A/N: It is almost not-Friday in my part of the world. I'm sorry for the late update. I thought getting out of school would mean more time to work on fic. Instead, it means more time to be lazy.

And by the gods, I've been lazy. It is a glorious feeling.

Anyway, here's chapter 22. I hope you enjoy, and please remember to review!

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In Short Supply

Fuzzy Feelings

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An excerpt from a document written by Vortian Rigma Role, approx. one Earthen year after the Irken conquest of Vort: I know I'm crap at research, and I figure that's probably the only reason I'm not locked up on Vort in a military research prison. But if all the good researchers are locked up, then I've gotta do what I can. When Vort is free again, we don't want our time under Irken oppression to have been wasted.

Basically, if you're Vortian and not in prison, you've got three options: hook up with a rebel faction, work as a mechanic, or hire yourself out as a "dancer" to Irken xenophiles. I'm a cruddy mechanic, I can't find the Resisty, and the Plookesians I was hitchhiking with dumped me in some Judgmentia slums, so guess what I'm doing. Well, Mater always told me I had no shame. Best put my shamelessness to good use...

As long as I'm here, I figured I could get a first-hand look at Irken emotions, particularly love and lust.

I've yet to hear of a case of an Irken cheating on some other mate with a dancer. I asked Da Pimp (my boss; he still doesn't know why I call him that) if that meant only single Irkens hired dancers. He didn't even understand me. He said no, sometimes two or three will hire a dancer together. (Add that to occupational hazards to avoid.) And that's when things got interesting.

Once I clarified, Da Pimp said that Irkens don't pair up, either for a few years, like Vortians, or for life. They can have friends that they dance with regularly, sometimes one best friend whom they almost exclusively dance with, but everyone's available to everyone else. There's no long-term mating, partnership, whatever.

Da Pimp, when I asked about love, said it's uncommon among Irkens. Not suppressed, but simply uncommon. (I bet it's more common than he thinks, since most "not-suppressed-but-uncommon" phenomena are actually common-but-suppressed. But anyway.) He said that it happens, but rarely, partially because Irkens aren't designed to focus so much energy on someone other than themselves and partially because it's hard to stay evil and self-centered if you're worried about someone else's welfare as much as your own, and I guess that's true.

He also said that when Irkens DO fall in love, even if it's mutual, oftentimes both parties will come to a mutual agreement to fall OUT of love, so that they can focus on more important things: their snacking, their dancing, their jobs, their Empire. Most Irkens disdain of love.

(I'll leave it to the minds of greater Vortian researchers into Irken psychology than me to figure out why that is. I heard the Schola Institute had some great studies on Irken society going on.)

However, Da Pimp said he's in the minority, because he likes love. Particularly, he likes when a customer loves one of his dancers, because it means they'll keep coming back and paying extra for that dancer.

The Tallest must adore little pissheads like him.

xxx

Tallest Purple's first question upon seeing Zim was "There's six what?" and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what Purple was talking about.

He couldn't remember anything between collapsing in the kitchen and regaining consciousness in the recharge chamber, about forty degrees later. Apparently, while Bob had been talking to Purple (Zim made a mental note to yell at Bob for bothering Purple at the wrong time), Zim had wandered by and said, "There's six." Zim claimed that Purple had heard him wrong, since obviously, "There's six," meant absolutely nothing.

"Oh, by the way," Zim added, "I had six eggs this time! Isn't that neat?"

Purple rolled his eyes. "Amazing." Zim didn't understand why he wasn't more impressed.

They were getting better at dancing together. Each was slowly growing accustomed to the other's body; Zim was learning how to stretch himself, Purple how to bend himself, until they fit together without even having to think about it. And once they had that down, Zim had a hard time remembering that this was supposed to be a mission.

Purple certainly wasn't helping Zim remember that. He wasn't acting like this was business—he was moving quickly, impatiently, eagerly, legs bent beneath Zim and body bent over him, and if Zim didn't know better he'd have thought Purple hadn't danced since he'd last seen Zim.

But that, clearly, wasn't the case, because Purple was the Tallest and the Tallest could dance as much as he wanted.

And, but... there had to be a reason, yeah? And so, Zim thought, and so—his thoroughly distracted brain reaching around for the most logical conclusion it could latch on to—and so, Purple had to... to... to what?

To be in love, with Zim. Why, yes, his dance-dazed mind decided, yes, that had to be what was happening. The Almighty Tallest Purple was in love with the amazing Invader Zim.

