Dib groaned at the lack of movement from the pile of blankets. The mass of fabric had nearly doubled, somehow. Where had he even been getting them? "Zim, come on, it's been three days."

"No."

"It's New Year's. You can't stay in there until you give birth, your legs are going to hate you."

"I can sit still for much longer than this. My will is iron. Iron, Dib." Zim was rubbing a pair of tiny socks between his fingertips. Dib wasn't entirely sure if they had been in the nest before or if he'd ordered Gir to get them. They were even smaller than his fingers, and imagining feet tiny enough to fit in them was making his stomach flip.

"How far along is she?"

"Ninety-six percent."

"She's almost here- won't it be good to stretch a little beforehand?"

"I don't want to move."

New tactic time. "The blankets are gross- don't you want to wash them? You've got wrappers all over."

"I like the sugary smell."

Dib scanned the room, before spotting Gir making raspberries with the dog suit's tongue in the corner as he watched a pair of flies making loops in the air. "Hey, Gir, do you want to take a walk?"

"Would I?" Gir leaped up, burrowing into the nest. His butt and legs wiggled for a moment before he sunk in entirely.

"Zim, being moody is just going to make you feel worse. You need some fresh air. I know I was a complete asshole whenever I was cooped up for too long, and you haven't moved in days."

"Found iiiiiiiit!" Gir sang, popping up with a leash. "Walkie talkie time!"

"No, Gir," Zim mumbled, rubbing at his eyes, and Dib crouched down.

"Are you feeling sick?"

"No. Tired. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm carrying a smeet that's currently… how heavy again?"

"Four pounds, point zero three ounces," his Pak rattled off.

"Twice as big as normal." He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "She's going to fester in my guts until I pop."

"Come on, leave the doomsday soothsaying to me." Dib set two fingers under Zim's chin. "I won't make you walk, but just sitting on the front porch will probably help."

Zim stretched, scratching his stomach before his elbow jammed into the greasy underside of a pizza box. He grimaced, flicking it away. "I suppose there's no harm in trying. If I feel anything amiss, though, you are to bring me directly back to the base, understood?"

Dib hid a smile behind his hand. "Yeah, got it."

Zim used his Pak legs to push him up, puffing out his cheeks with the exertion. He panted for a few seconds before letting out a breath.

Gir was up in his tiptoes, holding up the leash to Zim like he was a small victorian child asking for food, and Zim looked up at Dib. "You dare make me-"

Dib grabbed the leash. "I'll walk you today, okay?"

"Awww, I like how master does, though. He's real good at whistling!"

"I can whistle."

"Not like he can..." Gir started sniffling, and Dib knelt down.

"If you let me walk you I'll get you something at the corner store on the way back, okay?"

"But I want him!" Gir whined, before spotting something on the currently-off tv screen. "Oooh, wuzzat?" He ran over, slamming directly into the screen and flopping on his back. Dib yanked at the leash, and Gir scrambled up. "We're going on a walk?"

Dib sucked in a breath. "Yeah. We're going on a walk."

Zim snickered as he waddled over to the front closet, pulling out a Mysterious Mysteries hoodie Dib had left in it and carefully setting the socks in the pocket. "Be careful. He likes running up trees." He brightened, realizing there was a wrapped lollipop on the inside, and tore the wrapper off, sticking it in his mouth.

"Ugh, I'm going to regret using this as an excuse to get you outside, aren't I?"

"You tell me, dog boy," Zim said around the candy, pulling his wig on and digging a pair of earmuffs out of the closet for good measure.

"Gir's not even a real dog-"

"I'm not?"

Dib wound the leash around his wrist with a sigh. "Let's just go."

Zim turned the doorknob, throwing it open to a rush of cold air. Most of the Santa mess had been cleaned up, but the neighborhood still stank of mint, a scent that Dib was starting to hate. He pulled a stick of gum from his pocket, popping it into his mouth as Zim took one slow step, then another.

"Really, I did just want to get you outside. I can probably walk Gir on my own."

"I do need to stretch my legs." Zim yawned around the candy, (not realizing it almost fell out of his mouth in the process) arching his back until it cracked. "The nest was starting to stink of icky things. You need to spend more time in it."

Dib raised an eyebrow. "Really? You want me to spend more time in it to make it smell better? "

Zim froze. "Er- I mean, bring more things that smell good! Yes, that's what I meant."

Dib wasn't sure if the flush starting to decorate Zim's cheeks was due to the cold or if he was actually embarrassed. "Wanting me close isn't terrible, Zim- it's probably natural to want the other parent nearby this close to birth, for protection or whatever. If irkens reproduced naturally before they had paks, you'd kind of be a sitting duck at this point without yours. And I'm twice your size, so really-"

Zim grabbed Dib's sleeve, popping the lollipop out of his mouth as he glared up at him. "Say that again and look into my eyes."

"I'm just saying- ah!" Dib was cut off when Gir yanked at the leash hard, and Zim let go as Dib was forced to run after him. He had activated his rockets to try and catch a pigeon on the second floor of a nearby house.

"I'm gonna get you…" Gir called, hands shaking as he reached for it.

"Gir, don't eat living things!"

"But they squirm around!"

"That's why you don't!" Dib tugged at the leash just as Gir's tiny hands managed to grab the bird's tail, pulling it down with him as he crashed into Dib's chest.

"I'm gonna call you Wallace," Gir whispered with reverence as the pigeon tried desperately to escape his fabric-y grasp.

"Wallace?" Dib asked.

"Wallace," Gir repeated, opening his mouth and stuffing the bird into it before swallowing. Dib didn't even have time to pull it away, and Gir giggled as it started frantically flapping around, making a rattling noise from inside of his chest cavity.

Dib's eye twitched. "Gir, can you spit that up?" He tugged at the leash, and Gir flopped on the ground.

Zim was leaning heavily on a mailbox, snickering. "Good luck with that, Dib-mate."

"At least he doesn't have an ability to digest- wait, what?" Dib's head spun around to stare at Zim, who was just watching him with one eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"What did you just call me?"

"Dib-meat."

"No, that's not what you said." Dib took a few steps towards Zim, and Gir started gagging loudly as the leash tightened around his neck. He'd be fine, he was a robot who ate trash.

"It wasn't?" Zim just looked kind of confused now, both, eyes squinted.

"You called me Dib-mate."

Zim crossed his arms. "Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"What would be wrong about it if you did? We are together."

"Because-" Zim opened his mouth before freezing, as if there was a loading circle rendering in his brain. "I suppose nothing, but don't look too deeply into it! I'm just tired, that's it!"

Dib dug his knuckles into the top of Zim's head, ruffling the wig enough to shift it slightly. "I think it's sweet."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Use it whenever you want. Zim-mate doesn't exactly have the same ring to it, though."

"That's because Zim has no need for labels! I already know who I am."

"Really? How about 'mine'?" Dib moved his hand down to Zim's chin, tilting it up slightly, and the flush from before darkened on green cheeks. Definitely not just the cold, then.

"That is- acceptable. But only if I get to use it too!" Zim reached up to grab Dib's collar, dragging him down so their breath-fog mixed. "You're mine too, understand?"

Dib grinned. "Understood. You've got a deal.