Pacing. More pacing and huffing and muttering. She doesn't know how Computer stands it. The habit is so disgustingly like Dib.

She hasn't seen Snake-Bites in a while, except in passing at school, and hasn't gone back to the crater since she went to borrow the Game Slave. Although hopefully, they cleared that particular misunderstanding last time.

In short, Gaz is pretty sure she didn't do anything that would have triggered Zim's weird emotions this time so she figures it's really about whatever he's scribbling on that alien-tech pad of his and not just him trying to get her attention.

And it is for that reason that she will grant him her attention.

She saves her game and places it next to her on the couch in its usual honored spot.

"Zim." She calls to the alien who's made his way into the kitchen to pace.

After a moment, his bright eyes and antennae peek out from around the corner to look at her, sitting upright without a game in her hands. As if he isn't sure whether or not he really just heard her call for him.

"Come here."

With the assurance that he didn't just imagine her voice since they rarely ever so much as acknowledge each other when they hang out in his base he walks over to her.

"Miss Gaz?"

He's not even nervous about getting yelled at for all his pacing and noise. Not that it was Gaz's intention to do so right now but it just goes to show that he probably doesn't know he's doing it in the first place.

"Sit down."

He drops to sit at her feet in what is becoming his usual spot without hesitation.

"Give me your hands."

He places his pad off to the side and raises his empty hands for her. He never wears his disguise when it's just the two of them but he's so attached to his gloves she's starting to suspect he wears them even when she's not there. That makes it all the bolder when she removes them without asking and all the more telling when he lets her without complaint. Only the shift in his jaw, the flicker and his eyes, and the twitch of talons suggests that she's flirting along the edge of a boundary.

She drops the gloves on the couch next to her, just beyond Zim's reach, and grasps his hands in her own. Her five fingers easily encompass Zim's three, although his claws are very long.

He shivers at the amount of contact. Enzymes, she remembers, although it's odd to know that the natural chemicals from her body are digesting the oddly vulnerable alien - though too minutely for it to be actually concerning.

Her elbows rest on her knees as she leans forward to look down at him while holding his hands in a comfortable neutral position. Comfortable for Gaz, anyway.

"Tell me what's wrong."

She doesn't really care but she's not so dumb as to not use his feelings.

His expression twists from relaxed to instantly annoyed at the reminder of whatever it was he was working on.

His claws twitch and curl in her hands like he's going to do that familiar tick of his hand start scratching. She stops him before he can start by squeezing his hands and giving him a stern look.

"Do not scratch me."

Those claws of his are sharp and if he didn't wear those gloves or his he probably would be shredding himself several times a day. Gaz sure as hell isn't going to let that happen to her.

Calling him out before he got a chance to do it subconsciously did the trick this time so she relaxes her grip to let him vent to her about what has his so frustrated.

As she guessed, it's not about her. It's about a project of his. Zim hasn't been inventing for a long time. His depression and all that. Him starting a new project is likely a sign of an upswing.

She listens to him talk about it for a while, then offers ideas he might not have considered, courtesy of her own proficiency in Earth engineering. While their tech is by no means the same there's a chance hearing something new might shake up Zim's dilemma in just the right way. If not that, talking out-loud could be helpful. Well, talking out-loud on purpose. As opposed to just that annoying mumbling.

He's working on some new shelter technology. She knows a thing or two about his Home Base from Dib, Zim, and her own observations. How it's just shoved into the end of this culdesac, how it siphons energy from the neighborhood with thick cables, and how it fits in Zim's tiny Pak.

But what Zim's describing to Gaz is even smaller, but more temporary. She would think of it like a pocket-tent. But better because it would have power. All that is easy enough, according to Zim, but he wants it to be more secret.

Gaz wasn't even aware Zim knew what a secret was.

He wants cloaking technology, the best cloaking technology, with flawless soundproofing and impossible to find with heat-sensors and…

And it sounds like the ideal hideout. The perfect little nomadic home to hide from the world but and still have the choice of whether or not you live in the middle of the city or in a cave. A much better hideout than… what Pepito and Todd… have…

No. No way.

This had better fuckin' not be about that.

