A/N: Seventeen stories happening at different times, in different universes. If you notice a significant lack of DA 02, it's because, like Toei, I put them on a bus. Maybe a part 2 when I have more time?

Disclaimer: Digimon and its characters are not mine.

Taiora: 139 words

He wasn't sure how it began, really. She was his best friend – this girl with incredibly powerful legs that could alternate between outrunning all the other boys in the soccer club, and kicking him hard whenever he'd say something stupid. She always wore baggy shirts, and weird hats to hide her messy hair. He never saw her as a girl. He saw her as a friend. Then one day, her hair grew a little bit longer, her eyes shone a little bit brighter, her smile became a little bit cuter, and Sora was all of sudden so… pretty.

Things were never quite the same after that. Not that he minded, because after telling her this and seeing her face flush in the most adorable way possible, he realized falling in love with his best friend was so much better.

.o.

Koukari: 455 words

The party was getting a bit too rowdy, and he didn't appreciate the other boys' drunken antics. Retreating to the balcony with his glass of champagne, he spied a petite figure leaning over the railing, staring at the Tokyo cityscape; the young woman apparently had the same idea as him.

"I'm surprised you managed to sneak past your brother. Doesn't he get clingy when he's tipsy?"

A soft giggle erupted from her lips. She took a sip from her glass before setting it down on the metal railing in front of them. "I sicced Takeru and Sora on him. They're both drunk anyway, so between those two plus Yamato, I don't think he'll notice I'm not there."

"Congratulations, by the way," she said with a smile. She was fully facing him now, and he noticed that her normally pale face was pink from the alcohol. "Sora told me about your new company."

Koushirou returned her smile with a grateful one. "Thank you. I do hope this New Year brings good fortune." He tipped her glass to her with a short nod. A collective cheer abruptly floated out from the semi-open balcony door. They turned around in surprise to see their friends kissing and hugging each other.

"Oh," Hikari paused, her face pinking again, "It's midnight."

As if to confirm her statement, the sky above them erupted in a grand display of fireworks. The colorful lights reflected in her bright, wide eyes. Noticing that she was shivering from the cold, he shrugged his coat off and draped it over her. He leaned on the railing next to her, bracing his body with his forearms, with their shoulders slightly touching.

"Would he mind?"

"Who, my brother?"

Crap, he completely forgot about Taichi. "Uh... no. I actually meant Takeru."

Her peaceful smile morphed into a mildly teasing one. This was Hikari's playful side he wasn't really used to seeing. "I think you gravely misunderstand the relationship that I have with my best friend."

"Oh." His heart skipped a beat. His hand went up to touch her face as her eyes fluttered to a close. "Guess I should do this then, since it's midnight and all…" Koushirou moved to press his lips to her cool cheek. He felt her shiver again, earning a small frown from him.

"We should go inside. You might catch a cold."

"No, not yet," she begged him. Her fingers caught onto the edge of his shirt to stop him from leaving. He sighed in defeat, and reassumed his position beside to her. The minutes ticked by in silence.

"Thank you, Koushirou," she whispered, leaning her head on him. A delicious warmth traveled from her cheek to his shoulder, to the rest of his body.

.o.

Sokeru: 243 words

"This is wrong," she gasped as his fingers trailed down her face, neck and down the valley between her breasts, stopping at the gentle curve of her hip. His blue eyes dark with desire narrowed impishly at her.

"But it feels right."

"Yes but…" His hand was now tracing the band of her skirt, 'accidentally' grazing the exposed skin above it. Her body shivered in anticipation as he leaned in and placed his lips next to her ear.

"Do you miss him?"

The hand moved along her thigh, stroking the soft skin there. It crept closer and closer to the heat pooling in between her legs, causing the delicious ache to feel just short of unbearable…

"Do you miss him?" he asked her again. Her eyes shot open and their gazes collided. The mischief in his blue ones was gone, but there was something… a glint of morbid curiosity at her answer. God, their eyes were so similar. Even the hue was nearly identical.

"N-no!"

His eyes narrowed again. "Liar," he hissed. His finger pushed her panties aside, finally reaching its goal and oh, her body arched violently into him. His strokes were slow and agonizing at first because he was punishing her for lying to him. But as his lips caught hers in a frenzied dance, he lost what little control he had left.

The first time she and his brother made love, she saw stars. With Takeru, there was only fire.

.o.

