Chapter Text
If someone would have told teenage Dib that he is fated to fall for his childhood enemy who wants to destroy Earth and enslave all of humanity; even he, the crazy kid, would have called them insane after laughing in their face.
But sure enough, he and Zim grew pretty damn close in high school. Certainly closer than Dib ever managed to get with anybody of his own species. It was laughably easy to sort of tumble their way into gray grounds once Dib realized that the so-called invader was too incompetent to take over Earth for real. He had managed to conquer the neighborhood with his impeccable disguise (something that still baffles Dib to this day), but that was pretty much it. His genius became limited to stealing electricity from his neighbors and occasionally using people for experiments.
Around the same time when Dib began working on calming down his compulsive need to know everything about the alien, Zim began coming up with his own conclusions as to how he felt about their growing connections. Dib still has no clue as to what those conclusions might have been about, but they all probably went along the lines of how Dib is at the very least no longer a threat to his operation. Not having to worry if a so-called 'friend' is going to spontaneously stab you in the back does wonders for building trust in a relationship. Dib will always remember the feeling he got when he had first noticed a shred of admiration mixed in that hateful look in Zim's eyes. Like he was slowly, but surely warming up to the idea of their company becoming a much more common thing.
Now that school is a closed page of his life however, and Dib became a semi-responsible adult with a stable job and his hormones aren't going all over the place to distract his rationality; he feels pretty confident when he says that he experiences emotions far more complex than your ordinary tolerance towards his arch-enemy.
It should concern him that he is feeling such strong pulls towards someone who may or may not decide to probe him one day. Zim is an Irken invader after all; the deadliest, nastiest, most hated race in the entire universe. That is a good reason reason as to why he should be at least mildly worried about pressing random buttons in the little guy's nerves. But he isn't, and never was. If anything, that probability of danger only serves to attract him more, like toxoplasmosis attracts rats straight into a cat's mouth.
He tried frequently to get Zim a gift that would portray how he feels, or ask Zim to hang out directly. But every single time Zim would find new and creative ways to tell him to fuck off. Each method proved to be deadlier than the last.
(His ass still hurts from last time, where the hidden lasers in the bushes next to Zim’s front porch have managed to hit him.)
Dib is stuck not knowing what would get Zim to surrender to his flirting skills, because apparently he wasn't born with the same talent to effortlessly woo anyone with his looks and brains like his dad.
Regardless of his repeated failure, attempt fifty-nine is happening today, whether he is prepared for it or not.
He is sitting on his bed in his cramped room, which is overflowing with gadgets ranging from a simple phone to overly complex computers, his mind preoccupied by that one photo of Zim he managed to take when he was sixteen. God, how long has it been since he had last seen him? A couple of weeks? A month? Sure as hell feels longer. The polygraph photo sits in his hand like it belongs there, generously offering a clear image of Zim’s gigantic eyeballs captured in the moment they shot a look at the camera. They're hypnotizing to look at; the ruby-like shine giving his entire appearance a more exotic, slightly cursed look. Sadly, it is hard to make out anything else on the picture because Zim was already in the process of moving.
(Or maybe his camera was just shit at the time.)
Dib made it a habit to consult the picture whenever he has troubles in his daily life. It helps to remind him of what he could have right in front of him, close enough to touch, if and only if he works hard enough to get it.
Yes, Dib realizes that would be considered creepy if an another human would switch places with Zim, but after years of stalking his green ass with about twenty different spy equipment sets he custom-crafted for explicitly that purpose, Dib thinks it is far too late to turn a new leaf.
He sighs, puts the picture down and thinks carefully about his options. What he has to offer and what he has to gain out of courting an out-of-this-world murderer, more or less. Of course, his mind comes up with blanks as per usual, forcing him to put too much effort into over thinking so he can mope when he finally won’t have any energy left for the actual execution of the plan. He vocalizes his frustrations into the illegally fluffy pillow he stole out of the not-so-hidden above ground parts of Zim's base years ago. The scent it emits is disgusting, like Zim intentionally dunked it in a bag full of skunks, but Dib never had the heart to wash all of Zim's traces from it. Maybe if he gets his shit together one day, he will find the time to test the pillow's cover for any remaining DNA samples. That way he could start comparing them to human ones and take notes. For now though, he sees the pillow as fit to be a comfort item during his 'man baby' moods.
