Hi all. Hope you're doing well. Things are much the same here: I'm fine, my husband and son are sick, and we're all going stir crazy. But so it goes.

Today's drabble is going to be short. We've had a lot of start-of-the-relationship shorties, and one happy marriage shorties. I've decided I want to show something early-stage. So without further ado, and in honor of the current pandemic, I present Shortie #10: Doctor's Orders.

Order up!


Drabble X: Doctor's Orders

The last thing Link expected when he knocked on his girlfriend's door was to have it slammed in his face.

Zelda was sick. They'd had plans to go catch a movie and check out a new Goron Curry joint, but she'd texted him that morning that she was sick. And when he called her on the phone, she answered sounding like death warmed over.

"I'm sorry," she'd croaked. "I just don't think I can peel myself off the couch."

"Nor should you," Link had responded, switching audio over to speakerphone so he could cancel their movie tickets. "If you're sick, stay home."

"I'm sorry," she'd moaned. "Rain check?"

"Of course," Link had replied. "Do you need anything?"

"Just rest, I think," she said. "I'll call you when I'm better. Alright?"

"Alright," Link had said.

He was disappointed that Zelda was sick. He'd been vaguely looking forward to the movie— it was some historical drama, which Zelda loved, partially because she could spend the entire movie gleefully ripping all the historical inaccuracies to shreds. And he'd really been looking forward to the curry. But the curry would keep, as would the movie. The most important thing that Link was missing out on was Zelda's presence.

If one can't take one's girlfriend to the movies and out to lunch, Link reasoned, then one brings lunch and a movie to one's girlfriend.

So he'd gone by a restaurant he knew she liked and picked up some soup he knew she loved, and he stopped at a Korok Box and rented a copy of her favorite movie from childhood, and drove over to her apartment hoping that he wouldn't be intruding on her sick time. If she wanted him to leave, he'd leave, but he really, really wanted to see her. He thought she might be happy to see him, or she might look sad and disappointed and take the movie and soup from him with a word of thanks.

What he wasn't expecting was for her to answer the door, take one look at him, give an "eep!" of mortification, and slam the door in his face.

"Uh," Link said, blinking in surprise. He knocked carefully against the metal of the door again. "Zelda?"

"What are you doing here?" She still sounded absolutely awful, all croaky and froggy and congested. "Go away! I'm sick!"

That really wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting.

"I brought you soup," Link said, holding up the bag in case she was looking through the peephole. "And I picked up a movie if you want to watch it together." Silence met this, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "You don't have to let me in if you just want to be alone, but I thought… it might help you feel, uh… better?"

Link counted heartbeats. After a moment, the door creaked. Through the tiny opening, one baleful green eye regarded him blearily.

"Just leave it on the doorstep," she said. "Thanks. That was really sweet of you." She sounded regretful. Link shifted his weight awkwardly.

"If you're sure," he said. "I'd really been looking forward to spending time with you today, and I thought since you couldn't come out on our date, I'd bring the date to you. I didn't mean to intrude. I'm sorry."

"No, it's not— you're not intruding." She cracked the door open a little wider, and Link could see the vague fuzz of a truly tangled blonde crow's next that had, at one point, called itself his girlfriend's luxurious, glorious hair. "I don't want to get you sick. And I look like hell."

"I'm not worried about getting sick," Link said hopefully. "And even if you look like hell, it's OK. Can I come in? Are there any chores you need done? Can I change your sheets or something?"

The door cracked a little wider. Now Link could see one bloodshot green eye, a blonde tangleweed, and a red, dripping nose. Affection surged within him. Even sick as a dog, his girlfriend was adorable.

"I'm a doctor, you know," he added helpfully. "I'm good at being around sick patients. Please? Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?"

"You're a veterinarian, Dr. Green," she responded. "I'm not exactly a poodle with indigestion."

"You're right, Dr. Bosphoramus," Link agreed. "You're way cuter than a poodle."

She sighed and swung the door all the way open. Link swallowed a snicker, but his amusement must have shown on his face because Zelda glared at him.

"Don't," she threatened. "This is a rare privilege. If you ever tell anyone that you were witness to me or my apartment in less-than-immaculate condition outside of a dig site—"

"You're sick," Link said, unable to stop the laugh. "You're fine. I'm not laughing at you. You're just adorable. Even when you're sick."

"Hmm." She squinted blearily at him, then turned. "Come on in."

