Chapter 3

            Dib yawned into his steak.  He'd been up most of the night putting his plan into place and trying to remove the poison bomb that Zim had implanted in him.  It turned out that according to his father's instruments, Zim's 'poison' wasn't really poison at all – at least not to humans, that was.  It was actually a substance very similar to creamed corn – though possibly fatal in very large amounts, the stuff was not really very harmful at all in such a small dose.  Likely it was a very potent poison to Irkens, however.  No wonder Zim avoided the stuff in the cafeteria like black, pus-spewing death.  Dib had stored the information away for later use, and let Zim gloat through his 'de-poisoning' procedure.

            Not that Dib was planning to skip out on their 'date,' but he hated the thought of giving Zim the satisfaction of thinking he'd forced him. 

            Zim sat across from Dib, poking at his fillet-o-meal with the same distain he had for all human food.  It appeared that Zim had done a little more research on the human concept of dating.  The tuxedo he wore was surprisingly well cut, even though it was made from the same odd-looking red synthetic material that made up his uniform, and his ever-present pak was still there.  The flowers that Zim had brought for him Dib had quickly tossed into a passing waiter's soup cauldron when no one was looking.  Dib only hoped that no one had seen Zim give them to him.  The taste of freesias couldn't hurt the soup all that much. 

            "So.  Zim.  I was wondering.  I mean, I now why I want to. . .  I'm human and it's just something that humans do.  But why you?  Do Irkens even have sex?  And why with me?"

            Zim glared up at him.  "Irkens do not normally have sex, no.  This is. . .an attempt to better understand the human condition.  And I have chosen you because. . .it is my understanding that it is the custom to have sex with someone you know.  I know you better than any other human on this stink, er, this planet."

            Dib didn't believe Zim for a nanosecond, but who could guess what was going through that twisted alien brain at any one point, so he let it rest.  It's not like he actually intended to actually have sex tonight, so whatever Zim's plans were, they were sure to fail.

            "Has it ever occurred to you that we're both boys?  I mean. . .not that it isn't done or anything, but it's not. . .the most usual way of doing it."

            "To remind you of what you've been shouting out to the world for about for the past three years, Dib – I'm.  Not.  Human," Zim hissed.  "Irkens are not, by your standards, either male or female.  Some have. . .residual traits.  Most do not."

            "Okay.  Sooo. . .I mean. . .are we going to. . .fit?"  Dib was caught between disgust and fascination at the thought of how Zim was built, and what their 'fitting' might entail.
            "As long as your flesh tentacle isn't somehow freakishly big in proportion to the rest of you, like your head is, we will manage."

            Still digesting this information (probably better than he was digesting his horrible food), Dib let the head comment slide. 

            The rest of supper passed in silence.      When it was time to go, they paid for their meals separately, and headed towards one of the Super-Poop movie complexes nearby. 

After a debate that nearly ended in a brawl, they decided to see Six Teenagers in a Haunted Place Again, which was turning out to be quite a spring blockbuster.  It was playing in twenty theatres, so they got to pick the one that was the least populated. 

Fifteen minutes into the movie Zim was hurling popcorn at the screen, screaming at the vapid lead characters in warning of their obvious, imminent doom.  What few patrons there were in the theatre left, and thought he caught a few of their glares on the way out, Dib was glad that there wasn't anyone around anymore to witness this embarrassing 'date.' 

Halfway through the movie, Zim reached around the armrest to grab his hand.  On impulse, Dib tried to snatch it away, but Zim was too quick and his grip was tight enough to crack Dib's knuckles. 

"You yourself said that we have to 'hold hands.'  So, we might as well get it over with while we're watching the movie," said Zim. 

"Yeah.  Fine." Dib winced.  "Would you just ease up a little bit on the grip?" 

Zim complied, though rather reluctantly, seeming to relish in Dib's obvious discomfort. 

For once without the long gloves the he always wore, Zim's hand was cool and slender.  The movie was about as engrossing as an accounting textbook, and Dib couldn't help being interested in how different the alien's hand was from that of a human.  Besides the fact that it only had three fingers, the structure itself felt odd in his grip.  The skin was smooth, with no trace of crease-marks or prints.  The fingernails were thick, and rough, and the bones were long and thinner than normal.  Although Dib knew from recent experience that it was strong, it felt as though he could break the hand with a single squeeze.  Dib couldn't resist – he squeezed hard.

"Hey!"  Zim shot him a dark look, and clutched tighter in retaliation.  Dib squeezed once more, and yet again, so did Zim.  Soon, their grasp was so tight that Dib thought any minute one of his fingers might snap.  They gritted their teeth at each other from across the armrest.  Finally, before it reached a point at which he thought his eyes would start watering, Dib yanked his hand free.

"That's probably long enough," Dib muttered, shaking the feeling back into his hand.

Zim scowled at him.  "You're the expert, stink-beast."

Crossing his arms and turning his attention to the screen, Zim went about ignoring Dib for a good portion of the rest of the movie.  The muttering and occasional shouts of frustration over the lame plotline (with which Dib silently agreed, though he was socially adjusted enough not to go on yelling about it like Zim did) continued on for a short time, until Zim produced an Irken soda from his pak and seemed content to slurp it in peace. 

"You're not supposed to sneak food into the theatre, Zim," Dib whispered just for spite.

            Zim shrugged, selective as ever about which earth-rules to follow.  Dib started trying to figure out how he might get ahold of the soda can as further evidence against Zim.  It kept him preoccupied for the remains of the tragically bad movie.

            At last, all but two of the characters, a boy and a girl, of course, had been killed off and the spooky evil thing had been defeated.  The remaining couple realized their love for each other and sucked on each other's faces for a minute or so before the camera panned out to the sunset. 

As the credits began to roll Dib yawned and looked over to Zim.

"Alright, it's time to g– good God!" 

Zim was leaning over the armrest, eyes closed and lips puckered out as far as the little alien could push them, making little fishy sucking motions.

Horrified by the sight, Dib froze.  After a moment of no response, Zim opened one eye.

"Well, are we going to kiss or not?"

"Umm. . .ah," Dib grasped for words.  Zim made the fishy face again.  "No!  Ah, I mean, yes. . .I mean, not here.  Humans don't kiss in movie theatres!"  Counting on Zim's ignorance, Dib hoped that he'd be able to avoid the horrible act it by putting it off until he could carry out his plan.  

"Wait until we get back to my house."

Zim re-crossed his arms sulkily.  "Fine.  Let us make haste, then.  I am eager for this night to be over."  Zim grabbed Dib's sleeve and hauled him to his feet and out of the theatre. 

Gir and Minimoose met them in front, driving the vootcruiser, which was very poorly disguised as a floating mini-van. 

Zim pushed a button on the side of the ship to open the hatch, and stepped aside in a gentlemanly manner to let Dib in first.  He gallantly helped Dib inside with a swift kick to the butt before leaping in himself.  The door closed, and the vootcruiser sped off.

Once inside Dib's house, Gir zeroed in on the TV and Zim broke out the fish lips again.  This time Dib, after a moment of panic, grabbed a nearby vampire piggy doll that Gaz had left out and (he couldn't resist) pressed the butt-end of it to Zim's lips.  Just watching Zim kiss was bad enough – it looked pretty slobbery, and good grief, was that his tongue?  Just as Zim pulled away, eyes still closed, Dib whipped the piggy behind his back and put himself in its place. Zim opened his eyes.  Dib grinned nervously.

"Your lips are fuzzier than they look, stink-human."  He wiped a hand carefully across his lips.  "Now that we have concluded with all the formalities, let us retire to your bedroom.  SEX AWAITS US!"

And up they went.