It's a waste of time, lying around and getting more and more frustrated about something he doesn't have and about an intimacy he very well won’t ever see to fruition. He knows that, but he is also quite literally out of options, seeing as his entire world revolved around Zim for so many years that he completely forgot how to live a normal, human life without him. He even began finding ordinary, time-wasting things such as being on his phone or watching cooking shows irritating, matching Zim’s opinions about subjects he previously had nothing to say about. It is pretty clear that the little alien’s world-view is brushing off on him. Which... is not that bad, actually. It makes him feel weirdly warm inside, comfortable, and closer to the one that is making him even crazier than ever before.
Making up his mind, he gets up and starts picking out neat clothes to wear (careful not to overdress for the occasion), filled with new determination. He had his eyes trained on the gift box he readied for Zim on the bed throughout the time it took him to put on one of his many Ghostbusters shirts, black pants and a belt to go with it.
****
In the late afternoon, Dib gathers enough courage to go ahead with his plan. He goes to Zim's house with a gift (a nice turtleneck that he imagined would bring out the beauty of his elegantly thin, long neck), walks up to his porch with caution before he rings the bell like a civilized person. As he waits for a response, there is a surprising lack of angry aliens or creepy robot parents (who by all means shouldn't be needed anymore after high school) answering the door.
Mildly concerned, Dib rings the bell once more, but still does not get a response. He tries the handle and much to his surprise, the door opens effortlessly with a single firm press, creaking loudly.
Since Zim called Earth home for a while, he learned to disguise himself and decorate his home a lot more like an actual human. So when he finds the usually spotless house in ruins, covered with what seems to be claw and bite marks, Dib doesn’t know what to make of it. Zim might be eccentric, to put it mildly, but he isn’t the type of person to live in filth if he has a say about it.
(And in his strange brain he always has a say in everything, even over other people’s lives. You get the point).
He searches the whole house from head to toe, does a double-check of all Zim's usual 'thinking rooms', but doesn't find anything out of the ordinary besides it all being messy and ill-maintained, something that still sits uneasily within Dib's psyche. He returns to the living room to maybe find a secret passage to Zim's true base, that he still didn’t get to experience in its fullest (it is hard to appreciate technological genius while you’re being threatened with spider-like metal legs and being force-fed mutant toads that are leaking disgusting mucus inside of you as punishment for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong), but doesn’t find anything overly obvious of that nature.
In the middle of the room, however, he finally finds something that might be of some use to him. Or rather, he found someone. Gir is just sitting there on the battered couch, watching a bad, brain dead show meant for toddlers who can relate to such a mindless era of existence. It fits Gir perfectly, so that isn’t what makes Dib confused. It is the overall fact that last time Dib checked this largest and most obvious room of the fake house, the tiny robot was not here. Maybe he- she? It? was digging around in the heaps of trash scattered all over the place in search for more junk food it hasn’t already shoved into itself, and because of that, Dib managed to overlook its presence?
"Uh." Dib says intelligently, breaking the silence between them (save for the TV). Dib always prefers to talk when facing the miniature death robot that is (thankfully) only deadly half of the time. If he amuses it, maybe it won't view him as a threat. That's his motto when going for an interaction with it. As per usual, the sound of his voice is enough to get the robot's attention, and Dib watches as its head slowly turns towards him then stops, red eyed.
Dib gulps, feeling sweat steadily dribble out of the pores on the skin of his rather wide forehead. "Hey there buddy, do you know where Zim is?" He watches as Gir blinks a couple of times, its eyes changing through red shades until it settles for a nice, harmless blue. Thank God.
"Master's all scary yellin' in the basement!!!" Came the too loud reply, then the robot hops off the comfort of its master's sofa so it may face Dib as best it can with its outright pathetic height.
Zim did manage to 'fix' Gir’s speech a little to something more understandable. But the robot apparently can't ever be completely fixed. Dib is thankful for that, since he kind of likes the machine the way it is. He dreads to imagine what humanity would do if it were fully functional and on the hunt. Perhaps he can get the information he needs without any unnecessary violence this way.
