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Three brief Jumba/Pleakley vignettes inspired by Lilo & Stitch: the Series.  There will be spoilers involved for each named episode.  Quoted lyrics from “I Feel Pretty” are by Stephen Sondheim, from “West Side Story.”

Vignette #1 – Inspired by the episode “HunkaHunka”

“I feel prettyyyyyyy…”

Three wooden sandals clip-clip-clopped up the front steps to the landing.

“Oh, so prettyyyyyy…”

Clippety-clip-clop the rest of the way up to the porch, where the slender, kimono-wrapped figure flung open the door and wobbled blissfully into the house, proceeding to waltz three dizzy loops in the general direction of the sofa.

“I feel pretty, and witty, and briiiiight!  And I pity – any girl who isn’t me toniiiiiight!”

A booming voice descended from the second floor.  “What is horrible shrieking noise from downstairs?  Is sounding like someone is pulling tail of kittycat.”

Pleakley looked up from where he now lay, sprawled on the sofa, and smiled at Jumba, who was standing in the doorway.  “That was me.  Singing.  Critic,” he added, sniffily, his vision having cleared enough to interpret the dry grimace on Jumba’s broad face.

“Where you are being all this time?”

Ha.  The Evil Genius was trying to sound like he didn’t really care, but Pleakley recognized that grumpy way his big purple arms were folded.  “At the Lono-I-Keaba-weeba-dooba…” he gave up on the tongues-tangling Hawaiian word and settled for, “At the dance.  It was wonderful!”  He stretched his arms luxuriously over his head and tucked his hands behind his perfect black wig.  “I was the belle of the ball!”

“Heh,” Jumba gave a dismissive chuckle.  “Little Girl is already telling me how 323 pecks everyone at dance, then you are turning on lights and all peoples see you and are ‘falling in love.’”  Saying this last bit, Jumba fluttered all four eyes and twiddled his fingers in a manner that Pleakley suspected was meant to mock him.  Glowering indignantly, he struggled up from the sofa, got at least two of his feet on the floor, and tried to walk toward Jumba, who was still chuckling and muttering, “Belle of Ball, heh!”  Instead, Pleakley found himself staggering in the direction of the television.

“Whoa!” he got all three feet stopped and put a hand to his spinning head.  “Jumba?”

That deep, rumbling laugh, sounding warmer from this angle, came up from behind him, and two large hands took control of his shoulders and steered him back to the sofa.  “I am thinking was something good to drink at this dance, too, eh?”

“Mmm,” Pleakley acknowledged, thankful to be sitting still again.  “The earthlings call it ‘punch.’  It’s delicious.”

“Clearly, is also packing quite a punch,” Jumba kept one hand around his shoulders to prevent him from falling over.  “What is in this?”

“Mostly pineapple juice and ginger ale, with a little guava and mango.  I got the recipe.”  He found it in the sleeve of his kimono.

Jumba read over the scrap of paper.  “Is all?” he questioned, looking down at Pleakley’s woozy smile.  “Could not be getting drunk from pineapple and ginger ale.”

“Maybe you couldn’t,” Pleakley blinked at him and hiccupped.  “So,” he looked around, “Lilo and the Little Monster made it home all right?”

“They are up in dome, sleeping.  Bigger Girl, I am not seeing.”

“She left with David.  Don’t expect to ‘seeing’ her for a while,” he confided, grinning.  “They were being very friendly once the party got going again.  Lilo told you about Gantu setting off the fire alarm?”

“Mmph,” Jumba frowned.  “She is also telling about letting Big Dummy get away with 323.  Always, I must be reminding her that Gantu must not be sending experiments to Hamsterviel.  Is very dangerous.  Also against agreement we are having with Grand Councilwoman.  One of days, 626 and Little Girl will be having to recapture all such lost experiments.”

“Aaa, don’t worry about that.  Not tonight.”  Pleakley sighed and smiled dreamily again.  “Tonight is too wonderful to worry about anything.”

This prompted Jumba to shift his weight on the couch and rub his neck thoughtfully before he said, “Yes, you are still not telling me where you have been for so long.”

