him a quelling look.

"So," said Deidara, blithely ignoring the look. "When are you gonna do your thing? Make him notice you're here and piss him off?"

"I'm rethinking it," said Ino. "I'm not so sure it's a good idea anymore…"

"…What?"

"What do you mean, what? You said yourself it wasn't a good idea. Did you not see how angry I just got? Just looking at him? That kind of…of emotional incontinence never happens to me…"

"I thought it was a shit plan because I didn't know about this baggage between you two," said Deidara. "But now I think it could actually work, now that you've explained and shown me that soul-owning stare thing. That was something else."

"I don't know…"

"Do it. Make him suffer." Deidara inclined his head towards Seigo's table. "He's right there. The guy who you are ninety percent sure put a hit out on your dad. You're seriously gonna pass this up?"

Ino took a breath. She looked up. Seigo was mid-rant, gesticulating at his mother while she ate her cream tortellini. He still hadn't noticed her – typical, really, he was always in his self-absorbed bubble – and he'd never have expected her here of all places; she hated Italian…

"Yes," said Ino. "Okay. I'll do it. I'll just go to the ladies' room and – and make sure he notices me when I come back to the table…"

"Go," said Deidara. "Remind him what he lost."

"Right."

"And – you know – what I won," said Deidara with a wink.

Ino rolled her eyes as she rose from her chair, though she was also biting back a smile.

VVV

The break in the ladies' room permitted Ino to make some important adjustments: powder her nose, redo her lipstick, tweak at the bodice of her dress so that the amount of cleavage on display made the shift from classy to flirty…

Make him suffer, Deidara had said.

She liked that idea.

These final adjustments to her armour made, Ino looked at her beautiful self in the mirror, straightened her shoulders, and click-clacked her way to battle on stilettos of ice-white.

Ino had been careful to avoid Seigo's line of sight on the way to the bathroom by weaving around tables on the circumference of the restaurant. However, on the way back to Deidara, she chose a trajectory far more direct – one that carried her straight past the table that Seigo was sharing with his mother.

She didn't look down as she swayed past, but the dark windows reflected the restaurant's glowing interior and she saw Seigo's double-take, and then, to her intense satisfaction, the way his jaw clenched, and the way he whipped towards his mother.

"Phase one complete," said Ino as she seated herself across from Deidara.

Deidara too studied the reflection in the dark windows. "Ooh. Homeboy looks pissed. Is he crying to his mom?"

"Yes," said Ino. "Crying to his mom is one of his many charming idiosyncrasies. Now for phase two."

"What's phase two—oh."

Ino passed her heeled foot up Deidara's leg, and then back down, nice and slow, so that Seigo, if he glanced her way at any point during the next thirty seconds, couldn't miss it.

"So," said Ino, leaning forwards and putting her chin in her hands. "Now he's watching us. Pretend to be enrapturing me with tales of your magnificence."

"Uh…"

Ino toyed with one of her curls. "He can't hear us, so say anything. Talk about whatever. Just move your lips so he thinks you're enrapturing me, and I'll take care of the rest…"

Deidara was blanking hard. Ino gave him a sweet smile for the benefit of any jealous exes watching, though her words weren't so sweet: "For fuck's sake, Deidara, don't freeze up on me now. Talk to me about the detonation velocity of nitroglycerin, for all I care…"

This was the trigger point required for Deidara to start talking, which he did. So Ino got an earful about the detonation velocity of nitroglycerin, and how it compared with that of other explosive substances – HMX, which, insofar as Ino understood, exploded with more boom, and experimental DDF, which hypothetically made bigger booms, or something, she wasn't really following, but she smiled and nodded and laughed like it was the best conversation she'd ever had in her life.

And she felt Seigo's angry stare and his mother's baleful glare and it made her radiate her loveliness even more.

"More about the RDX thing," said Ino, reaching for Deidara's hands. "But slower, you're getting too excited…"

"Right," said Deidara. "Gotta play it cool. It is exciting to have someone care about what I'm saying. I mean, I know you're fake-listening but you're still the best listener I've ever had…"

Ino laughed (a genuine laugh; Seigo's glare intensified). "You poor thing, that's...actually kind of sad."

"Yeah, well, no one cares about the care that goes into my products – the thought, the artistry – they only want the thing to go bang when they press the button. But there are different kinds of bangs, you know, they can be fast and violent but live only for a millisecond – you blink and you miss it, but damn, the potency…TATP and fulminates are like that, so good…"

"Oh, yes, the fulminates," said Ino.

