The Legend of Zelda, its characters and locations are all property of Nintendo. Any and all OCs and original locations belong to Nintendo unless specifically stated to belong to someone else.

Fashion Disaster
Chapter 6

Link parked Epona in the underground garage of Zelda's office building and climbed the stairs with a due sense of trepidation. He'd spent the last few days going over procedures and plans with Zelda, coming to an agreement on how to deliver the best shoot they possibly could.

It had been hell. Link knew nothing about working with artificial lighting, and Zelda had been forced to give him a crash course on the subject, even though she too would be present for the shoot. It was mostly to get Link comfortable with it and give him the ability to improvise.

They'd also had to clear some space in Zelda's office and set up a proper stage for the shoot to take place on, as this shoot would be bigger than the ones Zelda usually held at her space. Apparently, there were going to be at least three models present, and some would be group shots. Zelda had promised to help him a lot with those, and to take secondary shots to cover whatever he might miss.

Frankly, the photographing itself wasn't what Link was nervous about. It was the directing. Zelda had shown him some recordings of shoots she'd held on her own, and she'd sounded so...demanding. Confident. Intimidating. And had no trouble asking a pretty model to pretend to have orgasms in order to get a shot of, in her words, a rapturous expression as the model drank from a small yogurt bottle.

"This isn't your usual job, is it?" Link had asked.

Zelda had looked uncomfortable. "Some months are slow, okay? And this office space ain't cheap! I have to take whatever jobs I can!"

Once again, Link felt so lucky that his office was the great outdoors.

He let himself into Zelda's office and found it completely spotless, a far cry from the mess he'd seen a week and a half before. The woman herself was sitting in a couch pushed against one of the walls, computer in her lap, glasses about to slip off her nose.

"Hey, little brother," she said without looking up. "Just finishing up an email. You can set your kit up."

Link did so. He'd brought three cameras and more memory cards than he knew what to do with. Everything else he could borrow from Zelda, including tripods and the like.

Two thirds of Zelda's office had been cleared for the shoot, a giant white screen covering most of the wall. A large part of the floor wasn't covered in carpet, but sheer, white tiles. Several lights and reflectors were also prepared, but not set up yet. They'd do this along the way, continually adjusting for optimal results.

There was the tell-tale whoosh of an email being sent, and Zelda stood up from the couch.

"Nervous?" she asked, heading towards her desk and grabbing a mug, giving it a cursory look and sniff before shrugging and placing it in her fancy coffee maker. "Want one?" she asked, gesturing to the machine.

Link gave it a sceptical look. "Got any clean mugs?" he asked.

"Plenty," she said. "But I'm saving most of them for the Shinobi people. No idea how large their crew will be in addition to the models." She pressed a few buttons, and the machine began to make an unholy racket as it ground coffee beans. "And you didn't answer my question!" she pointed out over the noise.

"Of course I'm nervous!" he said, annoyed. "I still don't see why you just can't imitate me! It's literally just pointing and shooting without giving too much thought to anything!"

"That's what you think," Zelda said. The machine stopped screeching and began to dispense the brown nectar of the gods. "But while you may not consciously think about anything when you're shooting, there's a ton of unconscious thoughts passing through your head as you're doing it." She pulled her mug out from beneath the spigot and replaced it with another mug. This one was clean. "And that's why I can't imitate you, because my stream of thoughts is completely different."

She came to his side of the room, handing him the second mug. He took a sip, happy to find that at least the coffee was as good as ever. She hadn't spared any expense on the machine, luckily. He unzipped his plain black hoodie, feeling a little warm.

"There's no need to be nervous," Zelda said. "I'll be here the whole time and help you. You should be excited, if anything! Maybe they'll bring that hot Sheikah boy over and...and..."

She trailed off, her gaze having landed on his opened sweatshirt...and the design of his t-shirt that had been revealed.

"Link..." she said slowly.

He swallowed his mouthful of coffee. "Yes, Zelda?" he said, trying not to grin.