Jyoushirou: 236 words

The smell of rancid garbage emanating from… somewhere assailed his nostrils. The medical student dared a peek into the dimly-lit office. Littered on the floor were food wrappers, plastic bottles, and uneaten instant ramen. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, the medical student fished out a garbage bag from the mini-kitchen and proceeded to clean up the room. Leave it to Koushirou to make a huge mess while attempting to fix whatever it was that needed fixing in the Digital World. As he surveyed the now cleaned office with a critical eye, his gaze fell on a figure hunched over his desk. He walked quietly toward it, taking great care not to make a sound so as not to wake him up.

The soft glow of the monitor illuminated his peaceful face. Entranced, Jyou used his fingers to gently brush the strands of hair that had strayed over his closed eyes. He never really knew what love felt like until that fateful night when their lips crashed into each other. Since then, he was more than willing to take care of him during times like this – when he was too busy saving the world to save himself.

Koushirou stirred in his sleep, mumbling incoherently, eliciting a smile from the older boy. Leaning in just enough to leave a whisper of a kiss on his cheek, Jyou smiled one more time, and quietly crept out of the office.

.o.

Michi: 400 words

Pancakes. Sniffing the air again, he could have sworn he could smell pancakes, and… sniff… blueberries. This was impossible. Nobody cooked in his apartment. He and his roommate survived on instant ramen, beer (him), bottled tea (Kou), and the occasional takeout (both). How on earth could his apartment smell of pancakes?

The dazed brunette wandered into kitchen where a familiar slim figure wearing his favorite blue shirt was bent over the stove he didn't know he owned. His lips involuntarily turned up into a smirk, as he crept behind her to allow his arms to circle her waist. He had to duck almost immediately to avoid getting hit by the red-hot pan in her hand.

"Oh my god, Taichi! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

His deep chuckle rumbled against her back. He pulled her closer to his body, savoring the scent of her perfume mixed with his on her neck. He pressed his mouth on her pulse point with the knowledge that it made her mewl last night.

It worked. Mimi's hand released the pan (empty as all the pancakes had been stacked on the plate), and curled into his hair. She hummed as his fingers played with the hem of her (his) shirt, slipping underneath to caress the soft skin of her belly.

"Don't you want breakfast?" she asked him.

"I'm having it right now."

He spun her lithe body around until her back faced the kitchen counter, backed up until she hit the edge with a start. "Sorry," he mumbled, lifting her without much trouble until she was seated comfortably on the counter with her slender legs around his waist. They wasted no time divesting themselves of their remaining clothing so that as soon as her bare skin came in contact with his, he no longer felt cold.

Her body shuddered as he entered her. His senses were immediately overwhelmed by everything that was her – the way she panted his name, how her fingers dug into his back (she would add more to the scratches she left last night), how her lips melted into his, and how her body seemed to curve so perfectly around him that he didn't know where his body ended and hers began.

They were both far from perfect, he surmised – their relationship was a bit of a mess, but it was their mess, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

.o.

Sorato: 173 words

They said the best part of getting married was having home-cooked meals and bento lunches everyday. Or the sex. Yes, having sex several times daily was definitely a perk he could get used to. Or tax exemptions. The last one made him laugh silently to himself.

Yamato looked down at the sleeping figure in his arms, her chest rising and falling in an even rhythm.

They were all wrong. The best part of getting married was waking up to the sight of her naked form draped across his chest, to the scent of her lavender shampoo lingering in the air, to the feel of long legs entangled with his own and the blanket, to the sound of her incoherent murmurs in his ear, and to the sweet taste of the skin of her neck.

Ah yes… he thought to himself, watching his wife slowly stirring from her sleep. She blearily opened her eyes to give him a lazy smile. Waking up to Sora every morning was unarguably the best part of getting married.

.o.

Taito: 248 words

"Ow!" Dropping the knife on the floor with a clatter, he winced as bright, red blood oozed out of his index finger.

"What happened?!"

He grinned to himself, and counted one, two, three... As if on cue, a taller boy with dirty blond hair and the bluest pair of eyes dashed into the kitchen, seized his shoulders, and whirled him around to face him.

"Why are you chopping vegetables?!" he cried, his normally deep voice a significant pitch higher... and louder.

Taichi pouted at him. "Because you have a cold and I want to make you some soup."

