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By now, Dib was pretty used to being woken up in the middle of the night by the thwack of something hitting his window – tacos, rubber pigs, rocks with Irken profanities – but were those flowers ? That was a new one.
Grabbing his glasses from the nightstand, he stumbled out of bed and down the stairs, pulling his coat on over his pyjamas as he opened the door – and stepped right into a thick blanket of mistletoe. The entire street was covered in the stuff; it hung from every window and doorway, falling off roofs and clogging up chimneys. And it didn’t take long to figure out where it was coming from: merrily ploughing through the leaf-filled road was some kind of tank with three rotating cannons, ruthlessly pumping out mistletoe under the questionable command of a very familiar-looking...
“Zim?”
“Ah! Dib-stink!” His alien nemesis waved like the world’s worst Christmas float, eyes lighting up with malicious glee. “You’re just in time to witness Zim’s complete and total annihilation of your miserable dirt-clod!”
“With mistle – whoa!” Dib just managed to duck before a bullet-like barrage of mistletoe smacked him in the face, hitting the door instead. “Didn’t you already try the whole stealing Christmas thing?” Even by Zim’s twisted logic, this was a weird way to do it. It was a big mess, sure, and could probably cause a couple road accidents, but unless all the mistletoe was rigged to explode, this was way down the list of diabolical schemes.
Zim seemed satisfied, however, as he hopped off the vehicle, looking over his leafy kingdom proudly with his hands on his hips. “Take the wheel, GIR!”
“I would, buuut I eated it!” GIR yelled, waving cheerfully as he dangled from one of the cannons from the tail of his dog disguise.
“...Yes.” Zim pursed his lips, only looking briefly concerned as the tank and GIR rolled out of sight before turning his attention back to Dib's question. “So it may seem, to inferior minds like yours! But that was –”
“...a total failure?”
“ Only phase one of my master plan!” he continued, undeterred. “As soon as the rest of your fellow Earth-monkeys step outside, they will have no choice but to fight, as the mistle-foe dictates! Before long, they’ll destroy each other, and your pathetic planet will surely perish at the merciless hands of Zim! ”
Well, that made...even less sense than usual. Dib lifted a sceptical eyebrow. “Zim, how does that even – do you think people fight under mistletoe?”
“ Eh?” Zim paused mid-maniacal cackle, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “ Obviously! Are you unfamiliar with the pointless practices of even your own kind, Dib-worm? What other function could this mistle-foe possibly serve?”
Dib just stared at him for a moment, and then he started to laugh – and couldn’t stop, thanks to the increasing bewilderment of Zim’s expression, until he was doubled over, clutching his sides and cackling like a madman. “Oh my god, Zim, you – you are the galaxy’s biggest idiot!”
For a split second, Zim looked genuinely crestfallen, his face crumpling to a puzzled pout before he let out a strangled kind of growl.
“Cease the bellowing of your stinky meat-hole!” he demanded, kicking up mistletoe as he marched over. “Impossible! Then what is the purpose of these plants? Explain yourself, human!”
“Okay, okay…” Dib took a deep breath, managing to compose himself. “First of all, it’s not like I invented mistletoe. And actually what most people call mistletoe isn’t technically – but anyway, not the point. You’re supposed to – I mean, people usually…” He cleared his throat, laughter petering out as he felt his face grow warm under the unrelenting laser beam of Zim’s eyes. “Kiss.”
“ ... Kiss?!” Zim echoed, recoiling in horror as his face contorted into a grimace like he’d just stepped on a Lego and bit into a lemon at the same time. “You’re lying! ”
“Why would I make that up?!”
“Zim sees straight through your ruse, Dib-filth!” He jabbed an accusing claw into Dib’s chest, although it wasn’t quite as intimidating now the top of his wig barely came up to his chin. “You’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you?”
“I...what?” Was he actually saying – man, this was starting to feel way too much like one of Dib’s more...confusing dreams, scarlet now blazing across his face to the tips of his ears. “That’s insane – I mean, more insane than usual! I don’t wanna kiss you!” Zim would probably be a terrible kisser anyway – not that he’d thought about it before, and he definitely wasn’t thinking about it now and they needed to terminate this conversation immediately.
“Is that so?” Zim took a step closer, barely an inch now between them. Dib tensed, a shiver that maybe wasn’t strictly the cold tingling down his spine as Zim placed a hand on his shoulder, his expression shifting into a smirk that was both dangerously familiar and new in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “Then how do you explain...this!”
“Ow - quit it!” Before Dib could pull away, Zim reached up and yanked at his hair, throwing a sprig of mistletoe back in his face with totally unjustified triumph. “Oh, c’mon – you just shot me with that!”
Zim scoffed as if to say yeah, right, but he still didn’t move out of Dib’s space. “The mistle-foe has spoken! We will battle – with our mouths!”
“ That’s stupid and there’s no way I’m mmmph...!”
Dib was abruptly and painfully cut off as Zim seized him by the collar and pulled him down, sinking his sharp teeth straight into his bottom lip. He let out a muffled yelp, instinctively grabbing Zim’s jaw in an attempt to prise him off, but somehow they melted into – well, a kiss , heated and messy, way too much teeth and tongue. Zim’s hand snaked around Dib’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, digging his claws into the tender spot right on the threshold of pain and pleasure; Dib slid his hand up to tangle in Zim’s crappy wig, feeling for his antennae and tugging in retaliation.
Zim made a noise like nothing he’d never heard before, something between a moan and a chirp that vibrated against Dib’s lips and huh okay that was definitely new but also kind of not-terrible and – oh – oh no ...
They broke apart, holding an uncomfortable moment of eye contact. Zim blinked, eyes wide and an olive flush dusting his cheeks, silent for maybe longer than Dib had ever heard him, which was somehow both unsettling and weirdly satisfying. His wig was askew, a hint of antennae poking out until he tugged it back into place. Finally, he spoke:
“ Ha! I win!”
“Wha – huh…” Dib felt like his brain was buffering, still struggling to process the fact that he just kissed Zim, or Zim kissed him, and the throbbing in his lower lip made him at least 99.5% sure this wasn’t a dream. “You didn’t win! How do you even reach that conclusion?”
Zim stuck his tongue out at him, the amusement dancing in his eyes only adding insult to injury. “You pulled away first.”
“ No I didn’t! I mean – ugh – that’s not how this –” Dib groaned, dragging both hands through his hair and over his face. He should probably be freaking out more about this. He should at least move away, because it was probably some weird alien pheromones making him wonder what other noises he could get Zim to make, and before he could do something really dumb like – “ Fine . You wanna go again?”
There’d be time for freakouts later, hours of analysis and dissection to determine exactly how doomed he was.
But right now, ankle-deep in mistletoe with no shoes on at 4am, Dib had both a score to settle and a surprisingly effective way of shutting Zim up.
So maybe Christmas miracles really were a thing, after all.