Chapter 4: Fussing, French, Fashion!
Ken frowned. "Mother, do you really think all this is necessary?" Ken's mom, being the well-meaning but incredibly over-bearing woman she was, made it her mission to make sure that 'lil Kenny-poo looked perfect for such as big night. She had been fussing with his clothes and hair for the last hour now, and hadn't let him near a mirror.
"Yes, it is. All right, Ken, all done!" She steered him down the hall to the mirror. Ken gasped. Damn, he looked good.
He wore a deep, red-maroon colored suit, cut a bit tightly to accent his long legs and pale, unblemished skin. It seemed to make to skin he had always thought was sickly and pale seem to be perfect. Underneath went a plain, white, collared shirt and a tie that matched his indigo hair perfectly. He had plain, black shoes, and his hair had been wetted, brushed and gelled so much it shone with dark blue light, an enigma of darkness.
"Wow," was all he could manage to get out. "Th-thanks, Mom." He'd be the envy of anyone, looking like this.
"My pleasure, sweet-heart, now, get ready to go." Ken's mom had finally gotten it straight that Daisuke was a guy, and frankly, she was still euphoric. Hey, it had helped her pick out the clothes.
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"Pleeeeeaaaasseeee Jun? Please please please please please please please please please please---oof!" Jun threw a pillow at her dorky younger brother. He had been asking her all day to help him get ready for this big gala, or whatever it was that he was invited to. She finally snapped, sick and tired of his pleading.
"Fine! Fine! Whatever! I'll help you, Ok, just shut the heck up!" Jun sighed. God, she had the world's most annoying little brother.
Daisuke smiled. He was completely fashion helpless (except if you counted a soccer uniform as high fashion.) so he needed Jun's help on this one, however hard it was for him to admit it.
Jun started whipping through his drawers. Only problem was, she grabbed the wrong drawer, and soon Daisuke's underwear was hanging off everything in the room.
"Urk," she said, and moved down to the next drawer. Nothing appropriate for a fancy party. Next drawer. Nothing. Next one. Nothing. After a few minutes of this, Daisuke was up to his waist in clothing, Jun had run out of drawers, and there was nothing suitable for Daisuke to wear.
Jun frowned, hands on her hips. Like Hikari, once she had her mind set on something, she didn't give up. "We have a couple hours before you have to be there. We'll have to borrow something from someone. Someone with fashion sense. Hmmmm." She snapped her fingers. "Of course! Yamato has more fashion sense than anyone around!"
Daisuke had a distinct feeling that he was just being used as an excuse to see Yamato, but he didn't care. Yamato did have fashion sense, and he wanted to look good for this party. Especially if Hikari might be there!
***************************************************************
Right on time, the Cap't of the Mary Catherine showed up to collect his pay, along with the surly teenager he had hired as a waitress (He could only hoped she wouldn't be disturbed by what would probably happen on the ship that night!) and the Greek he had hired as a chef.
"Listen," Jyou said to the waitress. "There will only be two people aboard the ship, and you must not under any circumstances, answer any of their questions. We don't want them knowing why they are there, got it?" The girl's gum bubble popped, which Jyou took as a yes.
"First off, serve them the wine. They're gonna need a relaxant, believe me. Then, the soup, then the main course, then the dessert. Easy, right?"
Pop.
"Kay then...." Jyou moved onto the Cap't, and handed him two bottles of the rum. The others he had put in the boat house (Aka, Project Vouryism HQ, where Takeru and Iori would be monitoring Daisuke's and Ken's every move.) refrigerator.
The cap't took them both, bit the cap off, and started swigging. Jyou had a very bad feeling about that.
"Right, well, there's your pay. I'll show you the ship in a few minutes, after I get through with the chef." He turned to the French-man who sat sedately in the chair across the table. He had gotten the chef from his uncle, who had paid him already. Thus far, the guy hadn't said a word.
"Ok. You." He said, but the guy just muttered something unintelligible.