His best friend's eyes widened in horror. He grabbed both his hands and examined every square centimeter until finally noticing the tiny cut.

"It's nothing, Yama," he reassured him with a smile. "Just a flesh wound."

"Idiot," he sighed, yanking him toward the sink to wash the blood off. The blond made a big show of rubbing soap all over the entire hand and rinsing it twice before relinquishing his control of the brunette's injured extremity.

"Thanks," he grinned at him. "I'll be more careful next time."

Yamato's look of annoyance softened. "Just leave the cooking to me, okay? There are more than a million ways for you to kill yourself in the kitchen."

Yamato was so cute when he worried about him.

Taichi leaned over to press a soft kiss on his mouth. The resulting flush on his pale cheeks just made him look even cuter.

"Sure thing, Yama."

.o.

Koumi: 208 words

"How about this one?" Koushirou looked up from his tablet to glance quickly at the woman's outfit.

"It's nice, Mimi," he answered patiently, returning to his previous task.

"You said the same thing with the last outfit! Koushirou, are you even paying attention to any of the clothes I've been showing you?"

The redhead drew a deep breath. Shutting off his tablet, he leveled his girlfriend with a well-practiced smile. "The first one was a red blouse with the ruffled sleeves. Your second, a white dress with sunflowers. Next was a blue and white striped sweater and white pants. Lastly is this pink dress," he enumerated, ticking off one finger at a time.

Mimi puffed up her cheeks in sheer disbelief. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she stomped back into the dressing room. Shuffling sounds and the ruffling of clothes intermingled with her muttered threats filled the air.

It took a full five minutes before she re-emerged from behind the curtain. She did an exaggerated twirl in front of him. "What about this skirt?"

He stood up and walked up to her in deliberate strides. Dropping a soft kiss on her cheek, he whispered in her ear, "I think you look lovely in anything, Mimi."

.o.

The next one is based on a fanart I saw, so the idea isn't wholly mine.

Jyoumato: 314 words

An irritated sigh drew Yamato's attention from the book he was reading to the tall figure hunched over piles of notes and worksheets. He was battling with his dark blue hair and based on the frustrated expression on his face, the hair was winning.

"Why do you insist on keeping your hair long? It's a pain. I cut mine ages ago."

"It's not that I like having long hair. I just don't want getting haircuts before exams." He gave a sheepish smile as he continued, "Just a weird superstition I have."

Yamato rolled his eyes at him. "That doesn't make any sense at all," he muttered, more to himself, as he dragged himself to the bathroom to retrieve his comb and a piece of elastic.

"Turn around," he commanded.

Jyou's eyes widened. "Why?"

"So I can fix your hair." Duh.

The older boy spun his chair so that he and it were facing the wall. Yamato stood behind him armed with a comb and his choice of hair accessory. He ran the comb through the medical student's hair. To his surprise (and enjoyment), it was soft, and smelled very good. At least he was washing it. A comfortable silence washed over them as he combed through the knots. Then, he expertly gathered the top part with the rebellious bangs and secured it with the elastic.

Spinning the chair (and Jyou) again, Yamato inspected his handiwork. Satisfied, he gave a small nod.

"Let me see."

He handed him a small mirror. Jyou peered at every angle, his eyes narrowed in curious fascination. "Now I know why the girls say you have great hair," he mumbled after finishing his assessment. "This is amazing!"

He shrugged. "I tied it up. It's not rocket science."

"Still…" Jyou stood up to peck at his boyfriend's cheek, earning a mild flush from the shy young man. "I appreciate it. Thanks!"

.o.

Mira: 251 words

The snowy white material clung to her body like second skin, skimming every single curve in silent adoration. From the rhinestone-studded bodice and cinched waist to the skirt that flared just past her thighs - everything about the dress was beautiful. In all her years making bridal gowns, this was the first time that her creation truly took her breath away.

"It's perfect, Sora," the bride-to-be gushed in wonder as they both continued to stare at her reflection in the full-length mirror. It did not hurt that the woman modeling the gown was stunning herself, with clear porcelain skin, expressive cinnamon eyes, a naturally narrow waist flaring into full hips, and long, graceful legs.

Tearing her gaze away from the sight, Sora proceeded to make minute adjustments in the fit. Just a little tuck here, a loosening of the seam there - the imperfections revealed themselves as the redhead closely inspected the nearly completed garment. As she and her assistant flew about to finish the last of the alterations, Mimi took out her phone to snap pictures in between squeals and sighs.