"Or you can have these rolling blasts so slow they that they kinda blur that line between explosion and combustion. You ever heard of ANFO? Like, half the detonation velocity of nitro – it's more of a blasting agent, really, than a true explosive, but it's powerful shit – they use it to mine. You wanna bring down a whole building, you drop a couple dozen pounds of that shit in the underground parking, you splash on some diesel, you throw on a stick of dynamite (I like to go old-school), and you get the hell out of Dodge. Boom. And then there's the fragmentation, which no one ever even cares about until I bring it up, like, do we want something tidy and contained and localized here, or are we trying to fuck up everything in a hundred-foot radius, 'cause I can do both…"

Deidara trailed off because Ino was walking the tips of her fingers between his gloved ones.

"Keep talking," said Ino, not looking up.

"Now you're distracting me," said Deidara.

"How is this distracting? I'm not even touching you…"

"I don't know. It just is," said Deidara, watching her delicate fingers weave their way around his and then walk up his knuckles.

"So tell me more about the H&M," prompted Ino.

"HMX."

"Yes, that."

"It's, like, literally a rocket propellant, and…"

Ino smirked as Deidara trailed off again. She ran her fingertips along the stitches that crisscrossed the back of his glove, glanced up, and said, "You know what? It's okay that you keep getting distracted by me – it's more realistic this way. I mean, this would be distracting if we were on an actual date, wouldn't it?"

"I guess…?"

"I mean, I am stupid hot, after all…"

Deidara looked like he wanted to glare at her but was restraining himself given that they had an audience. Instead, he covered her hand with his and squeezed out a warning. "I thought we agreed not to talk about that."

Ino pulled her hand out from under his and put it back on top. "Was there some kind of statute of limitations on that embargo, or…? I don't remember discussing one."

"Yeah. 'Cause it was implicit that it was forever," said Deidara, putting his hand on top of hers again.

Ino's attempt to replace her hand over his was denied; instead, Deidara interlocked his fingers with hers so that they shared a handful of warm leather.

"Forever's such a long time." Ino tilted her head at Deidara. Her hair rippled down, flaxen-white in the soft light. "I have to wait that long to hear myself called stupid hot again?"

Deidara looked her up and down – the hair, the flirty head tilt, the smiling lips. And Ino's pulse ran a little faster at the sight of the admiration manifest in his eyes (he liked pretty things and she was so very pretty; how could he help himself, really?). And, though she tried to keep it veiled, there was a mutual admiration in hers. There was something about the way the top button of his shirt was undone so she could only just see the edge of his tattoos peeking through, something in the wild-boy hair paired with the sharp black suit, something about the slow smirk that made its way across his face. She liked pretty things, too, come to think of it…

Ino looked away. If you fake it too much, you might accidentally make it, you know? For a silly, wine-spurred moment there, she almost forgot that this wasn't real.

Leather creaked softly as Deidara squeezed her fingers between his. "You are stupid hot."

Ino beamed a smile and felt the anger of Seigo's stare.

She scooted her chair forwards so that her knees interlocked with Deidara's under the table just as snugly as their fingers did over it. "Tell me more. Seduce me. Right in front of him. I want him to watch…"

Deidara glanced down, blinked, cleared his throat. "You're making it...hard to concentrate on talking."

"Am I?"

"Yeah."

Ino, who had wrapped a leg around one of his and was drawing her foot up and down his calf, giggled. "That's fine. You can stumble a bit – it'll make for a more natural exchange, you know…"

(In passing, she noted to herself that there really was something natural in this exchange, in the warm firmness of his leg against her shin, in their interlocked fingers of dark leather and fine porcelain…)

Ino mouthed a kiss to Deidara for Seigo's benefit. "I mean, maybe you look like a fine little Casanova that I've found for myself, but really, you're shy…"

"I don't think I can do shy," said Deidara.

"No?"

"No."

One of his gloved hands was now on her knee.

Ino was pleased; she could feel Seigo's irritation buffing up against her in waves. She looked up at Deidara from beneath her lashes. "And where do you think you're going with that?"

"I didn't know I was going anywhere, actually," said Deidara.

"…Why do you look surprised?"

"You didn't flinch."

This was indeed a surprising discovery, now that it had been brought to Ino's attention. She sat quiet for a moment, waiting for her brain to supply an adequate reason to explain this development. "Well…maybe I'm not as afraid of you as I was."

"As if you were ever afraid of me."

"It's not something I'd admit easily," said Ino, twirling one of her diamond earrings flirtatiously under Seigo's stare. "Fear is for the weak."

"Or the smart, depending," said Deidara. "It's weird, though."

