A/N: After so many requests for a sequel (YAY!), I decided to try writing a second part. So here's a bit of a continuation! I hope you enjoy it, even though it's crappy and way too short.


Ino let the tape measure fall to the ground with a cry of despair. Three inches? In a week?

She collapsed on the bed, deciding to throw a tantrum the next time Naruto came by. Dating him was like living in a ramen factory. Or a ramen vat. Ugh.

If she never ate noodles again—no, if she never saw, smelled or stepped on a noodle again, not to mention taste, she would be just fine. She seemed to find them everywhere: sticking to her shoes, hanging from her clothes… she even discovered one tangled in her freshly-showered hair, which Hokage-dobe had compared favorably with the revolting dish just the other day.

That had been the last straw. He could take her out for ramen every day of the week, buy her dead flowers and send her affectionately insulting notes, but remark that her sleek, golden tresses reminded him of "ramen noodles"? It was more than she could take. She began to wonder what Choji was up to, or even if Shikamaru was back from Suna yet. Certainly that surly Sand-witch had broken up with him by now.

Her hand was on the phone and she was desperately trying to remember either of her old teammates' numbers when the doorbell rang. Twice. She groaned, stuffing her feet into a battered pair of slippers, and prepared herself to slam the door in his face if he even mentioned Ichiraku's.

The doorbell chimed again. "I'm coming," she shouted, stopping in front of the hallway mirror to check her appearance. Her verdict: grimace-worthy. Thankfully, she had brushed her hair and teeth, but she badly needed some eyeliner or at least mascara…

He began pounding on the door. "Ino? Are you in there?"

Of course I am, baka! "Just a moment." She stomped to the front door, and flung it open. "What do you want so early in the morning?"

Naruto beamed at her, blue eyes sparkling with something she took for intense admiration. "You look fantastic, Ino!"

A bit of her frustration evaporated. She blushed, glancing away coyly. "Really?" she murmured, fluttering her lashes.

Naruto's grin widened. "No," he laughed, leaning in to nuzzle her cheek. "You look like you just crawled out of bed."

Her temper flared up again, and she shoved him away. "Maybe I did. Sane people don't show up banging on the door at 7:30 on a Saturday morning."

"It's almost 10. Have you eaten breakfast yet?"

The mention of breakfast reminded her precisely why she was angry at him. "No, I didn't. In fact, I'm on a diet again." She paused, letting her lower lip pout at him before accusing. "Because of you and your stupid ramen fetish."


"It's true! Since we've been going out, I've put on six pounds. Six! In a month and a half!"

He folded his arms across his chest, the twinkle gone from his eyes. "It's about time!" he argued. "When we started dating, you were practically a bag of bones. What makes you so sure men like walking skeletons?"

Ino grabbed the handle and pulled, but Naruto was faster. He yanked the door open, dragging her out along in the mists of the early day, bathrobe and all. She stumbled forward, tripping, falling-- straight into his broad chest. Suddenly, she was unable to move. Strong hands clasped her to him, large fingers kneading her back and shoulders in a gentle massage. "I like you better this way anyhow," he said, kissing at her ear.

There, locked in the perfect embrace, tight but not bone-crushing, firm, not savage, Ino came to the painful realization that the hyperactive, loud-mouthed kid of the past really had grown up. He was different, somehow, than the Naruto who passed Chuunin preliminaries by a nose—his opponent's, that Inuzuka kid she had dumped some time last year. Poor thing, he really was a bad kisser, though she had heard that a certain Hyuuga…

"Hokage-sama!" she protested modestly, dislodging herself from his hold. "Please, not where everybody on the street can see. Think of the gossip!"

Naruto caught her open mouth with his, warm lips melting against hers for a moment of head-spinning heat. Then, he broke away, smirking. "Let them talk."

Ino watched him saunter back down the street, wondering when he would remember why he had come over in the first place.

Baka. She retied her bathrobe, snatched up the newspaper off the damp steps and made her way back inside. Maybe she would eat something after all.