That first chapter of that new IZ fic I'm working on is already just over 7000 words—ya'll better buckle up when I start posting that lmao.

In related news: I tried to make this chapter a bit more of a chill venture. As a short reprieve before part 50. I wasn't sure what antics to get these two up to, but hopefully it's entertaining nonetheless!

Enjoy!

P.S.: Should I make a blog for this account? Where you guys can get updates on what's happening and where I can post wips (of the drawn and written variety)? An added bonus would be that I can link my other social accounts on there without fear of possibly violating any guidelines concerning links and self-promotion. Let me know!

Part 49: Sleep Over

Dib looked over his bags once more. Three bags full of his own electronics and clothes were haphazardly flung at his bedroom door. He had made his packing list several times now and still had found things to exempt or add. Finally, at Zim's loud groan from downstairs, Dib had managed to finalize his decisions and make up three bags for the untold amount of time he'd be at the base. He grabbed all of them, carrying them down the stairs in an equally hilarious and precarious fashion. He stumbled once or twice, almost falling down the stairs multiple times. Gaz passed by at the bottom, glancing up at him. Dib stumbled past her into the living room, falling over onto the back of the couch with a frustrated grunt.

"You planning to move in?" Gaz asks. Dib shoots her a glare.

"NO. I might as well be, though. For a few weeks or a few months, maybe. Who knows how long this will last," Dib sighs. "BUT! I get to spend that time in a semi-subterranean alien base unimpeded! …Mostly!"

Gaz blinked slowly at him. She turned away to hide her smirk. "Still stuck at home every night, how sad for you."

"I'll survive," Dib says, waving the mock concern off. He grabbed two of the bags, popping his back. Zim exited the kitchen, currently gorging himself on one of their chocolate bars, and made a disgusted face at the popping that came from Dib's back.

"You really MUST stop that," he says.

"What?" Gaz asks, mimicking Dib and sounding off her own pops. "This?"

Zim physically recoiled from her and her traitorous smile. "VILE!"

Gaz looked ready to laugh. Something that Dib would have bet his entire inheritance on never happening. He gaped at her, his ridiculous expression caught her attention and she scowled, her spite overpowering her upcoming laughter. Dib deflated a little. Zim grabbed the last bag before hastily making his way to the door.

"Let us go before you two pop anything else!" he pled. Dib scoffed, waving Gaz off. Gaz cleared her throat, gaining both of their attentions. She waved Zim over. Dib gave him an odd look, one Zim shared with him, before he made his way over. "What?"

Gaz leaned close to him, speaking low. "If he dies, I will storm their headquarters, decapitate them, and then… I'm coming for you."

Zim felt a shiver down his spine—something he would have to congratulate Gaz on some day—and nodded once. "Understood."

"Good." Gaz landed a hand on his shoulder with a squeeze. "I'll see him Monday."

Zim only nodded again, turning on his heel and nearly running out the door in a statue-stiff posture. He looked like he'd seen a ghost and Dib started to suspect that he may have. He pushed that behind him for now. Dib eyed him a moment before waving Gaz off. "I'll see you Monday!"

"Uh huh. Don't die," Gaz says.

The door clicked behind them and Dib hefted the bags over his shoulder again. Zim checked the street one last time, seeing no sign of the car, before starting off.

"You're keeping an eye out?" Dib asks.

"I'll hear his heartbeat if he's in the car. Otherwise it's just my eyes," Zim explains. Dib pursed his lips. He opted to ignore the implications and kept walking. On their way he almost had a hop in his step. He considered the possibilities in his head and turned to Zim.

"Hey, can't I stay a few nights? It's not unusual for friends to crash at another friend's house." He says.

"I'm not objecting," Zim says—a little too quickly—and readjusts the bag. "It's safer that way."

"GREAT BECAUSE I WAS GOING TO ANYWAY!" Dib announces, the hop in his step taking form. Zim watched him bounce his way to the base and started to chuckle.

"Dib, you're too excitable about this. You've been over so many times already."

"Yeah, but I never got to STAY FOR WEEKS," Dib says, buzzing with joy. "A night here or a night there, but not so many in a row!"

"You've seen almost all of it by now."

"And it never gets old," Dib says. Zim flushed a little, finding the hedges on the sidewalk's edge far more interesting suddenly.

"I see. Well, you'll be sleeping in the subterranean portion. There's no space in the above ground rooms." Zim says. Dib smirked, looking back at him.

"I would never say no to that. And I know it's because you want me somewhere safer than upstairs," Dib teases. Zim's face grew darker and he smacked Dib in the back, making him stumble a moment.