"Do you want me to have a heart attack and die? Is that the end you want for your beloved twin sister?"

He took another sip. "I don't understand what you're talking about."

"The shirt, Link. What did I tell you about it?"

Link looked down, opening his hoodie a little more to reveal the print of his t-shirt. "This isn't the three wolves howling at the moon one," he said innocently. "That's the one you didn't want me to wear."

Link swore he could hear Zelda's teeth grinding against each other.

"That is true," she conceded icily. "But I thought you'd have enough common sense to realise that meant any shirt depicting animals and the moon."

Link gave her an affronted look. "You gave me this shirt!"

"As a joke!"

Indeed, and it had backfired on her horribly. She'd probably thought she was very clever, getting Link a shirt depicting three brilliantly white horses galloping through a stream, the moon shining above them in the night sky, thinking even he was too self-conscious to wear such an atrocious article of clothing.

She'd been wrong.

He loved it so damned much. Not just for the motive, but because the fabric was so soft and comfortable.

Plus, he knew how much she hated it, and used that for all it was worth, wearing it to every sort of social gathering they were both present at to annoy her. The best part of it all was that she couldn't be angry at him for it, because she's the one who gave it to him.

"Joke's on you," he said, grinning obnoxiously.

She sighed, removing her glasses and rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Every damn time..." she muttered. "All right, well. You'll just have to change."

"No time," he said, pointing at his watch. "Shinobi will be here in less than twenty minutes. It'll take too long for me to go home, change, and get back. And we can't be late, can we? That's unprofessional."

Hah, got her!

Zelda narrowed her eyes for a moment. "You're right," she said. "It'll take too long for you to go home and change..." She looked him up and down. "Say, we're not too different in size, are we?"

A shudder ran up Link's spine. No...surely not?

"Zel..." he began.

"Technically, right now, you're an employee of mine," Zelda said. "And that means you're representing me in any professional context. That means I cannot have you wearing something as unfashionable as that abomination to this shoot." She glared at the offending tee. "Unfortunately, it's too late for you to go home and change." She walked back over to her desk, placing her coffee mug on it, and started fishing around behind it. "Luckily," she said, voice muffled slightly by the furniture, "I have a compromise!"

Oh no.

Compromises never meant anything good when Zelda was involved, because they were always skewed in her favour.

"I always keep a spare set of clothes at my office!" she said, pulling out a dusty duffel bag, coughing a little.

"What, in case you have another Kahlua incident?" he asked.

"Shh!" she hissed, unzipping the bag and, after a moment of rummaging around inside, pulled out a black bundle of fabric, tossing it to him. "It's a little creased, but beggars can't be choosers. Go on, put it on!"

Link caught the bundle, looking at it. "I don't know..."

"Link, it's a black T-shirt, as basic as they come," Zelda said, shaking her head. "I mean, we can trade, if you like," she suggested, looking down at her simple but professional-looking outfit consisting of well-fitting jeans, a white camisole and a peach blazer. "But I don't think this is really your style, you know?"

Link stared at her. "Well, you know—"

"Link!"

"Okay, okay, fine, geez!"

He removed his hoodie and went to pull the horse T-shirt off, but another hiss from his sister stopped him.

"Not in here! Go change in the bathroom! What if Shinobi shows up and you're half-naked in the office?"

"I could literally have changed in the time it took you to say that," Link muttered, putting his mug down and heading for the small bathroom attached to her office. "I'll be right back."

"My models' security trumps all!"

Kafei had crowed this as Sheik had been, quite rudely, dragged inside the van. From an outsider's perspective, it had probably looked like a kidnapping. Sheik had been waiting outside his building, as per Kafei's instructions, at which point a van had suddenly pulled up next to him, the door opened, and several hands had reached out to grab him.

He'd been forced into a seat and had his belt buckled before he really realised what was going on, and then the van had been moving again.

Around him was a smaller number of Kafei's minions, along with Kiro and another Sheikah model, Rena.

At least he wasn't working this shoot alone.

Unless they were just here to watch and laugh at him.

