#AND THEN ZIM VORES HIS ARM

[letaintedserpentine]

ZADR WEEK: Awkward Beginnings

“Irkens do not take… partnerships lightly, Dib-stink.” “A witness.” Gaz repeated, although devoid of emotion. “You’re asking me to witness in your alien wedding.”

i took the prompt awkwardness and turned it into some sort of marriage au because why not. yo guys i took self-indulgent to the max! WARNINGS FOR MEGA FLUFF!!!! thanks to @poor-ciceros-voring-again for hosting, much love :D full fic below: or in AO3

Fatal Attraction

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‘We no longer need any of your incessant reports, Zim. Now be a good Irken and face your exile with dignity.’

The words flashed on the monitor, stark and unyielding, whenever he tried to communicate with the Massive.

It had been for several Earth years, and some point, he’d stopped bothering.

It was clear that the armada no longer needed him.

No need for Zim to bring Earth to its knees and to the glory of Irk.

There was barely any more reason to keep fighting, and yet-

He wouldn’t give up his rivalry with Dib for anything.

So he fought.

Concocted little schemes. When they were once that aimed to take control of the planet, they shifted- aiming to keep Dib’s attention on him, petty pranks just to get the human cursing at him, to once again try to get their blood pumping, adrenaline pushing at them to bring the other down.

When their fights began to turn to more sparring than maiming, and banter began to feel more playful than hurtful, it should’ve been unsurprising for Dib to ask, “Are we even still… enemies?”

And yet Zim still found himself reeling, never once had asked it to himself. But that couldn’t be right.

If they weren’t enemies anymore, what were they?

Zim feared not only the answer, but the potential end to their charade- Dib has been his rival for so long that he couldn’t imagine being without him anymore.

Maybe sensing his reluctance to answer, Dib had been quick to follow his inquiry. “Do you think you could ever just trust me, Zim?”

Zim physically recoiled. Irkens do not trust, not when it was a show of weakness. “You speak of incompetence, Dib-thing.”

Dib gave him a look that he didn’t understand, but whatever it was, he didn’t like it. “You haven’t been an enemy for a long time, Zim. Do you think you can see me as more than that? Something else?”

Zim lightly clutched the ends of his uniform, suddenly hating how he never stopped using it. His voice came up too quiet. “Like what?”

“Maybe someone you think you’d like to see everyday, someone you could depend on, in certain circumstances?”

Zim blinked, and perked up. That was more like loyalty, wasn’t it? Irkens understood that.

“Partners?” Zim tried out the word on his tongue. An old Irken legend sprung to mind, although… that couldn’t be what Dib was asking. He turned to Dib with almost a sneer in his eyes. “Irkens do not take… partnerships lightly, Dib-stink.”

Dib ignored the small pang in his chest that reminded him that they hadn’t had a real argument in a long time. “How different could it be?” He tossed his hand. “Enlighten me.”

The concept itself thrilled Zim. Allegiance to anyone other than the Tallests were once considered an insult, and now, something far worse.

“We value loyalty above all else.”

He wasn’t ashamed to still have Irk as a part of him.

It was who Zim was. “We have a ceremony for it, for you would be swearing to put my life before yours.” He faced Dib as he said this, watching any trace of rejection. “And I will do the same.”

Zim straightened, and his eyes shone brilliantly. “We would serve anyone as second only, never first.” Which was why one of the old Tallest had banned it, criminalizing the act as a betrayal to the empire. And Zim, who had no longer had any love for the empire, was more than appealed to it.

But it still stood that Dib wouldn’t be one to understand the significance of it.

Dib had been quiet all through it all. After it was clear that Zim wasn’t to expound further, Dib asked, “Do you think it could be like that with us?”

Zim raised an eyelid, then gave no response- keeping his thoughts to himself.

It was only after an ironic turn of events- where Zim had to team up with Dib to drive off an aspiring alien invader- Earth was Zim’s planet, after all, that Zim thought to raise up the question once again.

The battle, the confrontations, even the minuscule threat of their mutual enemy, all faded out of Zim’s mind as he stared at Dib.

