It was snowing. The first snow of the season, white poison dripping down the window and turning to water as soon as it touched the superior irken glass. Tomorrow, Gir would probably start rolling around in it, (and pick up mud and grass stains that Zim would have to scrub out, ugh ) but for now, it was starting to slowly build up on the front lawn in a smooth carpet.

The subtle curves as it piled up appeared soft, but years of experience taught him that it never felt as nice as it looked. Besides, he hadn't bothered to bathe in paste earlier. Zim's fingers tapped against the windowsill as he leaned on his elbows, feeling shifts inside of him even as his feet remained still. Every tiny movement brushed against the inside of the alien shirt Dib had borrowed him.

The clock in the kitchen ticked on, little clicks every second. Gir had gotten it recently- it was in the shape of a black cat with wide, mocking eyes. Zim hated it, but Gir really seemed to love it, watching it for hours as the tail swished from side to side. It was rare Zim was on the floor level without some noise to block it off, and thus it wasn't worth the effort of calming Gir down if he threw it out. So on it went, moments marked by the plastic snaps and gears turning.

He grimaced, straightening up- the condensation on the windows was starting to leak into the tiny gap in the bottom he still needed to fix.

Dib was- what was Dib doing? He was downstairs.

"Computer!"

"Whaaaaaat?"

"Show me Dib."

The tv screen flickered on, revealing Dib yawning with a hand over his mouth, eyes scrunched with bags underneath them. He had his laptop on his crossed legs and was typing. Zim glanced over at the clock on the table next to Dib's bed- 2:46 am. Didn't humans need something like six or seven hours of sleep? Well, Dib never had listened to that, if the cameras Zim had put in his room back in his house ages ago said anything. Still, what could he even be working on? Dib's mouth gaped open again as he tapped the top of the screen.

"Come on, how many do I even have? " He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, squinting. "Oh, right, four hundred sixty-three. Ugh." He swiped at the screen, doing something with his fingers that Zim couldn't see due to the angle. "Two hundred more, then bed."

"What is he doing, computer?"

There was a pause. "Organizing pictures, I think."

"Pictures of what?"

"Some are of you, some are of you and him, some are… I dunno, that one kind of looks like a furry guy and one has wings."

"Oh." That wasn't anything particularly unusual. Zim knew he did that. Sometimes he sent Zim ones that he thought were funny. He crossed the living room, beginning to pace. The smeet was active tonight, with enough movement that Zim wondered if they had managed to flip over inside of him. Heh. Figures that his offspring would be clever enough to perform acrobatics a month and a half before birth.

"I wonder what you'll look like." He tapped his chin. "You have antennae, that was clear. You'll have my cleverness, of course, I expect no less. Will you have Dib's stubbornness or his number of fingers and toes? No, ten is just too many. Maybe three or four each, that sounds about right. And you'd better get his good traits, and not his propensity to put off bathing."

"Who are you talking to?"

Zim paused, glaring at the ceiling."Not you."

"They're not conscious yet, you know."

"Do you need me to switch your controls over to manual again?"

"Gives me a break from existing, so sure."

"It was- argh, nevermind!" Zim groaned, beginning to pace again. His legs felt like a wound spring. "Just be quiet, I'm thinking."

"Thinking pretty loudly," The computer said, but another icy glare from Zim shut it up. The image of Dib disappeared from the screen, and Zim sighed. He'd slept for a few hours earlier, and now his brain was running in ever-tightening circles.

Would it need special food? Dib had freaked out over Zim drinking the- what was it? Cool something? Well, that one was easy enough to avoid, once the green stickers with tongues out were explained to him. But Zim could only eat so much Earth food, and Dib had begun to fuss over nutrition while reading over those folders of paper he'd gained from his father. There was always synthesizing something in the lab or the hospital wing, but they couldn't do that until it was born and they could determine what it needed.

This was turning into more than he'd expected, but that was fine. There was no challenge Zim couldn't meet, after all, and having a little smeet around to talk to and teach would certainly be reward enough.

Dib's comments on how mutated it might come out still itched inside of him though, like spooch-termites.

"Pak, analyze smeet and look for mutations."

The soft whirring mixed with the ticking clock. "Smeet's growth has accelerated by 4.63 percent. Smeet has four limbs, fzzzzzt antennae, and there are fzzzzzt mutations inside of the spooch."

Zim froze. "Mutations? Will it- survive?"

"Ffzzzzzt."

"Repeat!"

"Yes."

Zim let out a breath in relief, sticking his tongue out. "Don't scare me like that! Will it- it won't be seriously affected, will it? It's just because it's part human, is it not?"

"Data insufficient."

"That's what the computer said when I- why did no one keep good enough notes on this? It's just sloppy!" His pointer finger drummed on the curve of his stomach, and he headed over to the elevator. "Lab level."

The computer actually obeyed for once, and Zim felt the smeet moving around again as if it knew Zim was- no, he wasn't worrying, he was being vigilant about any potential weaknesses or threats to it from the inside. That was all.

He marched off the lift, heading directly towards Dib's room. He needed to tell Dib of this new development. Perhaps they could have another go with the sounding machine.

He peered around the doorframe into Dib's room. The human was currently slumped over his laptop, cheek smushed against the keys with the light casting a ghastly corpse-like coloring on his face. Zim clicked his tongue. Really, he was just going to ruin his equipment like that. He bounced on his heels for a moment before walking in, prying Dib's head off the keyboard and snapping it shut. Dib's glasses were slipping down the bridge of his nose and Zim pulled them off, folding them up and setting them on the side table.

Well, he had been yawning, and it wasn't like much would change in a few hours.

Zim knew he'd slept earlier, but the walk down here had tired him. He needed to recharge his Pak, that was all. For now, though, Dib's warm body was inviting enough that it was all too easy to simply… slip away.