"I think that's about it," Sora murmured more to herself than to anyone else after they had finished. "I'll make sure to have it ready in two weeks so you can have one last fitting."

Two weeks, she thought with a pang - more than enough time to finish the adjustments. Not nearly enough time to accept the fact that she had lost the love of her life to another.

.o.

Taishirou: 403 words

"Have you ever been kissed before?"

The redhead almost choked on his oolong tea in shock. Fighting the heat from rising above his neck, he busied himself with wiping the minute drops he spilled on his shirt and pants. An additional pair of hands holding tissues shoved themselves into his crotch, making him jump a foot into the air.

"You're so easily flustered, Kou. It was just a question."

Koushirou crossed his arms in front of his chest while his voice took a defensive tone. "It's not just a question," he replied, irritated. "It's the type of question I'd never answer."

The brunette shrugged at him. "Why not? It's not like it's sex. It's just kissing. Lighten up."

Koushirou shot him a glare, and returned to dabbing the front of his shirt. At least his friend had the grace to keep silent to allow him to stew in his annoyance.

"If you wipe it any more, you might bore a hole straight through."

He threw his hands up in frustration, scattering pieces of tissue all over the floor. "Can you please stop pestering me?"

"Nope. And you still haven't answered my question. But I take it from your reaction, the answer is 'no'."

A shadow fell over Koushirou causing him to look up. Taichi hovered over him with a smirk.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"Next question," he barreled on while simultaneously ignoring him, in typical Taichi fashion. "Would you like to be kissed?"

Koushirou swallowed as his friend's face inched closer. His words of vehement refusal died in his throat. How could he lie when he had dreamt of the boy's lips more than a few times before?

"Is that another 'no'?" the older boy asked him teasingly. He was so close. Too close. Either of them could easily close the gap between them.

"Uh…"

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." Taichi tipped his chin and crashed his lips into his in a searing kiss. It was awkward and hot and very, very wet which utterly bewildered him. But then, Taichi's tongue snaked past his lips and his hands moved from his chin to his hair.

His mind was reeling even after they broke apart. Oolong. Taichi tasted like oolong. Oh god, his friend tasted like his favorite tea.

"Well that was fun," the older boy declared. "But next time…" he smirked causing the redhead to blush heavily, "You make the first move."

.o.

Yakari: 265 words

He missed Odaiba, even if he hated it. It was home for a while. Until too many painful memories overwhelmed the good ones because the latter were too few, too far apart to be remembered. So he fled to America where he was allowed a fresh start. His brother's sickness, however, forced him to come back to this godforsaken place after several years of peace. Of course. Naturally, another tragic occasion just had to happen because it wasn't like he hated Odaiba enough already.

A tired, petite woman answered the door to his hospital room. Her red-rimmed eyes filled with tears as she realized who he was. They took a seat next to each other at the foot of the bed. He was never close with her, but they shared a deep love for the same person – the owner of the frail body barely occupying space on the large hospital bed. He was hooked to half a dozen beeping machines. Tubes were stuck in every orifice possible. Looking at him made him sick.

Takeru died soon after. Overcome with grief, they sought comfort in each other. It was a twisted sort of love, with both of them desperately aching to fill the gaping holes in their hearts. She soothed the pain somewhat, but Odaiba and the past he shared with it was starting to piss him off again. This time, she was not enough to make him stay.

He had to leave, even if he loved her. It pained him to look at her. There was too much of his dead brother in her eyes.

.o.

Jyoura: 444 words

Three weeks, five days, eleven hours, and twenty-seven minutes. He was on the other side of the island and she was in Japan's best university. It was time to move on, but whenever she checked her watch, all she could think about was how they chose to break each other's hearts one more time.

In her haste, she ran straight into a tall, fellow student. The surprised yelp he emitted sounded vaguely familiar… "Jyou!"

"Sora!"

They were both shocked to see each other so soon. He drifted from the group almost as soon as he started Uni. The work proved too much for him to have time for them. But he was here and so was she. Maybe…

"Sorry, I'm in a hurry 'coz I'm late for class. Maybe we can have lunch later?" He was apologetic yet very sweet, and she greatly appreciated his concern for her.

