Howdy, folks. Today was a rough one. My son was wheezing overnight and didn't sleep, so we've been up since about 2am, and finally got into the doc a bit after 8. Good news, it's not COVID-19. Just an RSV, but still, we're being told to watch him carefully. Which sucks.

Also, work was a bummer. Between those two things, I'm really wiped out. Even still, for Guest, here's a short and sweet little "slice of life" fic. I hope you enjoy it!

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Drabble VIII: Anniversary

Zelda forgot their anniversary.

When Link showed up, exhausted from a hard day at work, carrying flowers, she didn't think much of it. He brought her flowers from time to time— usually when he'd had a rough day, because he liked them. She knew it because he'd let that slip once: The sight of colorful flowers on the counter always cheered him up, and he liked the way they smelled.

So when he walked in looking hangdog-tired and wearily clothing a bouquet, she grimaced sympathetically.

"Rough day?"

She'd been home a little while herself— not long, certainly not longer than fifteen minutes or so— but it had been long enough to ditch her heels, swap her pantsuit for sweats and a tee, and ditch her bra. She'd pulled her hair up into a messy topknot, but hadn't taken off her makeup yet. Instead, she stood barefoot in front of the freezer, contemplating which frozen meal to reheat for dinner.

"No," Link said slowly. "Well, I mean, yes, but that's not why I brought you flowers."

"Oh, just because?" Zelda grinned and swooped forward to take the flowers, depositing a peck on her husband's cheek. "That's sweet of you. Let me find a vase."

He looked flummoxed, then shook his head as she moseyed off across the kitchen with the flowers. As he set his work bag down and loosened his tie a little, he raised a brow.

"What would you like to do for dinner?"

"Oh, I don't know." Zelda popped her head out of the pantry, pausing midway through looking for a vase. "I was thinking a frozen pizza and some beer, to be honest."

"A frozen pizza?" He echoed. "That's… not quite what I had in mind."

Zelda ducked back into the pantry. "You're welcome to cook whatever you want."

"Zel," he said as she rummaged. "Do you know what today is?"

"Uh. Aha!" Zelda swooped back out of the pantry, a vase held in her hands. "Found it. Sorry, what was your question?"

"Do you know what today is?"

"Today?" She puttered over to the sink and began to fill the vase with water, thinking back. Let's see— she'd taught Ancient Systems Logic, followed by a department faculty meeting, so that would make it: "Wednesday," she supplied helpfully as she turned off the tap and plopped the flowers in the vase.

"Wednesday the what?" her handsome spouse asked patiently.

She frowned, trying to remember what the date on her desk calendar had said. "The... eighth?"

"The seventh," he said.

"Oh." Zelda shrugged, turning the vase on the counter so that the flowers would catch the best light from the pendant lamps hanging down over the bar. "Whoops. I've been writing it wrong all day."

"It's the seventh of July," Link said patiently.

A tiny prickle of irritation poked at Zelda. What was the big deal?

"I know what month we're in," she said.

"Zel." His voice had taken on that listen-to-what-I'm-not-saying quality, the one he got when he thought she was being particularly dense. "It's the seventh of July."

"What are you—" And then it hit her like a falling palmfruit to the head. "Oh. Oh, no. It's our anniversary, isn't it?"

Link nodded. She could see the corners of his mouth twitching at her obvious horror and dismay. Zelda buried her face in her hands.

"I can't believe I forgot," she moaned. "Ohhh, I'm the worst wife ever."

"Maybe not ever," Link said. He sidled around the bar to pull Zelda into a hug. "You haven't dismembered me and hidden my corpse in a steamer trunk, for one."

"That's an oddly specific example and no comfort at all," Zelda said into her hands, which were squished between her face and her husband's chest. She peered up at him, feeling absolutely awful and simultaneously relatively amused at her own obliviousness. "Knowing you, you've got some sweet romantic gesture planned, and now it's going to fall completely flat because I'm too busy feeling guilty for not remembering and doing the very bare minimum like getting you a greeting card, huh?"

"That sounds about right," Link agreed, pushing a strand of Zelda's hair out of her face. "I've got reservations for us at Gotter's, followed by tickets on one of the river tours of the historic district."

"Oh," Zelda said, equal parts delighted and dismayed. "That sounds lovely, Link." Too bad she'd already taken off her nice clothing... and her bra… and she'd messed up her hair… Oh, it was going to be absolute torture getting dressed again. Link must have seen Zelda struggling to motivate herself to go put her big girl clothing back on, because he laughed.

"Honestly, I had an awful day," he said with a tired, self-deprecating little shrug. "Let's stay in. I'll move our dinner reservations and reschedule our cruise for Friday."

"Link, no," Zelda protested, horrified. "It's our anniversary! You can't do that."

"Sure I can," he said. "It's our day. We get to do whatever we want. And I'm so tired that pizza and some beers sounds great."

"Oh, honey…" Zelda was torn between the urge to laugh and the urge to cry. As always with Link, she went with the more joyful option, and laughed. "Frozen pizza? On our anniversary? At least let me order out."

"Woah, woah," Link said, holding his hands up. "Are you sure that's a good idea, big spender? We can't get too fancy." He was grinning, and she found herself grinning, too. Though she still felt a residual guilt— of course she did— she also knew that it wasn't a big deal, that Link wasn't upset with her, knew that he knew her forgetting was nothing personal.

On impulse, she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I love you so much," she said, squeezing him tightly.

His arms wrapped around her, warm and comforting and so familiar, and she sighed contentedly in the comforting closeness of him.

"I love you too," he said.

After a moment, Zelda pulled back, grinning.

"Happy anniversary," she said, and leaned forward to give him a sweet, soft kiss. He was grinning as they pulled away, shaking his head at some amusing thought. And Zelda had to ask. "What?"

"Can you imagine," he said, "how horrified your younger self would be to know that you forgot about our fourth anniversary?"

Zelda laughed and pushed a few errant wisps of hair out of her face.

"Pre-wedding Zelda would have absolutely died," she said. "Oh, I was so stressed with planning everything."

"Oh, yeah." Link was smiling, but Zelda could tell he was trying not to laugh. "Remember how you—"

"Don't!"

"—had that full meltdown three days before the wedding because the caterer said she'd have to substitute lemons for limes?"

"Agh!" Zelda laughed, cringed, and shook her fist. "I was under a lot of pressure! Cut me some slack."

"Yeah, yeah, sure you were," Link teased, grinning.

Zelda shook her head, the last of her dismay chased away by her husband's gentle teasing.

"It was a great wedding," she said softly.

"It was," Link agreed.

"Let's never have one again," she said.

"Definitely," he agreed again.

Zelda flung one arm around him, leaning her head against his side, and looking at the cheerful spray of flowers sitting on their countertop.

"Happy anniversary, darling," she said again.

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart," Link agreed.


And that's it. A shortie and a sweetie showing a little slice of life for our favorite couple.

Coming up next: I'll be taking a request from myself, because I'm the adult here and I get to make the rules. Gays, theys, and everyone in between, gird your loins for our lowest bar yet: WEREWOLF LINK. No, I'm not sorry. Until my next trashterpiece, stay safe, stay inside, and WASH YOUR HANDS! Air smoochies to all, and to all a good night.