Dib stood there in all his glory, basking in their victory, the rays of the rescinding sun all but made his eyes a shade of gold. Tall and dependable, Zim could hardly explain his sudden appreciation, the taste of the win sweeter when shared between them, and how all their experience blended in his mind until he began to hope for a future of more of this, more of them-

Zim began to think that maybe a partnership with Dib wasn’t the worst idea.

“You’re considering it?” Dib said, skeptical to the very end, even when happiness glowed around him like a furnace.

“No,” Zim said. “I’ve already decided. The answer is yes, Dib.” And while feigning impassiveness, Zim felt like he choked on his own tongue, his chest warming all the same as Dib gave him one of those grins- the ones that said, we’ve won.

Dib cleared his throat, suppressing any more eagerness, “How do we do this?”

“A witness.” Gaz repeated, although devoid of emotion. “You’re asking me to witness in your alien wedding.”

“Partnership,” Dib emphasized, for what seemed like the third time. His ears brightened in the tell-tale signs of a blush, although he would never admit how Gaz’s words muddled up some suppressed emotions in him. “It just means that as an Irken he would be allowing himself to maybe sorta trust me, even he would tell me not to use those words exactly. Depend on me, instead of just him.”

“Uh huh,” Gaz tapped her nails on her handheld console. “And if this means you could never trust and depend on anyone else?”

Dib frowned. “I don’t think that’s what it means?” He bit the inside of his cheek for a moment. “I don’t think there’s anything that would make him give up Gir, so that’s not an issue. I think it’s more of… allowing himself to allow me to become a part of his life, officially. To be at his side.”

“In sickness and health?”

“Ha, ha. Laugh it up.” Dib grumbled.

“Who says I’m joking?” She turned over the facts in her head, crossing her arms. “This just seems… fishy. Dib, even if there’s no trick here, do you think you’re prepared for it? It seems awfully… intimate.” Her normally stilted voice had a hint of concern there.

Dib forced a cough. “Gaz, it’s just-”

“Deny anything again and I will break your toes.”

Dib shut up.

“How?” She asked.

“What?”

She looked at him as if he was being deliberately dense. “How did you guys went from fighting to doing your lame partnership?”

Dib knew that despite her tough exterior, she was genuinely curious. “He… understands me in the level that other people can’t.”

She hummed, gesturing at him to proceed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever connected to anyone else. And I just wanted for him to know that, alright? He’s the one that suggested the Irken thing. I just thought… if that’s what it took to have Zim… really, truly, at my side… No hesitation there. I’ll do it.” He proclaimed, his confidence pushing through the small wobble of his voice in the middle.

“Maybe I could lead him to a different path, or we could take off Earth together.” He couldn’t help but fantasize, a tad star-struck at the many possibilities. “We could be good together.”

“And that’s all you want.” Gaz noted. “Companionship. That’s all. ” Dib could hear the question there. “You’ll go into this binding thing and make Zim think you guys are now fully destined to only be partners.”

Dib sighed, as his resolve began to blur. “Gaz, I only asked if you would-”

She cut him off with a glare. “I’m not going to stop you or tell you it’s a horrible idea. But this is a big deal for him too, right? You two should suck it up, talk it out, and go into it with all the same intentions.”

Dib’s tongue felt dry in his mouth. “He’d been pretty clear what he wanted.”

“Have you?”

Dib did not reply.

“Think about everything he told you about this binding thing, Dib. Then decide.” She pressed open on her console, no longer looking at him. “Then I’ll tell you if I’ll bear witness, or something.”

An unfamiliar soundtrack began to play as Gaz turned her back to him, but Dib had his mind already considering her tip.

The summer air was warm in their faces, with the rays of the setting sun giving the meadow a golden glow. Fireflies skittered all around them, aiming to outdo the stars once they show.

Dib kept fidgeting in his suit.

Gaz wasn’t blind. “You got me dressed up for this, you better not have second thoughts,” she mumbled, her own way of reassurance.

Her normally spiked hair was smoothed out, looking a bit softer, but not in the least hiding her intensity. Dib had no doubt she would not be opposed to throwing down a gauntlet when provoked, even when wearing a dress.

Dib shook his head at her concern, but she needn’t have worried.

The second that he saw Zim approach them, he knew he couldn’t turn back- not now, not ever.

