Note: I am so excited! DO YOU KNOW WHY? Well, if you go to Youtube and type in Ayam Invader Zim, and look for the video with the big red Irken symbol, YOU WILL FIND OUT! I LOVE MY READERS SO MUCH! BlackSpots, you ROCK!
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"Wow, he's like a trained monkey or something!" The kid stared up at Zim, hanging from the underside of a car on the hydraulic lift.
"Billy, stop staring."
Zim's antennae flattened in irritation, but he focused on the mechanical properties of the vehicle he had been assigned to.
It hadn't been too long after his return to Earth that he declared he absolutely had to have something to do, or he would build a bomb and explode the planet out of sheer boredom.
The next day, Tom had dragged him out of bed, stuck a pair of coveralls on him, and introduced him to the guys at the auto shop. He'd had to call in several favors with the owner to get Zim work there, but Tom rarely asked for anything and always gave his all. So when Tom actually asked for something he nearly always got his way.
At first, Zim had been repulsed by the sheer filth and grime involved in fixing cars. But after a week of being called a "Dandy," "Fop," and "Prissy boy," he'd dug down deep and thrown himself into the work. After all, it had become a challenge to his ability to adapt, so he greeted it head on.
It wasn't long afterward that his technical prowess with any sort of machinery won him the respect and admiration of all but a few on the team. And when word began spreading that cars came out of that shop, running smoother and faster than they'd ever run before, customers began flowing in.
Zim didn't keep many secrets to himself either, and he made sure anyone on the team who wanted to truly master the machinery in front of them was thoroughly trained.
Zim smirked. There were a few things he would keep to himself, though, like how respectful customers got the best upgrades. On the other hand, even one insult would land them an inexplicable oil leak from the steering wheel into their laps.
He shook his head. The smeet was just being a stupid, curious dirt child. He wouldn't sabotage their car for that.
A loud curse and a clang drew Zim's attention away from the car to the hydraulic lift two spaces down. A young man hurled down a broken part, gesturing angrily at Tom. Scowling, Zim kept an eye on the situation.
Eventually, even those on the team that didn't like Zim had gained a grudging respect for him, but a year ago John had joined the team. John, the owner's son, the one they couldn't fire. And he knew it too. Then he made sure everybody else knew it, every time he messed up, that he couldn't be fired. Currently, it seemed he was blaming his misfortunes on the nearest mechanic, Tom.
Zim growled as John poked his finger into Tom's chest over and over, berating him for his incompetence. Tom just stood there, a resigned expression on his face. For a second, he glanced up and caught Zim watching. The corner of his mouth lifted a little, and he raised an eyebrow, as if to say, Can you believe this moron?
Zim's aggression evaporated, and he chuckled. If Tom had it under control, who was he to interfere? He learned a long time ago, the big man was perfectly capable of laying people out in one swing, but chose not to. It had taken awhile to understand why he always held back, but when he understood, Zim's respect for the hyuman had rocketed sky high. He still wasn't sure if he could emulate that, being the better person and letting things like that slide, but Irk if he didn't try!
Clambering down, he released the lever that positioned the car back on the ground. Hopping inside, he started it up, satisfied with the steady rumble he heard from the engine. These were primitive vehicles, and easy to fix, but still it gave him a sense of accomplishment and pride to do his best.
"Idiot, you're doing it wrong!" John had yanked him away from the car. "Why are you fixing everything? You always leave one or two problems so they come back!"
Zim gritted his teeth a little at the memory. He couldn't understand why someone wouldn't want to do the best they possibly could at the task they were assigned to. He'd said so. Then John's father had stepped out of the shadows and commended Zim, gently scolding his son for that kind of thinking. He mentioned adding a bonus to Zim's paycheck. Zim almost wished he hadn't, the look on John's face disturbed him. That look, in fact, was always on John's face now, whenever he looked in Zim's direction.
Sliding out of the car, Zim turned, handing the keys to the apprehensive woman hovering nearby. "All fixed." He pulled his face into a serious expression. "Come back if you need a trained monkey to fix your car."