Three weeks, five days, fourteen hours, and fourteen minutes. The older boy knew a little café just outside the campus. Conversations reminiscing their countless misadventures peppered with questions about college life were had on top of lunch. She took great care not to mention his name because it hurt too much. She hoped Jyou didn't notice, but being one of the more perceptive of her friends, she knew he did.

Eleven weeks, three days, twenty-two hours, and forty-five minutes. They switched form lunch to dinner. He had a study group that morning, but he insisted that they spend the evening at this new Italian restaurant that opened. She wore a new dress, and he, a new button-down that matched his eyes. They talked about their classes, and the difficulties of living alone in an apartment. He asked her about him. She lied and said she knew nothing.

Twenty weeks, two days, and twelve minutes. He kissed her for the first time. It was warm, sweet, and everything she was not used to. She fled into the safety of her apartment before he could stop her. With shaking hands, she opened her phone to see ten missed calls from a number she could never erase from her mind.

Twenty-one weeks, one day, thirteen hours and seventeen minutes. He cornered her on her way to her first class. She had been avoiding him all week, but after seeing him apologize profusely for doing nothing wrong (it was she who chose to run), she nodded and calmly took his hand.

Sora frowned at her watch. He broke her heart exactly a year ago. Oddly enough, it hurt less to think about him. One year and…. five minutes, maybe? She wasn't too sure. With Jyou, she stopped counting ages ago.

.o.

Mikeru: 201 words

Mimi sipped her red wine, carefully regarding the young man in front of her. Gone was the baby fat on his cheeks and the silly talk he used to do. He was a grown up now, with casually tousled hair and a charming smile that he should not be allowed to use in a city like Paris lest he made half of its female population swoon.

She forgot he moved here six months ago to pursue graduate studies. She forgot he was a quarter French, and had a grandfather living in Paris. She forgot that whenever he smiled, the right side of his mouth would angle slightly higher, emphasizing the dimple on right cheek. Oh dear, since when did Takeru become so handsome?

She blamed the alcohol. Or her company for insisting that she drink more despite the alarm bells constantly ringing in her head. She and Takeru were old friends. Old friends were not supposed flirt over wine after a casual dinner. Or offer to walk the other home after a fun night. Or promise to go out again next week - this time to a popular jazz bar. Or leave each other breathless after an amazing good night kiss.

.o.

Mimato: 380 words

His eyes narrowed in a wince – it lasted merely a second, maybe less, but she saw it. All his expressions were subtle, nuanced; they were never too obvious to betray his thoughts. It frustrated her to no end how she could date someone and still not understand what went on in that mind of his.

"Sorry, was the note wrong?"

"The second one," he answered briskly, coldly. "You went flat."

"Oh." Her face fell. Holding up the sheet to block herself from his view, she squinted at the line once again. It didn't help that all her singing abilities she only developed from regular karaoke sessions with the girls. Singing was a hobby to her, a stress-reliever. She was neither a professional nor a note-reader, not like him.

"Can we take a break?"

"Let's try it again." Their words melted into each other, lapsing them into awkward silence. Being with him felt so strange – like his heart was a house and she was given the privilege to enter the main door, but the heavily-locked rooms were still off-limits to her. There were only three people she knew he fully trusted with his heart: his brother, and his two best friends. Not her. Never her.

"Just a short break, please Yamato?"

"O-okay," he relented, slowly placing his guitar on the floor.

Mimi shot up from her seat, and headed straight of the vending machine in the hallway. She did not realize five minutes had gone by while she debated on which drink to buy. Seven minutes. He wasn't even bothering to check on her. Nine minutes. She didn't want to go back in. Ten minutes. She sighed. Fine. Apple juice.

When she reentered the room, he was still in his chair, fiddling with his guitar. He immediately stopped when he saw her.

"I'm tired. Let's call it a day," she sighed, avoiding his gaze.

He stood up.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Yamato."

"Wait!"

She froze. He was breathing heavily, his right arm extended in her direction. But what caught her attention was his voice – he was distressed.

"Can we just try it again, please?"

Somehow, she knew he wasn't talking about the song anymore. He held out his hand. She closed her eyes and imagined a key in his palm.

"Okay."

.o.

Takari: 351 words

Takeru smiled sadly at the trembling girl in front of him. Handing back her carefully-worded letter of confession, he apologized with a deep bow. The girl flushed heavily, excused herself, then bolted. Finally alone, Takeru let his mask drop. He scowled at the folded piece of paper in his hands. She didn't bother to take it back from him.