A floor length dress replaced Zim’s usual uniform, with a gradient of his usual red darkening to black at the bottom. Black flowing sleeves gave Zim a sense of fragility, his arms foregoing the gloves entirely.

When those pink beady eyes landed on his, Dib couldn’t look away, his breath almost leaving him.

Zim looked flustered, a picture of hope in his eyes, tinged with some hesitance as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

For a while, they were quite content to just watch each other, as if nothing else mattered but the two of them- until Gaz faked a cough.

Zim blinked, and he turned away. “Gaz,” he greeted her, “Would you be the witness to our union?”

“Why else would I be here?”

“Formality,” Zim replied, just as Dib mildly jabbed her sister at the side.

She shot him a glare. “Yeah, sure, I’m witnessing.”

“Excellent!” Zim shouted in his usual bravado, although with the undertone of nerves. The two focused on the alien again.

“Dib-human.” Zim began without any malice, “I have seen you at your lowest. I have triumphed against you and with you, and I concede you are taller in height. Will you accept me?”

“I take you as mine.” Dib replied, almost fumbling at his cue. He knew the words but… it felt different, when it was finally time for him to hear it.

It was his turn, now. “Zim,” Dib began, reciting the words by memory if not by heart, “I have seen you at your lowest. I have triumphed with you and against you, and I recognize that you are beneath my height.” The last part felt unnecessary to him but clearly meant something to Zim, since the Irken all but straightened up, fully accepting himself even if society deems him worth not. “Will you accept me?”

“I take you as mine.” Zim replied.

If Dib were asked at that moment if magic existed, he would’ve said yes. No investigations needed. Magic was there in the way that the world seemed to be a lot brighter, with the fireflies that danced around them, and in the connection that started from Dib’s heart, to whatever Zim had that’s equivalent.

“Oh, is it my cue?” Gaz droned, but Dib could’ve sworn that there was some underlying affection there.

Gaz brought out an ornate knife, and lightly pricked the two’s palms, lightly grumbling at the danger and idiocy of tradition picking the palm to draw blood.

A dark red bloomed in Dib’s, and light pink in Zim’s.

She urged the two to get on with it. “May this not be the last time you will bleed for each other,” Gaz didn’t feel the need to hide the fact that she was reading it on paper, “And may your bond last longer than you enemies. May one not fall in battle without the other, for that is the greatest pain of all.”

Zim took initiative and clutched Dib’s bloody palm with his own, taking a few seconds before being able to once again meet his eyes. “I pledge myself to you, Dib.”

Dib tightened his grip. “I pledge myself to you, Zim.”

Zim couldn’t disguise the joy in his eyes.

“It is done.” Gaz interrupted them by pulling on a small party popper, then handing off a party horn to Gir. The robot took to it immediately, blowing unrestrained loud notes. Gaz reached for a glass of wine.

Zim laughed, but it wasn’t a cackle.

His genuine laugh was something that Dib would sear into memory, but he wasn’t done yet. “Zim?”

Dib’s voice easily captured Zim’s attention, who turned to him with a smile. “Yes, Dib-mine?”

“I have something to ask.” Dib, carefully, but knowingly, lowered himself into one knee. He looked up to Zim.

In one record breaking swoop, Dib found out exactly how Zim’s emotions could turn 180 in an instant.

Zim kicked him as much as he was able to, in that dress. Dib didn’t know why he was annoyed, but knew it was cultural differences. Anyone else would’ve figured out what he was trying to do.

“Hear me out!” Dib said, affixing himself slowly into the same position, watching Zim’s movements.

“You aren’t to bow to me! We are partners, I expect you to not act like a service drone, because we aren’t!”

Gaz leaned towards Gir, and faux whispered, fully knowing she would be heard. “Not the most awkward wedding I’ve seen.”

The two ignored her, still locked in their standstill.

“Zim, cultural misunderstanding.” Dib pleaded with his eyes. “Listen to me, alright?”

And while Zim gave no affirmative and had his eyes in a glare, he did not move any more threateningly.

“I don’t think I would ever meet anyone else as driven as you are. You, who make me feel like… I’m enough, that I matter, and…” The redness has tinted his ears, “Zim, you could destroy me in every single way and I’d be okay with it.”

