The Future Past's Present
part six"Why don't you ride with your sister?" Zim asked as he and Dib brushed themselves off after jumping into the bushes for cover. The heavy exhaust fumes still clung in the air with a smell of burnt pigs. They had been walking together for a few weeks and though he was used to dodging the motorized demon, he never understood why one Membrane drove and the other took the pedestrian path of doom.
Dib was quick with his answer, as if he'd thought about it before or had had to answer it one too many times. "One, I'm not one to have death wishes. Two, she wouldn't take me to school if I bought her every game available for the Game Slave. She hates me." Dib pulled a rather annoying piece of twig from the sickle part of his ink-black hair.
"If you're her older brother, why don't you have a car?"
"When they found out it was my motion nerves being attacked by the virus, they decided it wasn't safe for me to drive."
Zim nodded, tapping his foot on the pavement as he waited for Dib to finish cleaning himself off. It seemed he's jumped into the prickly edge of the bush as tiny, fuzzy but painful balls clung to his shirt and pants. "I'm surprised you haven't asked me yet," he stated, deciding it best to just help the human and pulled at one of the stubborn balls on his collar.
"About what?"
Zim smiled. "About Irk. I've been waiting for you to ask about it for weeks since I slipped up. You told your little Swollen Eyeball friends?"
"No. Actually I've been trying to find it with my telescope," Dib confessed, thankful for the help with the spiny collective he'd acquired.
"Your equipment is pretty good, but I doubt it's powerful enough to get a good look at it." He shrieked as one of the balls stuck to his fingers, the stupid scratchy thing drawing a pinprick of blood. Zim quickly put his finger in his mouth with a wince.
"What? It prick you?" At the same moment, Dib shrieked and put his own finger in his mouth. They looked at each other and began to laugh. "These things a real pain."
"They'll be even more a pain if you end up sitting down on one."
"Do I have some on my butt?" Dib asked, suddenly panicked. The last thing he wanted was to pit down and be stabbed in the ass by a mass of them.
"Turn around," Zim instructed. Dib did as he was told, moving his trench coat over so Zim could check.
Checking for prickly things was the last thing on Zim's mind though. It was all too convenient. Over the last few weeks of being "friendly," he had gotten to know the human better. He was more than just a worthy adversary. Even more amazing was the fact that he was more than just a paranormal enthusiast. Not much, but there was a part that could talk about something other than aliens for hours. Maybe it was because he was talking to an alien. Either way, that part was adorable. It was the part that didn't feel the need to prove everything he said was true, the part that just was and existed to be liked and adored. It was funny and sweet, insightful but not tactless, and maybe even a little bit innocent. So innocent that it gave permission for Zim to look at and, if in need, touch his ass.
And, oh, was there a need. There were no little prickly things, the trench coat had protected that side of him from getting covered, but how was Dib supposed to know that? Zim smiled as he extended his hand and gave a firm pinch to the jean-clad flesh. Dib shot up with surprised pain and turned around, beat red.
"Was that all?"
"Just one more."
Dib frowned but turned back around, not making near as big a scene as before, since he expected the pinch this time. It still stung, though. He turned around, rubbing his backside.
Zim tried his hardest not to look too smug. "Next time, maybe we should walk in the street. It seems to be safer."
Dib nodded and the two began walking once more. The hi skool was growing closer quickly, the sounds of terrified screams and whaling, pain-filled moans the tell tale signs of its eminent approach.
"So, Zim. Any plans on world domination I should look out for today?"
The Irkin shook his head. "I have more important things to work on."
"You always have more important things to work on. If they aren't my cure or destroying all man kind, I get a little worried."
"And what if I told you I only say that to keep what I'm doing a secret?"
Dib stuck out his tongue. "Then I'd say I'm going to have to break out my spy gear and find out myself what's so big a secret!"
Zim rolled his eyes. "That's called breaking and entering, Dib."
"Our constitution doesn't apply to illegal aliens, Zim."
"I assure you, I have every right to be here." Zim ran up the stairs to the entrance and held the door open for Dib. Dib nodded his thanks, but said nothing. Words aren't needed for everything.
"Think Mrs. Sweet'll still be suffering from laryngitis?" Dib asked, sounding hopeful. Zim knew what he was asking though. He'd made a potion in his spare time to render the annoying teacher speechless on one of his less tolerant days. It had worked according to plan for the most part. Until the teacher had started spewing candle wax. It was, as Dib had pointed out when he had discovered Zim's little trick, an added bonus.
Zim shook his head with a sly smile. "My test subject didn't get back to normal for a week."