"What is?"

"Dunno. I thought knowing what was under the gloves would've…"

Deidara let the sentence hang unfinished. As for Ino, she had almost forgotten about what was under the gloves – he'd just had to remind her, hadn't he? Now she thought she felt, through the supple leather that caressed her thigh, the ridges of his scars. And part of her – that petty, shallow, unkind part that sometimes took up too much space – wanted to jerk her knee away and say, get your gross hands away from me.

But she didn't. She told herself that it was because Seigo was watching and he'd notice the movement and perhaps grow suspicious. Really, though, it was the spark of wonder that lingered in Deidara's eyes – obvious to Ino despite the casualness with which he made his remarks – that stilled her.

For reasons that weren't clear to her, it mattered to him that she hadn't flinched away. And, for reasons that were even less clear, she didn't say or do anything bruising in this moment of vulnerability. This was unusual for her; exposed vulnerabilities were easy targets and she went for them as a matter of course unless there were strategic reasons not to.

Sparks of wonder didn't qualify as strategic reasons.

Ino swept these disorderly thoughts aside and turned her attention to Deidara's hand. It passed back and forth along her thigh, matching the slow tempo of her game of footsie against his leg. "It doesn't hurt?"

"Nah," shrugged Deidara. "One of the benefits of extensive nerve damage…"

"How much can you even feel …?"

"Around the scars, not much. The rest is fine. Normal." There was a pause punctuated only by the slow back-and-forth of leather-clad hand on stockinged thigh. "These gloves are actually – actually pretty good. Thinner than my old ones. I can actually feel stuff through them."

Ino tried not to look smug because he totally hadn't wanted the gloves and he'd totally argued with her for fifteen minutes about wearing them and she'd totally been right.

Then Deidara said, with only the slightest tone of grudging admission, "I could get used to them."

Ino couldn't hold back the smugness after that. "That's funny, because I distinctly remember you saying–"

"I know what I said."

"Well then, I—"

"Don't say 'I told you so.'"

"But," sputtered Ino, "but that's my principal joy in life—"

Deidara cut her off for the third time in so many seconds. "Hey, uh…"

"What?"

"…Are you wearing thigh highs?"

Ino blinked hard at him and then glanced down: his fingertips were just under the hem of her dress. "Yes."

"Oh," said Deidara with an expression she'd seen before, that mouth-run-dry-and-might-not-be-breathing look…

His hand retreated to safer ground towards Ino's knee and his gaze searched the room as though seeking a distraction. It landed on Seigo, stewing a half-dozen tables over. "Buddy doesn't like me touching you. He's got that look like he's about to come start a fight. Am I getting into a fight with him over you?"

Ino shook her head. "He doesn't fight his own fights. Not physical ones, anyway. He will get pissy enough to come and say something, though, if we just keep taunting him…It won't be long now – he'll be throwing a tantrum any minute…"

She moved her chair closer to Deidara's and resumed her game of footsie.

After a few minutes of this, interspersed with more fake small talk, Deidara cleared his throat.

"What…?"

"How do I say this politely?" said Deidara, looking at the ceiling.

"Say what?" asked Ino. "Since when do you care about being polite?"

"I know none of this is real, but…"

"But?"

"…If you keep rubbing your knee into my crotch like that, I'm gonna spring a hard-on that is."

Ino pulled back the offending leg and blushed a real blush. "Whoops – I'm sorry…"

"S'fine," said Deidara, staring dead-ahead.

Dessert arrived – a welcome distraction from the sudden awkwardness of fake flirting and real boners.

Ino spoon-fed Deidara chocolate mousse.

Deidara spoon-fed Ino whipped cream.

Seigo had a conniption in the corner.

"So close," whispered Ino. She inched in towards Deidara. "Okay, brace yourself – I'm about to give you the stare."

Deidara sat up straighter and seemed to steel himself. "I'm ready."

He thought he was ready, which was cute, but he wasn't, really. He wasn't ready for Ino's sweet sigh, for her graceful lean forwards, for the way she looked up at him with those wintry eyes that held the stories of her love for him in their frozen eternities.

He wasn't ready for the way she scooped up his hand in both of hers and pulled it to her chest and beamed a smile at him almost too bright to look at. Nor was he ready for the beauty of the moment when she lowered her face and kissed his gloved fingers and mouthed, I'm yours. (She saw the precise moment when he lost a bit of himself to her, then: the hapless swallow, the dazed blink.)

Then there was movement in the periphery of her vision. Seigo had jumped to his feet.

It was more than he could bear, to witness this.