That was the last thought, firmly fixed in his mind, as he and Purple climaxed; as all other thoughts vanished, Zim held on to this one, like a triumphant prize, a testament to his own worth.

A Tallest loved Zim. In Zim's mind, this made perfect sense.

Love isn't common among Irkens; in a normal Irken mind, the concept of love is foreign, difficult to comprehend. An Irken had to be unusual to begin with to truly understand what it means.

Zim's defects were certainly unusual, although not quite unusual enough to give him special insight into the intricacies of romance. In his mind, love was like a mirror; the lover reflected the beloved's light back on himself. The more brilliantly the beloved shined, the brighter the beloved would be illuminated by the mirror.

Zim was certainly capable of love, but he was a true Narcissist, both in philosophy and in spirit: his first love was his own face, his own mind, his own brilliance. Zim was both lover and beloved.

However, that didn't make it impossible for him to love others. Under the right circumstances, Zim was certainly odd enough to fall in love with another Irken, assuming that Irken loved him first. He would never give away any attention that could be better spent on his own interests. But if he met someone who cared for him first, who would sing the praises he usually sang to himself, who would reflect his own brilliance back on him, Zim could love that Irken. After all, any love he gave to that person would only reflect back to him.

When he had come down from the high of the dance, his logic—inasmuch as he had any—was firmly back in place, and of course he didn't honestly believe that Tallest Purple was in love with him. Not really. Not yet, at least. But now the idea was in his mind, the suggestion was there, and if something happened to confirm the idea, then he was prepared to react to it.

Zim was more than prepared to take advantage of someone else's affections, but he wouldn't love someone unless they demonstrated that they loved him first. And Tallest Purple, he who had exiled Zim and refused his repeated requests to be made an Invader again, he had demonstrated no love.

Though as Zim's mind cleared, he wondered whether or not that had just changed. After all, he soon discovered, Purple hadn't fallen asleep, but hadn't kicked Zim out of the Runner—and hadn't let go of Zim yet.

xxx

In the main level of the base, in the kitchen, a small party was being held.

The only attendees of this party were Bob, Gir, a hen named Millie that had been hiding in the base since before Thanksgiving, and, by default, the computer. Gir was blissfully distracted with making cupcakes that no one would eat (Bob highly doubted that chocolate frosting and sardines tasted good together), while the other three chatted.

"So what's the purpose of this human holiday?" Bob asked, eyeing the pink streamers tossed about the kitchen and uninflated red balloons on strings.

"Something about love and meat," the computer said. "Maybe it's about how much the humans love meat."

Millie clucked, and the computer translated. "Actually, the meat thing came later. It was originally about love."

"Huh. Weird thing to have a holiday for," Bob said.

"Love is a pretty common emotion among humans," the computer explained.

Well, then that made more sense. "And this is how the holiday is celebrated?" Bob asked, gesturing around the kitchen with its decorations. If he was going to be a real Anthropologist while he was on Earth, he figured he should properly learn about human culture.

"Sorta. There are two ways to do it. If you can get a partner, you're supposed to go on a date. If you can't, you hang around with other losers without dates. That's what we're doing."

"I see. Then what do humans who go on dates do?"

"Uh... pretty much the same thing Master and Tallest Purple are doing right now."

"Oh." Bob scratched his head. "You mean they have a whole holiday for that?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"I think they gonna make a real cute couple!" Gir declared, shoving a tray of cupcakes in the oven. He surveyed his work, turned on the heat, and then climbed in after the tray.

"Who? Master and the Tallest?" the computer said.

"Ehn..." Gir shrugged from inside the oven. "What about them?"

Millie clucked insistently.

"Me neither," the computer said. "I mean, Master is Master. It just wouldn't work out."

"What are you talking about?" Bob asked, baffled.

"Nothing." After a moment, the computer added, "Gir, you shouldn't be in the oven. You might melt."

"Will I explode?" Gir asked through the oven door. Somehow, he'd shut it with himself inside.

"Probably not."

"Aww..." Gir reluctantly climbed out of the oven and looked around for something else to put in.

"Humans also believe that if they go on a date with another human on this day, they're more likely to fall in love," the computer told Bob. "It's a weird superstition."

"Yeah. You'd think they'd avoid the holiday," Bob said. Humans were certainly an odd species. And to think he was going to be the first Anthropologist to study them.