"THE REASON IS THE ONE I GAVE!"

"You can say that all day, Zim, I know you're just a worry-wort!" Dib laughs, speeding up.

"I am no wart!"

Dib stumbled in his laughter. He almost got caught by Zim trying to kick his shin before speeding up again. By the time they'd reached the door, Dib was out of breath, stopping at the door of the base. He turned, catching sight of Zim racing down the sidewalk. Dib held the bag holding his bedding up, using it as a shield to the clothing bag Zim swung at him. Zim kicked the door open next, flinging the bag towards the beside table elevator. Dib set his bags down in a gentler manner.

Zim caught Gir in the kitchen, mixing a bowl of something. Cake mix sat on the counter, open and toppled. Dib popped his head around the corner and spotted a variety of ingredients that didn't fit together in the slightest. He eyed the bowl in Gir's hands. Gir looked up, waving the spoon around excitedly, getting cake batter on the walls and floor.

"MARY! I'm making a cake!"

"I see that." Dib says. "Why?"

"Because Master's friend is staying!" GIr cheered.

He dumped the contents of the bowl into a dish. Dib could see it wasn't completely mixed. Gir was humming a happy song as he shoved it into the stove. Dib looked at Zim, cocking an eyebrow smugly. Zim looked mortified. He turned on his heel with a sigh. Dib snorted, collapsing onto the couch.

"Oh, he's excited."

"He's going to be insufferable."

"Noooo," Dib drawled. Zim already looked tired. Dib hummed, looking back at the kitchen. "Does that fridge work?"

"Hm? Yes."

"…Is it clean?"

Zim straightened, crossing his arms. "Dib, look who you're talking to. My base is IMMACULATE—in every aspect and facet!"

Dib smiled, standing up and pointing into the kitchen. Zim's eye twitched.

"THAT IS HIS FAULT!" Zim roared. Gir screamed something incoherent in response.

"And that is exactly why I asked," Dib says. "I'm not storing food in a fridge that has questionable items in it. I'm not looking to die of food poisoning."

Zim's antennae jerked under his wig in sync with the bodily flinch Dib saw. Zim groaned a little, rubbing at his temples. "Perhaps… we should go shopping?"

Dib grabbed his wallet before Zim could suggest trying alien cuisine with him—not that he would have denied eating it; it was just that sometimes you needed a good tub of ice cream and real food. He grabbed Zim by the arm and started for the door.

"GREAT. We can get candy on the way."

Zim eyed the food aisle with distrust. Dib was loading up the cart, looking like he was preparing to be in a bunker for weeks. In a way, he wasn't planning to leave the underground base for an entire day, multiple days in a row, unless it was to check in with Gaz at home most nights. He was throwing what looked to Zim like random boxes of food.

"You have kitchen utensils? Pots or pans?" Dib asked. Zim looked at him dumbfoundedly.

"Gir uses them."

"…Are they clean?"

Zim narrowed his eyes exasperatedly. Dib chucked another box of food into the cart. He moved back down the aisle, debating between brands when he hears something fall into the cart. Zim looked straight forward, pretending not to know anything, even as Dib eyed the box of pastry cakes. Dib smirked, plucking a box off the shelf and moving on. Zim snuck a few more choice snacks into the cart when he thought Dib was sufficiently distracted. Dib counted five times, counting the pastries. Each time was something sugary—no surprise—but usually not candy—surprising. Dib sighed, eyeing the full cart by the time he was ready to check out. Zim had disappeared down the candy aisle, picking up whatever he could fit in his arms, and eyeing Dib occasionally from down the aisle.

"Let's go, space boy!" Dib shouts down the aisle. Zim stuck his tongue out as he shoved more into his arms. He dumped all of the contents into the cart. Bags and bags of candy; half of which Dib had never tried before. Dib could already feel his wallet sinking.

He pushed the cart forward, no oblivious to Zim's constant side-eyeing down the aisles. Dib took the chance to snag another shirt off a rack for him and kept moving. Zim, too distracted with his body-guarding duties, failed to notice until they were at the registers and the cashier had scanned it. Zim passed Dib and stopped at the cart, staring at the shirt. Dib paid, pushing the cart past him. Zim reached in, walking alongside and holding it up. He gave Dib an exasperated look. One that Dib was just barely able to keep from laughing at. The 'I Believe' alien T, complete with a UFO beaming up a cow, was just too large to fit. Dib snorted, earning a mocking glare.

"You are too predictable." Zim says, throwing the shirt back into the cart.

"Oh, it's not for me," Dib says smugly. Zim make a choking sound, looking utterly offended. "C'mon, it fits you so well!"

