Agumon and Gabumon sprawled atop prickly river-side grass. Each lost in his own thoughts, which were as lazy and distracted as themselves. Digimon rarely thought long and hard about anything, not when they could just lay back and think of nothing. There was nothing better than thinking about nothing with your good friend close by.
Sooner, or maybe it was later, Agumon sat up and spoke his mind.
"Hey, I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry," his be-furred companion replied good-naturedly. "But then again, so am I."
"I just realized I never got that lemon pie. Now I really want some lemon pie. Where d'you think we could get some?"
Gabumon rolled onto his stomach, flopping his arms out to his sides. "We could try to make one."
"Do you know how to make one? Like, with lemons, and, you know, pie? I don't think there are any ovens in these woods, though." He looked down, clearly becoming worried about his pie's fate.
Gabumon snorted. "We could ask somebody to make one."
"That's it!" Agumon exclaimed, getting excited. "And maybe we could ask them to make two—one for each of us! Or maybe two for each of us! Or three, even!"
"You'd better not come crying to me about your bellyache, after eating that many pies. And you can't say I didn't tell you so."
"You know, sometimes you really sound like you're trying to be somebody's big brother. Just like Matt."
Gabumon didn't look up, didn't say anything right away. Then, slowly, "Thanks."
Agumon stared up at lazy clouds overhead. "Anytime, pal."
Silence for some time, as if they'd drifted into separate, quiet thoughts again. But no, Agumon wasn't quite finished.
"Hey, I'm sleepy."
"You're always sleepy," Gabumon mumbled.
And then they really were quiet, because they both fell fast asleep.