That Kid From Upstairs [Invader Zim x Reader]

[II] The Bad Kids

The group of six sat in silence in the detention room. The five teenagers didn't seem all that bothered. Seems they are a frequent quest in this part of the basement level. Zim wasn't new to it either, however, he was pretty unnerved by the teacher supervising them. When he and Dib caused a ruckus, Ms. Bitters was the one watching over them...if one can call that supervision. But he wasn't here with Dib this time. These are fools from a whole different grade, a different floor, with their own teacher.

He was a grouchy middle aged man with with tired eyes. What remained of his dark hair was peppered with grey, and he sported a bushy mustache that curled at the sides.

The small alien was seated closest to the door as per usual, scratching at the worn desk as the man yelled at the others.

See, the fight in the cafeteria kind of went to shit.

"What were you miscreants even doing in the Downstairs cafeteria?! You know full well you are not allowed to be near the stairs until the final bell rings!"

"We just wanted to go see (Y/N), sir, they've been moved in with the 7th graders-"

The blonde boy with the ponytail chimed in. The man was not moved.

"Oh, of course it's you again."

Zim heard them scoff at the accusation.

"Have I not told you to stop corrupting my students, (L/N)? Was your punishment not clear enough?"

"To be completely blunt, sir, putting me together with Bitters as a punishment only shows the staff collectively agrees she's a horrible teacher."

The upperclassman looked completely unbothered by the old man, rocking in their seat as they picked at their nails. He obviously didn't like that, and slammed his hands down on the teacher's desk.

"Enough! Lord, what are we to do with you?"

The man rubbed his temples in irritation. The group of teenagers looked at eachother uncertainly before casting a telling gaze upon their ringleader. (Y/N) was not moved by their silent warning.

"In my defense, sir, it was Christian Mandala who started the fight. I didn't do anything."

"You punched him first."

"That was in protection of the kid."

They gestured to Zim.

"That is not an excuse to start a brawl in a public environment!"

"Noted, next time I'll break his arm in the storage closet."

The teacher had walked over to their desk at some point, and reached over to grab their hair and shove their head downwards (yanking their chair back to it's own four legs in the process). Their forehead never connected with the desk, but the position looked uncomfortable.

"GkH-"

"Were you not the only academically competent pest in that cestpool 11/A I would have called for your removal from this establishment back when you set Bitters' dress on fire with a can of RedBull."

"I was young and blind sir, forgive my 8th grade self for that slight, I beg you. I promise next time I'll use gasoline."

Scoffing, the man let go of them and stormed towards the door. He left the room grumbling to himself, having had enough. The door slams behind him.

Zim was in awe.

"You set Ms. Bitters' dress on fire?"

His voice was merely a whisper, but they did hear him. They smiled, though it looked tired.

"While she was in it, yes. She had to take it off. Turns out the hag wears several identical dresses layered on, for some reason."

"Yeah, and they got suspended for it."

Plaid boy interrupted, rolling his eyes fondly at the memory before continuing.

"I'm so glad our classes were sharing a room when that happened."

Wait, wait, what?

"You're not classmates?"

Zim furrowed his brows, his eyes flickering between the group's members. The short haired blonde answered his question.

"We wish. Simon and I are from 11/B. Jake is in C."

He gestured to plaid boy and himself, and then to his twin, who then took it upon himself to continue the answering.

"Abigail is from 12/A. She's graduating this year.

Abigail nodded sorrowfully. (Y/N) placed a hand on her shoulder.

"And I am from 'that cestpool' 11/A."

They finished sagely, fixing their hair briefly before standing up and walking over to Zim. They placed a hand on his desk.

"You're pretty sweet, kid, and I get that 'oh shit, older kid in my class, must get on their good side!', but it's really better if you back off. I'm bad influence."

They joked, ruffling his hair (for a moment he feared the wig would slip off) as they placed a hand on the doorknob. Zim tensed up at the contact.

"You're dipping?"

Short-blonde asked, cautiously amused.

"Yup, sorry Jack, duty calls. Abby's in charge while I'm gone."

A chorus of 'aw, c'mooon!' lifted from the group (save Abigail, who was very happy with this), causing the leaving student to laugh.

They shut the door behind them in a way uncharacteristically soft. Their departure left the room in silence. Simon, the plaid boy, slipped out of his seat to sit beside Zim for a moment.

"Hey, what was your name?"

"...Zim."

"Zim, right. I just wanted to say... don't listen to (Y/N). Stick close to them, they seem to like you. You'll be safe with them around."

The alien furrowed his brows, claws grasping at his sleeves before letting go in favour of looking composed.

"Why would Zim be unsafe?"

The twins, Jack and Jake, spoke up in perfect unison.

"Their class."

When Zim's eyes became unfocused with utmost confusion, Abigail clarified.

"Their class may be really dumb, but that's only because they all spend their study time causing mayhem. We upperclassmen are barred from coming downstairs in school hours precisely because of their habit of beating up the younger students, stealing from them, or selling them drugs or cigarettes."

Zim gulped. Simon continued.

"You're new here, everyone knows that. Every time there's a new student in school, those thugs make it a competition on which one can find and batter them up first. (Y/N) is never in on those bets. They normally don't care... but they may stick around to be your guard if you get close enough. Just a thought."

He ended the speech by leaning back in his chair, steely eyes trained on Zim and he tried to think.

His preparations have just become more urgent.