BVQA: I am not currently, not do I ever intend to be, an extremely passionate ZADR shipper. I accept it and love it for the. . . interesting pairing that it is, but I prefer other pairings over it.

That being said, here is a freaking lot of ZADR. Why am I doing this?

Dib: You said something about ZADRgir55 and a birthday. Then you kidnapped us.

BVQA: Thank you for reminding me. Now go get me some chocolate.

Dib: . . .I'm tied to a chair.

BVQA: Don't argue with me!

Zim and Dib were- quite deliberately- not speaking to each other. Well, Dib was, at any rate. He was doing so in a pointed manner that really meant, "Zim, if you don't shut the flirk up we're never going to get out of here so just stop yelling at me already!" Bad enough that Zim's default voice setting was 'very, very loud', but at the moment he was screaming right in Dib's ear, literally, and he didn't have the option of moving. So Dib sat and waited for Zim to run out of air.

And waited.

Aaand waited.

"You filthy, disgusting hy-ooman! This is all your fault! Zim would not be here if it wasn't for you, stink-beast! You and your stupid giant head got Zim stuck here and-"

Dib gave up. It wasn't even the constant barrage of noise from Zim's mouth that got him, it was the feeling of his mouth moving against the side of his head. Zim's warm breath tickling his skin, getting trapped in his hair, lips moving up and down and occasionally catching on his earlobe as he continued to hurl abuse. Finally, Dib did what he should have done in the first place and jabbed his elbow into Zim's chest. Whatever Zim had instead of lungs was located in roughly the same place as on the human body, albeit a little lower, and he responded the same way any living being did when his lungs were met with a sudden and intense pressure- stopped talking and gasped for breath as the wind was knocked out of him.

"Now that I have your attention," Dib said, with annoyance he didn't bother to conceal, "I would like to point out that this is not my fault."

Zim didn't reply, but that was only because most of Dib's weight was pressed squarely against the place that enabled him to speak in the first place. Dib figured that under normal circumstances Zim would have already beaten him into next week (and taken him back in time so he could do it six more times just for good measure) for even thinking of attempting to harm his superior body, but, well. . . these weren't exactly normal circumstances.

"I want to get out of here as much as you do, ok?"

"Then get. . . the flirk. . . off of Zim. . .so I can. . . get out of here!" Zim still managed to sound demanding while he was gasping for breath. It was his playacting, overdramatic tone that did it. His regular voice was much easier on the ears.

"I would love to. You have no idea how much I would love to get off of you. But in case you hadn't noticed, I can't."

Dib was pressed against Zim in a way that would be called intimate if either of them had had a choice in the matter. The side of Dib's head rested against Zim's face, his knees pulled loosely to a chest that was pressed against Zim's, one arm pinned and the other trapped over Zim's hand. The whole thing was held in place by a tightly locked closet door.

Zim made a face, ignoring Dib completely. "My foot's asleep," He muttered in his slightly more normal tone of voice. Dib was so relieved over the break in loud noises- he was going to have a killer headache when this was over- he didn't catch what Zim was about to do until he was doing it.

"Waugh!" Dib found himself tumbling forwards as Zim shifted in the tight space. The next thing he knew Zim was on top of him, both arms pinned underneath Dib, with their legs tangled at the knees in a way that inhibited all movement.

"You know. . . on second thought, that was a bad idea," Zim commented after a moment of awkward silence. Dib just growled under his breath and tried to keep from blushing.

"Congratulations. Now neither of us can move. I hope you're happy."

Zim tried to pout, but Dib's head was stuck right under his chin and it's easier to be annoyed with your head held high anyway, so he went with that instead. "Dib-filth, if it wasn't for you we wouldn't even be-"

"Shut it, Zim. I refuse to be blamed for the fact that bullies like to lock people places and your stupid pak wouldn't fit in your locker so they shoved us in here instead. See? Your fault."

"Zim will not be 'your fault'ed! If not for you disabling my 'stupid pak', as your inferior filth-mouth of stink calls it, Zim would be long since free and destroying your dirt-ball of a planet!"

Dib readied a comeback, then bit his tongue. The longer this fight went on, the longer he'd have to deal with breathing Zim's air, quite literally. Turn the other cheek, turn the other cheek, turn the other cheek. . . he chanted in his head.