"He says: I only speak French," squawked the parrot from the cap't shoulder, as the cap't downed that rum in what Jyou was sure was world record time. He was so frazzled, he wasn't even going to ask how the parrot knew French.
"Ok," he said, turning to the parrot. "Tell him that we want clam chowder for soup, filet of soul for an entree and cake and coffee for desert. We're kind of on a budget."
The parrot turned to the chef, and said (in French, of course) "He wants the lobster bisque for soup, the mahi-mahi marinade for entree and crepe suzettes with brandy for desert. Spare no expense."
The cap't, who had once sailed his former ship to France, smiled. It should get interesting when he got the bill back!
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Koushiro smiled evilly. "This was a strike of absolute genius, even for me, Miyako," he said, turning to her. "By hooking up our surveillance system with not only the control room in the boat house, but with this satelliteanyone with a digivice will receive an all Ken and Daisuke broadcast tonight!"
` Miyako turned to the computer. "And let's make sure everyone is watching, shall we?" She brought up her email, and began typing in a message:
sfTo all Chosen Children:
Be watching your Digi-vice at about 9 o'clock tonight.
Something interesting indeed.
*Evil Laughter*
Miyako, AKA Voodoogodess@aquilamon.com
"Feeling evil, Miyako, dear?" Koushiro said, watching as she sent it to every DigiDestined in known existence.
Miyako grinned. "Well, this should make for an interesting night." She sniggered.
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Yamato looked dubiously through the peep-hole at Jun. "How do I know this isn't some trick so you can come in to maim me?"
Daisuke sighed. He was absolutely right, he was being used. "Yamato, it's me, Daisuke. I really need some advice. And clothes."
"What, did she rip up yours too?"
Daisuke shuddered. Ewwww. "No- see, I got invited to this party and--"
The door swung open. Yamato had been let in on the secret (everyone had, in fact, except Mimi, whose incredible mouth would have blabbed it across the Pacific.)
and Hikari had promised to let Sora out of the mental ward if he screwed her plan up.
He grabbed Daisuke, pulled him roughly through the door and shut it on Jun's face. Literally.
"Oww... she grumbled, then set up camp to wait for when Daisuke came out. Little did she know that Yamato had the fire escape down pat.
Inside the rather squalid pad, Yamato gave Daisuke a critical look. He had the full scoop on Operation Love Boat, and was trying to figure out what Ken would want Daisuke to look like. It wasn't easy.
"First, goggles off." Yamato ordered, hands on hips.
"My goggles?" Daisuke grumbled. They were his life, his soul his--"Oww! You didn't have to hit me!" he said, in indignation, resignedly taking his precious goggles off. Yamato took them, remembering the time that Taichi had....Well, never mind.
Yamato began rifling through his expansive closet (You can't become a member of a popular boy-band without getting a pretty large amount of clothes)
"Black? No, too plain," he said, throwing the offensive article of clothing at Daisuke. "Green? Nah, with that hair, you'd look like a Christmas elf." the suit fell onto Daisuke's head. "Orange? Why do I even have an orange suit?" the electric-bright blazer plopped on the floor. "Ah-hah!"
Bingo! From what he had read in the E-mail from Project Vouryism HQ (Takeru and Iori) Ken was wearing a deep red suit, and this would compliment it perfectly. (Koushiro had had some extra video cameras, and had set one up for a lark in Ken's house)
"Cool, Daisuke, I found the perfect one," He said, and handed it to him. "Try it on." Neither boy made an effort to move.
"Er... Do you mind like, leaving, the room, Yamato?"
Oops. Yamato had forgotten it wasn't Taichi in the room. Blushing, he went out the fire escape (he wasn't going to take his chances with Jun!)
Daisuke held the suit up to himself. It seemed...a little feminine, but he was out of options. He changed into it quickly (no descriptions, you hentai freaks :x)
Not bad. he thought Not bad at all...even though the legs are a little long. It had been cut to the build of someone like Yamato, so was slightly thinner and longer in the legs and arms. The fabric had a slight metallic sheen to it, making his strong build, normally hidden behind loose clothes, a little more pronounced. He rolled the excess fabric on the legs up and knocked on the window to let Yamato know that he could come in again.