He followed her into the apartment. It was a bright, airy space, decorated with colorful rugs and throw pillows, healthy houseplants, and lots of art. Her myriad of history, language, and archaeology degrees hung on the wall, alongside pictures of artefacts she'd uncovered, and a framed print of a famous painting of Pre-Calamity Hyrule. Ordinarily, her apartment was relatively tidy, although not immaculate; she often brought a bit of her work home from the museum, so usually there were stacks of studies and reports on the desk or the counter.

But now, the place was a wreck. Blankets were strewn over the couch and her throw pillows had been piled to haphazardly form a nest. Balled-up tissues formed a little drift on the coffee table, and a few had fallen to the floor. Mia the cat— Link's patient and the original reason why he and Zelda had met— was sleeping on the back of the couch. At the sight of Link, she opened an eye, flicked an ear, yawned, and went back to sleep.

"Don't say a word," Zelda said as she began to collect tissues. "I told you, this is a rare privilege."

"I won't say anything except go lie back down on the couch," he said. "I'll clean this up."

"But the germs—" Zelda tried to protest.

But Link had come prepared. He pulled a set of rubber gloves out of his pocket, snapped them on, and got to cleaning. He'd quickly collected the tissues and disposed of them, then brought a little trash can over to stow beside the couch so that she could throw her tissues directly away.

"Do your sheets need a change?" Link asked her. "Did you have fever sweats overnight?"

"Uh…" She blinked dazedly at him from behind the rims of her round, chunky glasses. "You don't have to do that."

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Link said. He made his way back into the bedroom, which was in slightly better condition— her clothes and towels had made it into the laundry basket— and he pulled a spare set of sheets out of the linen cupboard in the bathroom, changed the bed, and took her laundry into the kitchen, where he tossed it into the washer. Zelda watched him bemusedly. Her hair looked a little less tangled, which meant she'd probably pulled it down from its sloppy topknot, finger-combed it, and put it back up in a slightly-less-sloppy bun. At least her frog-print pajamas looked relatively clean.

"You don't have, like, a fetish for sick people, do you?" Zelda asked as she watched him take off his gloves and thoroughly scrub his hands. "Or sickness in general? Is that why you became a vet?"

"Oh, no," Link said dryly. "You've found me out. It's all a sex thing, and has nothing at all to do with the fact that I like taking care of those in need." He dried his hands, pulled a bowl out of Zelda's cupboard, and poured her soup into the cheerful, floral-print ceramic. He grabbed a spoon, carried the whole thing over to her, and set it down before her on the coffee table with a flourish.

"Heart Soup? You went to Ashai's?"

"Only the best for you," Link agreed. He ducked back into the kitchen and plated his own lunch, then grabbed the movie and padded back out into the living room.

"Link, you shouldn't have," she said with a sniffle that was probably just caused by her cold. "What'd you get?"

"Meat and mushroom skewers," Link said. "Want some?"

"I think I'll stick to the soup. Thanks, though," she said. She watched as Link ducked in front of the TV. "What I meant was, what movie did you get."

"The Silent Princess," he said. "If that's alright…? You told me it was your favorite."

She was staring at him, mouth open.

"Link," she said. "That's a little kid cartoon! I'm not going to make you watch it."

"I don't mind," he said. "As long as it makes you feel better, I'm happy."

She eyed him suspiciously. It was absolutely adorable. Just like everything else she did.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because you're my girlfriend, and you're sick, and I really like you, and I want to spend time with you, and I want you to feel better." He hit play on the DVD. "Eat your soup."

She frowned thoughtfully.

"Can we snuggle afterwards?"

"Of course," Link said. "Doctor's orders."

"Good," Zelda said, and tucked into her soup.


And that's that! The Link and Zelda in this drabble have actually been pulled from an EXTREMELY trashy modern bit I started writing a few years ago but never finished. She's an archaeologist, he's a vet. Need I say more?

Anyway, if you liked it, let me know. I've had a few really great suggestions from y'all lately, so do keep sending in those requests. Tomorrow, I'll be granting a wish for TiraChan31, who has asked for a story about "the boy sharing a body with a powerful soul that both fall in love with same girl." We haven't had much from Link's POV, so I'll see if I can do that prompt justice in a short number of words.

Until then, you know the drill: Stay safe, stay inside, and WASH YOUR HANDS! Air smoochies to all, and to all a good night.