Wow, an update after 5 years! I feel like I should apologize for that. I fell out of writing fanfic when school had started up again, and honestly forgot about the draft I had saved until Zela Night had reminded me that this fic was existent. Thanks!

So, I revisited that draft and it just started flowing again! With finals coming up I hope to update this at least once more. I wasn't done with it, and while I don't have a solid 'plot' for this story, I do enjoy writing it. So I hope you enjoy this very late installment! It ended about about 6 pages, so buckle up.

Part 8: Mannerisms

Dib laid in bed the next morning tired as all hell. He had once again stayed up most of the night writing down what he and Zim had been talking about. He hadn't gone to bed until early that morning. He thanked his luck that it was Saturday. He checked the time on the microwave as he passed to see that it was already nearly 2 in the afternoon. He made himself up some cereal and slumped into his usual seat at the table.

"Finally awake?" Gaz asked, dumping a dirty dish in the sink.

"Yeah. Did I miss anything from Dad?"

"Nope."

Gaz left, leaving Dib alone again. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, vaguely remembering that he had invited Zim back today if he wanted to come. Gaz walked back in and punched Dib on the arm as she passed. Dib rubbed it out of reflex. Gaz had lightened up on him over the years, but the habit hadn't broken.

"I am, however, going out with friends. I'll be gone 'til late so you're on your own," she said, grabbing a coat from the closet. Dib shrugged.

"Alright, well, have fun," Dib said, nearly finishing his cereal. Gaz gave him a second punch on her next passing – her own unspoken 'good-bye' for Dib.

"I always do," Gaz said, leaving. Just as she exited out the door she shouted back at him. "Oh, and Zim's been sitting out back for the past two hours."

"What?!" Dib shouted. He rushed out back to where Zim was sitting in the tree shading the back porch. He had his back to the trunk, his legs dangling down as he slept against the tree. "Zim?"

Dib could see his wig move slightly from his antennae twitching at the sound of his voice. Zim opened his eyes and looked down at him. "Ah, Dib-stink you are awake."

"Were you sleeping?"

"Hm? No. Irkens do not require rest. Usually."

"Usually?"

"Come up," Zim said, lowing his mechanical arm as he had done before. It lifted Dib up effortlessly. He sat down across from him. "I'd rather you be here rather than shouting your questions at me now."

"Thanks," Dib said. "So, what do you mean by usually?"

"Our PAKs allow us to sleep very little. If an Irken does sleep it isn't for many, many months."

"For how long?" Dib asked. He silently wished he could go back to bed to sleep more but pushed the desire out of his mind.

"It depends how long we have."

Dib blinked. Zim stared at him, as if the answer was sufficient. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"If we have a few minutes, then a few minutes. If, however, the PAK does not sense danger for an extended period of time then we can possibly have a full rest. How are you not comprehending this?" Zim asks. Dib groans.

"Zim, you can't answer as if I should know this, I don't have access to that information like you do with your PAK. Humans have to actually look up information we don't know," Dib explains.

"How long does that take?" Zim asks.

"Depends on how much we need to look up and how accessible it is. How long does it take PAKs to comb through all recorded Irken knowledge?"

"A matter of seconds to moments," Zim answers plainly.

"And you can do that any time you want?"

"Yes."

"How long has an Irken slept since you stopped needing to?"

"You are quite talkative today."

"You stopped answering one question with a full explanation," Dib said, smirking at him. Zim glared at him, kicking one of his legs. Dib shouted as he regained his balance.

"Hey!"

"Touché," Zim said, ignoring Dib. "The longest an Irken has been known to sleep is approximately ten Earth years."

"What?! That's a coma, not a nap!"

"Don't shout when you are so close to the mighty Zim!" Zim shouts back, covering his wig.

"Sorry."

"Ugh. They were trapped on a planet with no life. They essentially went into hibernation. I, however, have only slept for up to several Earth months."

"That's still a long time. Then why were you acting like you were asleep?"

"I was relaxing, Dib-stink. Even Invaders are entitled to a little relaxation every once in a while. We have similar mannerisms to humans. As disgustingly simple as your species is," Zim said. Dib rolled his eyes at him. He readjusted himself, sitting on the branch easier.

"Like?" Dib asked, swinging his feet.

"We dislike being proven wrong, we do not enjoy when another is rude to us, and we get bored. Many of what you consider to be human mannerisms are shared by other species of higher intelligence. Most species, as I've noted while I have been here," Zim states. He looks out over the fence to the neighbor's dog, which was watching them intently. "For instance, that creature appears paranoid."

Dib lightly kicked his legs. "I think it knows you're an alien under that get-up," he teased. Zim scoffed at him.

"Nothing can see through my BRILLIANT disguise, Dib-stink" he says confidently.

"I did," Dib said. Zim shot his eyes open in a glare to him. Dib laughed, rocking on the branch. Zim took a leg up and kicked him off. "Augh!"

