A/N: Um, if smut isn't your thing, it's at the end so it's easy to skip. I guess just stop reading after the phrase "Dib's hand reached up to touch Zim's." ALSO, I am considering solely updating this story on AO3 instead of there and FFN. Most of my readers seem to be there. If you do not want me to do this, please let me know and I will continue to update on both sites.
His father spins around, knocking a glass beaker off the lab bench. He inhales sharply as he looks Dib up and down.
"What have you done to yourself?" Membrane's mouth twists in disgust, and Dib sees himself reflected in his father's goggles. Dib drags his fingers down his own face, mouth splitting open in a rictal grin. The drum in his head beats faster, kill...kill...kill...killkillkillkill.
"What have I done? What have I done? Oh fatherfatherfather, that is the wrong question." Every muscle in him tenses as the PAK legs bend in preparation to lunge. He feels the power flooding through him, burning him from the inside out, transforming him into an apex predator, into the apex predator. He lunges forward, just as Membrane throws himself backwards over the bench-
Dib's eyes snapped open as the sense of moving forward rapidly switched to that of falling. He tried to catch himself, but it was too late. He hit the floor with a thud and winced. Every muscle in his body felt like it'd been viciously wrung out. Hands under his chest, he pushed himself off the floor and gasped as the sides of his chest flared in pain. Dib dropped back to the floor, panting.
His glasses were gone, but he saw a blurry figure appear and step over him. Arms slipped around his chest. Dib tensed in anticipation.
"This will hurt," Zim muttered. "Do not resist."
Dib was roughly pulled off the ground, and he tried his best not to fight back as Zim hauled him back onto the cot he had fallen off of.
"Fuck," he hissed as his side hit the edge of the cot, pain spiking. Zim released him, and Dib pushed himself into a seated position. He hoped it looked less taxing than it felt. Once he was steady, Zim leaned forward and slid his glasses onto his face.
"Th-thanks," Dib adjusted the glasses. He frowned as he realized these couldn't be his glasses. The lenses were too clear, no scratches or smudges marring his vision.
"Where-"
"Yours were ruined," Zim interrupted. "It would have made more sense to simply fix your eyes, but it seemed unwise to do so given," he waved his hand vaguely at Dib, "all that had happened to you."
All that had happened? Dib looked around him, realizing for the first time that he and Zim were no longer in Zim's base. Dim rows of lights ran along the dull metal floor and up over the low arched ceiling, gently illuminating the cabin of the spittle runner.
"I have Tak's ship," he whispers, pulling Zim close to him. Their lips meet again, roughly, and Dib moans as Zim's tongue slips into his mouth, wanting to feel it slide down his throat, wanting to feel his own muscles swallow around it and let Zim make him utterly and completely helpless. A crash erupts behind him as something slams into his back-
And then his father's face, much too close to his own, contorted in an emotion Dib can't place. Fear? Hatred? Regret? He can't remember.
"Zim, what happened? I-I don't remember- I mean, I remember looking at the maps and telling you about the ships, and-" and how sharply your hipbones pressed against mine- He stared down at his mismatched hands, wrung them anxiously, before glancing up at Zim.
Zim had slid down the wall on the other side of the narrow cabin until he was sitting on the floor. He was very still.
"My PAK," he said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat and started again, "My PAK was reactivated. It attached itself to you, it- I don't know how it didn't kill you. All those chemicals... I don't know why." His brow furrowed as he looked not at Dib but through him.
Dib touched his own shoulder, slid his fingers down his back, terrified that he would brush against smooth metal. But there was nothing. Nothing. Not just the lack of a PAK but nothing. He couldn't feel his own fingers against his skin. He twisted around, pointlessly, and then hissed in pain as his sides felt like they were going to split.
In an instance Zim was on his feet and over him, pulling Dib's hand away and down. He leaned over Dib, looking at his back before gently lifting each arm to glare at his sides.
"Don't wriggle around like that," he hissed. "It's still healing."
Dib pushed Zim away, tried to get to his feet before collapsing back onto the cot. His heart was racing as his hands wrapped around his abdomen, exploring the parts of him where his skin felt his own fingers before crossing an intangible border where sensation just... stopped. He looked up at Zim, who had stepped back to observe him.
"Zim, what happened?" His throat tightened; he could remember it in his body but not his mind, could feel something piercing him, driving itself through, invading his mind, his soul, burning him up from the inside. Why was his father making that face?
"You-" Zim paused. He reached up above Dib and opened a bulkhead cabinet, pulling out a slim Irken med kit. He sat next to Dib and popped the kit open, pulling out a small square of gauze. He began dabbing at Dib's ribs, right at the line between sensation and numbness, before continuing.