"Morning, Sheik," Kiro said, smiling at him. "How are you?"

"I feel like Aunt Impa is about to receive a ransom note for me," Sheik said, shifting his seat, looking around the van. Kafei and Paya were in the front seats, with Paya driving.

Thank Din.

Kafei was the worst driver in the world. How he'd earned a license at all was a mystery. Sheik suspected it involved bribery.

His minions were all chattering amongst themselves, probably already trying to figure out the best way to embarrass Sheik.

"Here, cousin," Kafei said from the front, reaching back to hand Sheik a paper cup of piping hot coffee. "Drink. Today's a cold one."

"If you think this makes everything okay—"

"Just drink the coffee, Sheik. It's going to be a long day and we're all going to need as much caffeine as we can get."

"Especially him," Rena whispered to Sheik conspiratorially. "He got a call from Ordon. They're going with Elenwe instead of him for their fall collection. He's pissed."

It wasn't quiet enough. Kafei growled. "What the fuck would that hack know about fall fashion?! She's a Gerudo! They live in a land of perpetual summer! Oh, what are they all going to wear? Fucking sirwals and crop tops when the autumn rains hit?! Ridiculous!"

"I'm not sure you can call a desert a land of perpetual summer," Kiro pointed out. "I mean, it's not exactly comfortable..."

"Who cares?!" Kafei exclaimed. "It's hotter than hell and makes me wish for another ice age!"

"Who's Elenwe?" Sheik asked, completely out of the loop.

"Big Gerudo fashion designer," Rena said. "She and Kafei studied at the same school, basically got really competitive, and now they're, like, rivals or something."

"I don't think that's the right word," Kiro said. "Rivals don't look like they're about to hate fuck-each other in the nearest broom closet whenever they're in the same room."

Sheik rolled his eyes. Of course she was a Gerudo. Kafei never did anything the easy way, not even his...crushes.

Eugh, even the thought of Kafei being intimate made him want to throw up.

"I mean, I can't blame him," Kiro continued. "She's like...a fucking goddess."

"True," Rena agreed. "Those abs..."

"Will you please shut about my cousin and his romantic interests?" Sheik groaned. "You're going to give me nightmares for life."

"I don't think it's romantic..."

Sheik screamed.

"Don't make me pull over," Paya warned from behind the wheel. "I will pull your ears!"

The car fell completely silent.

Someone snickered.

Paya pulled over.

Link stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. This was a disaster. Sure, he and his sister were somewhat the same size when it came to height, but width was another matter entirely. Typically, Link preferred his shirts to fit loosely. He felt more comfortable that way.

Zelda's T-shirt did no such thing. It was soft, certainly, but it clung to his upper body like a second layer of skin, showing off every bit of him.

He did not like this.

He tried to tug at the fabric in the hopes of loosening it up a little, but it was stubborn and kept bouncing back to its original shape and fit.

This was a disaster. He couldn't work like this. He wasn't keen on prancing about like this with everything on display, and he was quite sure the models or the other Shinobi people would appreciate it either. He'd fucked up once with that one model of theirs already.

Hylia above, he hoped that particular model wasn't going to be part of the shoot.

As if on cue, Zelda knocked on the bathroom door impatiently. "Link, what the hell is taking you so long?" she asked. "Shinobi's here, they're parking their van downstairs as we speak! Get out here!"

Link sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, satisfied to see that his hair, at least, was cooperating for once. Well, this was it. The worst day of his life had arrived. He unlocked the door and stepped back into the office.

Zelda was looking at him with a slight grin. "Very nice," she said. "You should wear tighter clothing more often, Link."

"Very funny," he growled, throwing on his hoodie and zipping it up. "I hope this doesn't offend your delicate fashion sensibilities?"

"Plain black works for me," she said with a shrug. "I'm sure that hoodie will get hot, though."

"I'll live."

"We'll see."

The intercom buzzed, and Zelda went to answer it.

"Yes? Ah, excellent. I'll be right down." She closed the line and grinned at Link. "They're here. Get yourself ready, little brother. It's fashion time!"

