A/N: I wrote this for the January Birthday contest at Bleachness on LJ. A thousand pardons that it never crossed my mind to post it here. Special thanks to Laurie Bunter, Adam Epp and Debbiechan for hosting judging the contest. Enjoy!

The hard gray eyes are fixated.

Not on the tiny red-garbed form at his side, the person who should be the focus of his attention seeing as he just married her. Not on the shrewd glare of his newly acquired mother-in-law, who is clearly pleased despite the sour expression carved onto her face. Nevermind the fact that his crimson-haired subordinate is slowly sifting to the back of the room to peruse the sake. He's even pretending not to have noticed the furtive hand-holding going on between his sister and that damned human annoyance she brought as her date.

No, it's something else.

Not a surprising something else—he has been fully aware of the situation and it was obvious it would get to this point eventually. Just something else that should have been none of his business. But there it is, bright and red as day, unabashedly flashing at him, like, Hee, hee, Byakuya-bo, looky what I did here!

It stands out because of the slender white neck it is settled upon. On a less formal occasion, it might even have been shrouded and obscured by snowy white hair. But no, that long hair is tied back with a green satin ribbon that is tied in a neat, delicate knot. Byakuya can feel the palm of his right hand itch as he imagines the lithe brown hands that must have put several precious moments into arranging it. He wonders if Ukitake even knows. Did someone have the nerve—or the lack of sense—to even point out the evidence of recent fornication to the distinguished captain? And that it was quite an unseemly thing to be exposed in public?

And if they did, does he even care?

He certainly looks like he's enjoying himself at any rate. The Shihouin princess at his side, adorned in luxurious golden silks, is smiling broadly, laughing. Her hip is grazing Ukitake's thigh and her arm is locked with his. Her lips are unusually pouty. And her escort is smiling just as broadly. There is no hint of malady to him today. Indeed, there has not been a single muffled cough from him since he arrived. Perhaps Yoruichi has been licking his lungs. Byakuya shudders.

It's outrageous, he thinks. And a little unfair.

Ukitake did not have to fight for his love. She pounced on him. And the pair has spent every day since in perpetual post-coital bliss. The household staff of the Kuchiki manor has been abuzz with nothing besides the exploits of the dashing captain and his lover for weeks, having flushed them out of bathrooms where they were necking and closets where they were doing other things. Byakuya has pointed out to the perpetrators—more than once—that while such behavior may not be blinked at within the confines of the thirteenth division compound, it is certainly unacceptable outside of it. However, his curtly-delivered speech has nothing to curb the ill-timed activity; indeed, even private pleading from his bride has failed to cause any belated guilt on Yoruichi's part. So this has become what is generally expected of the happy, unmarried couple. They are still having an excellent time fondling each other whenever and wherever they want. The maddening part, to Byakuya, is that they arrived at this state with relatively no inconvenience to either party. Yoruichi tilted her head and Ukitake came running—obedient, fortunate, and unchallenged.

Kuchiki Byakuya, however, was forced to do battle to gain his better half—surviving several assassination attempts prior to and after declaring his intentions, no less—and was rewarded with what feels like an eternity of chaste longing. Shaolin has been quite determined to adhere to her honored parents' wishes and remain separate until married. She has been every bit the blushing bride, to the point of tilting her head away when her betrothed would attempt a stealthy peck on the lips.

Not even a damned kiss since they were engaged. He would be honored and pleased with her propriety if it weren't so excruciating.

And to have that disgusting pair show up, today of all days, all shiny with afterglow—it's too much.

He feels a light tug at his sleeve. He shifts his stare to his right and instead of a pink haired pest, there is his crimson-clad bride, green eyes narrow. Her frown is enticing. But then she blinks at him, pink lips parted ever so slightly. And then the corners of her mouth turn upward and her cheeks flush, just a little.

His heart skips a beat. Apparently he's not the only one who's been paying close attention to the hickey.

"Excuse us," he says to no one in particular as he turns to follow where Soifon has calmly but speedily walked, in the direction of the hallway leading to somewhere that might not necessarily be the nuptial chamber.

Perhaps there's a closet somewhere that does not reek of Ukitake-Shihouin hanky-panky. And maybe—just maybe—he and his wife can give that other couple a run for their money. Because at least they waited and got married first.