"You were terrifying," he admitted reluctantly. "You were violent, insane; all of the rage of an Irken soldier with none of the discipline."
He stopped dabbing and unscrewed a container of ointment, spreading it delicately along the seam Dib couldn't see. "They were watching us," Zim continued. "The Tallest. They were waiting to watch me die, the whole time, ever since the beginning, but when it didn't- when we... they decided to give you a push, make it more exciting."
When we...
"Are you going to hurt me?" Dib whispers, pressing his lips to Zim's smooth palms. His cock stiffens as he slides one of Zim's fingers into his mouth, feeling Zim run his other hand down his neck and along his collarbone. He is terrified even as he wants this, wants to know if Zim has a cock, wants to feel it inside him as he's pinned down, helpless, defeated.
Dib remembers being in his father's lab and... flames? Why was there a fire?
"I went to Membrane Labs..."
"I may have convinced you to go there in order to create an exit route from my base," Zim admitted, antennae twitching. "You were extremely determined to kill your enemy. I simply... helped you re-prioritize who your primary enemy was."
"My..." Dib remembered seeing him hiding behind Zim, dirty and terrified.
He sees Zim's smile as he steps to the side with a bow, and the game is won, the prey is his, and he is rushing forward, and two PAK legs are coming up and forward and tearing into and through his father's chest, which cracks like a watermelon against his own body.
"I killed him," Zim stated. "You merely helped."
"No." Dib considered that his father was dead. Rolled the thought around in his mind
"Yes," Zim hissed. He poked Dib in the chest angrily. "You were ready to kill me. I sent you after him, and then I was the one who convinced him to give me his weapon, to drop the shields. Zim saved the Dib, as always."
"I-" Dib frowned and turned to face Zim. "Wait, you did, didn't you?"
"Well-"
"You were able to get out of the base, and you knew about the ship. You could've left, couldn't you?"
Zim recoiled from Dib and rose, returning to the wall. His face was all but impassive, only the tightness of his mouth betraying his wariness.
"Once he was eliminated, I was able to incapacitate you." His arms were wrapped around his chest as he looked away from Dib. "I needed to get the PAK off you. I used Tak's ship and Membrane's computers to call my Tall- the Tallest. I... convinced them it was in their best interest to detach the PAK from you, that they would be exceptionally displeased with the outcome should they continue on their set course."
"You threatened to kill them, you mean?" Dib said wryly. Deep down, he knew he should still be thinking about what he had done, but he just couldn't yet. For now, for the first time in a long time, he was safe from his father, and that was enough.
"I-" Zim squawked. He leaned over Dib, arms akimbo, radiating his affront. "I went toe-to-toe with the leaders of the greatest army the universe has ever seen and bent them to my will!"
Dib grinned. He couldn't help it. "Sorry."
"Zim does not forgive you," he sniffed.
"So that was it?" Dib asked. "You threatened them, they deactivated the PAK, and that was that?" He looked around the cabin. "Where is it?"
"No." Zim was back against the wall, once more tired and conflicted. "The Tallest couldn't be trusted. I knew that. It seemed extremely likely that the PAK had a self-destruct feature, in the event one ever fell into enemy hands."
"How did you know it couldn't explode while it was connected to me?"
"I didn't." He looked so small, so fragile now. "I guessed that, even if it could, it would be more fun for them to trick me. If I was right, I hoped we had time to get behind your father's shield, or what was left of it. If I was wrong, well..."
"I-" Dib's mouth was dry. He ran his tongue over his lips. "Did you know the shield would protect us?"
Zim shrugged. He extended a hand to Dib and pulled him to his feet. He led Dib, slowly, to the back of the cabin, to the closet-sized restroom Dib had so proudly installed years ago, in preparation for epic journeys that never began.
"It did protect us," Zim whispered. "After that, all that was left was to clean up."
He tapped the wall panel, activating the light, and turned Dib until his back was to the mirror. Dib turned his head and saw that nearly all of his back had been replaced with the same green skin graft that coated his hand. He twisted and raised one arm, wincing as the graft tugged against the skin it was fused to.
"How-"
"Just the skin. Your muscles, fascia, subdermal nerves should all be fine."
He tilted his body in the light, seeing the three divots that ran down his spine. Dib pressed one finger into his back, dealing with the bizarre double sensation of his fingers touching his skin and his muscles aching with a layer of nothingness between them. Zim was watching him in the mirror, brow still furrowed. Dib wanted Zim to touch him, to drag his nails across the parts of him that could still feel, to throw him against the wall and wrap his fingers around his throat. He turned away from the mirror to face Zim, crowding him against the door frame in the tiny room.
