DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto. I swear. Not even a little bit.

Author's Pre-Chapter Statement of Fun: Alright guys, no more lies. I'm not going to tell you that I'll be getting these chapters out more often than I have been, because frankly, its difficult. I love writing these stories, and I miss getting to spit them out regularly, but I just don't have the time that I used to. That doesn't mean you should stop expecting chapters, because I will get them out. I guess its not a matter of if, but when, and I appreciate the readers that review and encourage me to continue, because its you guys that keep me motivated and I thank you for that. But enough rambling, here's the next chapter of Wishes. Enjoy.

Chapter 3: Morning Sunshine

The first rays of light drift through a window, illuminating a slender, but muscular teen sprawled carelessly out on a bed. The boy is tan, with various imperfections along his skin, the scars of battle. He fidgets, and turns his head, revealing a handsome face, mature, but still retaining a carefree, childlike quality. Two red, triangular tattoos stand out boldly along his cheeks. He stirs, once again returning to the world of the conscious.

The teen cracks his eyes open, immediately regretting it. 'Why is it so bright?' He opens his eyes again slowly, and looks toward the window, light peeking through half-open curtains. 'It's just daylight, but its so unbearably bright.' He sits up and gasps in pain, a sudden ache pounding in his head. Closing his eyes, he lays back down, curling his legs up to his chest.

"Everything hurts." The words come out as a whine, spoken more to himself than his surroundings.

A figure steps through the doorway and sneaks into the room, stopping to look at the teen lying on the bed nearly in the fetal position. "Hey there, Mutt, hungover?"

The teen on the bed rests a palm on his forehead and massages it softly. "Shut it, Kankuro. What am I doing in your apartment?"

"You could barely walk last night, let alone find your way back home, so, I, being the gracious individual that I am, brought you here." The sentence ends with a smirk as the teen outstretches his arms, showcasing the room.

Kiba relaxes his body, sprawling himself out on the bed. He peeks around the room through squinted eyes. His gaze eventually falls upon Kankuro standing in the doorway. He concludes that the older teen must have recently awoken too, for he was still wearing pajama pants, and, to Kiba's surprise, no shirt, 'Wow. Someone works out. Never would have guessed a body like that was hiding under those funky black clothes that he wears.' He runs his eyes along the bare flesh, entranced. Strong arms, a smooth, muscled chest, a flat, toned abdomen. After a few too many seconds of staring at that chest, Kiba's eyes rose to Kankuro's face. The teen's appearance deceived his age. Kiba thought he could easily pass as a man in his late twenties; a prominent jaw, dark, piercing eyes, visible five-o'clock shadow. An appearance that could, overall, be summed up as rugged. His dark hair was disheveled, eyes half-lidded from drowsiness, and he needed to shave, but even so, Kiba found it a struggle to look away. The man was, for some reason, remarkably alluring. A throbbing pain in his head sends Kiba back into the fetal position, along with his eyes reluctantly shut. His thoughts were cut off the moment his eyes closed. "I could have made it home just fine."

"Doubt it." Kankuro notices Kiba eying his body like a piece of meat and grins. For a second he wonders what it would be like to lay next to the teen on the bed, to run a finger down those red triangles on his cheeks. It was merely a passing thought. "I'm going to make breakfast. Want anything?"

"No, I'm going back to sleep."

"Too bad, you're getting something anyway. If you don't eat, you'll feel like shit for the rest of the day."

Kiba stirs in the bed, disgruntled, "Then why'd you even ask?"

"Can't forget the pleasantries, you are my guest after all." The statement ends in stifled laughter, then, in a more serious tone, "Besides, I'm not fond of eating alone." Kankuro takes one last look at the teen on the bed before turning to head toward the kitchen, 'He really is good-looking, for a Mutt.'

Fifteen minutes, and a lot of tossing and turning later, Kiba realizes he isn't going to fall back asleep and decides to join Kankuro downstairs. He steps into the kitchen, rubbing the drowsiness out of his eyes, and then opens them to find Kankuro at the stove, still without a shirt. Once again, Kiba finds it difficult to keep his eyes off the older teen, 'this is gonna be a rough breakfast.' He walks to the table and sits, eyes still locked on Kankuro, who is facing the stove slaving over breakfast. Kiba stares at the teen's broad shoulders and defined back, wondering how it'd feel to slide his hands along those shoulders, down his back, then past his sides to toned abs. He imagines what it'd be like to turn Kankuro around, run hands up his firm pecs, lean in close and... "Put a shirt on." His thoughts were starting to get the best of him.