Sheik was the first person through the door, and he wasn't sure what he'd expected. The building was on one of the more upscale streets in the downtown area, but the studio he'd just stepped into looked anything but lavish.

It was a small office-like room, with exposed pipes and vent canals in the ceiling, a desk with a computer set in one corner, a pair of sofas jammed against the side walls, and the rest of the space was completely dominated by the stage area with a white screen and a ton of lamps and reflectors. In the opposite corner of the desk was another door, which appeared to lead to a bathroom.

Zelda, the Hylian girl who'd let them inside the building and was, apparently, the CEO of the company, gestured to the small office space.

"Welcome to Trifocus!" she said, like she was introducing a palace instead of a shitty little office. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I've got plenty of coffee and water and can make tea for those who prefer that."

There was no food.

Strike one.

Weren't shoots like these supposed to have some sort of caterer on hand to provide sustenance to the workers?

"No wonder Ordon with Elenwe," he muttered to Kiro. "I bet she's willing to pay for some decent service."

Kiro snorted. "Good one."

"Miss Hyrule," Kafei said, a very pleased look on his face, "thank you so much for agreeing to this shoot on such short notice. I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"Not at all, mister..." she trailed off, probably realising Kafei had never told her his last name. He never did that with anyone. Because he was apparently convinced he was so big in the fashion world already that his first name would always suffice.

"Kafei is fine," Kafei said.

"Then you can call me Zelda."

There was another person in the room, but their back was turned to the Shinobi crew, fiddling with a camera on a tripod. They wore a baggy black hoodie with the hood up, obscuring them from view.

"I know my space isn't very big," Zelda said, looking a bit embarrassed, "but I hope it'll suffice?"

"We'll make do, Zelda," Kafei said smoothly. "We've worked with far less space than this before. If anything, this is a luxury!"

"That's good to hear," Zelda said, smiling and looking at the rest of the crew. "I'm sorry, but I didn't get your names..."

"Oh, sorry, my bad," Kafei said, introducing the crew one by one, ending on Sheik. "And this is my cousin! Sheik, of clan Ishida."

"Pleasure to meet you," Zelda said, shaking his hand, looking closely at his face. "You were the star attraction, weren't you? At the show, I mean."

Oh gods, she'd seen the photos!

"Y-Yeah," he said, feeling his cheeks heating up already.

"You were so good-looking on that stage," Zelda said excitedly.

"Th-Thank you..."

There was a loud click and a flash from the studio area, and a small, muttered curse.

Zelda clicked her tongue. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce my photographer!" She turned to the hoodie-clad person. "Link! Come here and say hello to the people we'll be working with!"

The photographer—Link, was it?—turned around and lowered his hood.

Revealing a very familiar face. Sheik's breath hitched. Just his fucking luck that the one photographer whose photos Kafei had liked turned out to be this fucking pervert. He narrowed his eyes and pointed an accusing finger at the Hylian.

"You!" he exclaimed.

Around him, Kafei, his cohorts, and Zelda went quiet, looking confused.

The photographer, however, knew exactly what it meant, if his panicked expression was anything to judge by.

"I...er..."

"You drooled!"

The silence lay thick over the room as the occupants tried to digest what Sheik had just shouted in such a venomous tone one would think he'd just accused Link of genocide. Even Link looked confused at having such anger thrown at him for an act—heinous though it may be—only truly affected his own clothes.

"I think I'm gonna need some context here, cuz," Kafei said quietly.

"Him!" Sheik shouted, his internal volume knob broken off at 11, jabbing his finger in Link's direction. "He's the one who drooled at the show! The perv!"

That seemed to knock Link out of his confusion, and he glared back. "I'm not a perv!" he shouted back.

"Then why the fuck were you drooling at the sight of my panties?!"

"Why the fuck were you twirling and showing them off?!"

"I'm a model! It's my job to show off the clothes the designer makes!"