"It does not!"

"It's like matching a theme!" Dib teases.

He handed Zim the shirt again and threw the groceries into the bed of his truck. Zim climbed into the truck as he did. Dib climbed in moments later after storing the cart and looked over. Zim was wearing the shirt, picking at the design. Dib felt some sort of pride in seeing it.

He smiled like an idiot—according to Zim—the entire drive back to the base and during the grocery unload. Dib dropped the food on the counters first. He stared the fridge down for a moment before opening it, thinking it best to get it over with. He was shocked to see that it was mostly empty, the only contents leftovers of Gir's questionable attempts at cooking, and to his own shock fruit. He picked out a container of strawberries, eyeing Zim up questioningly. Zim had just dumped the last of the food on the table and was wrangling Gir away from it when he caught sight of the strawberries.

"What?"

"You had human food? I didn't think you ate human food that wasn't candy."

"…They're sweet."

Dib had to admit—that made some sense. He threw all the groceries he needed into the fridge and then the cabinets. He grabbed a bag of chips to dig into. After watching Zim have one final fight with Gir over a bag of candy he was collapsing on the couch. Zim was holding Gir like a stuffed bear again, the robot kicking his feet happily as he sucked on a sucker. Or, Dib assumed that was what he was trying to do. The robot's face could contort surprisingly well to emote. Dib sighed, pawing at his bag. Zim picked it up, dropping it within arms reach.

"Ah, yes."

Zim snickered, falling down onto the end of the couch. Dib grabbed a large file folder, held closed by a rubber band stretched to the ends with the girth off the file. Dib took the band off carefully, laying the bulk of the folder on his chest and flipping through the files. Zim had closed his eyes, looking like a cat preparing to fall asleep holding a toy. Dib smiled, stopping in his files at an old favorite: Big Foot.

It was silent, for how long Dib wasn't sure but, long enough that he had made through half the stack of files. He peered over the remaining pile at Zim, who had sunk a little lower in the couch, his head starting to lull. Dib vaguely recalled Zim mentioning Irkens and sleeping. He wondered idly how long it'd been since Zim had had a proper sleep. He didn't want to disturb him—it was oddly calming watching Zim sleep. If he was. Dib couldn't really tell. He could tell that Zim looked properly relaxed. Gir was still idly swinging his legs. Dib sat up slowly, sliding the files into his previous spot as he repositioned. Zim gave a small 'hm' and slid down, resting against Dib's shoulder. Dib could see the minute twitching of Zim's antennae under the wig.

Dib was halfway through the last half of the files when he heard a car backfire outside. The reaction was immediate. Gir was running into the kitchen screaming and Dib felt his hair move with the wind as PAK legs show out and around them. Two tore straight through the back of the couch, Dib's back now resting against the metal behind fabric. Two had shot in front of him, arching so as to encase him in a strange skeleton of a pod shape. Dib had stopped moving the instant his brain registered the movements to his side and he felt sweat beading on his forehead. He looked over to Zim, who was crunched in a ball and holding onto his arm like a scared cat. Claws included. Dib was grateful he was wearing the gloves.

"It was a car backfiring," Dib said. He rubbed at Zim's arm with his free hand. Zim's body started to relax, the PAK legs retracting back into his PAK. Dib leaned away and looked at the couch. It had not survived. He gathered up his files, pretending not to notice Zim's flushing face.

Zim was—in a sense of the word—mortified.

"…Labs?" he asked sheepishly.

"Labs."

Zim grabbed two of the bags and shoved them onto the elevator tube's platform faster than Dib could store his folder back into his backpack. Dib grabbed his backpack and kicked the final bag into place. He sat on the clothing bag as the elevator started down. Zim was standing amongst the other bags, face in his hands. Dib couldn't hide the small smile on his face.

"Zim, you're fine. You didn't hurt me or anything." Dib assured him. Zim grunted. "Zim, I'm fine."

"Your heart rate spiked," Zim mumbles through his palms. Dib hummed. Indeed it had.

"Well, that happens with sudden movement and a loud noise out of nowhere," Dib says. Zim peeked at him through his fingers. "It's fine."

Zim sighed, his PAK taking away his disguise. He sat on the bag holding bedding with a huff, his chin resting in his hands. "But, I still scared you."

"Yeah, but that's fine," Dib says. "I know you wouldn't hurt me. Your PAK legs went around me. Like a shield."

Zim grumbled something, looking like his feathers were ruffled. Dib cocked an eyebrow at him a moment and then a teasing smile started to spread across his face.

"Wait a second."

Zim eyed him warily. He didn't like that smile.