"So how do we activate your pak again?" He asked instead. Zim hesitated and Dib rolled his eyes. "I mean, hypothetically, if you were an alien bent on destroying the earth, which you're not, blah blah pak, blah blah activate, whatever. Just answer the question. I'm not going to use this against you because I would honestly just like to forget this whole thing ever happened. Got it?"

Zim sulked for a few more moments, then reluctantly answered. "There's a switch on the underside. I could reach if you weren't on top of Zim's hands."

"Right. Let's see if I can move," Dib ignored the implied blame arrow and tried to push himself upright, but with his legs trapped and arms twisted at an awkward angle he couldn't move in an upwards direction, only start to turn himself to the right. "Okay. . . I think I can start your pak up again if you-"

"No!" Zim shouted. If Dib didn't know better he'd say Zim sounded scared. "There is no way in flirk I'm letting you anywhere near my pak, you son of a Vortorian!"

"You'd rather we stay stuck here. Like this. Forever. Or at least until I die of thirst and you die of. . . whatever it is you die of. What's your problem?" Dib didn't get how this was such a big deal. He was flipping a switch on a machine attached to Zim's back.

Zim would have torn Dib to shreds if he didn't sound like he honestly didn't know how important an Irken's pak was. Now all that was left was for him to decide which he hated more. . . the idea of Dib's hands touching things that nobody should ever be allowed to touch, or the reality of lying in a cramped closet touching quite a lot anyway.

". . .touch anything other than the switch, and I swear I will hunt you down and viciously murder you. Twelve times," Zim said, lowering his voice and using a deadly serious tone (the one that he hardly ever used) to get his meaning across. Then he pushed himself as far off of Dib as he was able and shut his eyes tightly. He just wanted to pretend this wasn't happening.

Dib, with great effort and careful maneuvering, started to turn onto his back. His mind was reeling. Zim had actually conceded? He'd actually backed down on something, on anything? Either Zim was having an allergic reaction to being this close to a human, or oxygen deprivation was finally starting to get to Dib. Shaking his head, he finished rolling over and abruptly found himself eye-to-closed-eye with the Irken teen. Dib took a page out of Zim's book and instinctively slammed his eyes shut for a moment before his curious side took over and he hesitantly cracked one eye back open. He'd never in his life been this close to Zim, and the urge to stare was. . . well, almost as overpowering as the urge to panic and try to block the experience from his memory. Zim was actually kind of beautiful if you looked at him right. Smooth, ivy-colored skin and delicate, black eyelashes, and lower there were lips of a slightly darker green, just a few shades lighter than emeralds. . .

Dib quietly threw a bomb onto that train of thought and watched as it crashed to a burning, mangled halt and possibly killed a few hundred people. Then he worked his right arm out from underneath him, finding his way to Zim's pak from touch alone. The slick, alien fabric of Zim's outfit was stretched over his shoulder blades (or whatever Zim had there) and Dib followed the lines of his bones until he felt his ring finger connect with smooth metal. He turned his hand over, catching underneath Zim's pak with the edge of his fingernail, and he could have sworn he heard Zim whimper slightly but decided not to say anything. He eased his fingers between Zim's skin and the pak, feeling his pinky graze the switch that Zim had been talking about. . .

. . .and, of course, that's when the empty mop bucket that had been teetering on the top shelf of the closet ever since Zim had crashed onto Dib decided to, finally, topple over, landing on the back of Zim's head and pressing the Irken into a very, very unexpected kiss. Both the human and alien's eyes sprung wide open in shock at the sudden (and extremely intimate) position they found themselves in. Zim lost his traction against the floor and fell back on top of Dib, inadvertently deepening the kiss. Dib stiffened, his hand jerking away from Zim's pak and scrabbling for some sort of purchase until his fingers caught and tangled in the Irken's uniform collar, tugging his shirt down and away from his neck.

Please, please let nobody ever hear of this! Zim and Dib thought in unison, in complete agreement for once in their lives.

Which was right when Gaz opened the closet door and they both fell out onto the cold, hard linoleum floor of Hi Skool. Zim pulled back in an instant but the damage had already been done. Dib found himself looking up into the unreadable eyes of his younger sister as Zim scrambled off of him.