Sheik wasn't sure why he'd just claimed to be a model when nothing could be further from the truth, but he was too far gone in his rage at the sight of the pervert photographer to take logic and truth into consideration.

"Oh, and that includes flashing the whole room, does it?!"

"Yes, it does when he tells me to!"

He couldn't resist dragging Kafei into this either, giving his cousin a venomous glare. This was all his fault.

Kafei, still confused but suddenly looking smug, said, "I told him to do the first twirl, but not the second one. That one was all for you, apparently."

Sheik rounded on his cousin, shock running through him like an icy spear. Kafei dared to look innocent.

"You throw me under the bus, I'm taking you with me, cousin," he said.

"O-kay," Zelda said slowly, raising her hands in what was apparently supposed to be a placating and peaceful gesture. It looked like she was trying to calm a wounded animal. "Apparently there's something I've missed here. Excuse me for a moment while I confer with my photographer."

Link didn't resist as Zelda dragged him into a corner.

"Care to explain what that was all about?" she asked pleasantly, but with an undertone of steel. The one that told Link he was in big trouble. "What was that about drooling?"

"It's no big deal," Link said sourly, glaring across the room at the Sheikah model—Sheik Ishida, apparently—who was currently surrounded by the designer and his little army of minions, presumably having this exact same conversation.

"It clearly is to Ishida," Zelda said. "Now, out with it."

Link groaned. Of all the stupid, embarrassing, humiliating things he had to admit to...

"I may have...drooled a bit when he was strutting about on the catwalk last week," he said, refusing to meet his sister's eyes. "He may have noticed."

"So I gathered," Zelda said drily.

"But he didn't seem to mind it then!" Link hurriedly added. "He actually looked right at me, grinned like a smug little shit, and did another twirl! On purpose! Why the fuck would he do that and then accuse me of being some sort of creepy pervert?! He started it!"

"The fuck I did!" Ishida shouted.

"Why don't you do another twirl?!"

"Why don't you start drooling again?!"

They were simultaneously silenced again by their respective relatives. Zelda was more than used to her twin's seldom seen but incandescent when roused temper, easily shutting him down with The Look.

"Take a deep breath, little brother," she said. "Look, I get that Ishida's display was...exciting. Hell, those pics were damned tasty, I'll admit, but openly drooling at him? Link, it wasn't a strip club. I expected you to have more decorum than that."

"But—"

"Now, I get that his outfit was meant to tantalise and excite, but there's a time and a place, you know? And how else was he supposed to react up there? By shouting and calling you a pervert right there on the catwalk? That'd be a scandal and could hurt Shinobi for years. Sure, the second twirl was unnecessary, but maybe that was Ishida's way of telling you to get a grip."

Link glared at her. "You really think that?" he asked, doubtful.

She maintained a completely straight and unreadable face. "Now, it probably wasn't the best way to do it, but when you're up on a stage like that, your thoughts may not be the most coherent. He was probably half-starved and slightly delirious."

That...made a little sense. A little. Link didn't know much about the fashion world, but he did know what sort of hell models went through to achieve their body shapes and the like. And while Ishida was certainly on the muscular side for a model, he was still quite lithe and small. It was probably hell, maintaining that sort of shape, and then being forced to contend with the likes of Link...who wasn't a pervert, but definitely should've known better than to openly drool.

Eugh.

This was the last fucking time he did Zelda any favours.

"Fine," he harrumphed. "You're right. I guess."

"Damn right I am," Zelda said brightly, smiling at him. "Now come on. Let's just apologise to Ishida, and we can back to work, eh?"

She didn't give him an option, dragging Link towards the Sheikah huddle.

"Excuse me, my brother has something to say!"

Sheik paused. They were brother and sister? There was definitely a resemblance, now that he looked at them standing side by side.

So, they were probably both pervs, then. Figures. Typical Kafei, choosing the one photography studio staffed by voyeurs.

"Be nice," Kafei whispered as the huddle—which had formed in order to stop Sheik from marching over to Link and turning him into a pretzel—broke up, facing the Trifocus staff.

