Well I haven't posted any fanfiction to the Zim section in… gods, in forever. I'm so out of practice with these characters, I hope I did okay…
Well, anyway, I was just thinking about how I hardly see any ZAGR these days. I mean, it's kind of an unlikely pairing, but I've got a soft spot for it… not to mention, hey, most Zim pairings are pretty unlikely, yeah? I kind of wanted to do a full, chaptered ZAGR story, but not only do I lack any sort of idea for what the plot would be, I also haven't the time. I mean, my Mario fanfics are neglected enough…
So here's a little ZAGR one-shot. I hope it's not too sappy.
…
The Middel Skool was a couple of blocks down from the Skool that Gaz had attended some years prior, situated between the city's poorly-maintained "lib ary" and a poodle refinery. Gaz wasn't sure what they did to the poodles to refine them, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
The years hadn't changed much of anything. Puberty had been a glancing blow for her, bestowing upon her only some extra height, barely noticeable breasts and all the headaches of womanhood. Dib was worse off—he now had an hours-long nightly regimen in place where he would wash his face with medicated lotion after medicated soap, trying to keep the acne away. It wasn't so much that he cared what he looked like, but he just got sick of Zim always trying to take a needle to his zits and pop them.
And Zim. Ohh, Zim. He, truly, had not changed. Still the same pipsqueak he was when he had first arrived on Earth, he now had to claim a hormonal imbalance to explain his lack of height, on top of the skin and eye conditions he already had to pretend to have. He'd tried to fake height, using everything from platform shoes to robotic legs, but when that all failed he just pretended like everything was normal and everyone overlooked the oddity of a two-foot-three green eighth-grader walking around the halls and went about their business. He'd gone through a short phase where he tried to start dressing like his fellow human pig-smellies, going from goth one day to gangsta the next, until finally he got fed up with the idea of dressing like those he intended to conquer—not to mention the headache of having to cut holes for his pak in everything, and the humiliation of having to shop in the children's section of every store—and went back to his old uniform. He was still up to his old tricks, still trying in vain to conquer the Earth, and Dib still spent all of his time trying to stop him—except that, now, it seemed that Dib did it more out of habit than anything. He knew, as Gaz did, that Zim would never succeed, but it wasn't like he really had anything better to do.
It was late January. It had been a fairly warm winter—that is, it was cold enough for it to be snowing but warm enough that the snow didn't accumulate—and Gaz wore her black jacket as she walked home, having left Dib to do whatever it was that he did after skool. She wasn't too far away from the Skool when she heard the shuffling sounds of someone following her.
She whirled around, but saw no one on the street she had just traversed. She frowned, glancing from side to side, and turned back around. She lifted her foot to continue walking, when she heard someone clear his throat.
She looked over. Zim stood atop the six-foot-high wall to her left, looking down upon her. He was wearing his uniform like always, omitting a jacket. She wondered whether those sleeves were warmer than they looked or if he was just too stubborn to submit to wearing weather-appropriate clothing.
"Zim," she said, by way of greeting.
"Gaz," he replied, his eyes narrowed.
"Shouldn't you be bothering Dib or something?" she asked. She began walking again, and Zim followed along atop the wall.
"I have a proposition for you, little Gaz," he said. She hated the condescending tone he used when speaking to her.
"I don't think you should be calling anyone little," she hissed.
"That's not the point."
"So get to the point."
He jumped, rather gracelessly, across the gap in the wall where a gate had once been. "What would you say to being queen of Earth?"
"I'd say I didn't care," her frown deepened. "I'd also say that, since you're trying to be king of Earth or whatever, that I don't like the sound of this."
Zim chuckled the sort of chuckle that he did when he wanted to sound like he was in complete control of the conversation. "Gaz, Gaz. Think about it. The two of us have a common enemy in Dib, and we both share a hatred of all these disgusting worm… things… that suffices for a dominant species on your planet."
"No."
Zim continued. "Together, we can rid the Earth of—heh? What?"
"I'm not interested. Go away."
Zim frowned, losing the air of calm he was trying to hard to maintain. "You dare deny the great ZIM before he even finishes speaking?"
She glared up at him. "Yes."
Zim shook like a two-year-old who was trying to hold in a tantrum. "You do not understand the… the… the amazingness of what I am trying to offer you!"
She rolled her eyes. "And what's that, Zim? What are you getting at?"
"Zim is getting at…," he stopped walking, thinking. She briefly considered walking off without him, but decided to humor him. "The great and almighty Zim is offering you the opportunity to be my love… marmot. Yes."
She groaned, putting her head in her hand. "Love marmot."
"It is a great honor, I know."
"Tell me, now," she said, feeling a bit curious. "How much do you understand about this love thing?"
"I understand that it is a pain-based emotion," he said, "But that your species holds it in high regard nonetheless. I understand that it plays some part in the human mating rituals, although I'm unsure as to how far I wish to actually explore that aspect of it… egh."
"And tell me, are you asking me because you're trying to get more data on it or whatever, or because you're trying to annoy Dib?"
"Both," he grinned.
"Leave me out of it," she said, walking off.
"What?" Zim followed, struggling to keep up with her pace without breaking into a trot. "I fail to see the problem here!"
"I'm not gonnna be your guinea pig, moron! Go find someone else to perform your inane little experiments on."
"But every other female specimen is unworthy! They all smell. And their… their chests! They protrude as though infested by the deadly parasite bolls of Proxima Centauri!" he suddered, groaning as he ran after her. "You are the only human female whose company does not sicken me!"
She slowed down. "Really."
"It is vital to the success of my mission that you accept my invitations of love and… and whatever else goes with that," he said.
"Absolutely vital? You'll die if I say no?"
Zim furrowed his brow. "Yes. No. But it's important."
Gaz crossed her arms, looking off to the side as she considered this. She took her time, letting him suffer a bit.
"Pick me up at eight on Friday," she said, finally.
"What?"
"It's called a date, stupid," she said, rolling her eyes. "Jeez, with or without me, your mission is already doomed if you're that dense."
"Hey! Zim's mission is glorious and will inevitably end in success!" Zim said.
"So Friday, then?"
Zim nodded. "This… date… shall be just as glorious as my mission! Or my name is not ZIM!"
"Whatever," she said, shrugging him off. "Go away now. I'm going home."
Zim threw his fists to the air, pleased with his triumph, but Gaz just frowned and walked off, leaving Zim behind. She listened to him as he praised himself, occasionally throwing in an "I AM ZIM" for good measure.
The snow continued to fall around her. She wondered where this new development would lead her.