UNSUITABLE SITUATION: or Why Wizardmon Was Single
Wizardmon yawned, stretched and got up out of bed, reaching for his purple terry robe and tying it around him as he padded into his bathroom.
"Huh," he snorted disdainfully as he stepped up to a porcelain basin.
Green eyes---usually so bright and alert---were tired and slightly puffy this morning as he inspected himself in the rectangular chunk of mirror that had been placed over the sink. And his hair was an absolute mess.
By the Four Digital Gods, but didn't he look a sight?
And he knew exactly who to blame, too.
Mechanically reaching for his dental hygiene brush, the wizard pulled down the high cowl of the terry robe in order to access his mouth. Carefully, he began the tedious business of cleaning the tough lacings that connected his lower lip to the upper one, considering as he did so what was best to be done.
Because it was obvious the situation just couldn't continue as it was.
Gatomon had almost died, for gosh sakes!
(Flashback to the day before)
The Data mage---who was just finishing the last of his tabasco-flavored espresso at the Nightmare Army Cafeteria and Karaoke Club---looked back to see Gatomon walking over to join him.
"Gatomon?" he bowed his head slightly in return, a smile automatically blossoming from behind the cloth of his cape.
Wizardmon really liked Gatomon. She was so cute and fluffy and had the sweetest Amazonwomon Warrior kind of 'kick butt' personality. In fact, Wizardmon had been seriously thinking a lot lately about asking the turned Vaccine out on a date before some virile Patamon or Veemon or something came along and tried to turn her head. Who knew how much time he might have to court her?
The white and purple feline came to a stop before him, smiling like the proverbial catmon who'd just caught a canarymon.
"Wizardmah," she began, and then coughed. "'Scuse me," she said as she turned her head aside long enough to delicately hack up an offending yellow feather out from where it had lodged between two of her back fangs.
That was better.
"Wizardmon," she began again, "can we sit and talk a bit in private? There's something I've been wanting to tell you."
"Sure," the wizard agreed, gallantly taking her paw as he lead the way outside to a solitary park bench that overlooked the devastation that was Myotismon's realm.
Helping her up onto the seat, he sat down beside her and patiently waited while she made herself comfortable, even to the extent of slipping off her two tiger-striped battle gloves.
"Wizardmon," Gatomon said solemnly, resting her paw against his right knee. "We've been friends for a long time, right?"
"Longer than your memory," the magician amiably agreed.
"Yeah... well," she shrugged, idly clawing the yellow fabric of his jumpsuit as she seemed to consider her next action. A light growling noise could be heard, but she put it down to his stomach acting up and nonchalantly slid into his lap, letting her tail wrap lazily around his leg as she massaged his tummy area for him. She noted with pleasure that his heartbeat had picked up noticeably.
"I've been thinking about it a lot and I've come to the decision that I and you ought to ...YOWL!"
"Yowl?" (Wizardmon raised both eyebrows in blushing bewilderment, but since nobody could possibly verify this given the twin circumstances of abundant hair and cloth, you'll just have to take my word for it.) "Isn't that moving a little fast? I mean, we haven't eve--"
"MY TAIL, YOU IDIOT!" Gatomon screeched jumping off of the bench and landing in front of her friend with gloves back on and held at battle ready as she warily glanced around. "Something just bit me on my tail and-"she gasped, "Hey, my tail ring is gone!"
Wizardmon looked and saw that, yes indeedy, the golden ring that had always graced his commander's rear end appendage was missing.
"You know, if you'd just get that thing re-sized like I've suggested to you in the past, you wouldn't keep losing it," the Data sagely advised her.
"And potentially damage it?" the feline snapped irritably, hating to be reminded of how many afternoons she had spent searching for the thing. "Do you have any idea how many boxes of Mighty Myotismon Macaroni Cereal I had to swipe from DemiDevimon's locker in order to get that particular free prize?"
"And for the love of chibimon---quit reading my mind!" she growled at him.
The sound of the growl lingered on a bit longer than it was supposed to. In fact, it didn't really sound like a growl. More like…
Gatomon's ears twitched. "What is that?"
Shifting a little on his seat, Wizardmon looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Uh… what was what?"
The cat eyed him suspiciously. "That sound like a self-satisfied snicker. It came from your direction."
"I didn't say a thing."
"Don't give me that, buster," she snapped at him. "You and I are the only mon here. Hand over my ring or I'll-"Gatomon leapt to attack, meaning to swipe him a good one on the ribs.
Instead, there was a snarl of outrage, a glimpse of a very unhappy face that looked strangely familiar, then blackness with the uncomfortable feeling of wearing a too tight fleamon collar.
"Hey!" the surprised feline called out into the void, "Who turned off the lights?"
"Oh no," Wizardmon groaned to himself. Why was it that every time he found a potential cuddle mate, this happened?
"Gatomon! Gatomon, are you alright in there?
"Did you zap me somewhere? Where the heck am I, anyway?!" his immediate superior exclaimed rather peevishly. "Some sort of alternative dimension? The Dark Ocean? The Interminable Void between television seasons?"
"Never mind that now! Can you breathe?"
The turned-Vaccine considered the question. "Yeah. The air's a bit stuffy, but it's darker than Phantomon's footlocker… and almost as smelly
The wizard frowned and decided it was time he switched detergent brands. And how did she know that the Ultimate's locker smelled like?
"Actually, you're still with me at the park bench; however your head is trapped in my right pant's leg. But don't panic."
"Easy for you to... WHAT?!"
Wizardmon ignored the inquiry. He was too busy glaring disapproving at the culprit of this debacle, who was looking far too smug for the Data's liking.
"Baaad, Suity, bad! You know better than to bite my friends," he waggled a finger at the area of his jumpsuit where Gatomon's shoulders were protruding from his knee zipper. "Now, spit her out, girl!"
"Wizardmah?" Gatomon's muffled and slightly incoherent voice piped up.
"Yes, Gatomon?" Wizardmon replied as he tried a new hold on the zipper's crescent tag that he was gripping. After having expended his supply of curse words at the stubborn spirit in his jumpsuit, he'd given up on verbal persuasion and had settled on manual.
Why was it that every time he started to get close to a girlmon, his clothing started acting up?
"Wizamah, es shtarten ta geh kinda shtuffy en ear."
Darn! From the woozy sound of the feline's voice, she was starting to suffer from oxygen deprivation. He had to get her free and soon!
"Don't worry, Gatomon! I'll get you out of there if I have to hobble all the way to Shellmon's Hardware store and borrow a crowbar!" he avowed, shooting his main piece of clothing a baleful glare.
The face on the darn thing just continued to ignore him.
"Nah rush…. Ahm een 'joyen tha vu." Gatomon giggled.
It took a moment for his brain to decipher her utterances, but once it did the Data froze and went pale with what my old grams would have called an 'interesting' expression stuck on his face. It could best be described as a mixture of equal parts shock, realization, and utter mortification.
Letting the zipper fall out of his hands, Wizardmon shot up from his seat and yelled at the top of his lungs:
"DAMN IT ALL, SUITY! SPIT HER OUT RIGHT THIS SECOND OR I'M TRADING YOU IN FOR A DENIM MODEL!"
Anybody got a good name for that jumpsuit?