D2 :: Zim Zombi

you? i'm your girl
and you? i don't understand
no, no, no
don't tease my heart

"Sorry, babe, you don't have clearance to go in the arsenal." Zim jabs Winnie's neon pink assault gun into Astraea's chest, the fabric of her dress twisting around the frigid metal. "That's a restricted area."

Half of Astraea's plush mouth tugs down into a vicious scowl while the rest of it spins a smile so bright Zim manages to stumble while standing still, her left ankle swooning. "Oh?" Zim tries to harden her expression — mouth tight, nose crinkled, and eyes narrowed — but mostly ends up looking like she just ate something sour. It's adorable, like a feisty kitten. Astraea runs a hand through her long hair and the waves look so soft in the yellow and magenta LED rope lighting that the gun nearly freefalls out of Zim's hands. "No exceptions?"

A lovesick keening eeks out of Zim's throat, sounding nothing like the firm grunt of refusal she was aiming for. "You gotta practice up first. You've failed the safety test, like, five times already... even Axel passed on her third try." The duo side-eyes each other. Axel is sweet, but borders on the dumb jock stereotype and everyone knows it — especially Axel. There's a whoop from across the room and a round of snickering as Whiskeyjack flexes her wiry arms on cue, kissing each bicep and pumping the air with gusto. Zim snorts and Astraea's eyes give away her shared amusement. "...I'm always available for private shooting lessons."

"If I want to be any good then I'd better ask your sister for help instead." Astraea is nothing if not brutally honest, even when she hates herself for it. Zim knows she's right, but it's still a low blow and they both know it. The exchange saps all of Astraea's chagrin, leaving her absently twirling her hair and starring at the ceiling while Zim shoulders her weapon and tries to toughen up in the face of one of her favorite crushes bringing her sister up in the middle of yet another failed attempt to suggest something bordering on date territory. "Not that you're bad..." She relents, endlessly gentle once her bristles are smoothed down.

"I could be the worst," Zim juts her chin up, arms crossed over her chest, "for you." Even if Astraea wasn't soft for all of them, she'd still be soft for Zim. They all are. It would be cruel not to be soft for a girl who has never met a woman she didn't immediately fall desperately in love with, always prepared to make herself pathetic for even the smallest scrap of attention. Always achingly sincere.



Astraea leans in to whisper in Zim's ear and the arsenal guard trembles. "That doesn't make any kind of sense," she drawls, her voice laced with the prettiest giggle Zim thinks she's ever had the privilege of hearing in her entire life. Holding back a sigh, her eyes roll into the back of her head before she remembers to pull herself together.

"It totally makes sense —" This must be the best job in the universe: Weapons. Women. Women who want weapons. Weapons who want women. Getting to be the entrusted keeper of both. "— if you're the person thinking about how the longer you suck at firearms, the more lessons I'll get to give you."

The peanut gallery goes wild, Nox and Noe hooting and hollering and falling all over each other making exaggerated kissy faces while Salem studiously pretends she hasn't overheard anyone saying or doing anything at all. Yup. Minding her business. That's what's happening. Whatever she's typing is suddenly the most important thing in all of existence. Nox immediately leans over to make lip sucking sounds next to her ear until she screeches loudly enough for Nox to tumble backwards into Noe, an arm slapping fight breaking out over the collision.

In the distraction, Astraea wraps a hand around Zim's gun and gives it a playful tug. The next thing she knows it's aimed at her throat, the smile wiped from Zim's face. There are lines that everyone knows not to cross with her and this is one. "No."

Astraea stares at her, her doll mouth dropped into a perfect oh. Zim listens furiously, picking apart every detail of sound passing through the air between them, desperate to know if anything she does will ever make the other girl's heart pound as hard as the night Astraea whispered I love you in her ear, in a moment when they were both certain Zim was about to be murdered by the woman who now provides the roof above their heads. Time slows until Zim finally pulls the gun away and awkwardly steps back outside of Astraea's gravitational pull. "Kidding!" The edges of her forced laughter curl inwards. "We're both such kidders," she mumbles, digging at the concrete floor with the toe of her combat boot before flicking her eyes up, "right?"

"Yeah." Something sad flares on the other girl's face, but disappears just as quickly.

A tornadic ruckus stirs the room and the next thing Zim knows she's trapped in an iron headlock, disarmed effortlessly. "BABY GIRRRRRRRRRL!" So. Embarrassing. "Tonight we feast!" This is the bellow of someone who just slayed a boar and carried it home on their back to spit roast it in brutal celebration. Cheers erupt throughout the room — seventy percent enthusiasm for the buckets of fried chicken that were dropped into Noe's lap and thirty percent at Zim's expense, a couple of the girls applauding the entertainment value of her mortifyingly timed defeat. Her sister tousles her hair mercilessly before releasing her.

"Tournament champion?" Zim ventures, trying to smooth her hair down again. Today was a great hair day. So much for that. Beauty truly is a fleeting thing.

Wilder roars confirmation of her victory at the ceiling, her arms slashing at the air like the sword she felled her training center opponents with. Her coach told her she was set to break records and her feral voracity confirms to everyone that, yes, she is indeed a legendary badass. The records are dust. Jumping up and down she smacks her palms against the wall to vent adrenaline before making the rounds of the room, collecting high-fives and celebratory headbutts from everyone.

Astraea reaches over to tidy a tangle of hair that Zim missed, but Zim ducks out of the way. Her moment is gone. It's Wilder's night now.

"Hey!" Pinching Zim's cheek the way everyone always wants to, but only Wilder is ever allowed, the sisters turn in circles like the start of a fight, poking each other's sides in search of the kind of ticklish spot that will allow one to get the better of the other. "Hey! Hey! Zim! Hey! Guess what?!"

"As if I'm falling for that," Zim rolls her eyes and seizes an opportunity to dig into Wilder's ribs, forcing a ferocious bark of laughter out from her sister's gut.



"Telling you anyway: duffle of presents. Over there. For you." Hands stutter in the air and Wilder manages to wrap both arms around her little sister, hoisting her up to hiss in her ear. "Managed to swipe a whole set of butterfly knives from the Center, just like you wanted. Brand new. Never been used. Sooooo shiny." Setting her down with a smug kiss to Zim's forehead, the younger girl immediately tears across the room and nearly rips the zipper as she opens the gym bag with far too much enthusiasm.

Oh. Ohhhhhhhhh. They might be even prettier than Astraea.

"You," Zim coos at her new favorite toys, accidentally pricking her finger when investigating the sharpness of one of the knives. Popping the finger in her mouth, she sucks on the blood while continuing to fumble through the bag with her other hand, "you have arsenal clearance. Yes you do. Yes you do!"

Astraea quietly tugs at the door to the arsenal while everyone is distracted. Locked.

i'm your girl? by khan.