“With Keoni.”

Jumba stared at  him.  “What?”

“You know.  Lilo’s little friend.  The one who has a crush on me.”

Jumba snorted at this.  “Victim of 323.”

“No, he wasn’t a victim of 323,” Pleakley informed him.  “He’s serious.  He thinks I’m beautiful.  Beautiful and quirky,” he added, proudly.

“Well, is half right,” Jumba muttered.

A two-fingered green hand lightly slapped Jumba’s chest.  “After the fire alarm was over, and Gantu was gone, everyone came back to the party.  And Keoni asked me to dance with him.  And we had a lovely time.”  Pleakley yawned.  “I walked him home.”

“Little earth boy has bad manners,” declared Jumba.  “Gentleman is supposed to walk lady home.”

“Aw, he’s just a kid,” Pleakley dismissed this.  “I’m the grown-up here; I told him he shouldn’t be out so late by himself.  He bought me a shave ice on the way.  We sat and talked for a while.  He’s a nice kid.  It felt good to really open up to someone.”  Settling his head more comfortably on Jumba’s arm, he fell silent.

Jumba regarded him with a puzzled look at this remark, then said, “You are not telling him we are aliens?”

“Oh, no,” the green hand waved this off, “don’t worry your evil little head about that.  He still thinks I’m just Lilo’s quirky, beautiful Aunt Pleakley.  But don’t be surprised if he shows up tomorrow and challenges you to a duel for my honor.”

“WHAT!?” Jumba pulled away from him, withdrawing the support of his arm, and Pleakley lopped over, head landing on the pillow at the end of the couch.

Settling into this new position, Pleakley looked up with a smug smile and said, “Keoni thinks Lilo’s Uncle Jumba doesn’t appreciate what a lucky guy he is to be married to such a beautiful woman.”

“Bah!”  Jumba folded his arms over his chest.  “Little boy should be minding own business!”

“He asked me why you didn’t ‘escort’ me to the Lono-I-Keoobi-dooba.  I told him it was because you couldn’t dance.”

“Is big lie!”  All four eyes were wide with the offense of it.  “You are knowing this is big lie!  I am excellent dancer!  Am doing best Funky Glocknar you are ever seeing, One-Eye!  Evil Genius Twinkletoes is one big Boogie Machine!”

“Oh, calm down, will you?” Pleakley was giggling at this display as he pushed himself back up into a sitting position and wrapped both thin arms around Jumba’s massive one.  “It was either that, or tell him the truth.  That you’re a big old grumpy-puss who can’t even be bothered to take his own wife out for Valentine’s Day.”

“If silly little one-eyed ‘wife’ is so wanting to go out, should be saying something,” Jumba groused, but he relented a bit as his Little One-Eye tugged at his arm and snuggled himself under it again, black wig resting against Jumba’s chest.

Pleakley yawned against his shirt and closed his eye.  “Will you come to the Loki-Iki-Wicki-Wacki with me next year?  Uncle Jumba?”  Two green fingers wandered sleepily across his tummy.

“Next year.  Maybe.  Will be seeing.”

“I am a beautiful earth woman, aren’t I?”  The mix of pineapple, ginger ale, and drowsiness was really kicking in now, as his breathing fell into rhythm with Jumba’s.  “Don’t you think I look beautiful?”

Pleakley smiled as he felt Jumba’s fingertips run softly, lightly over his silk-kimonoed shoulder, and the last thing he heard as he drifted to sleep was a low, gentle laugh.  “Must admit, Japanese lady dress is being good look for you.”

Vignette #2 – Inspired by the episode “Nosey”

Jumba could hear the sounds of disturbance coming from the bedroom before he had climbed half the stairs.  Among the racket, he easily distinguished the flippety-flop of Pleakley’s tripedal locomotion, and the muted whine of his muttering.  Reaching the doorway, he observed his one-eyed roommate scuttling around the room, pulling clothes out of drawers by the handful and stuffing them into a trunk open on the floor.

“Why all the packing and running?” Jumba inquired.  “We are expecting another asteroid?”