“I trust you more than you could ever know, and I… I lo…” Dib swallowed, and brought out a ring. “Will you become more than my partner?”

Zim took a sharp inhale, not even aware when he’d begun to hold his breath. “And that would entail…?”

“It means I could do this.” Dib lightly kissed the knuckles of Zim’s hand, to which he caught his breath. “It means… I would choose you above anyone else,” he said, mirroring what Zim had once told him about Irken partnerships. “Put my life before yours. It means I choose to never leave you, in sickness and health. But most importantly, it means that you’ll allow yourself to love me as I do you. And I do. I really do. I love you, Zim.”

There was another reason Irk had partnerships banned, one that defied all logic and rendered all other emotions underneath it, and Zim never really thought he would be able to have it.

“Zim, do you accept?” Dib didn’t think he could be more nervous in his life.

A smile graced Zim’s lips. “I do.”

[diamondsareapearlsbestfriend]

space 💫✨

(( @zadrweek3 day 6 drabble!! dalacareal creature concept is borrowed from the wonderful @strange-irkens c:

@poor-ciceros-voring-again ))

***

Space, in the eyes of the Irken Empire, was nothing but a commodity. Planets existed only to be destroyed or conquered, all individuality and diversity swept away to be remade according to the Tallest’s will. Like any loyal soldier, all Zim had ever been focused on was becoming an Invader and claiming a planet in his own name - any planet, whichever his almighty leaders desired - to bask in the glory and recognition that was rightfully his.

Earth was...not quite what he imagined.

Here, he was “space boy”, a nickname both mocking and accusatory, with an underlying jealousy. Because Zim had experienced things Dib - or any of his fellow worm babies - could barely comprehend, and Dib talked about “space” like no Irken ever would: with awe and wonder, insatiable curiosity and longing to know more, to see beyond what his ignorant dirt-clod of a home planet could ever tell him. He’d question Zim relentlessly about Irkens, about other alien species, all the planets he’d been to, the creatures he’d seen - but Zim was loyal to his Empire, he’d never consider giving up such secrets to his sworn enemy!

But maybe he would drop the odd tidbit of knowledge here and there - a diversionary tactic, that was all, further evidence of his superiority. Dib was less of a threat to his schemes if Zim could keep him hanging off of his every word. And maybe it...wasn’t entirely intolerable, the feeling of actually being listened to, someone - even if it was the Dib rather his Tallest - looking at Zim with the fascination and admiration he clearly deserved but was less used to receiving.

And so, eventually, Zim shows him.

They bicker their way across the galaxy, about where to go, how to get there, whether they’re lost or not. Dib almost gets them killed when he steers the ship dangerously close to a sleeping deadly dalacareal, because he has the self-preservation sense of a particularly stupid smeet. Zim comes close to shoving him out of the airlock on an hourly basis, and yet...there are moments in between. When he catches Dib just gazing out into the infinite vastness of space, still and quiet and amazed by what Zim would consider the most mundane and unremarkable planets and creatures. He glances back at Zim with starlight in his eyes and softly, cautiously says that this is...nice, when the universe isn’t ending and they’re not actively trying to kill each other. Maybe they could do this more often.

And maybe, eventually, Zim begins to understand: space is freedom, a multiverse of uncharted territory and untapped possibilities. Planets and species and creatures even Zim hasn’t encountered before, so far outside the Empire’s jurisdiction he may never have known they existed, were it not for...this. For Dib.

This is the space to simply be, escaping the confines and expectations of their home planets. To do and feel things that would have marked Zim as a traitor and defective on Irk, Dib as a freak and degenerate on Earth. To hold hands where it isn’t treason; to snuggle into the crook of Dib’s arm and steal his warmth as they looking up at the stars; to kiss and touch and explore each other, mapping out constellations of freckles and scars, discovering the furthest reaches of each other’s bodies and beings, cataloguing and devouring every gasp, laugh, moan, chirp and purr. Space to get completely and utterly lost in one another, as if nothing else mattered or ever existed in the universe other than Zim and his stupid, stinky, brilliant human.

Space to be, and space to belong, and to understand that where they belong is together.