Zim couldn't believe how dirty the base was. How on irk had he let its condition degrade so horribly over the past few days? Gir hadn't been particularly filthy lately- the worst he'd done was scoot his butt around on the floor with a bagel in his hand and then eaten it. That was nothing, compared to what he usually did. But the dust and dirt Dib and Gir had tracked around, combined with the disgusting Earth atmosphere- yes, something had to be done. His head ached smelling all the wrongness and crud that surrounded him.

Zim dug out his old germ goggles- he had tried to use them only sparingly in the last few years, not eager to repeat the rampart paranoia and anxiety that came with them. This was an exceptional circumstance, though- everything had to be disinfected to keep him from becoming too twitchy. Just looking at any one wall had his organs curdling inside of him.

He had piled up all of the nesting blankets in the corner and finished mopping the floor on the ground level. The couch had been disinfected, then flipped back to its regular spot- Gir had been griping and Zim had missed being able to sit on it anyways. He was halfway through scrubbing the walls when Dib stepped off the living room elevator. He immediately started staring at Zim.

"What are you doing?"

Was he being denser than usual or had his glasses fallen off? Zim squinted, pulling the old germ goggles up to his forehead- no, Dib's glasses were settled on top of the bridge of his nose, as usual. "I'm cleaning."

"You're sponging the wall," Dib said, rather unnecessarily in Zim's opinion.

"Yes, and?"

"And- well, I guess that isn't that bad, all things considered. Just felt like it?"

Zim narrowed his eyes. "Why else would I?"

"I wasn't sure if Gir spilled something." Dib paused. "Wait, I saw him downstairs just a few minutes ago and he wasn't covered in sauce or anything, but he could probably drop something without getting all gross himself. He's weird like that."

"He prefers rolling around in whatever mess he makes," Zim said, going back to getting a spot of putty off the wall. It had been where he'd once hung a picture of the robo-parents to add another facet of normalcy to the base in case of guests. He was glad he didn't have to deal with them much anymore- now that in the eyes of the other humans he was an adult and had graduated hi skool, he was capable of living alone. It wasn't like he didn't have enough on his plate when it came to robots with Gir and Minimoose, and the longer the parents had existed the more they'd glitched up. Now they were only for guarding the house when he was away for more than a day or two.

"Yeah, I'm sure there's some way to fix that, but I'd be terrified to rummage around inside his head," Dib said. "Do you want some kind of- I mean, you're wearing gloves on top of your gloves. Do you want an apron or something?"

Zim tilted his head. "For what?"

"Your shirt is starting to ride up." Dib pointed, and Zim looked down, grimacing. So it was. A sliver of skin was clear, even when he stopped stretching. He tugged it down, but it just popped back up. He snarled.

"Obey me!" He pulled at it again, but again, it slid up, exposing just enough skin to thoroughly irritate him. Was nothing going right today?

Dib was grinning, and Zim dropped the sponge as he slid off the couch to march over to him, hands on his hips.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm not- you know what, look. Just give me a second." He held up his index finger, stepping back into the elevator. It carried him down just far enough that Zim could hear him saying something to the computer but not what it was. Rude. Zim's foot began tapping on the newly-mopped floor, a staccato that pleased his antennae but not his ankle as he waited for Dib to return with an explanation.

After a minute and a half, he bent over to pick up the sponge and felt the uniform top slide up again. He tugged at it so hard that the supposedly-stretchy fabric practically flew up when he let go.

"Argh!"

"If you're done being attacked by your clothes, I might have a solution." Dib had returned, hands behind his back. Zim climbed up on top of the couch cushions to put them on more even ground, not in any particular mood to have to crane his neck to meet Dib's eyes. Dib strode across the room, although he did slip for a moment on the slick floor, something that brightened Zim's mood considerably and made him chuckle.

"Well? Give it!" Zim held out his hands, and Dib took a deep breath.

"Okay, I know you were really protesting against it, but if this is a little over halfway and you're already showing enough to have your uniform ride up, it might not be much of a choice anymore." He revealed the bundle of fabric from behind his back, and Zim recoiled.

It was a dark blue shirt with stars decorating the front. "What is- is that yours?"

"It was from the back of my closet- I was probably fourteen when I got it? Anything from when I was your height is going to have the same too-tight problem, but being longer means it will cover more. I think I hit my first growth spurt around then."