They plotted all the way to their shared first period class ways to rid themselves of the obnoxious teacher. Zim walked straight to class, Dib following since he really didn't have anywhere better to go. Suddenly, Zim stopped right in the doorway, the unwarned Dib smacking into his back.
"How can this BE?!"
Dib looked over Zim's shoulder and gasped.
"You should be DEAD by now!" Zim shouted, pulling at his wig.
The dark shadow over the desk made little of his shocked countenance. "I wish I were dead. Then I wouldn't have to deal with the collective stench of stupidity the classroom gives off." Mrs. Bitters wisped her way to the door, her pointy-framed eyes narrowed in disdain. "As it is, I enjoy watching my students grow up. There is no pleasure like watching the minds you've so carefully rotted fall under your least expectations and plunge into the doomed chaos that is life."
"Mrs. Bitters, you haven't changed a bit." Dib cursed, pushing his way past Zim's motionless and shocked form in the doorway.
"Ah, Dib. Still as crazy as you were in fifth grade?"
"Not crazy. Astute."
"Take your seat!" She flung her black arm in the direction of the far seat in the front row. Up until recently, it wouldn't have made a difference, but lately he and Zim had been sitting next to each other near the door.
"But I don't want to sit there," Dib whined.
Zim snapped out of his stunned stupor and took his normal seat. "Dib sits here now." He kicked at the chair next to him for emphasis.
"Why? So you two can play footsy during lectures?"
Zim had heard the term before and thought he didn't understand why anyone would play such a boring game, he did understand that it was a game of romantic involvement. "What have you heard, human?!"
Dib quirked an eyebrow.
In the end, Dib was sent to the other side of the classroom. Since no one was nice enough to either of them for there to be a chance of passing notes, they sat in silence, listening to how doomed they were to die of an asteroid collision with the planet.
Doomed, Dib thought. I don't want to rush him, but if Zim doesn't do anything soon, I don't think there will be any point in trying.
He looked over at Zim, finding the alien was looking at him as well.
What important stuff was Zim working on? Dib worried his bottom lip. It was bugging him to no end. After the second refrain of "doom" from Mrs. Bitters, Dib made up his mind. Tonight, he'd spy on Zim.
**
The moon was invisible in the night sky. Dressed in his latest skin tight, black surveillance suit with ninja-like mask (he really liked the mask) and pen-sized camera clutched in his palm, Dib snuck past the lawn gnomes and to Zim's open window. No one was in the living room, though the TV was turned on and the sound was rather loud. Dib still moved as stealthily as possible, dropping behind things and ducking for cover every time the wind blew by.
"Whatcha dooooin'?"
Dib bounced up with a start only to see the harmless robot of Zim's sitting on the floor behind him with curious turquoise eyes alight.
Gir smiled. "Yeah! I made a mud pie! You want some?"
Dib shook his head. "I'm looking for Zim."
"He went this way!" Gir stood up and ran to the trashcan, popping the top. "Down there!"
Dib shook off the feeling that it was all a trap and stepped into the trash can, trying not to scream as he was sucked under and down strange piping. He could hear Gir right behind him.
"Wheeeeee! I'm gonna be sick!"
Oh god, not in here! Dib prayed. When the piping ended, he scrambled away from where the robot would land. Gir bounced off the ground and, while looking very sick, burped. There was never so much relief felt.
"Hello, Dib."
Until the stress built up again tenfold.
"Gah!"
Zim smiled, leering down at Dib on the floor. "I've been expecting you."
"Expecting me?" Dib repeated.
Zim offered him a hand to help him up off the floor, which Dib accepted, though warily at first. Was this considered on or off the battlefield? Was he supposed to be friendly or try to make a run for it?
"It's okay, Dib." Zim smiled. "Seeing as I knew you would come, I'll consider this on friendly grounds."
Dib relaxed, feeling the robot hug his leg.
"Can we keep him?"
Don't tempt me, Zim thought, grabbing Dib by the arm and dragging him off into his lab.
"Where are you taking me?"
"You wanted to see what I was working on, yes?"
Dib nodded, catching up with Zim. Zim never let go of his arm, though. The rooms were vast, but nothing Dib couldn't figure out for himself. Still, he didn't mind being led around. They finally came to a stop in the middle of a tall, circular room. The walls were black with tiny pinpricks of light, like stars. In one area there was a huge planet; it was purple and grey, surrounded by tiny, fuchsia ships.
"Hey," Dib remarked, "The picture moves!"
"That's not a picture." Zim pulled Dib over onto a hover pad, sliding them over the air to where Dib could touch the wall with his fingertips.
"It's beautiful."
"It's Irk."