Part 31: Ingredients

I took my time with this one, mostly because I wasn't sure how to end it. But, I like doing chill chapters and I like doing chill things so, have at it!

P.s. to whomever asked why I reported them by leaving a guest review, I cant respond because it's a guest review. And I have no record of ever reporting anyone on this account. Sorry, I think you got the wrong account

Dib grabbed the flour and eggs, carefully placing the eggs in the bag last. He hoped that the eggs lasted the trip without being smashed or he and Zim were out of luck. He waved to Gaz on his way by, getting a grunt in return, and marched his way to Zim's base in the sun. He was glad he'd gotten Zim to get the milk or it might have boiled by the time he reached the base. He didn't bother to even knock, strutting right into the base and towards the kitchen.

"Zim?" he called out. He didn't get an answer. Dib looked up the stairs, seeing only darkness and retreating. He rechecked the living room but found nothing. He shrugged, opening the fridge to find Gir sitting on one of the shelves, eating out of the jar of jam. Dib will admit, he was shocked silent for a moment. "Hi, Gir."

"Big Head!"

Damn those nicknames.

"Dib. What are you doing in the fridge? Don't tell me you drank the milk."

"Nooo."

"Ok, great." Dib said, eyeing the milk almost exactly when Gir had answered. He shoved the eggs into the top shelf. "Don't touch those, either. Where's Zim?"

"Basement!" was all that Gir said before shoving more jam into his maw. Dib resigned himself already to that being the pinnacle of the information he'd receive. It was better not to prop Gir further unless one wanted to go on a wild goose chase.

Dib took the table entrance, already having vowed to avoid the toilet at all costs; and slid down to the main body of the base. He looked up. "Hey, Computer, where is he, exactly?"

The computer didn't answer, instead just stopped the elevator short. Dib assumed it was the correct floor. If it wasn't, he'd just be left wandering around an alien base, and that was a good use of an afternoon in his book. Luckily, or unluckily depending how you saw it, he didn't have to look far. He heard the sound of glass clinking together and followed it. Zim was in his storage rooms when Dib found him. He was riffling through various jars and bottles, idly moving them around and picking them up and putting them back down in other places. He was murmuring to himself in Irken, unawares that Dib had joined him.

"What'cha doing?" Dib asked, snickering when Zim jumped. Zim's hand bumped the shelf above it, knocking some bottles loose. Dib was diving to catch them even as Zim had already done so and was putting them back. He glowered at Dib, his face more comical than intimidating to the boy, and sneered. The lack of eyebrows just made it more hilarious in Dib's opinion.

"You startled me." He said. Dib smiled at him. He could tell, no, hear, that Zim was angry at himself for allowing Dib to sneak up on him. Dib counted it as the victory it was.

"You let your guard down. What are you doing?" Dib asked again.

"Zim is clearing components. Some have gone bad; Zim just doesn't know which ones. It would be unsurprising if many have to be tossed."

Dib looked over the components. Most of the containers were clear glass, letting him see into the various ingredients. Some were stoneware, some marble that swirled around itself, and others were wooden and sealed. Dib picked up one of the marble bottles, feeling the freezing bottle in his hand.

"What's this one?" he asked. Zim glanced at it briefly.

"Water from another planet. Zorgon C-98. Likely expired." Zim said, an air of disappointment to his voice.

He took the bottom from Dib's hand and popped the cork. He walked to a bin on the wall that had the Irken equivalent of a radioactive symbol on the front. He poured the water—green, Dib noted—into the bin. After the lid shut Dib heard a whoosh that sounded suspiciously like fire.

"Is that… an incinerator?"

"It is. It's the most effective way to dispose of all these materials." Zim says, as blasé as Dib could reasonably accept of someone who just has an incinerator in their house. Possibly more than one, if he was really going to start thinking about it.

Dib took down another bottle, swirling its contents around. "This is reminding me to clean out the fridge at home."

"Zim must also clean out the fridge. Gir has made it a radioactivity zone with all his… experiments in his culinary adventures." Zim says with a slight shudder. Dib smirks, thinking back to when Gir had forced Zim to eat mountains of waffles. Then he frowned.

"I JUST put the eggs in the fridge." He says lamely. Zim smirked.

"They should be… edible."

"Yeah, that helps. We were supposed to make cookies today. Or brownies. Did you ever decide?" Dib asked, swirling around another bottle. Zim put some aside and eyed the bottle briefly before leaving Dib to it.

"Zim would like to do both."

"I could have figured," Dib chuckled. He picked the vials and bottles out of Zim's hands and set them aside on an empty side of the shelf. He turned Zim around by his shoulders and led him towards the elevator. "And now we're going to make them."

"Zim wasn't done!" Zim complained, rather loudly, but he didn't make any attempt to stop Dib from pushing him forward into the elevator.

"You cleaned the kitchen, right?" Dib asked.

"Zim cleaned away every germ."

"Bit over the top, but not unexpected, so thanks." Dib said, sauntering into the kitchen once they'd made it topside. Zim swung in after him, taking up a spot at the end of the table.

Dib took the ingredients out of the fridge and the cabinets. He set it out on the counter in rows of their use; preparing half of them. Zim watched him quizzically until Dib took out the recipe from his back pocket. He laid it out off to the side for quick reference and started to open the flour. Zim looked over the recipe briefly.

"This seems…. Easy." He said. Dib started nodding.

"It can be. What I find the hardest is the kneading of the dough. Some recipes say you can't knead it too much or it ruins it." Dib explained. He started to rifle through the cabinets for the bowls and tools Zim had bought—or Dib hoped he'd bought—and started setting them out. Zim looked the counter over again.

"Zim thought this was chemistry."

"It is. To a degree."

"How is this related?"

"Baking and cooking can involve chemistry! Like baking soda. You can make a foam volcano with it!" Dib said. He started mixing the ingredients, putting perhaps more strength than was necessary into mixing them to make the first stage of the dough. When he paused to start cracking the eggs Zim slid the bowl closer to himself. He tilted it to look inside and took a whiff.

"Zim thinks this smells… odd." Zim pointed out, tilting the bowl to examine its contents. Dib gently took it back, cracking an egg on the side as he did so.

"It's not done, Brainiac."

Zim dutifully ignored his remark in favor of watching Dib use Gir's open head as a garbage disposal. Zim wasn't sure when he'd gotten there, but if Gir was remaining silent and distracted, he didn't care. He leaned onto the counter, his lower half of his face resting behind his folded arms as he watched Dib work the dough. It was surprisingly useful for seeing how much muscle Dib had managed to build in his arms. Zim suspected he'd have accidently broken the bowl if he tried. When Dib had mixed it well enough, he set the bowl aside and paused. He looked around the kitchen.

"Zim does your oven actually work?"

"Zim did not bother giving it mechanics. Is that necessary?" Zim asks.

Dib blanched at him. "What did you think 'baking' meant?!"

"Zim doesn't know the meaning of every word on this planet!"

"Good lord…" Dib sighed, chuckling into his palm. He picked up the bowl, nodding his head towards the door. "We're going back to my house. Where there's a FUNCTIONAL oven."

"Zim could build one…" Zim grumbled, assembling his disguise regardless. He could see Dib's face form a smirk even as he turned away from him. "Zim could!"

"I don't doubt that, but I wanted these tonight. Besides we can play some of the older video games at my house."

"The ones with the comical depictions of alien invaders?" Zim asked, kicked the door shut behind them.

"The very same."

"Ah, good, some real entertainment."

"Hey, the movies are good too…"

"Yes, but Zim cannot kill the aliens in those."

Dib stared at him for a good few paces before shrugging. "Fair enough."