Kankuro turns away from the stove to look at Kiba, who seems flustered. "And rob you of the pleasure of staring at me? Now why would I do that?"

"Because its not anything I care to see," Kiba scoffs, scolding himself mentally, 'Good job Kiba, that sounded REAL convincing.'

Kankuro reaches over to a cabinet and pulls out two plates, placing three eggs and a piece of toast on each, "You've never been a good liar, Mutt, which is a shame 'cause you're supposed to be a special unit shinobi."

"Hey, give me a break, I'm a tracker, not a spy, I'm not specialized in interpersonal relations."

"Right." Kankuro sets the first plate on the table in front of the teen and the second on the opposite side before returning to the stove to place dirty pans in the sink.

Kiba stares blankly at the food, "Eggs and toast?"

"Breakfast of champions." Kankuro sits down at the table across from Kiba and begins to eat.

Kiba takes a few bites of his food and begins to glance around the room uncomfortably, "I need to piss."

"Then go. You know where it is." Kankuro points his fork toward the hallway behind Kiba.

The Inuzuka excuses himself and heads toward the bathroom. When he steps back into the kitchen, he finds it empty. He briefly wonders where Kankuro could have gone, but shrugs it off and approaches the table. He is about to reach his seat, feeling the cool tile beneath his feet with every step, when, without warning, confident hands grip his waist, and hot breath sweeps over his ear, "Ya' know. You never did give me a good reason to put my shirt on." Kankuro gives Kiba's ear a gentle nibble before spinning him around. Jerking the teen's body against his own, he roughly presses their lips together, snaking his tongue across the younger teen's lips. Kiba gasps in surprise, giving Kankuro the opportunity he was looking for to delve his tongue into the other teen's mouth, carefully dodging sharp incisors to sweep along the other's tongue.

The unexpected intrusion nearly causes Kiba to choke, as he roughly, instinctually shoves his assaulter away, shock and empty anger sweeping across is face. "What the fuck Kankuro?"

The older teen stares at Kiba in silence, struggling to regain composure. A smug expression replaces the initial shock, masking his internal confusion, "What? You've been asking for it all morning. If that's not what you wanted then you should have been more conscious about the signals you were giving me."

Kiba stands frozen in place, his thoughts jumbled. A creeping blush rushes up his cheeks, blending with the triangle tattoos as the initial shock and frustration becomes flooded with embarrassment. He turns away from Kankuro, stumbling toward the door, "I should leave," and with that, he was gone.

'That definitely wasn't the reaction I was expecting.' Kankuro strolls to the kitchen table, picking up the two plates and tossing them in the sink. He slowly makes his way to the living room. 'Oh well, he'll come around eventually.' The teen throws himself onto the couch, ignoring the springs that groan in protest. He runs a hand through thick dark hair, feeling like a fool, '...I hope.' He relaxes his arm, letting the hand fall from his hair and brush down his cheek before thudding pathetically onto his thigh, "God, I need to shave."

...

By the time Kiba made it back to the Inuzuka district, his thoughts had run him ragged. He knew he should have reacted differently, but he was caught off guard; Kankuro practically attacked him, what else was he supposed to do? 'Anyone else would have reacted the same way...' That was the excuse he settled on as he resigned to his bed. Resting his head on a pillow, he hears Akamaru whine from the foot of the bed. "I'm alright Akamaru, I've just been at Kankuro's all morning."

A soft growl.

"I know buddy, we didn't get to go on our daily run, but I'll make it up to you later, I promise."

Akamaru barks in appreciation and settles down on the floor next to Kiba's bed, content.

The Inuzuka wraps himself tightly in warm blankets, his mind no longer racing. He stares absently at the ceiling, unable to get Kankuro off of his mind. The strong arms at his waist, the sweet smell of his skin (which Kiba assumes is a side-effect of the purple body paint), and his warm, soft lips. He closes his eyes, focusing on sleep and as he drifts into unconsciousness, he can't help but wish he'd never left.

NOTE: Now that wasn't so bad, was it? And it was even longer than all the others. Yay for progress. Don't forget to review. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. Thanks for reading and have a great morning/afternoon/evening/night. I'm time-zone friendly.