"How many times could you have walked away?" Dib asked, his voice low.
Zim slid under his arm and out of the room. Dib grabbed for him, but Zim shook him off.
In the days that followed Dib learned that he had been asleep for nearly a week, in which time the ship traveled into orbit over a moon Zim haughtily referred to as "a rat's nest on top of an ant colony on top of a junk yard.
"When can we land?"
Zim was hunched over the console, typing up a list of supplies to send to vendors on the surface. Dib stood behind him, his arms resting on the back of Zim's chair for support, gazing out at the dull, maroon moon before them. Zim continued typing away. Dib flicked an antennae and repeated himself.
"Tomorrow," Zim muttered, rising from the chair and stepping out of Dib's reach. Dib had noticed that Zim was careful not to stay too close to him for too long. The one exception was when he applied ointment to Dib's sides. Even then, his gloves were on, and his movements were small and precise. At some point Zim's body had reached some kind of chemical homeostasis; though a tremor still gripped his hands from time to time, he was steady and strong, catching Dib on more than one occasion of inadvertent overexertion. Emotionally, he was indifferent, not angry, not cruel, not passionate.
Hit me, kiss me, do something to me.
"What can we do down there?" Dib's fingers gripped the chair as Zim pulled open a panel on the floor.
"You can't do anything," Zim said around the wire clippers he held in his mouth, fingers wrapped in a cats cradle of wires. "You are going to stay on the ship until I am done taking care of some business. Then we will leave."
"Like hell," Dib said sharply, tired of being dismissed again and again. "This is the first new planet I've been been to, and there is no way I'm staying cooped up in this ship the whole time we're down there. You can't tell me what-"
"No."
"No, what?"
"No to all of this," Zim waved one hand a Dib without looking up from his task. "No to this tantrum. You are not leaving the ship. Now go lie down. You are weak, and I do not feel like picking you up off the floor again."
Dib could feel his legs shaking and hated Zim for being right. Initially he had been terrified that he would go through the same vicious withdrawal cycle Zim had experienced; soon it became clear that he was lucky. The worst he experienced was a particularly cruel migraine that had lingered for a day, leaving him tired and weak. He had an on and off pain in his left leg that sometimes left him gritting his teeth, and there had been a episodes of photophobia. Still, the graft was continuing to heal, and every day had been a little better, and he was sure he could handle a walk. Pretty sure. He dropped down onto the cot, turning onto his side to watch Zim work.
The next day they landed in a dusty shipyard, surrounded by ships of varying size and shape but all on the wrong side of well-maintained. Dib stayed on his bed, feigning sleep as Zim woke from his spot on the floor and prepared to leave. Finally he stood over Dib, face wrapped in anticipation of dust and sand.
"I will be back tonight. You will stay on the ship."
Dib cracked an eye and pretended to yawn, "You got it, spaceboy. I'm pretty tired. Guess you were right."
Zim's eyes narrowed. "The Dib is a bad liar. Nevertheless, you will stay on the ship." He spun on his heel and stepped to the console. His fingers danced across the keypad before he moved to the door. "Ship, initiate the 'Dib is a sneaky worm who cannot be trusted' protocol."
The ship issued a series of beeps and whistles.
"Wait," Dib was struggling to his feet. "Zim, what-"
"Stay here," Zim hissed, placing his hand on Dib's chest and shoving him backwards. Dib hit the edge of the cot and lost his balance. Before he could get back on his feet Zim had stepped out of the ship, door sliding neatly shut behind him. Dib groaned, annoyed at this set-back. He reached the panel Zim had been working at yesterday and pulled it off to expose the wiring beneath.
An hour later he was out, leaving a note stuck to the console that read "you're an ass. don't leave without me" alongside a caricature of himself giving the middle finger. He headed towards a sprawl of booths and tables next to the shipyard, a bazaar of strange scents, colors, and sounds. Dib lost himself in exploration, turning every time a new kind of alien passed him. After bumping into a floating, jellyfish-like creature that shrieked at him as it dropped its bags, he decided to find somewhere to sit.
A creature that looked like a naked molerat mixed with a horned lizard was serving up bowls of what looked like noodles under a dingy tent. Dib pulled a handful of tokens that he prayed was money out of his pocket. These had been found on Tak's ship back when he first started working on it, and he had stashed them away, again in preparation for travel that never occurred. He pointed at a bowl of noodles and held out the tokens. He had already learned that Irken was not a welcome language after trying to say hello to a ball of tentacles that was sweeping the shipyard. The wrinkly creature plucked two tokens out of Dib's hand, long fingernails scraping against his palm. Dib picked up the steaming bowl and took a seat at one of the benches, facing out towards the street.