"You liked cuddling." Dib says. Zim groaned loudly as Dib laughed. "You're like a cat!"

"I AM NO CAT!"

"You act like one, though!" Dib insisted, poking at Zim's arms. Zim swatted his hands away.

"Stop it, you ass!"

"Admit you like to cuddle!" Dib shouts. The elevator stopped, the door opening. Zim bolted out, dragging the bags with him. Dib followed after, stumbling out the door as the larger bag caught for a second, giving Zim some distance ahead of him. "ADMIT IT!"

"NO!"

Dib followed Zim into a room he hadn't been in before, pausing his teasing as he looked around. It looked like a bedroom, to a point. A table and a couch and chairs was set into the wall on one side. Two smaller doors were on the other. Set into the walls were a multitude of shelves. At the end of the small room were two holes in the wall, each decked out with pillows and blankets. Dib deposited his bags at the table with an appropriate 'ooh' and 'aah' as he explored the room.

"Did you add this on?" he asks.

Zim dropped the bags next to the cubby-beds. "No, it was just an unused room I modified. A guest room, if you will."

Dib took space up at the table, emptying his backpack across it. Zim sat on the other side, the 'iPad knock-off', as Dib had taken to calling it, set into his hands by his PAK. Dib started organizing all his tools. He spotted the water gun, tossing it back into his bag. He had forgotten it was in there. He spotted the camera next. He picked it up, turning it on. It was almost dead, having sat in his bag without use for too long. He started flipping though some photos. At the very start were his very 'stalker-esque' surveillance photos when Zim had first arrived, the dates moving along through the years. He exited out, aiming the camera around the room.

He stopped on Zim and hit the button. The camera didn't flash, but Dib caught Zim's antenna flick at the sound of the shutter. Zim looked up, eyeing the camera. Dib lowered it, flipping it around and aiming it as he scooted back on the couch to be next to Zim. He clicked the button again. Zim looked over his shoulder at the photo he'd taken of them both.

"Lighting is weird, but I like it," Dib says.

Zim looked at it. He hadn't seen a casual photo of himself in… he didn't think he'd ever seen one; now that he thought of it. A quick scan through his PAK confirmed it. He held his hand out for the camera and Dib obliged. There was a time, with a few photos as evidence of it, when Zim would crush the camera in his hands and threaten Dib's life or limbs for taking a photo at all. Now, Zim examined it and the previous picture with a level of curiosity he hadn't been expecting himself.

It was strange seeing himself looking lax. It was stranger seeing Dib smiling up into the camera, right next to him, when none of the previous photos would have come close to that. Save for one that Zim stumbled across as he clicked through them, of Dib making a ridiculous face with Zim oblivious in the background. Somewhere in the woods. Zim didn't recall that moment exactly, just that the sound of the shutter had alerted him that Dib was still tailing him that day. He'd been distracted with whatever he had been doing—trying and failing to find Gir, if his PAK had the date right. It always did. He handed the camera back off to Dib with a smirk, leaving it on the impromptu selfie. Dib took it and flushed, burying his face in his hand.

"Oh, god, I forgot about that one."

"I am glad you didn't. It's funny." Zim says, returning to his tablet. "I recall I was trying to find Gir."

"Oh, is that what you were doing out there? I remember you chasing me off. Worth it, though. This one is one of my favorites," Dib admits. Zim chuckled.

"You will have to send me a copy of it. I agree. That one and the last two." Zim says. Dib cocked his head at him.

"I will. I can print them at home," he says. The camera's battery started to blink and he shut it off. He'd have to change the batteries when he went back on Monday. Dib wasn't sure why Zim wanted the three photos, but he wasn't about to deny starting him on a scrapbooking habit. Something told Dib he might enjoy that. Almost as if on a timer, his eyes started to feel heavy and he yawned. Zim flicked his gaze up at him. Dib shook his head. "No, I'm not tired."

"Your body is saying otherwise."

"My body doesn't know shit." Dib jokes. Zim huffed, grabbed Dib by his jacket and lifting him off the couch. Dib protested, lousily, as he was pulled to the cubby-beds.

Zim set him in front of them, rifling through Dib's bag. He threw a plain T-shirt and what he assumed were the only pair of pajama pants Dib owned at his face. Dib took them, sauntering off towards the two doors he spotted earlier. He opened one to a linen closet full of towels and blankets. The second was the actual bathroom. Dib was shocked to see it was decked in a white and pale blue palette as opposed to the reds and purples the rest of the base consisted of. Dib took a step back, making a double-take at the room and the bathroom. Zim watched him.