Zelda shoved Link forward none-too-gently, whispering something to him in the same way Kafei had to Sheik.

Their eyes met, and Sheik had to force himself not to imitate Link's expression from the photo pit. Dumb and vacant. A pity, too. Because Link wasn't bad looking. In that boy-next-door kind of way. Eugh. Why had he done that second fucking twirl? He'd gotten so caught up in the moment the thought had bypassed every single one of his security checks before it reached his nerve centre.

He prepared himself to defend his actions, in case this idiot decided to accuse him of playing coy or something, but Link simply bowed his head a little.

"I'm sorry," he said. "What I did was rude and creepy, and unbecoming of my position as a photographer. Please forgive me."

Huh.

Surprisingly straightforward...and an actual apology, unlike so many others Sheik had heard.

Link straightened up, their eyes meeting again. There was still anger in his eyes, but now there was determination, too. The sort that conveyed a very specific sentiment. The sort that simply said:

I hate your guts, but let's get this over with so we'll never have to see each other again.

A sentiment Sheik could agree with wholeheartedly.

"Apology accepted," he said after a moment, trying to convey that same sentiment.

An Agreement appeared to have been made, and the room relaxed.

"All right, then!" Zelda said, clapping her hands again cheerfully. "Bump in the road cleared! Let's take some photos, shall we?!"

"Yeah!" Kafei said, pumping his fist excitedly. "I can't wait to see what magic we'll cook up in here!" He was about to say something else equally stupid, but his phone went off. Some annoyingly generic rock music announced an incoming call, and he quickly took it, giving everyone a faux-apologetic look. "Paya, where are you? Oh, great. Yeah, just come on up!" He put the phone away. "Sorry about that, my security team just finished locking up our car and is bringing up the last box of supplies!"

Sheik nodded to himself. Of course. Paya would keep him safe from the perv in case he tried to take some...creative shots. Good old Paya-nee, the scariest girl in the neighbourhood where they'd grown up, who'd take on kids twice her size and walk away unscathed while they cried all the way home.

She'd protect him.

Link took a deep breath, fighting down the urge to keep arguing with Ishida, focusing instead on setting up the last of his cameras, aware of the model's piercing eyes in the back of his head.

"He's still glaring at me, isn't he?" Link asked quietly as Zelda came up to him to help with the setup.

"Yup," Zelda confirmed.

"This is going to be a disaster," he sighed.

"We can still salvage this," Zelda assured him. "We just have to maintain a completely professional mood from now on, right?"

"I'll try," Link said. "But if he picks a fight again..."

"I'll be there to shut it down, if so," she promised.

There was a knock on the door, and Link and Zelda both turned around just in time to see one of the minions opening the door for Kafei's security team...which turned out to be just one person.

And Link had no doubt that the Sheikah woman, who was carrying what seemed to be an incredibly heavy box with no trouble whatsoever, clad in a black suit and with a sharp look in her ruby eyes, was an entire team on her own. The suit fit her perfectly, showing off what was undoubtedly a powerful frame, only matched by the severity in her face. Her silver hair was put up in a simple bun, with crisscrossing sticks holding it in place.

Simply put, this was not a woman to mess with.

"I wouldn't want to get in a fight with her," Link said, watching as she handed the box to a pair of minions, who definitely struggled with the weight between the two of them. "She looks like she could break your spine over her knee like it's nothing." Zelda didn't answer. "Eh, Zel?" he asked, looking at her.

His sister's gaze was fastened on the Sheikah woman, her expression vacant. Her cheeks were dusted with pink, and a small, translucent drop of saliva was making its way down her chin.

Oh no.

"Zel?" he tried again, poking her shoulder.

"...thighs...skull..." she said.

He poked her again, saying "What?"

"Think she could...crush my skull with her thighs?" Zelda said, sighing dreamily.

Link looked at the nearest window. He could make it. With enough speed, he'd crash right through the double safety glass, fall five stories, and smash his head open on the pavement.

It'd be a damn sight better—and kinder—fate than what he was about to face.