The noodles were not noodles, at least not by any Terran definition. They were crunchy and tart, and the broth they floated in was thick, coating Dib's mouth and throat in a warm, spicy buzz. As he ate he wondered what his next steps should be. Zim had brought him out here yet seemed entirely indifferent to his presence. Did he want Dib to leave?
Dib took off his glasses and rested his face in his hands, suddenly exhausted. He wanted a conclusion, some kind of resolution, but right now his life was just a string of actions, and emotions, and environments, all of them confusing and uncontrollable as fuck. A claw poked him in the on the shoulder and he started, afraid Zim had found him. It was the chef, reaching for his empty bowl. Dib handed it to him, wishing he could express his satisfaction. He rubbed his stomach and nodded his head vigorously, hoping that got the message across. The creature chuckled and jiggled, its many folds quivering.
"Um, well, thank you," Dib said, rising to his feet. A wave of lightheadedness hit him and he set a hand on the table to steady himself. Fuck. Zim might have been right. The creature chuckled again and poked Dib then pointed to the back of the tent. A hammock was slung there.
"Oh, um, yeah, actually," Zim wouldn't be back for hours, and the air in the ship was so stale. Thirty minutes, that'd be enough. He thrust a fistful of tokens at the creature, who jiggled and snorted, pushing his hand back.
"You," the creature's Irken was heavily accented but understandable. "Irken ship, yes?"
"Yes," Dib hoped he was not about to get cussed out again. The creature chuckled.
"Irkens... make Margan tired," the creature, Margan, pointed at himself then pointed at Dib. "Irkens make you tired?"
"Yes," Dib said emphatically. An understatement. Margan pointed at the hammock again. Dib laughed and nodded. It felt nice to talk to someone. He went to the hammock, made out of a stretchy web material and gingerly climbed into it. Thirty minutes.
He leans against his father's bubbling chest as two more metal legs slide into Membrane's stomach. He laughs and looks up at his father's face. It's his own face, staring back at him. Reflected in this other Dib's glasses he sees himself. His skin is sloughing off his face, exposing something neither Irken nor human. He reaches up a hand and pulls at it. The skin stretches and tears like an old sunburn. He pulls and pulls, searching for something underneath all the layers, but it never stops. His fingers scratch against bare bone-
Dib woke with a gasp, his heart pounding in his ears. He opened his eyes and saw darkness before lashing out, feeling like something was pushing down on him. He flailed, trying to free himself from whatever was wrapped around him. Something steadied him. A seam of light appeared above him, widening until he could see the wrinkly face of Margan staring down at him, twisted up in the hammock.
"Oh, shit, ok, sorry," he switched to Irken as he struggled out of the hammock. "Thank you."
Margan jiggled. Dib looked past him and realized the sky was much much darker.
"How long was I asleep?" Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Zim's gonna be pissed. Margan's answer didn't make sense. Something about a sand dune movement. Fucking time. Never as universal as you'd hope. "Uh, I gotta go, but thank you! Thank you!"
He bowed awkwardly and took off running. He wasn't far from the shipyard and reached it within minutes. As he ran through he heard the high-pitched whirring of an engine starting up. Nonono he wouldn't really leave. He rounded the last ship and saw his ship, his ship, ready to take off, engines glowing. He reached the door.
"You can't," he screamed, fists pounding at the door. "Please, you can't, Zim! You can't leave me!" The ship was vibrating under his hands, moments away from lifting off. He dug his nails into the seam of the door, scrabbling for purchase. Please don't leave, please don't leave. I need you. I can't live with myself. He pounds against the door again, throat hoarse, no longer yelling distinct words. The engines cut off suddenly and the door slides open. Zim leaned against the door frame, looking haggard. A phaser dangled in one hand. His eyes widened as he saw Dib.
"You-" he choked as Dib rushed forward into the ship. He grabbed Zim's shoulders, tears seeping down his face.
"How could you leave me?" Dib cried. He couldn't stop shaking, felt like he was going to die. He pushed until Zim's back was to the wall and buried his face in his chest. "Please, please, please," he whispered. "Please don't leave me."
"You're here," Zim croaked. Dib looked up at him and saw that Zim's eyes were bright with tears. "But I thought they took you."
Dib sobbed and buried his face in Zim's chest again, not hearing anything but his own frantic breaths. He can't leave me. "Please don't leave me here," he whispered again.
A hand grabbed Dib's chin and forced it up. Dib looked into Zim's eyes. "I will never let them take you, Dib."
