SS Zelink fluff, for @andelynkinsey
Kikwi’s were not typically famed for their knowledge. In fact, if you had to ask any Hylian living on the surface what a Kikwi’s most memorable trait was, the majority of them would say “cowardice” which, Zelda thought, was a little harsh.
Especially seeing as she had learnt the hard way that Kikwi’s were very, very knowledgeable indeed.
The rain thundered against the rooftops, ice cold daggers of freezing water pounding against the tiles like artillery fire– seemingly never-ending in its attack, forcing all in the surrounding areas to retreat to safety as soon as they could before they were caught in the crossfire. Across the small village, people ran to their homes, baskets and bare hands the only defense they held against the sudden onslaught of the storm. Most made it to safety, evacuating the newly built town square before the first flash of lightning.
One couple was left stranded in the rain. Their blonde hair plastered to their foreheads as they ran, boots slipping against the fresh mud of the fields, gasps of laughter drowned out by thunderclaps.
“I knew we should have listened to Oolo,” Zelda cried, “They told us it would rain!”
“But not this badly!” Link countered, pulling Zelda along as he tried to pick up speed. Their little house just now barely visible behind the rain. Just a few more steps, and they’d be home safe.
“Yes this badly,” Zelda called back, lifting their picnic basket over her head, though the now sodden wicker did little to protect her from the onslaught. “They said ‘oh no, oh no, it’ll be too wet to picnic!’” Beside her, Link held back a chuckle at his partner’s impersonation. Her high voice becoming shrill and nasally in her attempt to imitate the small creature that had come to warn them only a few hours before.
Finally reaching the door, Link let go of her hand to root around in his pocket for the key. The cold was already starting to seep into his bones, causing his whole body to shiver. Zelda wasn’t faring much better, the nearly full basket above her head starting to shake as she struggled to hold it up. She shot him a pleading look, silently asking him to hurry up so they could get inside and start a fire to keep warm.
When the first pocket proved to be empty, Link went to check the second… then the first again… then the second. Cheeks flushed pink with both the cold and the embarrassment, Link turned to look at Zelda.
His expression explained it all.
Realization dawned on her quite quickly, her arms lowering the basket to the floor. She chewed on her lip, racking her brain to try and figure out a way into the house.
“I think I left the bedroom window open,” she started, a hand trailing through her fringe, pushing the wet hair back off of her face. “Maybe we can get in through there?”
That idea, however, proved to be easier said than done.
The window had indeed been left open, but the torrential rain had turned the flower beds beneath it to mud, making it incredibly difficult to get a stable foothold in order to pull themselves up and over the sill.
“Your sacrifice won’t be in vain, Mr. Hero,” Zelda said with absolute conviction as Link sunk his knees into the mud and pushed the window open enough for Zelda to crawl through. He followed after her, the two of them dripping all over the floor. Zelda dropped their ruined lunch and tried to remove her boots. Link had even less success than her and stared dolefully at the basket.
“I’ll get some towels.” Zelda made her way across the room, water and mud trailing after from her ruined stockings.
“You’re not supposed to get wooden floors wet, Zelda,” Link called after her.
“It’s my house, my rules,” she replied distantly. Link heard the sound of wet clothes being removed and shivered. He removed his boots, and made an attempt at his tunic, only to get stuck.
“Help!” he cried, frustrated nearly to the point of tears. He heard Zelda laugh, almost cackling as she made her way back in, mopping up the mess as she drew closer. She dropped the towels and helped him pull the wet fabric over his head, only for his ears to get caught in the neckline. Zelda’s laughter became vicious and high pitched well after he got free, and he took their biggest, warmest towel out of spite.
“Link don’t be like that! I’m cold,” Zelda trailed off after composing herself. “I’m in nothing but my slip! Have a heart.”
“Perish, you wicked girl,” he said, and then grabbed her in a hug. They tussled over the towel, their only one from back home, filched from the dorm’s bath. The rain picked up even more, drowning out their voices with its dull roar. Link finished their fight with a kiss to her cheek, and a raspberry following shortly after. Zelda smacked his behind and shoved him towards their living area, mirth in her expression, and frizz in her hair. She knew she looked a right mess but hardly cared when there were charcoal smudges ringed around Link’s eyes as he pawed for his favorite sweater.