Gaz closes her eyes and takes a long, deep breath in through her nose while Zim rambles himself in circles. If this is about that… it better not be.

Zim is obsessive and competitive about being the best but surely not. Surely not.

Although he was pretty mad about them claiming the crater.

When Zim devolves into alien mumbling while squeezing her hands rhythmically, Gaz squeezes back to get his attention.

"So what are you making this for anyway?" She finally asks.

Zim blinks at her and she suppresses a cringe when she notices one bug-eye blinks ever-so-slightly than the other. His antennae flick up briefly then drip back down. So it's less like an attention thing but maybe curiosity? Or maybe like he's processing something? Fortunately, Zim's always been very expressive for a person without eyebrows but this inhuman body language holds valuable information for Gaz to decode.

It's… kind of fun. Just a little bit.

Ugh. Gross.

"The rat-child and-"

"Oh my god, no." Gaz groans, dropping Zim's hand to flop back down on the couch.

"Eh?" His antennae perk straight up then swivel back as he makes grabbing motions for her out-of-reach hands.

"Do not make this some weird competition thing Zim, I swear, if you think-"

Gaz nearly jerks back when Zim's weird claw-hands suddenly slap down on her thighs. He grips them tightly as he surges forward into her space, his chest falling into her lap.

No. Absolutely not.

"It's not a- !" Zim is shouting in her face, worked up to the point of forgetting his volume.

But Gaz doesn't care. She doesn't let him finish. She lifts one of her legs off the couch to plant a foot on his shoulder, heedless of the way her dress rides up. With that one sharp kick, Zim is sent him sprawling back into the tiled floor.

He grunts as he hits the floor and is scrambling to get on his knees so he's not on his back for long. Maybe she activated his fight-or-flight response, but he set her off first.

"Never touch me without permission!" She snarls at him.

She's told him this before. Gaz doesn't believe Zim is defying her or pushing her boundaries on purpose. That doesn't mean he won't learn. It'll just take repetition. Like a dog.

"But! But you gave me permission!" Zim cries. He waves his hands wildly as if that justifies anything.

"I gave you permission," or rather she initiated, "for one kind of touching, Zim. Permission to touch my hands doesn't mean you have permission to touch my thighs!"

"I- you-! UGH!" Zim sputters, licking his legs and waving his arms like a toddler.

Really, he's inarticulate at the best of times.

Gaz doesn't have a specific reason she doesn't want to be touched. She doesn't have any dramatic backstory about it. The reason behind her aggression really isn't that deep. It doesn't have to be. She doesn't need to have any trauma to justify her boundaries, only a firm belief that they are law. She is her only law. She is judge, jury, and executioner.

Gaz stands up from the couch, a bad sign that even Zim can recognize, and stomps over to him. The three strides it takes to get to him drip with the power of her own self-assuredness. She doesn't stop when she gets to Zim and he scrambles back so as to not get stepped on, which makes him fall into his back once again. Gaz stands over him, her feet planted on either side of his tiny waist. Maybe he's close to her height when they're both standing but Gaz knows that inside she is much, much larger than him. Just as she is when she stands over top of him like this.

Gaz looks down her nose at him, hands on her hips with a sneer on her face.

"Making a mistake is one thing," she begins, voice dangerously low.

"But I will not excuse you arguing with me about whether or not you're allowed to touch me in any way. I don't give a damn if you're an intergalactic fuck-up or king." She spits, and Zim recoils accordingly at the harsh dig.

"I am in charge of what happens between us and I will always be in charge. If you have a problem with that, there will be nothing between us. Do you understand?"

Zim stares at her, eyes bulging. He has an expression Gaz would describe as… scandalized. For a moment, she thinks he will have a problem with it. As complacent as he's been with her being in charge of their relationship so far, that could have just been a product of his depressed slump. If he's coming out of his depression or having a moment of clarity, he might not accept this. Gaz has certainly never seen Zim accept anyone's personal or moral boundaries over his own wild urges before. It's the sort of selfishness that makes Zim villainous. However, Gaz is dominatingly selfish as well. When faced with such a direct ultimatum rather than her more subtle controlling methods, this could be it. He knows Gaz well enough to know she won't back down.