"That was not what it looked like!" Dib exclaimed. Gaz raised an eyebrow and quietly shut the closet door.

Zim did the only thing he could think of- yelled something even he didn't understand about trees, candles, and meat before running out of the building as fast as his legs could carry him.

". . .I heard thumping noises, so I opened the door," Gaz said in her typical monotone, somehow managing to imply a whole other paragraph of text.

Dib felt his cheeks burning. God, why did this always happen to him? "Torque locked Zim and me in the closet and Zim got hit in the back of the head with a bucket! That's it! I swear!"

"And, of course, I believe everything my dear older brother tells me," Gaz said, turning to go. Did she have to make her sarcasm so obvious?

"Gaz, I'm serious!" Dib pulled himself to his feet and headed after his sister.

"Dib, I would believe you, but. . ."

"But what?"

"That's the third time this week you two've been 'locked in a closet'. . ."

"Dib?" The paranormal investigator jumped in surprise at the familiar voice, then glanced down past the edge of his locker. Two military-booted feet and a stripy red tunic. . . yep, it was Zim. Dib rolled his eyes and leaned to the side, brown eyes meeting purple contact lenses as he gave the pint-sized alien a look.

"What do you want, Zim?" He asked, annoyed. He'd actually showed up for classes on time that day, and he had no desire to get into a battle for world dominance when he was five minutes away from geometry. He shouldn't have worried, though. Zim, as usual, didn't beat around the bush. Instead he invented a death ray, shot it into orbit, and disintegrated the bush from there.

"Are you stalking me?" The green-skinned teen seemed completely ernest in his question.

Dib quietly shut his locker door and banged his head against it. Hard.

Dib's breathing was heavy as he slowly peeked around the doorframe. Nothing. The room on the other side was devoid of life, the few pieces of furniture covered with sheets that had long since been turned gray with dust. It looked as if the room hadn't been disturbed in a long, long time. Fine by him. Dib took a deep breath, calmed himself down, and quietly padded through the doorway. The many silver buckles on his nearly-floor-length black trench coat made tiny clinking noises as he walked, mirroring the belts wrapped around the tops of his boots. Black cargo pants and five or six black leather belts reached over his midriff and nearly covered his blue t-shirt, leaving only the eyes of the face printed across his chest to peak out timidly. To be honest, he was scared as heck too. . . but the fact that every single buckle or belt he wore also held a holster or sheathe for some sort of weapon boosted his courage considerably.

Think, Dib. You know he's in here. The only question is, where? This room doesn't show any signs of disturbance at all. . .

Dib shut his eyes briefly, tilting his head to one side and listening intently. Futile, he knew, but maybe he'd pick up on something, anything. He was a vampire slayer, for God's sake. He was supposed to have ridiculously enhanced senses, so he could track down the freaking parasites and do his job, but no. Instead he was stuck doing things the hard way, and the only thing he could hear was the old mansion creaking as it was battered by the wind.

At least, Dib thought it was because of the wind. He couldn't be sure though. What if those rhythmic creaks were actually bare feet padding over old wooden floorboards. . ? Dib quickly slipped further into the room, his heart picking up its pace, and turned to he could see both doors to the room. This way, if anyone was coming Dib would know immediately.

Don't say 'anyone', you know who it'll be.

Dib pursed his lips and popped the catch on one of the holsters slung around his waist, the one that contained the silver-tipped stake, readying himself for a quick draw if necessary. Just a precaution. He certainly wasn't scared of the sound of an old house creaking in the wind, even if he was after the oldest and most dangerous vampire he'd ever come across. No worries there. All Dib had to do was find him. He'd managed to track the vampire across continents, he could definitely search the single mansion he'd narrowed it down to.

Dib bit his lower lip as it dawned on him that maybe the vampire had escaped through the woods when Dib entered the house, then shook the thought off. He'd spent a lot of time profiling this one, and it would never run from a fight, even one it had no chance of winning.

Alright, I've checked every room in the house, and the vampire isn't here. Only it has to be. Think, stupid! What do I know about vampires?

