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It was summer: the days were long and with every extra hour the sun ruled the sky, the nights were shorter. And when you liked to sleep, that was the worst .
Dib liked to sleep, and he found himself longing for when the cool nights stretched, seemingly endless, from the perfect hours of five pm to seven am. After all, teenagers were supposed to get thirteen hours of sleep, he was pretty sure that he had read that on the internet somewhere. Not to mention their sleep/wake schedules being totally out of whack. But living in his miserable northeastern state, Dib still had to suffer the unnecessary wrath of daylight savings time. It didn’t help that even without his inability to sleep, he still had something keeping him awake: Zim.
Dib wasn’t quite sure when he and Zim had become friends, but at this point there was no denying they were anything but that. They were hardly apart, and that was the case even now, at one in the morning, Zim sitting on the end of Dib’s bed while Dib scrolled aimlessly on his phone. But Zim was a creature demanding of attention, and Dib should have known not to leave him alone for so long.
“I thought humans slept at night.” Zim says suddenly, turning his head slightly when Dib looks up at him.
“Yeah, they do,” he says, going back to his phone, “but I have insomnia.”
Zim creeps closer. “Which is?”
“A sleep disorder. I don’t, like… get tired or fall asleep at the right times.”
“You can’t perform a basic human function?” Zim says, now laying on his… elbows? next to Dib. His little feet kick slightly and Dib can’t help but smile.
“Sleep disorders are pretty common, actually.”
Out of nowhere, Zim knocks his phone out of his hand. It flies to the ground with a soft thunk.
“Zim, what the hell??” He scowls as Zim crawls into the crook of his arm. For someone so typically aggressive and maniacal he was so… affectionate. Dib rolls his eyes as Zim looks up at him, gloved hands folded under his chin.
“I don't understand sleep,” Zim proclaims from his new throne.
“I know,” says Dib, sinking down onto the bed some to adjust to the newfound weight on his right side. Zim nestles in further. “We’ve talked about it. You don't need it.”
“I think I'd like to try it.”
“You think you'd like to try sleeping?”
“Yes.”
This wasn't the first human thing Zim wasn't accustomed to that he'd asked Dib to help him with. It took them about twelve different meals to realize Zim really liked fruit. And breakfast food. Anything sweet, really. And then he had asked Dib to teach him how to swim, which had not really gone well for either of them, despite the attempt at paste-bathing beforehand. So Dib was thinking that in terms of successfulness that this particular plan would hit somewhere in the solid middle.
“Zim, I don't think you're going to be able to sleep.”
He sits up, obviously offended. His antennae twitch. “And why not?”
“I don't really think you can do something your physiology doesn't allow for.”
Zim scoffs. “You underestimate Zim’s ability to overcome something as simple as physiology. ”
“Okay,” he says, and he's laughing now as Zim lays his head on his chest. “I'll try to help you sleep. But I don't think it's gonna be easy for you.”
“Try me, human.”
Dib takes off his glasses and sticks them on the bedside table. He can hardly see Zim’s face, but from what he can see, he looks concerned.
“No,” Zim says, grabbing for his glasses. “No. Put them back.”
Dib squints at him. “Have you really never seen me without my glasses?”
“No. I don't like it.”
“Well, I can’t sleep in them, moron.”
Zim sighs and rests his head back against Dib’s chest. It’s… a weird feeling. Something in Dib tells him he shouldn’t let Zim be so familiar, so almost intimate like this. But it’s so comfortable, even though it’s different.
So he lets it slide.
“So to sleep,” says Dib, “you have to get comfortable.” He moves over and lifts the covers, laying a hand on the mattress. Zim makes his way over.
“No boots though.” He holds back laughter as Zim tries to stick his boots in the blankets. With a groan he kicks them off.
“Gloves too.”
Zim gives him the ugliest look as Dib sees a three-fingered hand for the first time. He can’t hold back his curiosity and reaches a hand of his own out, only for Zim to yank away.
“Whatever.” He lays his head down and pulls the covers back up, and Zim follows his lead. Dib yawns.
“ What is the function of that disgusting display of human teeth?” Zim asks, clearly uncomfortable. “Kids do it all the time in skool. I hate it.”
“It’s yawning. You do it when you’re tired.” Dib is finally feeling tired himself; his eyelids are heavy as he turns towards Zim. “Once you’re comfortable you just close your eyes.”
Zim closes his eyes. “For how long?”
“As long as it takes you to fall asleep,” Dib mumbles into the pillow.
“Okay.”
Dib takes a deep breath as he lets himself begin to fade into sleep. He feels a foot bump his calf as Zim attempts to settle next to him, grumbling to himself.
“How long, again?” he asks.
