Author-ess: Sadly, as I have only reached the third page of chapter 2 [Wandering Eyes], I find myself at a standstill. Mainly, the fact is that my erratic schedule for work is kicking the sleep right out from under me and I find myself unable to follow the developing plot line for my current significant story. Being the person that I am, I don't want to force a half-assed, rushed plot. So until I can get my bearing's straight, I'll pull some story out of muh butt. Now, I had fully intended that Interesting Ramen Challenge was only going to be a oneshot… but the gears in my head are turning now… Let's see where they take us!

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto :)

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Staring tired, aggravated brown eyes down in the mirror, the brunette chunin surrendered to slowly rubbing his index finger and thumb across the bridge of his nose, under wary eyes, over his scar. A trait he had unconsciously always fell to when anxiety or stress had gotten the better of him. A heavy sigh strained his lungs as he leaned over the bathroom counter. It wasn't as much stress that had given him the shockingly intense migraine as much as it had been the hangover he had awoken to. And seeing as how even the idea of food made the man turn an interesting shade of green, he held himself up in the bathroom of a certain jounin's apartment.

Still mulling the situation over in his head, the nauseated chunin slowly dropped to the cold tile floor, leaning back against a solid oak vanity. He still couldn't believe the awkward situation he had gotten himself into. Cursing himself inwardly, he recounted little bits and flashes of what had happened the previous night and that morning. The churning emotions that had come of Kakashi's last statement just before Iruka had stolen the flat sheet that covered the two shinobi and dashed straight to the bathroom left an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had been bedded by the devious jounin, and willingly.

The brunette winced at the inward disgust he felt for himself. No, it wasn't disgust; it was disappointment. It disappointed him that he had been so easily swayed into a drunken one night hook up with the jounin. He felt a pang of guilt deep inside though, admitting to himself that it hadn't taken much if any prodding to make the chunin comply. Kakashi hadn't coerced the chunin into anything. He had buckled to lust and desire. Perhaps not just desire for the physical contact, but hope for an actual connection. He chided himself inwardly, knowing that in the haze of inebriation he had let someone get close enough to feel him - not just physically but emotionally. And now, he sat on a cold bathroom floor, disheveled and wrapped in nothing but a thin sheet, cursing himself for both his migraine and the very slight regret he felt at realizing he was just another name on what was probably a long list.

The silver haired shinobi had since pulled on a pair of grey drawstring pajama pants, sitting cross-legged on his bed, holding his teacup between slender hands. He had spoken what he'd thought were soothing words to the shinobi as he'd woken up, and had been rewarded with a flurry of motion and panic, as he was now sitting alone. The jounin hadn't even gotten up to speak to Iruka, seeing the flash of mixed emotion drawn on the shinobi's face before he'd disappeared. He didn't understand what had happened. They both seemed to enjoy the night. What could be better than ramen, sake, sex and cuddling?

The pale jounin pulled a leg up to his chest, loosely wrapping an arm around it in thought. Had he done something wrong? Had he hurt the young chunin? It didn't make sense to him. Maa… I should talk to him…

Setting his cup back down, Kakashi stood and silently walked the hall toward the bathroom. He leaned into the frame, dipping his head toward the door to listen. Faint pants of air, a sniffle, the shuffle of a cotton sheet. Lightly rapping his knuckles on the wooden door, the jounin spoke softly, "Ruka? Are you alright?" He heard no reply. Waiting for a moment, he delicately pressed a hand to the door, letting wisps of chakra assess the situation. The chunin wasn't hurt but wasn't moving.

"Ruka-chan, talk to me. Please?" the silver haired shinobi goaded in an attempt to be cute.

He heard a shuffling, more movement of sheets and a few soft pats as naked feet walked across the floor to the door. Iruka spoke in what seemed like a whisper through the wood, his voice husky and dry, "Gomen, Kashi."

The silver haired shinobi's brow furrowed at the apology as he replied, "What do you have to be sorry for? Open the door Ru, talk to me." Almost as an afterthought he added in a, "Please?"

The doorknob turned and the door opened just a crack. Iruka's reddened face, peeked through. The jounin noted that the brunette's eyes seemed redder and puffy around the outsides and he frowned. There was no logical reason for the younger shinobi to be crying, but Kakashi still felt a touch of guilt, knowing he had somehow been the cause. He gingerly pushed the door open further, seeing Iruka's slouching frame wrapped several times in the thin white bed sheet he'd stolen in his haste. Leaning in closer to the chunin, the silver haired man dipped a hand under the brunette's chin, pushing his gaze upward to meet mismatched eyes.

"What's wrong Ru? Did I do something?" the older shinobi questioned softly.

Iruka's grip tightened into balled fists of fabric as his eyes pleaded to Kakashi's. They searched for some sort of answer as to whether the whole fiasco had been just a hook up or if there was any chance at salvaging something more. The jounin's expression didn't push one way or the other, clearly just curiosity and worry visible. The silver haired shinobi just wanted a reply to his question, his gaze entirely focused on the display of countless emotions scrolled across his young partner's face.

The chunin's voice was choked, his throat tightening up at the apprehension he felt at that moment. He half wanted to forget the entire event had ever happened, wishing he could just go back to ramen dinners together, joking, friendliness and the eased feeling he'd had with the jounin before the last 24 hours happened. The other nagging half of him wanted no such thing, however. His hopeful half remembered the blissful feeling of being in the arms of the man before him. This half forever dreamed of having a partner that was a lover and a friend, to whom he shared a deep connection.

How could he say something like that to the Great Copy Ninja, Hatake Kakashi, wielder of the sharingan and over 1000 jutsu. How could he say something like that to one of Konoha's most gifted shinobi and amazing sensei. How could he say something like that to the aloof, languid, perverse and generally uncaring silver haired man… who's accomplishments in both the battlefield and the bedroom were those of legend. The man who he had become such close friends with, not without lack of trying. Whom he feared to loose.

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Author-ess: DUN DUN DUNNNN. Here and there I'll add to it. No worries. Hope you enjoy AND leave feedback if you'd like. As always, thanks!