Chapter Text
A fist is thrown out of temper and the rest is history. The tiny alien dodges, ducks away. With a war cry only an irken elite who has experienced near death can manage, he flies at his opponent.
It’s rough, raw. It’s split knuckles, bloody noses and grunts of pain. It’s nothing but a primal domination game.
And it’s wonderful.
They fight to the death (or more likely until they end up exhausted and broken on the black pavement). It’s a dance made out of searing intensity, fast swirling heated gazes, steps that have been memorized and a hatred strong enough to rival any love.
Dib sees every move his enemy makes. He's cataloged them carefully, memorized all likely scenarios. And still, the irken manages to surprise him. Each time, jumping back from near defeat and injury. Always cunning the same way he's always such a fool.
Any hint of distraction means giving the enemy the upper ground. Dib isn't fast enough and he ends up with a bloody nose and bruises across his chest. But, he gives as good as he gets. Using strength and height over speed and years of experience. The difference is that ZIM's scars will fade much quicker, his injuries healing supernaturally quickly.
Their battle lasts only as long as one of them can keep their heads from touching the black top.
It's over rather quickly. Quickly enough that ZIM takes a split second to feel ashamed that he was beaten so quickly before reminding himself that this Dib they were talking about. The only true worthy human on this rock. There was no shame to be had in falling to his fists, because at least it ended in a draw.
The two enemies lay dripping and bruised like over ripe fruit on the cooling street. The street lights flicker in the near dark of an amethyst evening.
It’s silent but for heavy breathing and muttered curses from Dib. Though it was mostly for show, even to himself. Because he felt a deep seated form of enjoyment from their battles. It made him feel alive, useful. Plus, the fact that no one else could match him so perfectly in everything there was to be matched in.
Soon ZIM would get up and limp home. Soon, he would do the same. They'd curse each other and nurse the hatred in their bones the way they had for years now.
But, for now they laid together and stared up at the slowly appearing stars, a strange companionship they would not admit to. They were equals in the present.