They were crafty, first of all. Smart, clever, and good at manipulating people. He'd learned that much over a year ago, back when he'd just started tracking his current target. A girl named Tak had joined him in hunting down vampires, had gotten him in the same room with the vampire he was currently after. . . and was then revealed to be a vampire herself, trying to get some revenge on an old enemy. It was hard for Dib to get over that, the false friendship that was one of the first real person-to-person relationships he'd ever had, but when the night was over he'd walked away with Tak's blood on his hands and one less vampire to worry about.

Now he just had to slay the other one who'd been there that day.

Dib sighed, reattached the cover on his stake, and turned to leave the room. He'd do another sweep of the rooms, then figure out a plan from there. Dib hesitated at the doorway, glancing at his boots to make sure he didn't trip over the frame, and froze. His heart picked up the pace again, fighting against his ribcage. He'd been looking around the house, at the furniture, the walls, the ceilings, but not where he should have been looking. The sheets covering the furniture had been gray with dust, undisturbed, so why. . .

. . .why weren't his boots covered in dust as well?

"I take it by how fast your heart's skipping you just noticed why there aren't any footprints. Took you long enough."

Dib spun around at the sound of the young voice, frantically scanning the room. He knew that voice. He knew that strange, unplaceable accent. Where had it come from? He fumbled for his stake, groping blindly, but someone caught at his wrist. Someone with cold hands.

"You're. . . right behind me, aren't you," Dib said quietly, fear and annoyance taking equal turns in his tone.

"Maaaybe. . ." The word was breathed in Dib's ear, just above his throat, and he jerked away instinctively. The teen behind him didn't relinquish his grip on Dib's wrist and they wound up standing at arms length from each other, eyes locked and holding.

The vampire was wearing a confident, smug expression on his overly pale features, mismatched eyes slanted up at Dib. One eye was a beautiful emerald green and the other a dark red, like crushed rubies or maybe dried blood. His black hair had a shock of green dye running through it, a new development since Dib had last seen him, but the way it was cut was much the same- loose, long, and hanging in his eyes. He wouldn't stand out much in a goth club, or maybe in Emos R Us, since his current outfit was all chains, crosses, ripped black skinny jeans, combat boots laced to his knees, a t-shirt with a skull, and three hoops through his left ear. Vampires were rumored to be inhumanly attractive. Dib could definitely confirm that.

"Hi, Zim," Dib whispered. The other teen smirked, flashing a pair of fangs like pearly razors, and dropped his wrist. Dib wasted no time putting distance between them, but he realized the effort was basically useless since he was backing into a closed-off space anyway.

"Hi, Mr. Paranormal Investigator. Or are you going by 'vampire slayer' now? You never were too good with the research, just wanted to get your hands into another species' guts. . ."

Dib scowled. "That's not true!" He snapped, but Zim just shook his head.

"Stupid, stupid hyuman. . ." he mused. His accent came in heavy on the word 'human', one of his strange little quirks. Certainly made him easy to find, though.

"I'm not the one who got tracked down by a teenager," Dib slowly reached for his stake, trying to sneak the movement past Zim by hiding it behind words. No such luck. The next instant, Dib was slamming against the wall, wrists caught and held by Zim's hands. He could hear his stake clattering to the ground.

"Don't. Even. Think about it, Dib-filth," Zim hissed in his ear. Dib struggled to keep his breathing even, the backs of his hands and his shoulders stinging from colliding with the wall. Zim was usually like this- cool, calm and charming one minute, and the next charged with anger and violent impulses. Crazy? Yes. Whatever training new vampires had to go through had left Zim with only half his sanity intact, and barely that at times. That was why Dib was currently panicking. Zim could be planning anything from murder to a tea party at this point, and Dib couldn't do a thing about it. In every scenario of this meeting he'd envisioned, he'd had his stake at the ready and Zim had been on the receiving end of it.

"So, what've you been up to since we last saw each other?" Zim wondered absently, back in his semi-calm mood from earlier. Then he buried his nose in the crook of Dib's neck. Crap. Crap! Not good! Dib could already feel his heart starting to speed up from the unwanted contact, probably making Zim hungrier, and hearing the vampire taking in his scent was not helping him calm down. Feeling deathly cold flesh sliding over his own, warmer skin was. . .

Freaking distract him already! "Uh, not much, just tracking you down. How's Gir?"

Zim snorted, but pulled back slightly to answer. Dib let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He'd half expected Zim to skip the formalities and just sink his fangs into his neck.