**************************************************************
Ken swung his legs in the car on the way to the docks. He still had no idea who was throwing this party, or who would be there, but he was nervous. What if Daisuke was there? He would probably laugh if saw Ken like this. All he could hope was that Miyako wouldn't be there. Hikari had tried, countless times, to get the both of them together... but Miyako had always annoyed the hell outta him, and she was infatuated with Koushiro. But Daisuke... hm. There were some possibilities.
***************************************************************
Yamato frowned. The hair. Now this was going to be one hell of a task.
"Maybe you should wash all that old hair-gel out, Daisuke"
"What hair-gel?"
"You mean to tell me you don't use hair gel to get your hair like that?"
"Dude, my hair naturally defies the laws of psychics." Daisuke wasn't quite certain what those laws were, but his hair ceratainly defied them.
This was going to be harder than Yamato thought. Opening his medicine cabinet with a flourish, he revealed more hair-gel than Daisuke thought was humanly possible. Bottles of every size, color and questionable description lined the shelves.
"Ah-thanks but no thanks!" he said, and scrambled to get up.
"Oh no you don't! Yamato said, "Do I have to tie you down?" Some how, being tied down by Yamato when you looked somewhat like Taichi did not appeal to Daisuke, so he meekly sat down, and Yamato got to work.
He scooped.
He smoothed.
He sculpted.
"Done!" he said, when he was finally done. He stepped back to survey his handy work.
SPROING!!! Daisuke's hair bounced back to normality. "Dude, what did I tell you?" Yamato was dumbfounded. He couldn't believe it. He had nearly exhausted his quite venerable supply of hair-gel on the Motymia's head!
Yamato was still in shock, so he didn't complain when Daisuke snapped his goggles back on, making himself look fairly silly.
When Daisuke left, Jun ran in, and was on Yamato like a ton of bricks. Worse, in fact. At least a ton of bricks doesn't rip your clothes off.
****************************************************************
Ken frowned. "Mother, do you really think all this is necessary?" Ken's mom, being the well-meaning but incredibly over-bearing woman she was, made it her mission to make sure that 'lil Kenny-poo looked perfect for such as big night. She had been fussing with his clothes and hair for the last hour now, and hadn't let him near a mirror.
"Yes, it is. All right, Ken, all done!" She steered him down the hall to the mirror. Ken gasped. Damn, he looked good.
He wore a deep, red-maroon colored suit, cut a bit tightly to accent his long legs and pale, unblemished skin. It seemed to make to skin he had always thought was sickly and pale seem to be perfect. Underneath went a plain, white, collared shirt and a tie that matched his indigo hair perfectly. He had plain, black shoes, and his hair had been wetted, brushed and gelled so much it shone with dark blue light, an enigma of darkness.
"Wow," was all he could manage to get out. "Th-thanks, Mom." He'd be the envy of anyone, looking like this.
"My pleasure, sweet-heart, now, get ready to go." Ken's mom had finally gotten it straight that Daisuke was a guy, and frankly, she was still euphoric. Hey, it had helped her pick out the clothes.
****************************************************************
"Pleeeeeaaaasseeee Jun? Please please please please please please please please please please---oof!" Jun threw a pillow at her dorky younger brother. He had been asking her all day to help him get ready for this big gala, or whatever it was that he was invited to. She finally snapped, sick and tired of his pleading.
"Fine! Fine! Whatever! I'll help you, Ok, just shut the heck up!" Jun sighed. God, she had the world's most annoying little brother.
Daisuke smiled. He was completely fashion helpless (except if you counted a soccer uniform as high fashion.) so he needed Jun's help on this one, however hard it was for him to admit it.
Jun started whipping through his drawers. Only problem was, she grabbed the wrong drawer, and soon Daisuke's underwear was hanging off everything in the room.