The woman's expression tightened anxiously, and she opened her mouth to apologize, when Billy burst out laughing. "He heard me! Wow! Can you hear really far with those?" He pointed to Zim's antennae. "Can I touch?"
Zim sighed inwardly, but crouched down. "Just be careful, okay?"
Billy reached up, but the woman jerked him back. "I'm very sorry, he's just a child, we'll pay at the front." Averting her eyes, she herded a protesting Billy into the car, pulling out of the space, and driving toward the front.
Zim squatted there a few moments, wrestling with his feelings. Anger, he could go slash her tires right now. No, that wouldn't be right. She was just scared. But why? He hadn't shown the least amount of aggression toward them, he'd even been willing to cater to the smeet's curiosity.
"Not used to being a freak yet?" John's voice cut from behind.
Slowly, Zim stood, refusing to turn around, and moved on to the next car.
"I'd think you'd be used to it by now. But I guess you're still trying to fit in. How's that feel anyway, being so freakish?"
Zim lifted the hood of the car carefully, his claws digging into the paint. He could hear Tom's heavy footsteps come up behind John, and his deep voice mentioning they needed his help down by the register.
"Sure, I'll help. Guess the alien's hiding behind his fake Daddy, huh? Coward."
Zim wasn't entirely sure when he wound up on top of John, hurling punches at his face, but it was only a few seconds before hands the size of his head lifted him off, still punching and kicking midair.
John pushed himself back, covering his nose and sputtering. "You, you'd better get your freakish kid under control Tom. My Dad's not gonna like this."
"I don't have a Danem you idiot!" screeched Zim furiously. "He isn't my Danem!"
There was a heavy sigh behind him, and Zim's fury dispersed long enough for him to realize what he said. Tom couldn't know what the word meant, but he wasn't an idiot. He could figure it out in context. Slowly, Zim's limbs drooped.
Tom set him down, one hand still on his shoulder. "Mac, clock the two of us out, we're taking a lunch break."
…..
Zim stared miserably at the chocolate shake and fries in front of him. What had possessed him to say such a thing? Tom had done nothing but treat him with respect and comradeship. And he had no trouble accepting Della as his Maneem, of sorts. Why did he say that?
"So." Tom's voice broke the silence. "Wanna tell me what happened back there?"
Zim ducked his head, ashamed. Even worse than what he'd said, he'd lost his temper. He had no doubt John would get security footage of it, and spread it around anonymously. Then the Swollen Eyeball would pounce on it, using it in the leaflets they left everywhere about how dangerous he was. And he hadn't been able to be the better person. Again.
"Must have touched a pretty raw nerve," Tom commented, taking a bite of his burger. "I'm gonna guess Danem means Father to you, is that right?"
"Daddy," Zim corrected, subdued. "It's less formal than Father."
"Like Maneem is Mommy." Tom sighed. "Zim, I'm gonna be straight with you, alright?"
"Straight… meaning not crooked, or honest?"
"Honest."
Zim nodded, still staring at the table.
"I was never really comfortable with the idea of being your Dad. The big reason being, I don't see that you need me to be that. The reason I can be Dad to the girls is because they need me. You needed Della, so she got to be your Mom. But you never really needed me, and that's okay, Zim. I don't have to be your Dad. If anything, I always saw you as a peer. Especially when you proved yourself at the shop over and over."
Zim lifted his head a little, blinking in surprise. Tom saw him as a peer?
"Not only that, I'm pretty proud to have you as a peer. Not many people can claim they have someone as talented as you for a friend."
Tom thought he was talented? His shoulders straightened a little.
"But whatever nerve John touched, you have to get it under control."
Zim slumped again. "I don't know what made me do that."
"I don't know either. But until you figure it out, I'll try and work it so that you and John are on different shifts. I'm sure his Dad won't mind. And expect a reprimand from him, maybe even a pay dock."
Sighing, Zim nodded. He chewed a couple of French fries, grimacing at the taste of auto shop grease that got everywhere. Hopefully this wouldn't land him in too much trouble. But Tom was right, he had to figure out why it bothered him so much.