Remembering what the computer had said earlier—that a human "date" was essentially the same as what Zim was doing—he said, "You don't think that superstition applies to Irkens, do you?" He wondered if he should warn Zim.

"No, probably not," the computer said. "Hey, where's Millie?"

Bob looked around. There was no one else in the kitchen except Gir, who was leaning against the closed oven door and giggling.

"Millie! NO! Why, dear God, WHY?!"

Bob jumped on the kitchen table to get out of the way as the computer sent the Robo-Parents to punish Gir. As the Robo-Mom chased Gir in circles around the table (the Robo-Dad fell in the line of action and became a speed bump for the other two), Bob had the odd feeling that this wasn't how humans usually celebrated Valentine's Day.

xxx

"Cuddling" wasn't viewed the same way by Irkens as it was by most other species. After all, most other species needed to get their genitals involved when they danced.

To Irkens, "cuddling" wasn't a sweet, friendly activity. Cuddling was limbs twined around bodies, it was physical contact, if you were doing it right it was skin-on-skin tactile stimulation... In short, cuddling could be interpreted as kind of foreplay.

Or afterplay in this case, Purple amended. If there even were such a thing. But either way, it was an extension of dancing. That was all.

Which meant, Purple insisted to himself, that liking cuddling had nothing to do the warm, fuzzy feelings. Nothing at all.

Okay, maybe a little.

It didn't seem that Purple would get to enjoy the peace today. He felt Zim squirm in his arms. "Er, my Tallest?"

Purple grunted sleepily, keeping his eyes closed. "Shut up." He was comfortable, he was cheerful from the dance, and he was trying to imagine that Zim had curly antennae. Or that Zim wasn't Zim.

Unfortunately, Zim wasn't very good at shutting up. A bit softer this time, he said, "Hey, my Tallest?"

"I said shut up, Zim."

"Uh-huh. Can I be an Invader again yet?"

Purple groaned. "Will it get you to be quiet?" he asked irritably, disentangling himself from Zim but not sitting up yet. That was it. The cuddle moment had been ruined, and Purple would save himself a lot of trouble to just give up on it now. "Wait, what am I saying? For the third time, Zim, just shut—"

"Does that mean yes?" Zim asked eagerly.

"No, it doesn't," Purple said, opening his eyes enough to glare into Zim's. He expected Zim to glare back, to challenge his Tallest. He was prepared for Zim to try to fight back.

As Purple had expected, Zim didn't avert his gaze; even so, he was not prepared for Zim to put on the most pitiable expression Purple had ever seen him wear. "Please?"

"Zim, I already..." Purple couldn't say any more. Whatever he'd been about to say was forgotten. This was his fault for trying to look Zim straight in the eye, wasn't it? He should have known better than that. Zim just had this way of looking at someone so that, even when he speaking to Purple with a plea in his voice, there was still a command in his eyes that was very, very hard to ignore. "I... er..."

"Won't you need to conquer Earth sometime, my Tallest?" Zim asked.

"Well, yeah, but... but..."

"But?" Zim prompted.

Purple dragged his gaze away from Zim's only with some difficulty. He propped himself up on one elbow, looked at the Runner's ceiling as if it could help him, and sighed. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he muttered. "I guess... well, you have been doing a pretty good job infiltrating Earth culture so far, haven't you?"

Purple could almost feel Zim tense in anticipation. "Yes, sir?"

The Irken Empire would conquer Earth eventually, Purple reminded himself. It was inevitable. There was no harm in doing it a little sooner. No harm at all.

"Okay, fine, Zim. The egg mission comes first, and you are NOT allowed to do ANYTHING else while it's still going. But..."

But once it was over, there was no reason Zim couldn't do something else. He'd been useful for this mission, and shouldn't he be rewarded? Purple had to do something to pay Zim back for all he'd done for this mission.

"I... guess, when this mission's over, you can... go back to invading Earth. 'Cept, y'know, official this time."

After all, wouldn't it be a waste of talent if Zim simply stayed on Earth doing nothing? He had so much to offer—his loyalty, his enthusiasm, his skills in inventing, his sheer capacity for apocalyptic destruction. Despite the bit of defective programming in Zim's Pak that held him back so much, Purple knew that somewhere in him was the potential to be a good—no, a great Soldier.

Besides, it was only typical for an Irken with influence—and a Tallest certainly had influence—to do favors for his friends.