"Gir is as annoying as ever, but what else is new? Serves me right for agreeing to travel with that stupid toddler zombie."

Ah, yes, Gir. Zim's assistant slash eternal pain in the butt. Dib had often known of vampires traveling with zombies as their 'minions', it was just kind of how things worked, but he'd never heard of any vampire teaming up with a zombie as. . . strange. . . as Gir. Silver hair, pale blue eyes, and skin that had decayed to a stomach-churning grayish color all added up to an acceptable zombie appearance, but the considerable youth of the corpse added up with his reluctance to hurt anyone and general insanity meant that Gir had been on his own until he bumped into Zim. Why Zim would put up with him was beyond Dib. Even though he got along well enough with the little zombie, much better than he got along with his master in fact, Dib couldn't imagine actually living with him. He'd probably kill himself after a few days.

Dib noticed Zim starting to slip back down to his throat so he hurriedly continued the 'conversation' they were having. If he could just hold out until Zim was distracted enough that he could break free. . .

"Where is Gir? Didn't see him around or anything. . ." Dib accompanied the statement with a nervous chuckle. Zim accompanied his with an annoyed sigh, pulling back and holding Dib at arms length. Much as he hated to say it, Dib had to admit this felt kind of. . . intimate. Zim caging him in with his arms, holding his wrists, staring at him with those weirdly intense eyes of his.

"He's off with Mimi. You know, Tak's zombie. Not my idea of course. . . Gir invited her along."

"And what Gir wants, Gir gets," Dib said, laughing softly. Zim grinned back, somewhat sheepish.

"Pretty much. Thank Irk he usually just wants tacos."

"Yeah," Dib and Zim looked at each other, smiling softly. Then Dib remembered who he was talking to and the absent friendship of the moment drained from the air between them. This was Zim. Zim. The vampire who was currently trying to kill him. Yeah, that guy. That being said, Dib could feel the grip on his wrists loosening slightly, the pressure diminishing as Zim stopped focusing. Dib took a deep breath. . .

. . .and twisted, yanking his wrists free and dropping to the floor. He rolled, ignoring Zim's shout of surprise, and grabbed for his stake. If he could get it while Zim was still distracted, he could-

Zim's combat boot landed on his wrist, rough sole digging into his skin. Dib gritted his teeth and refused to acknowledge the pain. He wasn't going to give Zim the satisfaction.

"Well you're putting up quite the fight, stinkbeast. It would be almost admirable if you weren't a filthy hyuman," Dib glared up at the vampire pinning him down, tugging at his wrist. It didn't budge. Dib hadn't expected it to.

Neither was he expecting it when Zim yanked him up by the collar of his shirt, holding him so their noses almost touched. "Don't try that again, or I swear I'll kill you," he growled. Psycho Zim was back, and Dib was probably a moron for saying what he said next.

"You're planning on killing me anyway, so I don't exactly have much to lose. Or were you just feeling snacky earlier?" The sarcasm was evident and not appreciated.

Zim's eyes narrowed. Ooh, he was pissed. "Maybe I'm feeling 'snacky' now. Or do you just want to die that much that you'd actually provoke me into doing it?"

Dib sucked in a breath to say sorry, but Zim shoved him, hard, and he went tumbling backwards over the sheet-covered couch. He landed with a thud, sending up a thick cloud of dirt, feeling himself choke on it. His hands slid over the sheets as he tried to push himself up, getting no grip on the slick layers of dust.

Then Zim was on top of him, growling deep in his throat. Dib froze, looking up, seeing the vampire's murderous expression. He scrambled for an apology.

"Sor-"

Too late. Zim was at his throat, inhaling the scent of Dib's blood. Dib struggled, trying to get away, but then Zim's fingers were digging into Dib's shoulders, holding him down. "Quit squirming," Zim spat, lips moving over Dib's skin. He nosed under the high collar of Dib's trench coat. Oh, God, Zim was really going to bite him. He actually was. This was happening. Zim was lapping at his throat, searching for a good spot and tasting Dib's skin. Ah, frick-

Dib flinched as Zim nuzzled into the hollow between his shoulder and neck, the place Dib was so desperately trying to shrug his shoulders up to hide. The vampire was slowing down, hesitating over a single spot, and Dib fought to get away. He knew what was coming next, and there it was, sharp enamel on skin, scraping shallow cuts and then-

Flirk, that frickin' hurts. Dib's hands clenched on the fabric beneath him and he bit his lip to keep from crying out, tasting blood and barely registering the irony. Zim's fangs had finally broken skin, ripping through and making Dib's blood spill from the wound. Why anyone thought that this was romantic, Dib had no idea. He was blinking tears out of his eyes and he felt like someone had stabbed him in the throat. Oh, wait, someone had. And getting stabbed in the throat hurts.

