After a long night trying to catch up on the paranormal forums he'd been neglecting the past few weeks, Dib was trying to figure out how to get his laptop plugged into the weird alien sockets when he heard yelling from the ground floor.

He was in his room by the lab, and he heard the yelling from the ground floor .

Boy, was this going to take some getting used to. He headed for the elevator, trench coat settled comfortably over his shoulders. It was nice, being able to wear it more again now that he didn't have "dress codes" because the lab "isn't for people who look like circus hobos, son!". The coat was cool. He liked the coat.

"So, what's he yelling about now? Ground floor… please." Dib looked up as he got into the elevator, and the computer made a huffy, annoyed sigh.

"Pizza."

"Pizza?"

"You'll see." The elevator began to move, and Dib stretched.

"Well, I'm going to have to get used to this, aren't I? I can probably knock out those robots for Dad in a couple of days, then focus on keeping track of Zim's progress. Has he started complaining about his shirt getting too tight yet? It kind of looks like it."

"Not yet."

"It lets me see how far along he is pretty easily, at least. Unless he's going to start walking around shirtless, it's good for me and my notes," Dib chuckled as the elevator opened, and Zim's volume increased by about five times. Dib's hands flew up to his ears, but even muffled he could make out the words now. There was a freckly girl at the door who couldn't have been older than 17 with wide eyes and tears beading in her eyes.

"YOU ALWAYS FORGET THE EXTRA CHEESE, AND IT'S A GREASY MESS, AND YOU'VE OVERCHARGED ME THREE TIMES, AND NOW YOU WON'T TAKE GIR'S COUPON, AND-"

"Zim!" Dib hurried across the living room. "Leave her alone!"

"SHE FORGOT THE BREADSTICKS!" Zim just whirled around to yell at Dib at the same volume, and Dib winced.

"Are you sure you ordered them?"

"GIR WAS SUPPOSED-"

"You really trust him over the minimum wage kid at the door?"

"YES!"

"Well, you shouldn't. He's terrible at a lot of things." Dib dug into his pocket and handed the girl a twenty dollar bill. "Just go before he gets his second wind."

She nodded frantically like a bobblehead that had been smacked by an eager kindergartner and ran for her car. Zim took a step forward to run after her, but Dib grabbed him by the back of his collar, yanking him back before picking him up and getting nearly kicked in the groin.

"RELEASE ME!" He practically roared, and Dib winced- ugh, Zim was all sweaty, he'd almost forgotten he got like that when he was all worked up. Nasty.

"Look, she can't really fix it. Maybe if you were actually at the restaurant, but she's only got what they give her. Where's the pizza?"

"Gir already took it."

"See? Then he doesn't care."

Zim huffed. "He should!" He tried to pry himself out of Dib's grip, but his Pak's ports were inaccessible, pinned against Dib's chest as they were.

"Where is Gir, anyways?" Dib tried to look around, but Zim bit Dib's arm. Unfortunately for him, all he got was a mouthful of leather. "Hey, don't do that you little- I just got this cleaned!"

"Don't stop me from carrying out my very justified revenge, then!" Zim said, slumping down a little in a pout. His wig shifted on his head, and Dib heard him take a deep breath and fall limp. Dib counted a few beats before allowing Zim to slide out of his arms like a cat. The girl was long gone by now, anyway. Zim's face sort of wrinkled, before he tugged his wig off, antennae twitching in the air.

"Feeling less homicidal?" Dib raised an eyebrow, but Zim kicked the door shut before dragging Dib over to the couch and shoving him down. "Hey!" Dib protested as Zim crawled on top of his lap, hands on Dib's shoulders.

"Tell me what you did different today!"

"Huh?"

"You smell… strange." Zim's gaze was even more concentrated than usual, contacts still in and the little lavender pupils seemed to be staring into Dib's very soul.

"Uh… I took a shower before I went to go see Dad yesterday morning. I didn't want to figure out your weird shower yet. I haven't done anything else that would affect that… I had some doritos for breakfast with a bottle of chocolate milk, but-"

"No, no, that wouldn't do it." Zim's left antennae moved a little closer, and he sniffed at the air. He probably had some kind of nose, considering how weirdly obsessed he was with smells, it was just really tiny.

"Is it a good smell?" Dib asked, starting to feel like a spider that was about to get pinned on a display board.

"Yes," Zim said, almost without thinking.

"You said you liked my shirt before," Dib pointed out. Zim's knees were starting to dig into the top of his legs, and when Zim leaned forward, he could feel the stomach bump pressed between them.

"That was nothing, it must have been swept up while cleaning…"

"Zim, it's okay, your body's going through some weird stuff right now." Dib set a hand on Zim's hip, and Zim hissed for a moment before relaxing again. His claws dug into Dib's shoulders.

"How are you doing that?"

"I'm not doing anything." Dib slid his hand under the shirt, setting his palm flat against the side of Zim's stomach, and Zim sucked in a breath. "Does that feel weird?"

"It's- how do you keep making my spooch get all icky-hot-twisty?"

Dib grinned. "I'm just that good."

Zim allowed Dib to rub him for a few more seconds before pulling away. "When did you last wash your hands?"

"Uh, maybe a few hours ago?"

Zim rubbed his uniform shirt against his skin. "If I get more marks because of your greasy fingerprints-"

"Geez, Zim, I'm not contagious or anything."

Zim rolled off Dib, sitting next to him. "I don't want more marks than necessary."

"I'm not going to make any marks unless I press down really hard. I don't think dirt can even do that, and my hands are fine, you're just a germaphobe."

"I am not!" Zim grabbed Dib's hand. "Your hands are all sweaty, and now it's on my skin!"

"Humans produce oil, it's just-"

"It's just disgusting, that's what it is." Zim huffed. "Go wash your hands."

Dib rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to do that every ten minutes for you, just so you know. That would really mess up my hands."

"Not my problem."

Dib wiped his palms off on his pants. Okay, maybe they were kind of sweaty, but Zim had been so close, and maybe Dib liked the feeling of being examined by him a little-

Zim grabbed his hand again, sliding his own into it. "Acceptable, for now."

Dib stared at him, before noticing the way his antennae were half-flat against his head, and his cheeks were dotted with a flush. He smiled.

"Alright, if you just wanted an excuse to hold hands, I'm game."

"I don't need an excuse!" Zim protested.

"So, did you want any of that pizza, or was it for Gir?"

"I wanted breadsticks. The pizza was for both of you."

"I'm not eating anything Gir's had for the last ten minutes. I can call them and order a small one and breadsticks. I'll even tell them to leave the butter off."

"Perhaps it's good you moved in after all. You're paying."

"As if you don't usually mooch off me anyways."

Dib pretended not to notice when Zim leaned against his arm as he dialed the number, although he did rub the top of his head and Zim didn't protest, snuggling a little closer.