A/N: OOCness plagues this fic.
I do not own IZ.. it belongs to the almighty, ill-proned, Jhonen Vasquez.
It was supposed to be their secret. It only happened once… they went right back to their rivalry, never to speak of it again… and that worked out just fine.
For about three months.
"Something's wrong with Zim," Dib whispered to his sister. He knew she wasn't listening, she didn't even pretend to care. "It's not even lunch time yet and he looks wicked sick."
Always finding amusement in watching others suffer, Gaz had to look. Sure enough, Zim was leaning over his desk, moaning softly and looking paler than usual. She smirked and began to comment, but Mr. Elliot came into the room.
"There you are little missy!" the flamboyant teacher exclaimed. "Look I know you love spending time with your big brother and all but you gotta get your butt to class before I mark you absent again!"
Gaz scoffed. "Never worked before."
Mr. Elliot nodded thoughtfully. "You know, you're right. No matter what I put in the computer against you it never shows up. All the good stuff works though, I just don't get it."
Dib smiled as they left the room, then made a mental note to check the system later and see if there were any absences in need of erasing.
The sound of vomiting drew Dib's attention back to the corner of the room. Mr. Elliot came running back, frantically asking if everyone was alright. Dib pointed to the scene, which the adult had somehow overlooked, and the blonde shrieked.
"You poor thing! You're so… green!" he reached down to touch Zim, but the Irken smacked his hands away with a hiss.
"Get your filthy earthenoid hands off of me!" he growled, though with less zest than usual. "Zim is in no need of assis…"
The rest of the word was replaced with more vomit, some of which splashed onto the teacher's sweater vest. Mr. Elliot shuddered and was about to try again, when Ms. Bitters entered the room.
"Zim!" she demanded.
"Y…yes, sir," the Irken replied meekly.
"Clean up this mess."
"Right away…" Zim attempted to stand, and puked a third time. Mr. Elliot scoffed and turned to Ms. Bitters.
"You can't make this child do laborious tasks," he scolded. "He obviously needs medical…"
"Get out of my classroom!"
With that the male teacher was gone. He felt for the green kid, but feared for his life. Zim, seemingly well enough to function, removed a sponge from his Pak and began to clean his mess.
Something is very wrong with him… Dib thought, then bit his lip. No… he couldn't let those feelings return. He was not feeling compassion for the alien. He was feeling… he was feeling…