That didn't make sense. Dib struggled to get his breathing to slow, wanting to get himself under control. Zim's hands roamed over his back, his neck, his arms, inspecting him. He pushed Dib away from him and pushed his face to one side then the other. His face was pale.
"You were gone," he said, his voice tight and strangled. "I came back, and you were gone, and I thought-" His fingers tightened on Dib's jaw and he repeated, "I will not let them take you."
Who?
Dib's hand reached up to touch Zim's. It's ok. It's ok. It's ok. Zim slowly turned, rotating them until Dib was pushed up against the wall. Dib kissed the palm of Zim's hand, blinking away the last tears. Zim withdrew his hand and slid off his gloves. One hand cupped the back of Dib's neck, and the other reached out to dab at a tear on his face. Dib watched as Zim's finger brought the tear to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste it. Dib groaned.
"Please, Zim."
Zim leaned forward and licked his neck, tracing a trail left by tears. Dib sagged back against the wall, pulling Zim close to him. He turned his head and caught Zim's mouth with his, slipping his tongue in to touch Zim's. Zim's cool, reptilian skin felt so good against his lips. He was still buzzing with too much adrenaline and needed more. Zim pushed against him, his hand wrapping around Dib's throat. He squeezed lightly, his tongue pushing back into Dib's mouth. Dib sighed. Yes, this. His hands slipped under Zim's tunic, gliding over his flat stomach and sharp hipbones. Zim broke off the kiss to whisper viciously in Dib's ear, "You are mine."
Dib nodded, "Yes, yes, please-" He gasped as Zim bit his neck and rolled his hips against Zim, wanting to feel his erection against his own. Zim growled and licked where he had just bit, tongue gliding down to Dib's collarbone. He pulled at Dib's shirt, tearing it and sliding his hand in to pinch his nipples. He moved back, keeping his other hand on Dib's neck, and watching him. Dib considered how he must look, panting and hard, cock straining against his pants and moaned.
Zim tugged at Dib's ruined shirt softly before releasing him. Dib understood, removing his shirt and pants, his hands trembling as he undid his belt. Zim just watched him, expression unreadable.
"All of it."
Dib felt heat pooling in his stomach. Do it. Listen to him. He slipped out of his underwear, terrified and more aroused than he had ever been. Zim continued to watch him. Dib stepped towards him, but Zim softly shoved him back.
"No," he shook his head. "Just you."
Oh god. Dib stroked himself, Zim's apparent indifference turning him on even more. He leaned back against the wall, staring at Zim, panting as his hand twisted around his cock. He remembered what it had felt like to hold both their cocks in his hand, to have Zim come on his stomach and whimpered. He was getting close.
"Stop."
Dib groaned but released himself, still staring at Zim who crooked a finger at him. Dib stepped forward, his cock bobbing heavily in front of him. Zim stroked his cock gently, the tip of his thumb swiping over the tip, smearing precome across the head. Dib felt like his knees were going to buckle. Zim turned Dib around and pulled him so his back was against Zim's chest. He wrapped his other arm around Dib's chest and held him tightly, tongue snaking up his throat as his hand sped up. Dib whimpered and bucked his hips, pushing into Zim's strokes.
"You are so lovely like this," Zim whispers. "Helpless. Submissive. Mine."
"Yes," Dib panted. His hands reached behind him, feeling for Zim's hips. Zim's hand slowed as Dib palmed his erection, rubbing it through his leggings. Zim hissed and bit down on his neck again, sending a bolt of pleasure through Dib. He struggled against the hold Zim had on him.
"Let me turn around, wanna see you." Needed to see him. Zim's arm tightened around him, sliding down to restrict the movements of his arms.
"No," he hissed into Dib's ear. "You left the ship. You don't get to see Zim, not after disobeying me."
Dib's body felt like it was on fire. He rocked his hips forward, trying to pull down Zim's leggings and was rewarded with another nip on his neck. Zim's hand was twisting as it slid up and down his cock, and when did he get so good at this?
"Zim." Please don't stop, please you have to stop.
"No more talking, Dib," he whispered into Dib's neck, his arm tightening further. "I will keep you here as long as it takes. I'm never letting you escape."
Dib's hips stuttered and he groaned, Zim's words sending him over the edge. He feels Zim's breath against his ear as his hips jerk once, twice into Zim's hand. If Zim's arm wasn't pinning him to his chest, Dib would be on the floor. His head rolled back onto Zim's shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.
"Mine," Zim whispered a final time, wrapping his other arm around Dib.
Notes: Ok so a LOT happens in this chapter, and I'm really happy with it. But in particular I LOVE MARGAN, a dude who came out of nowhere and who I had to write in. Just a chuckling happy dude