Dib sucked in a breath, feeling quick, sharp pulls at his neck as his blood was pulled forcefully into Zim's mouth. He could hear the vampire's gulps echoing in his ears, and as dark spots danced at the corners of his vision he wished Zim would slow the flirk down. Dib's head was swimming. His mind was starting to drift. He thought he heard himself telling Zim to stop, over and over again, but it was distant and fuzzy in his ears. The only thing he could hear clearly was the sound of Zim's repeated swallows.

When did it get so dark in here? Dib wondered absently. Maybe that's just me. . . oh well, at least I've finally gone numb. . . ow! Oh, flirk, that hurts. . . Zim had dug his fangs in deeper, seemingly still hungry. How much can that vampire drink, anyway? You'd think he'd be done by now. . .

Dib was slumping against the couch now, swallowed up by dizziness and blood loss. He couldn't remember trying to pull Zim away, but the fact that his fingers were tangled limply in Zim's hair would seem to support that assumption. When was the stupid fangboy going to stop? Dib felt he was about to pass ou. . .

. . .

. . .Dib woke with a start, trying and failing to bolt upright. The second his head came up black spots ate up his vision and he went right back down again. The first thing he thought was that there was too much dust. The next thing was a string of mental curses. The right side of his neck ached with the stiff burn of sore, punctured muscle and he could feel flakes of dry blood irritating his skin.

"Zim, you jerk," he muttered.

"I didn't take that much, you wimp."

Dib cracked one eye open, glaring up into the vampire's shadowy face. Apparently he was sprawled over Zim's lap. Lovely. "I can't feel my feet."

Zim shrugged. "I was hungry," he said noncommittally.

"How much, Zim?" Dib wasn't letting him off that easy. He was understandably pissed, and since Zim was out of maniac mode he could push this further than he would be able to otherwise.

"Uh. . . a pint or so?"

"Felt more like three." Dib opened both eyes and scowled. At least Zim had the decency to try to lie, although it would make Dib feel better if he seemed even slightly embarrassed. Who was he kidding, though? Zim was never embarrassed about anything, ever. Brash and to the point, that was Zim.

"Eh, whatever. You've got blood on your lip." Dib didn't register the implications of Zim's comment until the vampire's lips were hovering over his.

"Wha-" Dib began, then broke off. It's hard to talk when a vampire's trying to eat your mouth. No way was Dib admitting this was a kiss. Not even when Zim pulled back and Dib tried to yank him back down again.

"Ah ah ah, Dib-smell," Zim began, pulling back with a smirk. Stupid jerk of a vampire. "You want some more of this, you stop trying to run me through with a fence post. That simple."

Dib growled under his breath. "You owe me. You just drank, like, three pints of my blood."

"Three and a half," Zim absently corrected him, slim fingers gently toying with Dib's dark hair. "Give me a break, it's been months."

Dib could feel a headache starting up already as he pushed his annoyance down. Today had already proven that getting mad at Zim didn't get you anywhere at all. "Three and a half. . . no wonder I can't move. . ." He muttered. Zim cheered up immensely.

"You can't move?" He asked with a mischievous gleam in his mismatched eyes and a smile that was worthy of his fangs. Crud.

Dib drew breath to speak. "Zim, don't you dare-"

Too late. Zim had picked him up and was unceremoniously dumping him back on the couch. Dib had time to notice that both his and Zim's jackets were missing before Zim flopped down on top of him, wrapping his arms around Dib's waist and snuggling up against his chest. Dib blew out a loud, annoyed sigh, bringing his left hand down to cradle the back of Zim's head.

"I don't suppose we're going to be kissing or anything. . ." He muttered ruefully. He could feel Zim's cold breath through his tee shirt as the vampire replied.

