Dib woke suddenly from a loud banging at the door. With a groan of annoyance, he peered across the dark living room in search of the glowing digital clock. Its lack of glow quickly reminded him that the storm had taken out the power. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it had to be after midnight. The banging started up again, forcing Dib off the couch.

‘Who would be here at this hour?’ he thought with a tired brain.

Dib turned the knob and immediately a gust of frigid wind and rain blew inside, pushing the door wide open. A flash of lightning illuminated the figure at the door. Zim looked up at Dib from where he had fallen to his knees for only a moment before he passed out. Dib quickly grabbed him and dragged his sizzling, H2O-intolerant body into the house. After shutting the door, he turned to the unconscious alien.

‘Was that deed based on kindness or stupidity?’ he asked himself mockingly. The humor dissipated as the confusion returned.

‘What’s Zim doing here?’ he thought. ‘He must be pretty desperate to seek shelter from his arch rival.’

A mischievous grin curled on Dib’s mouth as he realized what kind of opportunity this was. Just by answering the door, Dib had finally gotten hold of all the proof he would ever need to show the world that he did in fact have his sanity. He snapped back into realty as he realized that the shuddering proof at his feet was nearly dead.

‘Oh shit!’

If Zim died, the whole experience would be far less entertaining. He also had no clue how quickly an Irken’s deterioration process was. For all he knew, Zim would puff into dust once all of his hearts stopped beating. It would be safer to have breathing proof.

He knelt over the alien and put a hand on his forehead.

‘He’s ice cold... Hypothermia? Double shit.’

Dib dragged Zim into the downstairs bathroom with much difficulty. Unlike the elementary days, Zim was now larger than Dib, in height and muscular bulk.

Dib lit every candle Gaz had ever left in the bathroom, and turned on the battery powered mini-heater. He struggled to see in the dim light, but he had no other option.

‘Ok. Wet, cold clothes equal bad, warm dry clothes equal good. Gotta get this stuff off him.’

Dib tugged at the collar of the pink shirt only once before lazing out and grabbing the scissors from the drawer. There was no time to worry about finding hidden alien zippers. He pulled away the soggy, sliced shirt and paused for a moment to stare at Zim’s chest.

‘Erm.. This is slightly awkward… oh jeez. It’s not gunna get any less awkward removing his pants... yeah… Come on Dib, get over it. It’s for the good of the human race.’

Dib kept these thoughts up through the whole process of removing Zim’s black boots and pants. He squinted with all his might, but could not manage to see. His curiosity demanded a resolution, and the only one he could think of was touch. He slowly laid his hand on the bare green chest. He sighed at the temperature; Zim was getting warmer.

His skin was like butter, the chest smooth… too smooth… Dib paused as his fingers roamed across the thick pectoral muscles.

‘Zim doesn’t have nipples,’ he thought with a laugh.

At this point Dib’s curiosity had taken control. His conscience had been lulled to sleep by the gentle whirring of the heater’s motor, and his body had relaxed by its radiating warmth. He let his curious hand slide down the firm abdominal muscles until they paused on the next unusual thing.

‘Irkens also lack navels. That’s really odd.’

Without thinking, Dib let his fingers continue the journey until they found their way between Zim’s legs. Dib woke from his trance and jerked his hand away. He felt the blood boil in his cheeks as Zim began to stir. The alien slowly sat up beside Dib and yawned.

“It’s nice and warm in here, Gir. Wait..”

He rubbed his eyes and looked around the dimly lit bathroom.

“Whaa, uhh Dib.” said Zim as he toned his voice to sound more serious. “Where is my uniform… err yeah, uh.. Why am I naked, Dib?”

Dib found himself in an odd state of shock.

“You-You were c-cold. I-I thought you might get sick so I-I tried to get you warm.”

At that moment Dib felt horribly like a twelve year old girl caught in a men’s locker room. He slowly raised his eyes and, through the flickering light from the candles, met the vermillion orbs that studied him so intently. Dib was caught in the stare, trapped in the glowing, fiery flickers that danced across the Irken’s eyes. Zim opened his mouth to speak but Dib quickly cut in.

“Before we talk any further, let me run upstairs and get you some dry clothes. My dad’s stuff should fit you.”

Dib quickly stood up and opened the door. With only one foot out the door, Dib felt a firm hand wrap around his ankle. He lost his balance, fell to the floor and was immediately dragged back into the bathroom. Zim shut the door and flipped the struggling boy onto his back. He climbed on top of Dib, pinning him to the floor.

“I came to wish you a happy birthday, Dib-worm, and to enlighten you on some possibly devastating news.”

Dib looked up at Zim questioningly. “Uhh yeah ok, so you had to do it at 1:00 in the morning why?”

“Actually, Dib, it was twelve a.m. when I knocked.”

“So?”

“So that’s the exact time you became sixteen Earth years of age.”

“Oh jeez Zim, you are so anal!”

“Ah well I suppose I can resist wounding you to appease my ego this time since this is so important. You already know that my race is fully dedicated to the life of invasion. There is a secret truth behind this that is rarely known outside of our species. Our desire to invade is not a natural trait. It’s more like... lets say... a psychological, genetic malfunction.”

Dib chewed on his lip as he watched the candle flicker on the counter top.

“Honestly, do we have to discuss this with you straddling me… and you being all… naked and stuff?”

Zim frowned. “I’m getting there DIB! Sit tight and listen up. This genetic malfunction makes us desire invasion even when we have everything we could want or need. There is one cure, recognized long ago by a prophet-type Irken named Khona. On her death bed she said the healing genetic material was hidden in the mind of an outlander. There’s a whole book of descriptions of the outlander, all of which match up with you.”

“Wow Zim, that must be the wildest excuse for my big head ever made! Bravo!”

“You Idiot! I’m being serious with you!”

“Oh yeah?” said Dib, “What are the descriptions? Male? Short? There’s no way I’m in some book of yours.”

“Let’s see Dib… The book said ‘He wears the dark face of wisdom’.”

Dib pointed to his own face with a confused expression. Zim moved his finger down to the grey face on his shirt.

“You wear that shirt every day.”

“Ok… not convincing enough. What else?”

“A black-blade crown sets upon his head. “

Zim gave the spike on Dib’s head a good poke; Dib swatted him away.

“Go on.”

“He has one less name than all others. That must be enough proof for you! You don’t have a last name!”

“Alright, one more, and it better be really good,” said Dib reluctantly.

Zim smiled and leaned forward, just close enough for Dib to feel Zim’s lips on his cheek.

“He is both enemy and companion of the banished Irken.”

“Enemy yes, companion, I don’t thin—Aaah Zim, your hand!”

Zim shoved a hand down Dib’s pants, and was rewarded by a sweetly helpless combination of a gasp and a moan. The sound was immediately followed by a hard slap to Zim’s face.

TBC?

I’m very busy, but I’ll try to finish it if one of you likes it. If you do, drop me a note asking me to continue. No point for me to go on if no one cares.