"Another broken heart?"

Oh, he wasn't alone. Facing the sedate smile on his best friend's face, the young teen only felt his frown deepen. "You make it sound like I'm doing it on purpose."

Hikari giggled, her nose crinkling with her eyes. "It's because you're too attractive. Maybe if you shave your hair off and eat more junk food - if you make the extra effort to look ugly – girls would leave you alone."

Shave his hair off?! The thought made him sick to his stomach. His mother would kill him! And eating junk food all the time made him weak and sluggish. For a member of the basketball club, that was unacceptable. There was no way he'd do all that just to look... "Wait, you think I'm attractive?"

The pink flush on her cheeks - even before she could open her mouth in reply - was quite telling.

"You just said I'm cute." He sounded very pleased when he said it too. Hikari managed an indignant sniff as she hit his shoulder with what he suspected was all the strength his petite friend could muster. Laughing, he caught her hands and pulled her toward him without much resistance.

Their knees collided, while her nose bounced against his chest. Muttering a quick apology, he carefully tipped her chin to check for any sign of injury. Her face was still pink, possibly even pinker than before.

"You wanna know a little secret, Hika?" he asked her with a smile, watching her face twist into a curious expression. Her nose wrinkled again. He resisted the urge to pinch it.

"Yes. Tell me."

He took a deep breath. This was it. Time to get his heart broken for a change.

"I think you're cute too."

.o.

Jyoumi: 499 words

"Have you seen his girlfriend?"

Gomamon stared at her with wide, green eyes. His mouth gaped open for a second, before closing in suppressed laughter.

"What?" she asked him with narrowed eyes. It wasn't that she didn't believe Jyou. It was not entirely impossible how a sweet, caring person such as himself would snag himself a girlfriend. But this was Jyou – her Jyou. Didn't he need her blessing before committing to a relationship?

"I d-don't think she exists!" he gasped in between bursts of laughter. "He spends all his free time studying, and I only see him on the phone with you, Koushirou or Yamato."

"Oh, but…" The opening of the door made her swallow the rest of her words. Jyou entered the room with an anxious expression on his face.

"Hey Gomamon," he said off-handedly. His eyes roamed the room before settling on her. He abruptly stepped back, stumbling on his backpack which he dropped on the floor. "Mimi!" he exclaimed in shock, his glasses askew.

She got up to her feet and made beeline for the older boy. "You need to introduce us to your girlfriend!" she demanded, shaking an angry finger at him. Behind her, she could hear Gomamon's hysterics. "Apparently, not even Gomamon has met her, and that's not fair. We're your best friends!"

"Wh-what?!"

"Invite her over tonight. I'll cook you something nice, and you can give her a proper introduction. If she's important to you, it's only right that we get to know her."

"Uh…" Jyou's eyes darted back and forth in panic. Finally seeing his partner rolling in the floor, he grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at him with surprising accuracy. Gomamon yelped in surprise.

"I didn't tell her, Jyou. I promise!"

"Gomamon!"

"What?" she demanded, rounding up on the rookie Digimon. "What didn't you tell me?"

"Gomamon, no!"

Mimi quickly snatched up Gomamon and bounded out the living room. She darted into his bedroom, and quickly turned the lock. She ignored the loud pounding of fists and his frantic cries from outside.

"Tell me!" she hissed urgently.

"Jyou doesn't have a girlfriend. He made it up."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. Why on earth… She heard the doorknob jiggling. He had a key! She didn't have much time left.

"Gomamon," she said, smiling sweetly at the Digimon on her lap, "Why would Jyou make up having a girlfriend?"

The monster grinned at her in a way that oddly reminded her of Takeru… or Hikari. "Because you told him about Yamato and Sora. He wanted to be first so he made her up. He can't get a girlfriend though. That would be impossible since he likes you…"

The door to the bedroom banged open. A disheveled Jyou burst into the room. "What did he tell you?" he asked, his expression panic-stricken.

Her mouth fell open in shock. "You like me?!"

He didn't have to say anything. The red flush of his face and Gomamon's ceaseless laughter confirmed it.

A/N: Well, this was fun (and difficult haha). Comments? Favorites? Please, do tell. ;) Mine were (aside from my usual Takari-Sorato-Michi fluff ships) Taishirou, Taito, Mikeru and Jyoumi because hello? It's Gomamon!

Review, onegai?