"So, unless you get yourself exiled again, you're officially an Irken citizen again, an Invader, and in charge of preparing Earth for Irken conquest. But only after our first mission is—"

"YES!" Zim jumped to his feet on the seat cushion, fists raised triumphantly. "Victory for ZIM!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Purple muttered. "Look, it's not that big a deal."

But they both knew that was a lie. "'Not that big a deal'?! My Tallest, you don't know what you're saying!" Zim declared, jumping to stand on the seat cushion for emphasis. "You've just made the greatest decision in all your time as Tallest! The empire will praise you for centuries for your wisdom!"

Purple rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on." He figured he'd be lucky if he weren't hated for centuries for letting Zim join the empire again.

"No, I'm serious! You clearly understand how amazing I am, despite what the rest of the empire thinks. And when they see how right you are, they'll probably worship you for being the first to realize it!" Zim said. (The sad thing, Purple realized, was that Zim honestly believed that.) "I know that I should be an Invader. I know that Zim deserves nothing less than to be universally admired—to be worshipped! But this is a turning point in Irk's history, my Tallest. For the first time, someone else believes that Zim is w-worth something!"

For a moment, Zim fell silence. Purple blinked up at him, startled—had his voice just cracked? "Zim? Are you—"

Cutting Purple off (although he couldn't tell whether or not that was intentional), Zim leaped to the floor of the Runner and flung his arms around Purple's neck. Purple immediately tensed at the physical contact, startled. Mental note for future reference: don't make official proclamations around Zim while naked.

"Thank you so much, my Tallest!" Zim babbled. "You won't regret this! I promise! Earth will be part of the empire in mere weeks! Thank you, Purple, thank you, I knew you'd see it my way! I'll make you proud to have ever met Zim, much less made him an Invader! I swear, my Tallest, I'll be the best—"

"Hey, slow down!" Purple pushed Zim off, pushed himself upright, and stared at Zim in shock. "What did you just call me?"

Zim knew exactly what he'd just said. His eyes widened and his antennae drooped, as if he'd just found himself in a dead end alley with a giant wave of water coming from the other way. "Er... 'my Tallest'?" Zim offered.

"No, not that," Purple said impatiently. "What did you say after 'thank you'?"

"'I knew you'd see it my way'?"

"No! The 'thank you' before that!"

Zim visibly gulped. "'So much'?"

Purple narrowed his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about, Zim."

Based on his expression, he had to know—and he knew what a breach it was of protocol. You simply did not address your Tallest so casually. Irkens had been executed for forgetting to call the Tallest by their titles. Sometimes, when Purple was in a chuck-someone-out-the-airlock mood, he'd killed Irkens for merely using the word "purple" where he could hear.

Tentatively, Zim asked, "Does this affect my getting to be an Invader again?"

That was his biggest concern? Purple almost smiled. Of course, Zim didn't think he himself could be punished for this—his only concern was his mission. Execution probably hadn't even entered his mind.

Then again, was there any reason why it should? Using a Tallest's real name was punishable by death—what sense did that make? Purple would have to check, but he was pretty sure that was a law. What if the Tallest didn't want to be called "the Tallest" all the time? Did that apply to Tallest, too? Did he and Red have to call each other "Tallest"?

That had to be the stupidest law in the universe. How did anyone expect a Tallest to be able to interact normally with other Irkens if they couldn't even go by their normal names?

Maybe that was the point.

Well, shoot that, then. Purple made plans to get rid of that law as soon as he made it back to the Massive. Until then...

Purple shrugged. "Ah, I guess it doesn't really matter," he mumbled. For the first time, someone else believes that Zim is worth something. Had Zim really gone his entire life never being told that he could be useful? It was no wonder he kept shouting about how amazing he was. He probably thought no one would believe him if he didn't. Purple wasn't sappy enough to actually say he thought Zim was worth something, but... well, it wasn't every Irken that got permission to call the Tallest by his name, was it? "As long as no one else hears you, you can... call me Purple. I guess." What would Red do if he ever found out about this? "At least it isn't Pur..."

Zim's antennae stood straight up in surprise. "I can call you Pur?!"

Oh, by the Firmament... "What?! That's not what I—"

"Oh, wow! Thank you, my Tal— I mean, Pur!" Zim's grin was way over the creepy line. "This is so cool! Hey, does this mean we can hang out together and share stupid stories and throw things at puppies and burn down post offices and—"

"No, Zim, it does not!" Purple paused thoughtfully. "But maybe we can do the post offices next time. I've got to get back to the Massive."