“You!”  Pleakley paused long enough to point a shaking finger at him.  “This is all your fault!  You and your evil snooping experiment!”

Jumba laughed at this.  “199?  Is hardly evil at all!  Annoying, yes, but as Evil Genius Creations go, is harmless.”

“Harmless!?  That little monster just blew my cover!  What am I going to do?  I can’t stay here, now.  I’ll have to go grovelling to the Grand Councilwoman, try to get my old job back.  Or go home to Mother,” he shuddered.

“Is no need for going anywhere,” Jumba intervened, removing the orchid-print mini-skirt from his grasp, and laying one large hand around his narrow shoulders.

“But--”  Pleakley gaped at him.  “You heard what he said!  Aunt Pleakley is not a woman!”

“Mmph,” Jumba brushed this off, examining the skirt still in his hand.  “I am thinking this garment is belonging to Bigger Girl.”

He turned his four eyes on Pleakley, who flinched and said, “Maybe.”

Looking into the overflowing trunk, Jumba plucked out several other familiar-looking items.  “Also pink Hello Kittycat shirt, sparkly plastic shoes for beach, and polka-dot surfing bikini.”

Pleakley ripped the pilfered clothes from his hands and flung them on the floor.  “Jumba, Mr. Jameson knows I’m an alien!  Not from Canadia, from another planet!  It’s only a matter of time before it gets around the island, then it’s panic, chaos, tanks rolling through the streets…”

“He knows nothing of the kind,” Jumba informed him.

“He knows I’m not a woman!”

“Precisely.  This does not mean he is thinking you are not from Earth.  In fact, I believe he is thinking something else entirely.”  Jumba regarded his little green friend with a wise smile, waiting for the realization to sink in.

“What!?” demanded Pleakley, still too upset to play games.

“He is thinking you are transylvanyite.”  When the round eye continued to stare blankly at him, Jumba explained, “Man who likes wearing women’s clothes.”

“Oh.”  Pleakley relaxed all at once, and let out a giggle as he looked at the wigs and dresses scattered around him.  “Well… if that’s all…”

“Is probably being one other thing snobby hotel man is thinking,” Jumba mused.  “Uncle Jumba and Aunt Pleakley are couple, yes?  199 did not say that this is not so.”

“Sooo, he’s thinking…”  Pleakley looked up at Jumba and gestured between them.  “You… and I… are…”

“Yes.”

“But, I’m not a woman.”

“No.”

“So, we’re both men.”

“Was true last time I am checking,” Jumba couldn’t hold back a grin.

“And we’re…”

“In happy domesticated partnership.”

“The correct earth term is gay,” Pleakley informed him, and repeated, in that know-it-all voice.  “Mr. Jameson thinks we are--”  He stopped short as the full meaning finally smacked him in the head, and his eye went wide with shock.  “Mr. Jameson thinks we’re gay?!?”

Jumba laughed, one of those good, deep laughs that came all the way from his toes, and he gathered up his Little One-eye in a bear hug.  “You see?  Nothing for to be worrying about.  This revelation, I believe we can be living with.”

Vignette #3 – Inspired by the episode “Yapper”

Jumba’s thumb nudged the ‘Channel Up’ button on the hotel remote.  Earth talk show doing Top Ten Campaign Slogans for movie star with funny accent who wants to rule big state across ocean.  Channel Up.  Other earth talk show, man with big chin telling joke.  Channel Down.  Back to Top Ten.  Audience laughing.  Jumba felt for the volume control to turn down the sound.  He did not want to wake little girl.

He was sitting in bed in fancy Honolulu hotel room, pillows between his back and the headboard.  In the matching bed, on the other side of the nightstand, Lilo was curled up, eyes closed tight, breathing softly.  Beyond her, he could see the shadowy outline of 626, and hear his gutteral snoring.  Both of his little charges, sound asleep.  Jumba stretched, and gathered up all the wrappers from the chocolate bar, cheesy-puffs, and two packets of macadamia nuts Pleakley had given him from the snack cupboard under the TV.  Pushing off the blankets, and picking up his empty soda can from the nightstand, he got up and carried everything to the trash.  Only then did he finally turn his attention to the chair by the window.

