It was an accident.
Really he hadn’t meant to do it. Something had come over him, and he didn’t know what.
He hadn’t always wondered what Zim tasted like…
Dib banged his head against his locker in monotone, trying to expel the memory of that goddamn event that had happened earlier. A few fellow students walked past, attempting to give the obviously insane teen as wide a berth as possible.
Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn.
It had started out simply enough. Normally. He had been watching Zim as he always did, studying the alien, trying to figure out his weaknesses, what made him tick, the best possible way to expose him, dissect him etc.
And then his thoughts had shifted suddenly, with no warning. Flowed naturally from one thing to another.
What did Zim taste like? Dib had been startled by his thoughts and more than a bit disgusted – hello! This was the freaking alien space boy he was thinking about! Can anyone say xenophile?! – but his thoughts continued on their skewed rambulous ways and he found himself contemplating.
What did Zim taste like?
He supposed it would be something like lime…or peppermint, judging from the Irken’s skin colour. Or apple. Yes, maybe sour green apple. Or even something completely horrendous like salty frog. Then again colour often didn’t account for taste and it could be something completely different. Sugar? All Zim ever seemed to eat was what looked to be similar to junk food. Chocolate maybe. Tacos? Gir seemed to like spreading that junk everywhere in the house. Bacon?
The memory of piggies made Dib shiver for a second.
He had driven himself almost to the point of snapping over such an asinine question, staring so hard at the green skinned teen across the cafeteria he was surprised Zim hadn’t fallen over dead from the holes his eyes must have been boring in his back. What the fuck did the alien taste like?
Gaz slapped him upside the head for being creepier than usual and it was then that Dib suddenly noticed the absence of a certain Zim. He had been so deep in thinking he hadn’t noticed when Zim had finished “eating” and had started walking out of the mess hall. There was a flash of green at the door and immediately Dib had waltzed over the table to follow.
Pushing a few buttons on her GameSlave, Gaz rolled her eyes at the stupidity of her older brother.
Taste taste taste taste.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Dib screeched loudly into the space that could be classified as Zim’s ear. He had cornered the Irken in an empty restroom and was in the process of shaking the poor confused alien demandingly. Really the consistent ramblings of taste that were still going on in his head stronger than ever had to be a product of something Zim had concocted, and were definitely not something that Dib had thought up himself.
“What…the…FUCK…Dib-stink…!” Zim had managed to get in between shakes as his head snapped back and forth with alarming ferocity. Neither of them had noticed that their faces where getting closer and closer with each throw until Dib decided that he would silence the bloody fucking question in his head and thus never have to contemplate it again and in a fit of adrenaline and insanity mashed his lips against Zim’s.
Oh my god.
There was a roar in the bespectacled boy’s ears and he pushed away from the shell shocked Zim, stumbling into a sink on his way out the door with his hand over his mouth.
Oh my god.
Dib’s head was starting to hurt from all the repeated banging. He rested it against the cool metal of the locker and groaned in enlightened horror. He was wrong on all accounts.
Zim hadn’t tasted like lime or peppermint or sugar or apple or frogs or chocolate or tacos or bacon. He hadn’t tasted sweet or salty or sour.
He had tasted like everything and anything in one big ass exotic blend of god knows what. Not nice but not unpleasant. Not like anything but like everything.
And call Dib mad or crazy or whatever you wanted to call him, but the question of taste rang through his head more powerful then ever and he couldn’t stop thinking; by god he wanted more.
He wanted more.
Meanwhile Zim was still standing shock still in the bathroom, where he had been standing for the past ten minutes contemplating the strange and unnerving display that had occurred between him and the Dib-human. The weird question and the shaking and the eventual mashing of lips that he had learnt from his time on earth was called “a kiss”.
And it was strange and so very un-Zim like but he wasn’t as disgusted as he thought he should be. And a kiss from a human…especially the Dib-human…was something to be majorly disgusted about.
But instead Zim felt this odd, curious sensation in his squeedlyspooch that was slowly worming its way through every part of his body and he couldn’t quite decipher what it meant. If it meant anything at all.
And for some reason he couldn’t quite stop thinking about Dib and lip mashing and taste.
Had the Dib poisoned him?