Dib landed hard on the ground, the breath knocked out of him. Zim watched him gasp and then start up his laughing again. He growled at him, leaping down. Dib watches him, seeing the look of confused anger and laughing harder. Zim kicks him lightly in the leg, only causing Dib to start wheezing.

"You were supposed to stop laughing," he spits, giving a second kick.

"Hahaha! I c-can't- haha! Your face!" Dib gasps.

"What about Zim's face?!" Zim asks angrily, kneeling next to him. "Are you ill?"

"Wha- hahaha! No! I'm amused!" Dib manages to say. Zim grumbles, sitting down. Dib had to force himself to calm down and stop laughing. It took a minute, but he had managed it. Dib sat up, rubbing tears from his eyes, latent chuckles still finding their way out.

"Are you done, finally?" Zim asks.

"Yes. Aheh. That kick was pretty human, by the way."

"Do not compare an Irken to your filthy Earth-pig species!" Zim demands. Dib ignored the demand, standing up. He held his hand out. Zim looked at it a moment and stood himself. "Zim also does not need what you call 'hand-outs'."

"It's not a hand-out, for one," Dib says. He opens the back door, ushering Zim inside. "Secondly, it's what a lot of people do. It's lending a hand."

"It's a sign you think I'm weak, yes?" Zim asks. Dib snorts.
"Hardly. It's just polite."

"…Polite."

"Yes. Is that a word on Irk? Or a concept?" Dib asks, rummaging through the cabinets.

"Zim must think a moment," he says. He pauses and then shakes his head. "We do not have a verbal equivalent. Is it a show of solidarity?"

"No- well…" Dib thought about it for a moment. "Actually, sometimes it is. But, overall being polite just means you're being nice to someone. Like so."

Dib pulled out a bag of small chocolates and dropped it on the table. The candy poured out. Zim stared at it a moment. He looked at Dib then back at the table. Dib began to wonder if he'd begin to notice the connection. When Zim sat down and flicked one of the pieces Dib sighed and sat down beside him.

"Okay, wow. That connection should have been easy to make," Dib says.

"What connection? You spoke of a human mannerism and then threw candy down," Zim summarizes.

"Zim, it's candy. Junk food. I'm giving it to you? As a sign of kindness? Being nice?"

"Oh," Zim mused. He looked at it again. "Why?"

"Because- what? We're friends now, aren't we?" Dib asks. Zim huffs.

"I suppose so," he says. "But why the… candy?"

"Yes, candy."

"Why?"

"That's something friends do. Don't Irkens know what that is?" Dib asks. He grabs a piece and unwraps it. He throws it in his mouth. "Eat one. It's got high sugar content."

Zim eyed them and took one. He spoke as he unwrapped it. "We don't. I told you we have no loyalty other than to our Tallest."

"What, that includes friendships? That's pretty lonely, Zim."

"It does not bother Zim," Zim states, plucking the chocolate into his mouth. Dib watched eagerly for the reaction. He was pleased when Zim's eyes lit up and he dove for another piece. "This tastes normal!"

"Ahahaha! Normal for you, maybe, it's sweet for us," Dib explains. "I thought maybe you'd just eat Earth junk food at lunch instead of leaving food to waste. Well, what we generously call that slob of… stuff, anyway. I've seen kids eat nothing but crap at lunch before, so it's not weird."

"Every day?" Zim asks. "I could have been having my own supplies at lunch this whole time?!"

Dib watched Zim unwrap and pop three in his mouth at once. He poured more of the bag out on the counter. "Yes. Maybe not every day, but you could have. You seriously didn't think of that before?"

"Zim was concerned with appearing normal," he explains. "It could have raised suspicion."

"Right," Dib said. He leaned back in his seat, reaching to the counter for the remote and flipping on the TV. He watched the show that Gaz had left on and listened to Zim eat most of the bag before a thought hit him. "Hey, wait a second."

"What? You said Zim could eat them," Zim says, hording some of the leftover candy.

"No, I was thinking about earlier. You said friends aren't a thing on Irk, then what's Gir? I know he's your robot, but you don't consider him a friend?" Dib asks.

Zim looks at him as if he'd lost his mind. Dib ignored the possibility that exact thought had crossed the Irken's mind and waited for his answer. Zim swallowed the candy in his mouth and sat up straight. "That defect? Zim would never lower his standards to THAT, Dib-stink. Gir was meant to be a unit to assist in my invasion. Nothing more."

"Why keep him if he's defective?" Dib asks.

"Ah. Gir tried to kill me when I attempted to fix him. He is more defective as a functioning unit than as he is now. They are not meant to kill or harm their Masters. He can still perform basic functions most of the time. The Tallest refuse to send me a proper unit, so Zim must use his brilliance to work with what was given," Zim explains. He saw the gears in Dib's mind turning and shook his head preemptively. "Zim does not wish to recount that event."

"Ugh, fine. I guess having your… well, pet robot, I guess… kill you must have been less than favorable."

"That would be an understatement, Dib-stink."

Dib chuckled, flipping channels. He was enjoying this.