Pleakley was sitting there, draped sideways, arms folded over the back of the chair, chin resting on his arms, gazing out the great, glass doors of the balcony overlooking the city.  Jumba walked over to stand behind him, and Pleakley, without looking up, breathed, “Isn’t it beautiful?  I love this planet…”  Honolulu was a sparkling sea of lights in the night.  Even Jumba had to admit it was lovely.  Reaching out now, he stroked the back of one finger over Pleakley’s shoulders.

“Come to bed.”

Pleakley tried to shrug away his touch.  “I’m not tired.”

A low chuckle rumbled in Jumba’s belly.  “Eye is drooping.  And I distinctly heard yawning.  Come to bed,” he coaxed again.

Pleakley shook his head and murmured, “I’m all right here.”

“You cannot sleep in chair.  Bed is much more comfy.  And very big.  Come.”  The large hand slid all the way around Pleakley and tried to draw him to his feet, but he raised an arm in protest.

“Jumba, we can’t.”

“Cannot what?  Cannot sleep?” he scoffed.

“Not in the bed.  Not together,” Pleakley shook his head, and he looked past Jumba to the little, black-haired lump curled up under the blankets.

Jumba followed his look, and caught up to his thoughts.  “Little girl is sleeping.  626 also.”

“But, we’re the chaperones.  We’re supposed to set a good example.”

“We are sleeping only,” Jumba argued, trying to keep his voice down.  “Am not asking you for to be making  smuchee-wuchee with me.”

“Shhh!” Pleakley hushed him, glancing over at Lilo again.

“Should not be spending night in fancy hotel sleeping in chair.”  He was stroking Pleakley’s back again, with a slow, gentle, up and down, as he spoke in a low voice, drawing out his words.  “Should be taking advantage of big, soft, cozy, restful bed.”  Jumba had learned by now that the delicate touch required for creating Evil Genius experiments was also good for relaxing anxious Plorganarian.  It was having an effect now, as Little One-Eye shifted his slight weight and slumped against Jumba’s arm.  Bending closer, Jumba warmed Pleakley’s antenna with his breath as he whispered, “Please to be coming to bed now, Mrs. Jookiba.”

Pleakley giggled softly, but did not resist this time, as Jumba scooped him out of the chair.  “Mrs. Jookiba…”

“Is how we are to hotel peoples.  They will be expecting us to share bed together.”

“Well, we can’t let the hotel people down, of course,” Pleakley murmured, with a drowsy smile.  “Not after they gave us all those free snacks, and sodas…” he yawned.

Jumba deposited the limp, green body on the sheets, and rounded the bed back to his own side, nearest to Lilo.  As he pushed his feet under the blankets, Pleakley turned toward him, head settling on the pillow.

“Lilo’s asleep?”

“Snug as bug,” Jumba assured him, drawing up the covers.

“And the Little Monster?”

“You cannot hear snoring like sawing tree?”

“He does snore, doesn’t he?  Not as loud as you do, but…”

“Evil Genius does not snore,” Jumba defended himself, stretching his right arm under and around Pleakley, drawing him close.

“Oh, yes, you do,” Pleakley informed him, snuggling against him.  “It’s all right, though.  I don’t mind.”

“Mmph,” he gave a faint grumble in response to this, settling onto his side and folding both arms around his Little One-Eye.  There was not much to skinny green body, he had to admit, but still, he found something comforting in holding this sliver of warmth.

“We’re still going sightseeing tomorrow, right?”

Jumba knew it wasn’t really a question.  “Is what you have been telling me all day.”

“I’ve been reading the guidebook,” Pleakley’s voice was a drowsy murmur.  “Honolulu is a fascinating place.  I can’t wait to see the Iolani Palace.  And Diamond Head.  And go shopping at Ala Moana Center…”

“Will not be seeing anything without sleeping first,” Jumba hushed him.  “Please to be closing eye now.  And mouth.”

“All right,” he laughed softly.  “Good night.”

Jumba felt himself smiling, too, as he closed his own eyes.  “Good night, Mrs. Jookiba.”