It'll be a matter of seeing what Zim cares about keeping more. Their companionship or the freedom of his impulses. Either choice has a certain sort of selfishness to it.

Zim nods in understanding.

"I expect that you will make more mistakes," this simple allowance is all Gaz needs to be better than the Control Brain, "As such, I expect you to apologize. Do you understand?"

Zim visibly struggles more with that one, apologies still an unfamiliar language. But Gaz is immovable. He can pronounce those words. He could say those words in hundreds of languages Gaz has never heard of.

But he will say them for her.

"I… I understand, Miss Gaz." He finally chokes out. His hands are curled into his chest like a dying insect as he does everything he can to not touch her accidentally. "Zim… I… am… sorry."

She narrows her eyes as she observes his antennae, which are plastered against his rubbery skull. Perhaps that's submission.

If he were to attempt such an assertion of control over her, she'd be gone, and leave him with a few bruises for good measure. Whatever. It seems that, for now, Zim still values her company more than she values his.

Maybe it's pathetic and maybe she likes it. Maybe next time she'll make him ask for forgiveness.

For now, she's satisfied. After a moment of consideration for the little alien under her, Gaz decides on how to proceed. She plops right down on his stomach. He grunts, face distorting as he momentarily knocks the wind out of him.

She sighs as she plants her feet on either side of Zim's head. It's a test within a test, each on a different frequency. He passes the first test, which is to not touch her since she did not say he could.

The second test is a hypothesis of hers. With her legs spread and her feet up like this, Zim should be able to see up her dress to where her grey stockings cover her underwear. She knows that he knows a thing or two about human anatomy. However, a human and an Irken's anatomies and ideas about intimacy are literal galaxies apart. It's because of this that she doesn't believe he'd care too much about seeing up her skirt. Still, she wants to test it.

What bothers Zim, what Zim notices, what Zim can care about. All curious. All experiments that can be conducted without an autopsy, Dib.

Zim doesn't spare much more than a glance down her body. Even that is really just his eyes flickering down to his own bare hands to make sure he's not close to touching her on accident.

"Now Zim," She shifts from anger back into a neutral expression.

"What does this invention of yours have to do with Todd and Pepito if it's not a competition?"

Zim looks lost for a moment before remembering that's where their conversation left off.

"Eh? Oh! Zim- I noticed the dirt children using their pathetic base to hide their mutual goo."

More like Gaz noticed it for him. Also, super gross way to put it. Not that Zim knows any better so she doesn't interrupt him but… damn, that sounded so nasty.

"So! I had the genius idea to make a base for myself and Miss Gaz!"

…

… Ugh, he sounds so proud of it too.

Gaz… Gaz doesn't know where to start. That implies so many things and raises so many questions about what Zim thinks Todd and Pepito are and what he thinks him and Gaz are. Right now, she's just trying really, really hard not to think of the goo thing he said in a sex way.

She rests her elbow on her knee and her forehead in her hand with an even heavier sigh.

"Zim… Todd and Pepito only sit in that sweltering hole in the ground to be alone. You and I are alone right here, in your base, all the time."

Zim's proud smile turns into a frown.

"I'm not saying your invention isn't good." She amends. Truthfully, his invention sounds like something she'd love to have. "I'm just saying, I don't think that it's all that necessary for us, specifically."

"But it is!" Zim insists. "This base can be anywhere. Your disgusting brother won't know where it is or be able to find it."

Ah… Gaz hums in thought, lifting her head to rest her chin in her hand instead to look out the window.

It's true that Dib still spies on Zim's base since it's really not that hard. Gaz doesn't really care about Zim's privacy all that much but since she spends all her time here now that means she has less of her own privacy as well.

Hell, with her straddling Zim like this, she'd be surprised if he wasn't sprinting down the street to bust in here any minute.

"Alright Zim, that's a great idea."

Zim's proud smile comes back even bigger than before.

"But I want to be the one who holds onto it."

Before Gaz gets Zim's response, the front door is kicked in by, of course, Dib.

"GET AWAY FROM MY BABY SISTER YOU MONSTER!"

When will Dib learn that his baby sister is the real monster here?