"Urk," she said, and moved down to the next drawer. Nothing appropriate for a fancy party. Next drawer. Nothing. Next one. Nothing. After a few minutes of this, Daisuke was up to his waist in clothing, Jun had run out of drawers, and there was nothing suitable for Daisuke to wear.
Jun frowned, hands on her hips. Like Hikari, once she had her mind set on something, she didn't give up. "We have a couple hours before you have to be there. We'll have to borrow something from someone. Someone with fashion sense. Hmmmm." She snapped her fingers. "Of course! Yamato has more fashion sense than anyone around!"
Daisuke had a distinct feeling that he was just being used as an excuse to see Yamato, but he didn't care. Yamato did have fashion sense, and he wanted to look good for this party. Especially if Hikari might be there!
***************************************************************
Right on time, the Cap't of the Mary Catherine showed up to collect his pay, along with the surly teenager he had hired as a waitress (He could only hoped she wouldn't be disturbed by what would probably happen on the ship that night!) and the Greek he had hired as a chef.
"Listen," Jyou said to the waitress. "There will only be two people aboard the ship, and you must not under any circumstances, answer any of their questions. We don't want them knowing why they are there, got it?" The girl's gum bubble popped, which Jyou took as a yes.
"First off, serve them the wine. They're gonna need a relaxant, believe me. Then, the soup, then the main course, then the dessert. Easy, right?"
Pop.
"Kay then...." Jyou moved onto the Cap't, and handed him two bottles of the rum. The others he had put in the boat house (Aka, Project Vouryism HQ, where Takeru and Iori would be monitoring Daisuke's and Ken's every move.) refrigerator.
The cap't took them both, bit the cap off, and started swigging. Jyou had a very bad feeling about that.
"Right, well, there's your pay. I'll show you the ship in a few minutes, after I get through with the chef." He turned to the French-man who sat sedately in the chair across the table. He had gotten the chef from his uncle, who had paid him already. Thus far, the guy hadn't said a word.
"Ok. You." He said, but the guy just muttered something unintelligible.
"He says: I only speak French," squawked the parrot from the cap't shoulder, as the cap't downed that rum in what Jyou was sure was world record time. He was so frazzled, he wasn't even going to ask how the parrot knew French.
"Ok," he said, turning to the parrot. "Tell him that we want clam chowder for soup, filet of soul for an entree and cake and coffee for desert. We're kind of on a budget."
The parrot turned to the chef, and said (in French, of course) "He wants the lobster bisque for soup, the mahi-mahi marinade for entree and crepe suzettes with brandy for desert. Spare no expense."
The cap't, who had once sailed his former ship to France, smiled. It should get interesting when he got the bill back!
****************************************************************
Koushiro smiled evilly. "This was a strike of absolute genius, even for me, Miyako," he said, turning to her. "By hooking up our surveillance system with not only the control room in the boat house, but with this satelliteanyone with a digivice will receive an all Ken and Daisuke broadcast tonight!"
` Miyako turned to the computer. "And let's make sure everyone is watching, shall we?" She brought up her email, and began typing in a message:
sfTo all Chosen Children:
Be watching your Digi-vice at about 9 o'clock tonight.
Something interesting indeed.
*Evil Laughter*
Miyako, AKA Voodoogodess@aquilamon.com
"Feeling evil, Miyako, dear?" Koushiro said, watching as she sent it to every DigiDestined in known existence.
Miyako grinned. "Well, this should make for an interesting night." She sniggered.
****************************************************************
Yamato looked dubiously through the peep-hole at Jun. "How do I know this isn't some trick so you can come in to maim me?"
Daisuke sighed. He was absolutely right, he was being used. "Yamato, it's me, Daisuke. I really need some advice. And clothes."
"What, did she rip up yours too?"
Daisuke shuddered. Ewwww. "No- see, I got invited to this party and--"
The door swung open. Yamato had been let in on the secret (everyone had, in fact, except Mimi, whose incredible mouth would have blabbed it across the Pacific.)
and Hikari had promised to let Sora out of the mental ward if he screwed her plan up.
He grabbed Daisuke, pulled him roughly through the door and shut it on Jun's face. Literally.
