Hatred.
Obsession.
Need.
Desperation.
Love.

Such strange feelings. So different, and yet, so very alike. You hate something with the greatest of passions, and before you know it, you're addicted. Obsessed, with the greatest desperation. It becomes something you need.
Something you love.

Zim . . .

Once I hated him, no question. When did I begin to crave him in my life? Zim vanished, and I did too. Into myself, waiting for the day he returned to me. I grew fat on need, I stank of desperation. Then Zim returned, and I found myself again.

Great Irk almighty, the sooner that idiot Zim finds out he's a defect, the better!

Truly, I am a wretched person. Wretched enough that I was happy when Zim overheard his Tallest. I was happy that I was the first person he ran to for help. Oh yes, I wept for Zim. He would never shed a tear, so I cried in his place. Why, he asked me, with such confusion in his eyes.

"B-because," I gasped, "I kn-know what it feels like . . ."

I was fifteen, but I knew the pain of abandonment, oh, so well. I knew how it felt to crave the approval of greater minds, only to be thrown in the mud. Zim and I, we were never so different. In the aftermath of his pain something changed; we fought, we argued, but afterwards we mopped up our wounds. We lay together in a sweet union. We talked, we played games. And sometimes we just lay in silence, basking in the company we'd both craved for so long.

I suppose it was only a matter of time, before things changed again.

" . . . Wow."

In the aftermath Zim and Dib lay together, in a sweaty mess of knotted limbs and redness. They were grinning like utter goofs; like foolish children who had committed the ultimate taboo, and for Zim himself, his spooch leaped a mile a minute. "That . . . was strange." Sweat streamed down his face – a mass of so many feelings: confusion, pain, pleasure . . . But mostly, there was curiosity. The coupling had been a little tense, with much awkwardness on both sides. It had been the first time for Zim and Dib both; the sensations had been most wondrous, so very addicting. Not unpleasant. At least, not completely. Though there had been hints that things may improve with practice.

Zim sat up, winced, and sighed. "My body requires nourishment. Computer! Send us the cake!"

A voice rang about the room. "Good luck." Dib prayed the computer had no understanding of the recent activity.

In a brief moment the cake arrived. As Dib predicted, it was the most foul creation to ever exist. The outer layer of the sponge was coated in a thick black crust, so fat that Dib's teeth struggled to break through, yet somehow, Zim had miraculously managed to undercook the centre. The frosting tasted burnt. Maybe it was pink once. Or red. Now it was a dark colour of rust. But despite it all Dib ate his portion down and even asked for a second.

Truly, love was blind.

"Are you feeling better?"

Dib turned his head. Even now, it sounded so alien when Zim asked such things. Selflessness was a contrast upon Zim, and yet it oddly suited him. Dib could not help but smile; his fingers twined into Zim's, sticky with frosting, and gave him a loving squeeze. "Yeah. . ." Their love making was still very fresh; the pain, the pleasure . . . Dib had no desire to taint their delight by recalling Gaz's harsh words. He sought for another topic, and only one burned in his head.
"Aren't you male, Zim?"

The question took Zim aback. "Yes . . . Of course." He toyed with the icing figure of himself. "Do I look female to you?"It was all Dib could do not to laugh at that. Zim had curves that no man had any right to own. His nails were long and sleek as a girl's. He had to look away so Zim wouldn't see his smile. "No, it's just . . ." Dib bit his lip. Eyes drifted down towards Zim's crotch, covered by the duvet.

"Just?" Zim raised an eyerim.

Now he was trapped. Truly. ". . . You have a pussy," said Dib bluntly. A mask of confusion clouded Zim's expression. "A vagina," Dib clarified. "You have female parts, as well as a penis."

"Yes." Zim was unfazed by this. "That's how Irken males are. We bare both organs. Females only have a vagina. Is that not the same for humans?"

Dib choked back laughter. "N-no." All traces of humor vanished however, as a chilling thought dawned. "Wait . . . Does that mean you can get pregnant?"

"No. My kind haven't given natural birth for thousands of years." Zim liked educating Dib in the ways of his kind; he felt quite knowledgeable, and in turn, Dib loved to learn.

A sigh of relief escape his lips. "Thank God." Whilst Dib had nothing against children, he was only eighteen. Still in high school and just a child himself. He wanted to enjoy life; he wanted to experience the world, before settling down.

He wanted to experience it with Zim.

"Don't eat that." Zim placed an icing figure into Dib's gaping palm – a perfect depiction of Zim himself. "Anyway, why are you so interested in my organs? Do my genitalia worry you?" Just like that, Zim's eyes widened. Like an innocent child, and he searched within Dib for an answer. Hope swelled, and Dib could feel his heart melting.

". . . They don't." Since the teenage changes had taken hold, Dib had always wondered what lay between Zim's legs. Oh, how he'd fantasised; he'd dreamed so many possibilities - only now he couldn't recall a single one. Only the Zim of the now mattered. "Don't worry Zim, I wouldn't ever be disturbed by you, or your genitals." He lost himself within Zim's glorious eyes; perfect, molten beauty, and it stole Dib's heart away. He went to take a bite of the icing. "I love you, you silly Space-bo- OW!It's sharp!

A dark cloud stormed over Zim's expression. "I told you not to eat it! It's a sandnut, not for eating!" he snapped over Dib's cries. The figure stayed in perfect tact but his teeth throbbed all the way to the back.

"What the fuck is a sandnut? And why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I told you not to eat it, foolish human! I thought that would be clue enough to not eat it!"

" . . . That doesn't explain what a freaking sandnut is! Is the other one made of sand too?"

"Yes." Zim nodded, his fingers engulfed the figure of Dib. Undeniably, they were well made; on first glance, impossible to tell they were not edible. "A sandnut is made from cookie-sand, found on the deserts of Hobo 13. Stupid boy," Zim put in, a little harshly. He sounded so serious, eyes fixed and unbending, and Dib found it impossible to stay angry.

Quite suddenly, he started to laugh. "Y-you're a fucking idiot, you know that right?!" He pulled the baffled Zim into his warming embrace, and there they stayed, side by side and perfectly content. Dib could not recall ever feeling at such ease. Not at home with his father or sister, not at school. Not even alongside his fellow paranormal investigators.
He never felt so happy to be himself, other than at Zim's side.

" . . . Zim isn't an idiot," Zim muttered, but his arms slipped around to engulf Dib. Stiffly at first, but soon melting into the warmth. Like his mate, Zim too felt so right, beside Dib.

"Welcome home, Dib-worm."

Yes, I've changed my username! Henceforth I shall be known as Darth . . . ZaDr ;p