“‘S long as it takes,” Dib says back, half conscious. He shifts his legs a little and yawns one last time before passing out.
“Dib!”
He’s snapped awake suddenly; Zim is shaking him. He looks pretty pissed off, his ruby eyes glowering at him in the dark.
“Dude, what?” He turns his head only slightly. He’s too comfortable to move. “I was sleeping.”
“Exactly! How did you do that?” Zim cocks his head to the side and points a finger accusingly at the alarm clock. “I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes and I haven’t felt any sleep .” He finishes the word sounding disgusted, as if the very concept has offended him.
“Like I said—“ Dib cuts himself off with a yawn.
“Stop doing that.”
“ Anyway, I told you, it’s not gonna just come naturally your first time. Even when humans mess up their sleep schedules it takes work to get it back to normal. You’re not gonna get it on your first try.”
“Then second try,” he says, sounding hopeful.
Dib rolls his eyes. “Why are you so into sleep right now anyway?”
“I don’t understand why you humans do it so much.”
“It’s not by choice—ugh. Look, okay,” he rubs the bridge of his nose, thinking, which is hard in his sleepy state. “You know what a sheep is, right?”
Zim shudders. “Yes.”
“So I want you to imagine sheep. Imagine them jumping over a fence. Once after another.” He rolls over to face the wall. “And count them.”
“How many?”
“As many as it takes.”
He smiles to himself when it gets quiet again, and is asleep before he even knows it.
He’s awoken, again, by Zim’s hand shaking him, again. “Whaaaaat?” He groans, feeling his dream world escape him as he turns to face his green nuisance.
“I have counted over two thousand of your pathetic sheep and nothing has happened.”
“Okay,” says Dib, throwing up his hands. He takes a quick glance at the clock. “I give up. Now let me sleep, please. It’s three a.m.”
Zim huffs, and Dib rolls over. He feels the weight shift in the bed as Zim leaves. He hardly has time to wonder where he’s going before he falls asleep again.
—
The cruel white light of his desktop is really beginning to burn his eyes, so Dib decides to shut it down for the night.
“I’m going to bed,” he tells Zim, who hops out of his lap and immediately climbs under the covers.
“I’m going to sleep again.”
“You never slept in the first place,” Dib says, muffled by the t-shirt he’s pulling over his head.
“Oh, but I will,” Zim snarls, little fists balling in the sheets. “I will sleep, and I will conquer slumber like no human has ever known.”
“Uh-huh.” He pulls on his ghost-print pajama pants. “Actually, I have something for you.” He grabs a little pill bottle off of his desk and sits cross legged across from Zim on the bed. Zim, ever curious, slowly takes it and turns it over in his hand.
“What is it?” He asks, holding it up to the desk lamp, shaking it softly and rattling the little tablets inside.
“It’s called melatonin,” Dib takes it from him and shakes a tiny pill into his open palm. “Humans produce it naturally. It helps us sleep.” Zim reaches for it again and Dib pulls his hand back.
“Wait,” he looks at the pill in his hand, biting his lip. “I’m nervous for you to take this.” Zim scowls at him. “I don’t know what it’s going to do to you! It’s a foreign substance I’m introducing into your weird alien body! I’m scared it’s gonna kill y—“
Zim snatches the pill from his hand and swallows it. Dib stares at him, open-mouthed.
“Oh my god,” he says, after awkwardly staring at Zim for way too long. “....oh my god.”
“I’ll be fine,” Zim waves his hand dismissively. “We Irkens have immune systems vastly superior to those of humans.”
Dib shakes his head, pulling the covers over his legs. “Well, okay.” He says quietly. “Whatever. Give it like… an hour to kick in. Night.”
Zim crawls in beside him and switches off the lamp. Dib faces the wall again, but he’s too scared to sleep. He has no idea what that pill could do to Zim and he just took it without any thought. The thoughts plague him for a bit before retreating to the corners of his mind as he realizes how warm, and how comfortable his bed his. He pulls the covers up and feels himself drifting away.
He wakes up slowly, to a strange, loud sound. Coughing? He turns to see if it’s Zim but finds the bed empty.
“Zim?”
He turns on the light, squinting at what looks to be a figure on the ground near his desk. He slides on his glasses and dashes to the other side of the room.
“Zim!”
His little green body is hunched over the trash can, which he is retching endlessly into. Dib falls to his knees beside him, putting a hand on his back. Zim jerks away.
Dib swallows. “Are… you okay?” He winches slightly when Zim gives a final cough and drags his sleeve across his mouth.
“You poisoned me,” he says matter-of-factly, narrowed eyes glaring daggers.
Dib should expect pointless blame from Zim, but it hurts him a little anyway. “Not on purpose!”