"Uh huh, I heard Zim hid extra tasty donuts somewhere in the basement so I came to find them. You wouldn't happen to know how to get there would you?" Dib asks in a teasing tone. Using food as a tool to get Gir to cooperate is the best go-to plan when interacting with the broken thing. He speaks out of experience. And just as expected, Gir instantly shoots up, yelling a series of sing-songs about donuts and their marmalade filled goodness while opening up a secret passage to the 'basement', which ended up being an oversized trashcan in the kitchen's corner. Figures that Zim would change the secret entrance to a dirty and unappealing trash chute after the last passage had been discovered by Dib. No one would think a germophobe would resort to such drastic measures. Despite it being oversized compared to an ordinary trashcan, so Zim could slide in there with no problem, Dib's big head barely fit into it. Thankfully the shaft, after passing the metal part of the can shooting downwards into the earth, is a lot wider. Gir chose to travel with him, and Dib couldn't muster up the courage to tell it off out of fear that he might get on its bad side. It seems to currently like him enough to let Dib roam around Zim's base with minimal restrictions and overseeing, which is a big plus.
Down to the impressive Irken technology filled lab/base thingy they go, until they arrive to the center of the complex contraption and the protective door of the travel tube opens to let them explore the insides. Gir jumps out of it first, since it knows it is free to do whatever the hell it wants in its own territory, running around in circles before it sits down like an actual dog at the center of the room.
The second Dib attempts to follow the random path the robot takes, he gets assaulted by high-pitched screeching he didn't think was possible for a living creature to make. He covers his pained ears to protect them from permanent damage, but is pretty sure that they already started bleeding.
"W-what in the actual hell is going on in here?!" He yells out to Gir, hoping that his voice will be heard in the cacophony of the room.
"Master is not feeling well! I already said this, you silly- oh look-see! A cookie!" Gir exclaims loud enough for Dib to hear before he grabs a (comparatively to Gir’s tiny robot body) giant cookie and mercilessly swallows it whole.
Dib ignores this, not wanting to be scarred for life by invading thoughts of how a robot might digest food, and instead focuses on figuring out where he is. Right as he tries to pinpoint the location from where the screeching is coming from, all noises come to an abrupt halt.
Slowly, scared shitless by this wholly unexpected turn of events, Dib removes his hands, and mans through the unbearable ringing in his ears for a chance to better concentrate on his surroundings. He steps further in, scanning the floor, the machinery on the walls, the big computer in the center which spoke the last time he was down here if remembers correctly. All in all, it takes him just a couple of minutes until he lays his eyes upon the source of the earlier insufferable noise.
"...Zim?"
The Irken's body twitches at the sound of his voice, but it takes him a bit to pinpoint who is doing the talking. Far too long for his observation skills. Once he does realize who he has to deal with however, the distaste he experiences shows greatly in his expression. "Oh great..." He groans, his voice a lot more raspy and high-pitched than usual, which is really saying something. "Just what Zim needed."
Dib tries not to be too offended by his tone (and the choice of words), as he takes a second to judge what role he plays in this. Zim is curled up on the sheets of his bed, which he undoubtedly built himself (if the insignia on the wooden frame is of any indication). It used to be upstairs in the living room, so Zim must have moved it down here for the same reason he is now splayed out helplessly on it. Dib notes that a pillow from the set is tragically missing, like Zim didn't have the time or simply didn't care to make an another one after Dib stole from the pair he already had.
(Strange that Zim never stole it back now that he thinks about it.)
"Um..." Dib struggles not to laugh from how nervous he is. He has no idea what's going on. "This is really fucking stupid of me to ask- but are you okay? I heard screaming. That uh- was you, wasn't it? Not one of your test subjects?"
Zim glares at him. Really gives him a frightening look. Or at least, Dib thinks he is directing it at him. His pearly eyes are lacking any pupils to help Dib judge whether he truly is looking at him, somewhere on the wall, the ground, or if he is completely blind to the world. "Okay, Jeez, I was just asking." Dib defends, which only serves to irritate Zim further. Even without the expressive nature of human eyes, he somehow manages to look absolutely miserable while struggling to calm his nerves. His skin, which used to be a grassy green is now a sickly, almost glassy emerald. And although Dib and him aren't on the best of terms, and have personally made the other bleed before, the sight of Zim all curled up and pitiful is not exactly pleasant to witness. Especially taking into consideration the strength Zim otherwise has in astounding amounts. Sure, he screams a lot, especially when water is involved, but he never lets himself stay down for long. Dib doesn't dare imagine how painful it must feel if this is bringing him down to the point where he cannot properly lift a finger without trembling like a newborn calf.