"I won, food-beast, so I get to be happy and you have to deal with it. If you win, then we can 'kiss' or whatever it is you humans do."

Dib frowned. "If I win, you'll be dead."

"Exactly. Now go to sleep."

Dib opened his mouth to protest, but yawned instead. To flirk with stupid vampire powers of suggestion. He was well aware that when he woke up, Zim would be long gone and Dib would have to spend the next few months tracking him down again. Lather, rinse, repeat. That was their relationship in a nutshell.

Sill, as Dib drifted off, he couldn't help but hope this would be the time he woke up and Zim would still be there. . .

"I've tried everything to get away. . ."

Zim was perched on the brick wall surrounding his Hi Skool, flicking aimlessly through the songs on Dib's ipod. The playground was thankfully absent of filthy wormbaby schoolchildren, so he was free to blast the music as loud as he wanted to. Skool had gotten out an hour ago and he was still waiting for Gir to show up with the car he'd gotten to further his cover. Apparently these machines were necessary for Hi Skoolers to possess. Zim didn't see the point of owning a machine to take you somewhere a jetpack could, but whatever. . .

"Over and over, over and over, I fall for you. Over and over, over and over, I try not to. It feels like everyday stays the same. It's dragging me down and I can't pull away, so here I go again. . ."

"Hey!" Zim scowled, turning to face the speaker. He knew that voice. Dib stormed over to him and snatched his ipod from Zim's gloved hands. "I want that back, thank you very much. How did you even get it?"

"Fished it out of your pocket when we went to the movies last weekend," Zim watched Dib make several interesting noises as he tried to figure out what to say next. The song kept playing, making for some seriously clashing background music.

"So here I go again, chasing you down again. Why do I do this?"

Finally, Dib snapped, "Being in love with you is like being addicted to painkillers!" Then he turned on his heel and stormed off. Zim shrugged and turned back to the road, still waiting for his ride.

Sometimes, Dib couldn't figure out why they were dating. Zim annoyed the crap out of him sometimes, and he'd sit in his room fuming for hours on end before Zim barged in, yelling at Dib until he forgave him. Sometimes Zim came up with another plot to take over the world, and Dib would roll his eyes and knock him around a bit before he came to his senses.

And then there were times like these.

"Hey, Zim?" Dib murmured, absently tracing along the edge of the Irken's shoulder blades with his index finger. Zim stirred, breathing out a warm sigh that Dib felt through his t-shirt.

"Yeah, stinkbeast. . ?" Dim smiled. He could distinctly remember that nickname being an insult at one point, but now it was just a pet name. Like 'sugarbear' or 'honeybunny', only less nauseating.

"You tired?"

Zim lifted his head from where it was nestled against Dib's chest, gleaming red eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. ". . .I was sleeping, before you woke me up."

"Whoops. Sorry. You can go back to sleep if you want." Zim's antennae twitched, then lowered over the back of his head. Dib winced on the inside. He knew that look. Suspicion. Zim slipped his arms from where they were wrapped around Dib's waist and folded them just under Dib's collarbone, resting his chin on top and staring Dib right in the eye. His red-and-black sweatshirt rustled as he moved.

"Alright, what's the real reason you woke me up? Tell Zim now."

"Wha. . . 'real reason'? I just wanted to know if you were. . ." Dib trailed off as Zim scowled. He obviously wasn't buying it. The ever-clueless Zim was usually only observant when it came to two things, science and his boyfriend. Dib knew all too well that the Irken wasn't planning on dropping this, so. . . distraction time.

Dib wrapped his arm around Zim's back, pulling him forwards into a kiss. Zim made a small, highly surprised noise in the back of his throat before he leaned into Dib, nearly purring. Dib smiled, pressing forwards-

And then Zim jerked back. "Oh no you don't, Dib-filth. What's going on?"

"So now you don't want to kiss me?" Dib asked innocently.

"No, of course I want to- ugh! Dib! Stop it! So help me Irk, I will get out of this bed and go back to my base!" Zim growled, glancing towards the door of Dib's room.

Dib's hand tightened on Zim's hood, fingers twisting into the fabric. "You wouldn't."

"Watch me." Zim sat up, at Dib shivered at the sudden loss of warmth as Zim reached for his contacts, lying right next to Dib's glasses.

