Notes:
Sorry this is short. But, I've been a bit unmotivated lately. I promise this story isn't dead. I have FULL intentions of finishing it.
Zim opened the door before Dib had the chance to knock. Earth's summer smacked him in the face and a sweat immediately broke out on his forehead.
Dib looked even worse for wear,pale face flushed pink from the merciless sun. But at least he was wearing a tshirt and shorts, his backpack slung over his shoulders. The look was vastly different than his usual dark demeanor (dark shirt,pants,coat,boots,hair). And a white baseball hat on his head completed it all, successfully hiding his infamous cowlick.
"Hi." Was the human's short greeting.
Zim stepped back to let Dib inside. "You look weird." He returned, watching the human eagerly step out of the heat.
"Thanks. So do you. Like all the time." Zim stuck his tongue out. "It's fricking hot outside. No one in their right mind would have a trenchcoat on in this weather."
Zim squinted at his partner who was rustling through his backpack for something. "But, you wear it literally all the time. I'd be surprised if you didn't sleep with it on."
"Well, for one, shut up. And secondly, I'm less conspicuous this way. If we're doing a stake out, we gotta look normal. And not like two freaks."He yanked something from his bag, breathing a small 'ah-ha!' in triumph and held it out for the irken.
Zim looked at the...thing? Fabric? He took it gingerly, and after a moment realized it was a 't shirt', presumably because it was a shirt shaped in the letter 't'? Humans were stupid.
It was light grey and pretty soft as if it had been worn and washed many times. There were some words on it, 'Space Kid', and a tiny red planet underneath the font.
"What do you want me to do with this?"
"Wear it? Come on, Zim. We got a long day ahead of us, keep up."
The offending fabric was thrown at the human's sweaty face. "No."
Dib threw it back. "Yes."
Zim tossed it on the ground. "Absolutely not."
"Wait. 'No' to keeping up? Or no to wearing the shirt?"
ZIM crossed his arms. "No, to the horrid shirt. It's an awful color and I like my uniform just fine, thank you."
The human rolled his eyes. "It's just for today, ZIM. You can take it off later."
The irken maintained his icy glare. "No."
"Zim. It's frickin' hot outside. This will be cooler, anyway."
Silence. Pouty, miserable silence.
"It's for the mission, spaceboy." Dib picked the shirt up off the ground and offered it to the alien. Who, looked from the shirt to Dib and back to the shirt again before he yanked it from his hands. His expression one of violent distaste.
"I hate you."
Dib shrugged. "What else is new?"
The irken undressed and redressed without any kind of embarrassment or modesty. He'd always assumed that ZIM's body would be just as green and featureless as his face was. And it was for the most part. No belly button, no nipples. Just a wide expanse of ivy skin, laced with paler, slightly pink scars. His belly was a lighter green than the rest of him.
Not for the first time, he tried to guess the alien's skin texture. Would it be like a humans? Or scaly? Slimy? Smooth like a bug's exoskeleton?
Dib's old shirt (the last time he'd worn it had been sometime in 3rd grade) fit Zim just fine. It was actually really weird seeing the irken in human clothes. It made him seem...both at once more and less alien.
Zim stared at his uniform...the same outfit he'd been wearing since...since forever. It was warm and flexible and a symbol of the empire. Bright, vibrant and showy. The fabric he wore now felt...wrong.
It was too loose, too soft, dull and smelt like Dib. It was official. In his hands he held the final piece of the empire's hold on him.
Dib turned away again, digging in his bag to pull out another hat. "Here."
Zim had to put his uniform on the couch in order to grab what was given to him.
Dib watched his ally put it on. The hat used to be Gaz's and was purple and feminine and Zim wore it like it was made for him. "Nice. Are you ready?"
Zim swallowed. "Almost. I just gotta..." He reached into a table next to the couch and pulled out his false painted lenses.
Oh. Right. It was so easy to forget that Zim needed to look human, sometimes. Zim blinked irritably as he put them on and Dib watched, unsure how he felt about it. The irken's fake eyes had always bothered him. They were like a doll's. An impossible violet, shiny and un-dialiting. Dib shook himself and tugged his bag on.
Zim folded his uniform and placed it in his pak for the earliest opportunity to change back into it. He nodded at the human and together they rode up to the landing bay in his attic. They climbed into the voot cruiser and took off.
Zim never put his uniform back on.
He wore Dib's old clothes, stuff too small to fit Gaz anymore, cheap things from department stores. He wore shirts and leggings, shorts and skirts, dresses and sweat pants. He wore vibrant colors, soft fabrics, warm and cool. He wore hats and scarves, coats and ponchos, hoodies and hats. He wore rain-boots and tennis shoes, normal boots, heels (which felt so illegal) and flip flops. He wore gloves of every color and he adored socks.
His wardrobe was a fashion disaster but, he loved every single article of clothing.
It was freedom. It was liberating. No one could force him to wear anything. It wasn't required. It wasn't a symbol of loyalty or status. It was indulgent and comfortable and glorious.
Dib noticed what Zim didn't. That he went weeks without falling back into denial. Without going back to being a tool for the empire to use. A defective, broken, alone tool that had been abandoned and banished. The clothes seemed to emphasize that Zim was a...creature, a being, someone who had thoughts and feelings that were unique and sprung from his experiences. That his existence was not merely for an empire that hated him. It was for himself.
Even if Zim never thought those things, Dib had a feeling that it was the case. It was good for him. And Dib encouraged it the best he could. With each day that went by and the Zim he had come to know, stayed, the more relieved he felt.