Hesitantly, Dib presses the issue. "Do...do you want me to help you out with that?"
Zim's antennae twitch in annoyance, and he moves his mouth as if to say something. To throw a curse on his family name before he dies, most likely. Then shit happens, and those zipper-like teeth move to bite the covers as to muffle any pained cries which threaten to leave him instead. He huffs out a growl, clearly fighting the urge to stand and face the intruder of his secret base even while in such a poor state. Although Dib is slightly amused by his unshakable fighting spirit, Dib fears that Zim will faint if he moves an another muscle much longer. It wouldn't even prove anything--Dib's bleeding ears are proof enough already of his suffering. There is no use hiding something as irrelevant as a couple of moans.
'Focus' Dib thinks to himself, not really knowing what to do to help. Although Zim is silent, his antennae twitch violently up and down, and his spine is constantly arched in an overly exaggerated, painful angle to show that he continues to be in terrible pain as each second passes where Dib does nothing to assist him.
That does it. Dib doesn't care if he will get a couple new scars or lose a limb. He can just get a robotic arm like his dad if it really comes down to it for all he cares. He not-so-calmly walks to the writhing Irken without thinking about his own safety, and climbs on top of the bed so he can scoop him up to his chest. He just hopes that his heartbeat isn't beating too quickly as to give his own state of mind away.
When Zim bites into Dib's shoulder and the claws on his double-digit, bare feet dig into Dib’s abdomen, the surprise is entirely absent. It was expected that something like that would happen. Dib just grinds his teeth together and lets out pained huffs of air, in return hugging the alien tighter. The adrenaline of the moment helps soothe down the sharpest points of Zim’s teeth at the very least.
They stay like that for a very stressful moment, until thankfully, the invader relaxes his muscles enough for Dib to free himself. Zim's need to kill passes when an another huge shockwave of pain throbs trough his entire body, which makes him whine out as though he had been stabbed. The ungodly screeching of pure, mind-numbing pain reactivates and Dib can't do nothing more than hold Zim trough the torture, confused and scared himself but steady for the both of them.
After what felt like hours of a whole lot of empathy, patience and trashing, Zim's exhausted body finally slumps in Dib's arms. His eyelids flutter half-closed, and his antennae relax behind his rubbery, square head. The only clue that Zim is still alive at all comes in the form of a series of broken, shallow breaths against Dib's warm chest. The moment is gentle in its own way, and Dib is scared to move or do anything other than just hold the broken little person in fear that he will break into pieces from a single shrug of the shoulders.
Strange. Dib never would have thought there would come a day when he would compare a warrior, a terrifying soldier from outer space, to a porcelain doll.
Waiting in utter silence after so much screaming is making Dib feel incredibly uneasy; like waiting next to someone on a death-bed. He glances over Zim's entire empty expression over and over, just so he's sure that Zim's weakened self didn't die while Dib was lost in thought and getting his shit together. Around the twentieth check, Zim's orb like eyes glaze over, losing that shine that express his well-being. Dib panics intensely, only to notice a couple of seconds later that Zim is still breathing. He just fell asleep.
Dib laughs, because of course he fell asleep. The poor guy screamed his tiny lungs out and had been through literal hell probably for hours even before Dib got here. Despite the circumstances, and Dib feeling sad and incredibly worried for his crush, his human brain can't get enough of watching that little chest rising and falling, being safe yet completely defenseless in his arms. All of that means that Dib gets to stay, that he is trusted with Zim's life, and that he will hopefully get some answers once Zim wakes.
Dib reaches out with a hand for the wrinkled blanket in the corner of the bed, making sure to keep a strong yet gentle hold on the shivering body in his embrace as he does his best to cover all of Zim. He feels so cold to the touch, like an ice-cube that is slowly draining heat out of his body. Maybe a part of that is true. Just how reptilian is Zim anyway?
...no, Dib refuses to take advantage in order to get samples. He is way past that phase of his obsession.
(He proceeds to scoop up Zim's tears in a specimen pot he always carries on his person.)
"I don't know if you are listening..." He pauses, long enough for the cold body to tell him wrong, then continues. "Whatever is happening with you, we will see it through. I will be here when you wake up." He pauses again, longer this time. Then he smiles and says, "So you can tell me just how much you don't need my help."