"When did you do this?" Dib asked. "Is that real plumbing?"

"Of course it is. The cells aren't the only parts of the base with plumbing," Zim scoffs. "I've even hooked it up with your disgusting water supply."

"Only to you," Dib pointed out. He moved on before Zim could retort. "I'm just shocked. It looks like a real bathroom."

"I try."

Dib disappeared inside it and Zim looked around at the room. It was already in a state of organized disarray. He took the moments he had to produce his tablet again and scan through the outside cameras. Nothing out of the ordinary. All the familiar cars were present, save for the one neighbor who was never home at night, and the other neighbors dog was asleep on the back porch. Zim returned the tablet, satisfied. If anything tried to get to the door, his gnomes would take care of it.

Dib re-emerged, tossing his old clothes to the side, adding to the mess. Zim sighed at it. He would deal with it at a later date. He had already told himself he wasn't going to spend his time cleaning up after Dib's habits to throw his clothes around wherever they might land. Dib crawled into the bottom cubby-bed with another yawn. He readjusted his glasses. Zim clapped his hands, the main lights flicking off. Dib blinked, having missed the smaller light in the cubby-bed ceiling. It wasn't bright, more like a reading light. He spotted a screen as well, set into the ceiling. He tapped it, weather reports and a clock displaying on it. Zim turned to leave and Dib patted on the floor.

"Hey!" Zim turned to him. "Stay? You have somewhere to be?"

"I do not," Zim says.

He came back, climbing into the top cubby. He settled down, hearing Dib's breathing start to even out. His antennae twitched again. Dib set his glasses on the floor and wrapped himself up the in the blankets. Zim focused on the silent whir of the lab's machines through the walls, Dib's heart beat a silent thrum against the machinery. Zim sighed, settling in.

Dib opened his eyes, stretching out and knocking his glasses away. He swore, fumbling around for them in the dark. He set them on, repeating the action for his phone. He'd forgotten to plug it in the night before. He found it, flipping the screen open and seeing a low battery warning. He grumbled, crawling out of the cubby to his bag using the phone's light. He found the charger no issue. He sat up on the floor then, trying to recall how Zim had operated the lights. He clapped once to nothing. Dib paused, clapping twice next and the lights came to life.

Dib looked around the room to the messes he'd made. They weren't as disorganized as before. He noted the table was untouched, but the clothes he'd dumped were set in a pile against the wall, in a line with the bags. He threw on his coat and a pair of slippers that had appeared by his bed at some point in the night. Zim was already gone and Dib knew a few places he could find him. He stretched, his back popping and felt the sweet relief of the action. He rubbed at his eyes, grabbing his laptop as he left the room. He paused at the door, returning for his charger, and made his way into the hall.

"You're awake."

"Computer, hey. Where's Zim?"

"Kitchen."

Dib jogged to the elevator, already running through making pancakes. He considered teaching Gir how to make a proper waffle while he was at it. He recalled grabbing a box mix at the store. The elevator stopped at the top of the base and Dib rounded the corner. The kitchen was clean, save for Zim in the corner with an assortment of jars around him. Dib spotted an ice cream as well. He set his laptop down, plugging his phone into the wall. Zim turned to him, mid-stir with a coffee cup.

"What-chya got there?" Dib asks. He came up to Zim, seeing the array set before them on the counter.

Jars of honey, cream, sugars, cocoa powder, vanilla, what Dib thinks is agave, syrups, jams, a small bundle of mint leaves, and finally, a scoop of ice cream in the cup Zim was currently holding. The mixture was thickening with each stir that Zim gave, an action he was hardly aware he was still doing. Dib pointed at it all. Zim blinked and looked down at it.

"Oh. I was curious."

"Experimenting with… coffee?" Dib asks. "Isn't it way too bitter for you? It's bitter for me," Dib says. Even so, he picked up a discarded cup set in front of the vanilla. He assumed Zim would set each cup back in front of the ingredient he'd used. Dib took a sniff, smelling the vanilla just under the biting scent of caffeine.

"That is what this is all for," Zim says, sweeping his hand over the arrangement.

"I don't remember buying most of this," Dib says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"You didn't," Zim confirms. "I've yet to find a combination that doesn't involve ice cream."

"For you." Dib says, taking a sip. It was vanilla and honey. The combination wasn't bad, and Dib took another drink of it. "I like this one."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Dib took the cup with him, meandering over to the cabinets and fridge. He took what he needed from each one, going back and forth to put it all at the stove. "Pancakes? Or waffles? I can show you and Gir how to make real ones."

Zim looked at him like a hero.

"GIR, GET IN HERE!"