"What, already?" Zim gave Purple a pitiful look. "You promised last time that you'd watch a movie with me!"

That's right, he had, hadn't he? Stair Wars. Purple wanted to see Stair Wars. It looked dumb. But, dammit, what would Red say if Purple was gone too long? "Why do you care?" Purple asked. "All you wanted from me was your mission and you've got it now. What do you want this time?"

Zim looked deeply offended. "I want to watch a movie," he said. "With you, Pur."

What, no ulterior motive? There had to be a motive. This was Zim. "But why?"

"Because it's fun."

There was a motive, somewhere. Had to be. But Purple could figure out what it was later. Because, really, he wanted to see the movie, and Zim was persuasive, and he was sure he could find something to tell Red... "Okay, fine."

Zim smirked victoriously.

When they got dressed, got upstairs, and discovered the battle raging between Gir and the computer, they decided to go burn down post offices instead.

They had a blast.

And Zim even knocked out two puppies.

xxx

"Yes, my Tallest, we got a new shipment just this morning!" Frylord Glibbert of Glibbert's Gourmet informed Red. "It may be the sweetest Sintillate candy I've ever had. Delicious!"

Well, Red thought, that explained why Glibbert was so perky. Then again, he always seemed perky. "But you haven't seen Purple yet?"

Glibbert shook his head. "No sir, Tallest Purple hasn't come by my shop in ages. But I'll be sure to keep a lookout for him, my Tallest!"

"Good. Do that." Red signaled the Comm Tech to end the transmission. So, Purple had been telling the truth about the Sintillate candies. That made Red feel better. Maybe he was overreacting about all the trips Purple had been taking off the Massive; maybe it was nothing at all...

"Incoming transmission!" a Comm Tech said. "From the Almighty Tallest Purple's Spittle Runner, sir."

"Purple? Why's he contacting us?" Red asked, baffled.

"Uh... I don't know yet, sir," the Comm Tech said awkwardly. "I haven't answered the transmission yet..."

"It was a rhetorical question, you stupid—ah, shoot it! Jut answer the stupid transmission."

The Comm Tech nodded fearfully, and the view screen lit up with Purple's face. He seemed cheerful. "Hi, Red! Let me in?"

"Did you get the candy?" he asked, crossing his arms. Something suspicious was up.

"Uh..." A beat passed. "N... no..."

"Why not?"

"Er... Well, you see... it looks like my informant was... misinformed. Yeah. There, uh... there weren't any Sintillate candies." Purple shrugged and chuckled nervously. "Funny thing, huh?"

The Techs were turning to each other and murmuring curiously. Several looked at Red expectantly, as if willing him to say what they were all thinking: Liar.

"Yeah," Red said tersely. "Funny." The Techs looked down, disappointed. "Permission to enter the Massive granted."

"Thanks!" Purple quickly ended the transmission.

Red looked around the bridge. "Okay, did that seem weird to anyone else?" he asked.

There were nods and consenting murmurs. One guy shouted, "Hell yeah!"

"I thought so. Anyone have a theory?"

There was no response this time, except for one Tech who shouted, "He's brainwashed!" It might have been the same guy.

"Er, thanks, but no," Red said. "When Purple comes in, everybody act like nothing happened. Got it?"

Nods, yessirs, a few salutes.

"Good."

When Purple came in, Red didn't even mention the trip. If Purple was telling the truth (which was still possible; Red wouldn't put it past him to completely miss the right store and never find any candy), he'd bring up the trip himself and complain about the inconvenience. And then Red and the Techs could have a good laugh at Pur's expense before Red told him what a moron he was.

But Purple didn't bring it up. And suddenly, without anything being said, there was a division between Red and Purple, like a vast acidic river. They were no longer side-by-side, best friends forever, partners in evil. There was something pulling them apart, and Red had no idea what it was.

Without intending it, simply by conspiring with the Technicians, Red had placed them firmly on his side of the river; the entire crew of the Massive was now aligned with Red, giving their loyalty first to him and only second to Tallest Purple. If Purple did anything else unusual, Red would immediately be informed; if Red did anything unusual, Purple would never find out. It was like an enormous, cruel inside joke.

Red wondered who was on Purple's side of the river. Who was in on his joke?

His conversation with the Control Brains couldn't come soon enough.

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