Chapter Text
“Are you a drug?”
Pausing his concentration on the television at the sudden question, Dib raised his head from an angle where he could meet the alien’s magenta eyes staring right back at him, who has a phone in hand and totally not paying attention to the movie they’re watching. “What?”
It was one lazy summer afternoon that they decided to watch a marathon of Aliens since it was Zim’s favorite (And Dib was pretty sure he only liked it because some human characters die all the time). And because Dib had watched the movie-many times that he couldn't count-practically remembering some lines of the dialogues, he also decided it would be a good idea to lay upside down on the alien’s couch. His legs were propped up against the wall, almost hitting the edge of the sad puppy-eyed monkey painting, body bent so his torso could lay on the surface of the furniture, while his head was left dangling at the end. It had been for some time now that Dib hadn’t realized Zim wasn’t watching and more so surfing through his phone. He wondered if he was starting to feel the effects of internet addiction after he bought the device for them to keep in contact. The boy keeps seeing his boyfriend rant about the human trends of today as days go on.
Said alien has his one arm relaxed on the top of the couch, sitting normally unlike Dib, and knits his face into confusion, head shifting to his phone before he looked at him with frustration. “Zim says are you a drug?”
“Uh... Not that I know if you’ve drugged me or whatever so no.”
“That is… the wrong answer.” Zim pouts, which brings faint amusement to Dib but leaves off perplexed, and slightly panicked. “Wrong answer? What’d you do to me again? Drugged me?” It’s not uncommon for the Irken to experiment on him at unprecedented hours of the day. Some of those involved for his own good: some medical check-ups and testing his humanness for adjusting utilities in the Voot for better space travel in both Irken and humans. Other things are for the leftover habits of their rivalry, like the time Dib was being strapped into a lab table in empty confinement and has to figure out how to get out before Zim pulls out some oddly-shaped blaster to kill him. ( It isn’t new to him anymore. The alien always backtracks when he's in near-death situations).
“Nothing of the sorts.” He nonchalantly waves him off, pouting even harder as he glares into the screen of the miniature device. “This putrid human site says it would work.”
“What work?”
“This thing.” Zim shoves the screen nearly to his face and he would’ve smacked it with his forehead if his head could’ve moved a little further.
It was an article, some kind of popular article and it was titled “10 pick-up lines your crush will fall for you” alongside a picture of some lovey-dovey couple kissing and smiling. The number three, where the title of it is the same question Zim asked and the response was supposed to be “Because you’re so addicting.”
If Dib could see himself in the mirror with his face of cringe and disappointment alike, it would’ve been hilarious in hindsight. And Zim’s reaction to his was even funnier as he slumps down with the pits of shame and failure. Dib snorted with an extreme strain that seemed like he was choking something, then burst into fits of laughter, wanting to hold on to his stomach but couldn’t with the position he was in. And he was also sure the blood rushing through his head wasn’t in his imagination anymore.
“Not funny, human,” Zim grumbles, putting down his phone to the side and crossing his arms.
The laughter dies down as Dib realizes he was slipping and about to face plant onto the concrete. He doesn’t think about what he’s doing when he swings his legs so it’ll fall on the Invader’s lap. Hard. It made Zim hiss and squint at him with the most offended glare he could muster as he watched the human adjusting his head to lay on the armrest.
He chuckled at that. “Zim, that’s so cheesy and bad.”
His other huffs and outstretches both of his arms upwards, looking up as if God- or the ceiling- has an answer. “Then, how am I supposed to enamor you and your stinky head now?”
“Enamor?” Dib raises an amused eyebrow.
“So my mate can submit to my magnificent and glorious Irken beauty one could never have!” He says, prideful and loud as he raises his one fist up in the air and the other placing on Dib’s knees. Since he was only wearing a UFO-themed shirt and homely brown shorts, he jolted at the cold contact of the alien’s palms, in contrast to the heat the sun was practically emitting. Right, he was cold-blooded. Though, that doesn’t really help the alien in the weather because he seems to dislike the heat more than winter.
“Sure.” Then an idea popped out, letting out a mischievous smile. “Here, let me help you with it.”
“Eh?”
Dib removes his legs from his lap and sat up while Zim was quirking his one eye wide up to show his puzzlement. He shuffled in closer to the alien before cupping his cheeks, which made his boyfriend momentarily freeze from the action, eyes dilated and antennae perking up.
Soon, he closed in their distance, eyes closed, and his lips met his own. If there was one thing he could always describe these kinds of beautiful moments, is that they feel like fireworks in the night sky, flourishing in different colors that brandish the black sea from space. He relished in the taste of chocolate bars and sweetened lollipops, reminding him so much of how his boyfriend eats sugary treats in their refrigerator at ungodly hours of the night. He felt the viridescent smooth yet tough skin his alien has as he deepened the kiss and smothered his face. Zim had reciprocated later on from the shock, eyes closing and claws holding his wrists.
Feeling like he’s losing breath, Dib slowly pulls away from the magnetic moment, eventually smiling at Zim’s love-stricken gaze with half-lidded beautiful magenta eyes and antennae bent on the front on top of Dib’s hair. The image looked even better as he tenderly grasped his cheeks and massaged the sides with his thumb.
“You got me,” Dib said, breathless. “I’m very much enamored.”
It took maybe several seconds, or a minute, for Zim to lose the hazy sensation considering the attentive look on his face and his antennae straightening. It later morphed into confusion, then to a pout, pulling his hands away from his sides. “That wasn’t even my idea.”
Dib hummed nonchalantly. “Yeah, well.” He turns back on the TV and leans his head on his alien’s shoulder. “At least it was better than pick-up lines, yeah?”
The human could feel him relax, grumbling something incomprehensible, and laid his own head on top of him. “I guess so.”
He hoped this peace would last forever.