(A/N) Some of you might already know, if you've already read the latest chapter of Defective or follow me on dA, but I'm sick. Sick as an Irken poisoned by the Earth-meats. And tonight I'm just too miserable to sleep.

So I decided to share my misery with Zim. But it's okay, because I gave him a Dib-thing to take care of him. ^_^

I do not own Invader Zim.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" the boy asked, balancing the phone awkwardly on his shoulder as he gathered up blankets from the store shelf. "Oh-! Oh no you don't! Don't you-!"

The other store patrons ignored the conversation politely, though a few snickered at what they assumed to be a young boy talking to what may well be a sibling or friend.

"Now-! Oh, come off it!" His voice was getting louder, however, as he moved into the pharmacy, using one blanket to bundle up things such as thermometer, Airborne, and disinfectant. "You're going to-! Now listen to me, you'll make it worse! I don't know how your system-! Stop cutting me off, you jerk!"

It was harder to ignore, now, and some people looked away self consciously while others laughed softly at the small boy speaking to what was presumably an ill friend or family member.

Yet in the checkout line, the conversation reached the point of no return.

"Now you listen to me, you little green alien menace!" the boy screamed into the phone, startling the people around him as he slammed bundles of supplies on the conveyer belt. "You stupid little would-be-invader, get back into that bed this instant! Now don't you 'stink-beast' me! You're the mighty alien who was stupid enough to come down with a stupid cold! Now you'll listen to this earthaniod stink-beast and you'll listen well, you little menace, or this human won't be coming over to make you soup!" And the phone went flying to the ground, bouncing and skidding as the paranormal enthusiast ended the conversation in the most violent way available to him at the moment.

In the abrupt and compleat silence that surrounded him, Dib suddenly became aware of the gaping people. Unperturbed, he met their gazes.

"Zim's an alien, you know," he informed them all. "But when the mighty, germaphobic invader comes down with a cold, who does he come crying to? 'I-I don't know how to treat these filthy human diseases...!' he splutters in that I'm-too-pitiful-to-kill-Dib-human voice of his, that damned adorable voice he puts on whenever the great Irken invader needs my help. And what does the Dib-human do? I dash out to go get supplies! Might as well pick up some rope for a noose while I'm here at the store!"

Everyone took a collective step backwards.

Dib, however, was beyond caring about such things. So he proceeded with his checkout, grumbling all the way about the annoying little alien waiting for him at home.

... ... ...

Pushing into Zim's house- trying to reassure himself that the gnomes had indeed been turned off -Dib was greeted by a hyperactive robot clinging to his head. Ignoring that somewhat routine event, he kicked the door shut and trotted to the kitchen, bypassing the lump sprawled across the couch.

"And greetings to you as well, abhorrently rude little human."

"Hi, Zim," the boy sighed, depositing supplies on the kitchen table and storming back with thermometer and blanket in hand. "Open."

"Zim does not obey you!" the Irken snapped, and Dib sighed.

"Open your mouth, Zim. I need to get a temp."

Reluctantly- making it clear that it was by his choice, not the Dib-human's -Zim allowed the thermometer to be slipped beneath his tongue. Then the human tucked the blanket around him, stalking back to the kitchen and fetching a cup of EmergenC for himself- wouldn't want the caregiver to get sick, after all.

A weak bout of coughing interrupted such preparations, and instantly the human found himself back by the Irken's side. Irkens, he knew, lacked the faculties to cough in earnest- Zim had managed to mimic the reaction through a complex twisting of his squeedly spootch, copying humanity in yet another way. But his feeble imitation coughing couldn't do what a true cough could- clear the airways of disease. Dib felt himself frown with concern, unsure of how to compensate.

"S-sit up..." he suggested softly, and Zim obeyed without question. Still coughing, he held out the thermometer in one thin green hand.

Dib took the instrument, looking briefly at it. "What's your usual core temp?" he asked, and the alien shook his head.

"80... 8 degrees... in Earth measurement," he rasped out. "The organs I, er... borrowed raised Zim's temperature to an acceptable human temperature for the examination by the Skool medic."

Dib frowned. "You're about 95 right now... if you got up to 98.6 without any horrible consequences, you should be fine so long as the fever breaks soon."

Zim groaned, flopping face down on the couch. "Make Zim feel better, Dib-thing."

Scowling, the human rapped him on the head. "'Make Zim feel better, Dib-thing!'" he mimicked cruelly, but then laughed. "The Dib-thing will try, Almighty Invader Zim."

... ... ...

"Dib-thing, Zim is cold."

At the pitiful whimper, Dib turned from where he had been tending to GIR- the little robot was frantic, though whether about his master's well-being or the loss of his couch was unknown. Zim was bundled in half a dozen blankets, bearing quite a strong resemblance to a burrito, his face scarcely poking out. His scarlet eyes pleaded wordlessly, mourning for his lost pride as well as begging for the human's presence.

"Dib-thing...!" he whined. "Zim demands your attention...!"

Dib sighed, placing one hand on his hip. "Really, Zim? What, do you think you can tolerate my human stench?"

The Irken narrowed his eyes, drawing farther back into his blanket burrito. "Do not question Zim..." he muttered crossly, and then coughed feebly.

Softening, Dib padded across the room and clambered up onto the couch. "Here, you little menace," he said gently, carefully loosening the blankets until he could slide in beside the shivering Irken, lifting the light body onto his lap. He's still so... small. Resting his head on top of Zim's, he felt the alien's shivering begin to quell.

"... Your services are appreciated, Dib-thing."

"You're welcome, Zim."

THE END

(A/N) Yeah, that doesn't seem like much of an ending... but it is. For now.

I hope you guys enjoyed. Reviews are my favorite medicine, so I'd really appreciate it if you would leave one- I'm sure Zim would, too. :')