"Oww... she grumbled, then set up camp to wait for when Daisuke came out. Little did she know that Yamato had the fire escape down pat.
Inside the rather squalid pad, Yamato gave Daisuke a critical look. He had the full scoop on Operation Love Boat, and was trying to figure out what Ken would want Daisuke to look like. It wasn't easy.
"First, goggles off." Yamato ordered, hands on hips.
"My goggles?" Daisuke grumbled. They were his life, his soul his--"Oww! You didn't have to hit me!" he said, in indignation, resignedly taking his precious goggles off. Yamato took them, remembering the time that Taichi had....Well, never mind.
Yamato began rifling through his expansive closet (You can't become a member of a popular boy-band without getting a pretty large amount of clothes)
"Black? No, too plain," he said, throwing the offensive article of clothing at Daisuke. "Green? Nah, with that hair, you'd look like a Christmas elf." the suit fell onto Daisuke's head. "Orange? Why do I even have an orange suit?" the electric-bright blazer plopped on the floor. "Ah-hah!"
Bingo! From what he had read in the E-mail from Project Vouryism HQ (Takeru and Iori) Ken was wearing a deep red suit, and this would compliment it perfectly. (Koushiro had had some extra video cameras, and had set one up for a lark in Ken's house)
"Cool, Daisuke, I found the perfect one," He said, and handed it to him. "Try it on." Neither boy made an effort to move.
"Er... Do you mind like, leaving, the room, Yamato?"
Oops. Yamato had forgotten it wasn't Taichi in the room. Blushing, he went out the fire escape (he wasn't going to take his chances with Jun!)
Daisuke held the suit up to himself. It seemed...a little feminine, but he was out of options. He changed into it quickly (no descriptions, you hentai freaks :x)
Not bad. he thought Not bad at all...even though the legs are a little long. It had been cut to the build of someone like Yamato, so was slightly thinner and longer in the legs and arms. The fabric had a slight metallic sheen to it, making his strong build, normally hidden behind loose clothes, a little more pronounced. He rolled the excess fabric on the legs up and knocked on the window to let Yamato know that he could come in again.
**************************************************************
Ken swung his legs in the car on the way to the docks. He still had no idea who was throwing this party, or who would be there, but he was nervous. What if Daisuke was there? He would probably laugh if saw Ken like this. All he could hope was that Miyako wouldn't be there. Hikari had tried, countless times, to get the both of them together... but Miyako had always annoyed the hell outta him, and she was infatuated with Koushiro. But Daisuke... hm. There were some possibilities.
***************************************************************
Yamato frowned. The hair. Now this was going to be one hell of a task.
"Maybe you should wash all that old hair-gel out, Daisuke"
"What hair-gel?"
"You mean to tell me you don't use hair gel to get your hair like that?"
"Dude, my hair naturally defies the laws of psychics." Daisuke wasn't quite certain what those laws were, but his hair ceratainly defied them.
This was going to be harder than Yamato thought. Opening his medicine cabinet with a flourish, he revealed more hair-gel than Daisuke thought was humanly possible. Bottles of every size, color and questionable description lined the shelves.
"Ah-thanks but no thanks!" he said, and scrambled to get up.
"Oh no you don't! Yamato said, "Do I have to tie you down?" Some how, being tied down by Yamato when you looked somewhat like Taichi did not appeal to Daisuke, so he meekly sat down, and Yamato got to work.
He scooped.
He smoothed.
He sculpted.
"Done!" he said, when he was finally done. He stepped back to survey his handy work.
SPROING!!! Daisuke's hair bounced back to normality. "Dude, what did I tell you?" Yamato was dumbfounded. He couldn't believe it. He had nearly exhausted his quite venerable supply of hair-gel on the Motymia's head!
Yamato was still in shock, so he didn't complain when Daisuke snapped his goggles back on, making himself look fairly silly.
When Daisuke left, Jun ran in, and was on Yamato like a ton of bricks. Worse, in fact. At least a ton of bricks doesn't rip your clothes off.
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