Zim's face wrinkled as one eye twitched. "I told you once, I don't-"

"You said my stuff made you feel gooey inside." Dib pointed out. "Maybe this is something normal. Besides, I washed it."

"By your standards or mine?"

"By- look, just take the shirt, okay? If you hate it it's just going to the donation bin anyways, I won't fit into it anymore."

Zim tugged the goggles back on. The shirt was… minimally dirty, he supposed. Most of it was probably from Dib's oily hands touching it on the way up here. He held his hands out a little further, and Dib deposited the shirt in them. Zim swallowed, turning the fabric over. The very idea of decorating himself with Dib's old clothes made him queasy, (or at least knotted up inside with something he couldn't place) but it wasn't like creating a hybrid smeet using his DNA was exactly much better. If he asked for a uniform a size up, there would be questions, and he didn't want any nosy antennae where they didn't belong.

He pulled the shirt on over his head. It caught on his collar, but a sharp tug with a slight tear of the fabric got it over the bulky edges. His uniform's shoulderpads created an awkward bump when he examined his shoulders, but otherwise it was… fine. He pulled the fabric's collar up to his face, sniffing a bit, and the scent of Dib soaked into the threads from years in his closet was faint and brought a slight flush to his cheeks without him even noticing.

"I'm going to take the fact that you aren't throttling me to mean that you like it?" Dib asked. Zim craned his neck to look down- the shirt went just past where his uniform usually did, which was good. As long as he didn't look down, he'd barely notice it, especially with how the shoulderpads kept the fabric from completely touching his upper arms.

"Mmm, I'll allow it." Zim said. "This shall be my cleaning shirt."

"I brought a couple if you want any more," Dib said. "And it's probably time for another log, if you're being germophobic again. I'd imagine that's more nesting behavior."

Zim examined the wall behind him, but it was mostly germ-free now. Most of what was left was near the ceiling, which would be kind of a pain to reach, and he could always go back later. He nodded, mostly to himself. This was acceptable. The ache in his head was gone now anyways.

"A log is fine." He swapped his contacts for the goggles and settled his wig on- after so long it was practically instinct to shift it a little so it settled properly on his skull. Dib settled on top of the couch- Zim was glad he'd taken the goggles off, he was probably getting germs on it, bleh- and Zim hopped up next to him.

"Log six," Dib said, holding the camera up to try and get both of them in the shot. "Zim's being kind of a clean freak today. It's November… uh… I think it's the eleventh? Tenth or eleventh." He switched out of the camera function for a second to check before going back. "Yeah, it's the eleventh. Anyways. Zim was scrubbing the walls when I came upstairs, and from how slick the floor is he was mopping that too."

"I wouldn't have to if you bathed more often," Zim said, arms crossed.

"Hey, I took a shower yesterday, don't blame this on me!" Dib protested. "It's probably just trying to keep things clean for the kid when they come. Making sure they won't get sick is something that I can see happening." He shifted the camera to take in Zim. "He's also started outgrowing his uniform, so I gave him an old shirt. I've got some more in various sizes, but I guessed right because this one fits him pretty well. Go me."

Zim's hands tightened on his arms. "It's only because I don't want anything getting on my skin. This covers it."

"Go ahead and tell yourself that." Dib nudged Zim's shoulder. "You know the routine by now, shirt up."

Zim huffed, staying still for a few moments just to spite Dib before pulling both shirts up to reveal his stomach. "It hasn't moved much today."

"It probably depends." Dib shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it."

Zim bit his lip, looking down, but as he moved to replace the clothes there was a bump on the skin accompanied by a twist in his spooch. "Huh?"

"Oh, wow, I actually saw that, they must be getting stronger!" Dib had a smile full of bright teeth, and Zim felt a matching one begin to spread across his face.

"It knows we're talking about it." Zim gave it a pat. "I know you must be excited to meet me, but you still have to wait."

"Just don't wait too long, or Zim's back is going to hate you."

Zim swatted at Dib's face at that, making him laugh as he turned the camera back on himself. "Okay, okay, that's all for now. Dib out."

A glove brushed over where the smeet had made the bump, and Zim gave it a little rub, antennae twitching under the wig as the side of his mouth quirked up in a smile.