It was a horrid red thing that was dull from excess washings, and she was almost certain it was actually Groose’s. Link had no qualms about filching their friend’s clothing, just as she could care less as she removed her slip and wrapped herself in a knit blanket. Her brazier was damp too, but it felt like a hug around her chest, and with Link in his underthings, it wouldn’t be fair to let him be on his own.
“That sure was a great lunch. Thank you, Zelda,” Link said, and she kicked him from her blanket pile.
“This is your fault!” and it was. But she didn’t mind.
“I’m cold,” he said in response.
“Then put on some pants!”
Link instead made his way to their hearth and lit their cooking fire with the flint starter. He placed their water pan on top and added some tea leaves to the teapot.
“Can you make the warm, spicy one?” Zelda asked.
“With the milk?” Link was already making his way to their cold box for the jug.
“A rainy day requires some spoiling, I think.”
Link agreed and began to warm the milk as well. Zelda watching as he worked, and brought the blanket to cover her head as well. It was dark and safe, and Link was there. This was all she could ask for, even if their plans had gotten ruined. She was wet, gooseflesh along her arms and thighs, and she marveled that she could even feel it after so long of nothing.
Fur brushed across her toes, and she tried to cover those as well. Mia fought her way into Zelda’s cocoon and onto her lap. She heard Link let out a yelp and trip, Pancake’s incessant meowing, and she could just imagine the remlit winding her way between his legs.
A kit is deposited into her lap, and the blanket moved to make way for a steaming mug. Link tries to shove her over and join her. She points out there’s about five more on the seat behind him. He reminds her of the two remlits purring on top of her and calls her selfish. She knows she’s selfish, and he’s proud of her for it.
Link settles for curling up against the side of her blanket, and they sit there listening to the sound of the storm; the rustling of their shades, the songs of the small birds that were so tiny and foreign. They both stare at the fire in their cooking stove, and Zelda wonders when it was lit. Link’s focus seems miles away, and Zelda begins to worry that he’s disassociating again.
“Let’s build a blanket fort!” she declares.
Link stares owlishly at her, his eyes large and round as her father’s, and she stands up in a brazen display of underthings and yowling animals.
“A..blanket fort?” he trails off, already placing his mug down to the side to grab chairs. They were both well versed in the art of blanket fort making, but it had been years. They were adults, but Zelda wanted to just be with Link, so they built. They had a few knit throws, some from Zelda, old comforters from their childhood rooms, and the most precious of all, a hand-stitched quilt from Link’s mom. It was under its care they both managed to share, leaning against the few precious down pillows whose feathers had yet to come loose.
Mia came first into their fort to make a home under Zelda’s thighs, and Pancake was quick to lap at Link’s mug. He swallowed everything at once just to stop her and then choked for a good few moments. Zelda followed his throat as it swallowed, and the flush on his cheeks, and said eloquently, “You look like you’re crying, with the coal running down your cheeks.”
“Zelda, I love you but you look like a forest witch right now,” he managed, voice hoarse and squinting at her.
She only looks smug in response, whispering a soft “nice” to herself.
He gave her a long, hard stare and asked: “Was that about my love, or the witch comment?”
“Witch comment, of course, I already know you love me. But I had one goal left and it looks like I finally achieved it.” He laughed and brought her close. Zelda smiled and leaned into his arms, head under his chin, and tea warming her cold hands. Link sighed and buried his face into her hair, and Zelda wanted so bad, more than anything else, for them to stay this way till the end of time. She closed her eyes, and inhaled the spiced Lanayru chá, and let herself be.
But of course, she couldn’t just be without letting a clammy hand roam its way up Link’s bare thigh. He screeched, remlits running in fright, and pushed her out of their embrace. She hit the floor with a laugh and lie there for even longer, and it was then, in that moment, she could be more than before, she was happy.
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