He gets up and dusts himself off without a word until he gets to the door.
“I’m done with sleeping,” he says.
And he leaves.
—
Zim meant what he said: he wanted nothing to do with sleep. He ignored Dib’s invitations to stay the night and left when it got dark. After a couple of days, Dib quit trying.
And on this particular day they were continuing through the food catalogue, discovering what Zim liked, didn’t like, and what gave him physical reactions that almost killed him. It was a slow process, and it had been a long day. Now that the sun had set, Zim’s eyes kept shooting towards the door.
“I think I’m ready to go,” he announces, putting his fourteenth soda flavor for the day down.
“No, wait,” Dib interjects, his back to Zim as he pours his intended last taste test. He holds it out in a plastic cup, careful not to spill the purple liquid out of the rim. “One more.”
Zim cocks his head to the side and takes the cup. He makes a face. “It smells… strange.”
Dib smiles, eyes gleaming innocently as he tugs on his shirt collar. “Just uh, try it,” he says, not quite looking Zim in the eye.
Zim has barely raised the cup to his mouth before he yanks it away, sticking his tongue out. “What is this viscous mon strocity?!”
“Take another sip,” Dib coaxes, sounding more like he’s trying to calm himself down. “You don’t have to finish it if you don’t like it. But it’s… kind of thick, I know.”
Zim scowls at him over the rim as he takes another, bigger sip. He looks pleased this time as he drains most of the cup.
“You done?” Dib asks, chewing his thumbnail impatiently. “You’re not gonna drink all of that, are you?”
“It’s good!” Zim says as he puts the cup down for a final time. Dib swallows as he hears only ice rattle as it hits the table. He walks over to Zim to get a better look at him.
“You feeling okay?”
Zim blinks at him once, twice, and then really hard a third time.
Uh-oh.
“Fine, fine.” Zim says, waving at him seemingly uncontrollably. His eyes squint, and he looks confused. “What was that?”
“Uh.” says Dib. “Purple sprite?”
“I s-see.” Zim stumbles as he climbs out the chair, nearly falling on his ass in the process. “Well, I think I’ve had enough of your surple prite. ” Dib reaches out to hold him steady. Zim clings to him helplessly.
“Let’s go upstairs. Um…” Dib watches Zim wobble pathetically in place. “Here.” He kneels down, feeling his cheeks flush a little. “I’ll carry you upstairs.”
Zim, oddly silent, hops on, his arms wrapped tonight around Dib’s neck and nearly choking him to death. Dib stops on the way out of the kitchen to stick something in his pocket, but Zim is too out of it to notice.
“How are you feeling, Zim?” Dib asks softly. Guilt eats at every fiber of his being.
“Eh?! Oh… funny.” he mumbles against the back of Dib’s head. “I feel funny.”
“Yeah?” He opens the door to his room and walks in, putting Zim down gently on the bed. “Like how?” He sits next to him.
“I can’t keep my eyes open,” he whispers. He stares at the ceiling, gaze blank. The quiet in his voice is so unsettling. He turns to look at Dib. “And everything is… fuzzy.” His eyes squint even narrower as Dib looks to his lap in shame.
“What did you do.” Despite the low volume, it’s not even a question, and it’s menacing. “What did you do.”
Dib bites his lip. “I, uh—”
Zim sits up suddenly, causing Dib to jump back and smack his head on the wall.
“Did you drug me?!” He corners Dib against the wall, and it’s as if his volume increases with every step he takes closer. “Because listen to me, Dib, if you think you can defeat the great…” he trails off suddenly, his eyes seeming to close of their own accord.
“...powerful…” He yawns .
“...Zim…”
And with that unfinished thought he plops backward onto the bed.
“Oh my god, oh my fucking god.” Dib rips the bottle from earlier out of his pocket. It’s grape cough syrup, a third of it gone and now inside the alien in front of him.
He reads the label:
For children ages 10-12: 3 tsp.
Zim’s still the size of a sixth grader. But he’s older, right? And his insides are totally different. He’ll be fine. He reads further.
Do not exceed suggested dosage.
“Fuck. I killed him.”
He reaches forward and hesitantly rests a hand on Zim’s chest; he’s breathing. He’s just asleep like he had planned. Dib draws his knees to his chest and lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.
“You’re finally asleep.” He can’t help but smile.
He puts a pillow under Zim’s head and covers him in one of the lighter blankets before turning out the light and crawling into bed himself. He quickly finds he can’t sleep; between the guilt of knocking Zim out just to see if he could and the fear that he won’t wake up, he can’t keep his eyes closed for more than a couple minutes. So he decides he’ll stay awake until Zim gets up. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and, giving Zim a quick glance again, prepares for a long night.