"Fine!" Dib snapped, exasperated, and yanked on Zim's hood, pulling the alien teen backwards against his chest and trapping him there with both arms. He heard a muffled curse word coming from Zim's mouth but ignored it. "It's just. . . why are you dating me?"

Zim blinked. Then he flipped over and pinned Dib to the bed, one hand on each shoulder, mindful of his claws. "That was it?" He asked incredulously. "I almost left over that?"

Dib chuckled weakly. "Yeah."

Zim rolled his eyes- which was an impressive feat, considering that his eyes were a solid red and the gesture needed more body language than actual eye movement- then flopped down and buried his face in Dib's chest. "You already know the answer to that." He muttered petulantly. "I love you, and your filthy stinkbeast earth laws say we're not allowed to get married while we're in Hi Skool. Thus, we do the date thing."

"You used to hate me." Dib muttered.

"Well, then that happened. So let me sleep." Zim closed his eyes, and Dib toyed with the hood that he had yet to let go of. They both knew what that was. Almost a year and a half ago, when Zim hadn't shown up for skool and Dib had broken into his base. He'd been expecting a new plan to take over the earth. Instead. . .

"Stop it, Zim! You're just hurting yourself!"

Zim had been screaming, smashing things and not caring when his gloves and knuckles were ripped to shreds by the sharp glass edges of his shattered main screen. Dib had been gripped with irrational panic, seeing the proud Irken invader being broken down in front of his very eyes. He'd run forwards, catching at Zim's hands as he tried to grab at the sharp-edged glass shards and rip away at the inner mechanisms of the screen.

"Go away, Dib! I hate you! Leave me alone!"

Zim had turned on him instead, lashing out with his hands and feet. But the smooth grace that Zim had fought with was gone, his military training melting away and leaving behind a mad thing that just wanted to destroy. Zim had fought Dib with everything he had, punching and scratching and landing blow after blow.

"Zim! Zim, snap out of it!"

Dib. . . hadn't fought him. Not even when he was on the ground, glasses shattered, bleeding from numerous scratches, battered and bruised and with Zim on top of him, looking just about ready to rip Dib's throat out with his bare hands. Dib didn't see that, though.

"It's okay, Zim."

Zim was crying. Tears were streaming down his face, dripping onto Dib's skin and burning where they touched, but Dib hardly felt it. The only things he felt was Zim's hot, uneven breaths as he fell onto Dib's chest, sobbing, claws digging into Dib's skin and drawing blood.

"Stop it, Dib! Stop being here, go away!"

"You're the one holding onto me, spaceboy."

Zim had gagged on his own tears, choking on his words. Dib wondered how long it had been since the Irken had let anyone see him cry.

"I don't wanna let go, I don't wanna let go! Every time I let go, they slip away! Go away, Dib! Don't you dare leave!"

Zim was barely coherent, babbling and feverish and bleeding from multiple places, but Dib hadn't been scared. He'd pulled Zim closer, wrapping his arms around Irken's shuddering body, and pretended he couldn't see the tears. He'd let Zim hurt him, let him fight with something that wasn't even there, and later when Zim had finally passed out from exhaustion he'd wiped the tears and blood from his face and stayed with him until he woke up. Being banished by your own race. . . over a video screen. . . that could drive anyone insane, even someone five times more stable than Zim. Most people would have given up.

"Leave me alone!"

Dib stayed.

"Don't worry, Zim." He whispered, knowing the Irken was fast asleep. "Even if you let go, I never will."

Zim and Dib didn't need each other. Everyone knew that. They didn't even like each other. Dib would happily push Zim into the sun, and Zim wouldn't stop insulting Dib if he'd been dead for a year. He'd just stand there yelling at the corpse for smelling bad. So, of corse, when Zim went missing for a month and a half Dib was only loosing sleep because he was worried Zim was trying some new plan to take over the world. It was obvious. When Zim finally came back, battered and bruised and much the worse for wear, Dib immediately tried to strangle him to death. It only looked like a hug from a distance. And the time they were both seen at the movies together? Duh, not a date. One of them went for the movie and the other just followed so he could make fun of it.

Zim and Dib weren't in love.

Everyone knew that.

BVQA: Well, I'm proud of myself. And also mildly creeped out. And now I am out of things to say.