-1They reached the little elevator and Zim stepped inside with a disgruntled Dib in his arms.
"I'll have you know, I can't do anything for you if I don't have my glasses." Dib sighed and rubbed his eyes angrily, trying futilely to make his vision less blurry.
"I see…" Zim murmured "Hum, interesting…"
Dib frowned and looked up to where he thought Zim's face was the big crimson blur. He crossed his arms across his thin chest "Did you hear me? ZIM!"
"Awhuh…?" he asked dazedly, snapping out of his train of thought "What'd I hear now?"
Scowling Dib glanced away and bit his lip. "I SAID, 'I can't do anything for you without my glasses.' I need those to see and you broke them, so I hope you know you're going to replace them."
"Those eye shields? Need to see?" Zim frowned "What's their basic design? I can probably make you a new pair…" then noticed they weren't moving up "Computer! West wing, medical center."
"Huh? Whah...?" Computer yawned. "Whatever it was, GIR did it…"
Dib chuckled and Zim frowned.
"COMPUTER! WEST WING, MEDICAL CENTER!" Zim practically hissed.
"Yes, Sir…" it said tiredly "Going up!"
Dib smiled at the little conversation Master and Machine had together, he never knew anything machine like could be so human-like. Then shook his head, his scythe hair waving slightly.
"Well, Zim, I'll need to tell you my prescription, you do know what I mean by that right?" he asked.
"If by which you mean a lens of particular type and strength to correct one's sight, I do!" Zim snorted; seemingly appalled at the thought that he wouldn't know something. "Zim knows all." he added for reassurance, if not for Dib, then for his self.
Dib just grunted in response and yawned, even though he was clearly in a lot of pain, he tried not to look like it. If he did, Zim would have won at knowing he had hurt Dib in the littlest sense. He squeaked when the elevator stopped sharply, and he heard Zim practically giggle from Dib's discomfort. Dib bit his lip and looked away, glaring at nothing in particular. He really hated it when Zim laughed at him when he was in horrible pain, but, for now, there was nothing he could do nothing about it.
Zim stepped out of the small elevator, Dib in arms. By the time they had made to the floor where the medical supplies were located, Dib was still awake, but groggily so. Zim's blood-red orbs glanced down to the thin bundle in his bruised arms. Something about Dib in his arms like this made him feel…a little…content. Against his will, he smiled almost comfortingly down to the battered human. Dib saw this, but didn't think anything of it, thinking maybe he was sleeping or something. He smiled back up to Zim almost happily, content, that Zim almost faltered his own. He continued to walk towards one of the small medical cots and laid Dib down on the one closest to him.
Dib made a slight whine when the warmth from Zim left him only to be replaced by on a cold hard mattress. Zim frowned at the sound the human had made and disappeared behind a sliding red-glass door. A minute later Zim returned with a fluffy blood-red comforter, and he heard the Dib breathing evenly, a sure sign he was asleep. With an oddly placid face he wrapped Dib up in the blanket, being mindful of the boy's injuries. With a sigh Zim stood up straight and grabbed one of the machines that held the medicine for wounds and the morphine from when the kids thought it was fun to beat up on the weird green kid. He led the machine over to Dib by the thin wire-like tubes and set the machine to drop at the right speed to be absorbed into Dib's blood stream. When Zim poked Dib with the needle that dripped the morphine he saw the boy flinch in his sleep and he bit his lip, hopeful that the Dib wouldn't wake up. He didn't, just shifted slightly.
Zim sighed and dragged out the gauze wraps from the drawer in the machine. He turned around with the gauze in hand and stood next to Dib's side, suddenly regretting ever had hurting the taller male that badly. Pushing all emotion out of his head at the moment, he gently pulled the covers back from the male. He then undressed the male, only the torso of course. With a sad smile he observed the wounds he himself had inflicted. There was one long scratch from his chest to his hip and many other smaller, yet pretty deep, scratches that littered his body. Along with the fresh ones, old white scars were livid against the male's pale skin. Zim then began to apply the medicine over the bloody wounds and wrapped them with a kind of graceful care, never even once waking the boy. Once that was done he stepped back to admire his work and noticed that the male had one scratch on his face, it wasn't very deep but it went from his nose to the middle of the cheek. He then dabbed a little medicine onto it and placed a red band-aid with a black Irken armada symbol over the small injury, with that he smirked and yawned.