Disclaimer: I do not and never will own the characters of The Legend of Zelda. Nor will I ever own Nintendo. Damn it. Also, you may recognize some of the dialogue in this chapter from the show Suits-the dialogue about "questions" is not mine, it was borrowed. I am not the artist who made the beautiful cover art, it was found on Zerochan and borrowed.

THE DAYS IN FEBRUARY
by Cappucinno

Day 9, Part Two. Surprises

"Morning Link!" Malon chorused, perched on their couch with a wide grin and a cup of coffee.

Link was decidedly less of a morning person and eyed the red-head suspiciously as he grumbled his way through their living room and into their kitchen. He opened the fridge, ignoring the to-go boxes from his food-war dinner appointment with Zelda the night prior. Crouton prisoners of war mixed with a small army of floored meatballs was appealing to him only on a nostalgic level. Eat the stuff?

Link shuddered at the thought. He was a restauranteur. Never in a million years.

"So…" Malon began and Link waved her off.

"No."

"But…"

"No, Malon."

"Link." Her voice was firmly insistent. "Come on. You've gotta spill."

The blonde in question turned, expression thoughtful as he pulled a carton of eggs out of the fridge. "Do I?" He turned his attention back to the eggs hunting for an expiration date. "Do you remember how old this is Mal?"

"Three weeks. You won't die." Before she'd lost Link's attention Malon hopped up off the couch and snatched the egg carton from his hands. She smacked his hands away as he reached for it, wagging her coffee cup at him. "Nuh-uh. You got a question, I get a question. Fair is fair."

Link didn't look convinced and he made another grab from the eggs—he was rewarded with hot coffee splashing over his fingers.

"Shit! Malon." He glared.

"Question!" Malon bulldozed over his objection, still unusually bright eyed and bushy tailed. "How was the date?"

"Fine." Link answered tersely, folding his arms impatiently.

"If you want these eggs, you're gonna do better than that."

"Malon, you set us up. What do you want me to say?" Link sighed, exasperated, groggy, and hungry. A hungry Link was not a happy Link.

"Come on, we both know you two have been running in circles around each other for like, almost two weeks now. Spill!"

"It was fun," Link said, shrugging. "Food fight. Got kicked out. Walked us home."

"Anything…?"

"Happen? Malon, I'm telling you, it's all in your head." And with that he grabbed the eggs, turning to gather some other random ingredients for what was likely to be his breakfast frittata.

"It is not a figment of my imagination. Did you see how distracted she was when your shirt was off? I told you that would happen, and it did." Malon broke off, frowning. "Hey. What was that look?"

Link glanced over his shoulder at the redhead, hesitating for a second.

"Malon, have you seen how almost every girl reacts when I don't have a shirt on?" There was no arrogance there, just a tired stating of the facts. "I'm young, I can cook, and I'm rich."

"And you're hot."

"And I'm hot. Forgive me if I'm wary of women."

"You know you're not cute when you're all cynical right?"

Link turned his attention to his frittata, ignoring the redhead.

"Well fine. But you said it was fun. You were happy right?"

"Malon…" There was a hint of warning in Link's voice.

"Right?"

"…Yeah," Link refused to look up from his eggs, and there was a hint of wistfulness around his eyes that Malon hadn't seen before. "Yeah, I was."

"So…?" Malon fished, looking a little too pleased with herself.

"Malon, that's not a question."

"She's gorgeous, and she's smart, and you have fun with her."

"That's still not a question."

"She doesn't trip over herself fawning over you."

"…Do you even know what a question is, Malon?"

"Do you like her?" Malon asked, seating herself on the counter.

"She's nice." Link responded noncommittally, moving his frittata from the stove to the oven.

"That's it?" The redhead didn't try to mask her disappointment, visibly wilting.

"Yes, that's it—" The blonde looked up and sighed, shoulders sinking as he took in Malon's depressed posture. "Look, I don't know Malon, alright? Besides, she can't stand my guts."

"I think Zellie likes you. Even if Zellie doesn't know she likes you."

"So you keep telling me."

"She comes to your bakery all the time. She stares at your ass. She gets flustered when you're shirtless. She always complains about you. Even when I wasn't at dinner, she stayed and ate with you. She didn't have to, she could have left."

"…Alright, so she tolerates me. And I have fun with her. That's it."

"Okay. Fine. I have a surprise for you."

"I don't like surprises Mal."

There was a beat of silence and Link seemed determined to sweep the whole thing under the rug. Malon took a deep breath, bracing herself for the blonde's reaction.

"I told her who you were."

Link went perfectly still, then turned around in such a way that movie effect slow-motion was put to shame.

"You. Did. What?" He asked, his voice dangerously controlled.

"This morning. I told her."

"And?" Link demanded, a hint of impatience seeping into his voice.

"And she's in the hospital. Beth Israel." Malon finished.

The blonde cursed, frittata forgotten as he made a mad dash for his shoes and his car keys, embarrassing pajama pants at all. Malon absentmindedly handed him a jacket to cover his naked torso and smiled deviously into her coffee cup and the door slammed behind the handsome young heir.

"That's it my ass. Totally likes her."

Day 10. Flowers.

Zelda, upon the dual insistence of Malon and Nabooru, had allowed the doctors to keep her in the hospital overnight for observation. It was a decision that she was rapidly coming to regret. How many nurses were there, and why on earth did every single one of them want to wake her up and ask her if she was okay?

The blonde was in a decidedly scowly mood. The day before had been a whirlwind of activity after waking up in the hospital. Something about a rapid drop in blood pressure and possibly a case of pneumonia. She blamed Link. She blamed Link for all of it.

If she hadn't trudged to that stupid bakery in the stupid rain to get the stupid bread from the infuriating man, she probably wouldn't have had the beginnings of pneumonia. And if she hadn't gotten the shock of her life from hearing that said infuriating man was the heir to a Fortune 500 company, she wouldn't have fainted. Hence, everything was Link's fault.

Even if the aforementioned heir had burst into her hospital room in his pajamas with a woman's sweater and Italian made leather shoes no more than five minutes after she'd initially woken up, spouting a million apologies and tripping over himself (and her IV drip) to work his way to her bedside to check for a fever. It was endearing, in a way.

If she hadn't been so pissed off, she might have even realized that some part of her was happy he'd come. As it was, she'd only been mildly less pissed off at him for coming to see her.

She had a headache from lack of sleep and the hospital food tasted like shit. Zelda liked to think that she could Link for that too. Vicariously, anyhow.

Malon had come by at some point as well, grinning like the Cheshire Cat and generally regretting nothing. She'd been in an inordinately good mood, for reasons that she refused to tell her ailing friend, and she kept going on about how some plan that was working.

Zelda didn't want to know what the plan was, or why it was working. All Zelda wanted was sleep. As she closed her eyes and tried to zen herself into slumber she heard the door of her room creak open and she immediately scowled.

"Yes, I am fine. Please do not wake me up to ask me if I'm fine. I am. I promise. Go away."

There was a pause, and the sound of footsteps slowly approaching.

Zelda opened her eyes, scowling more, and was greeted with the sight of… flowers. She blinked, as if to dispel an illusion. The flowers were still there.

Enough flowers to cover the surface of her entire apartment for a year. Flowers in every shape and color known to man, arranged in a vase as tall as her six year old niece Aryll.

And then the flowers spoke.

"Alright. Not asking. Glad you're fine. You uh—where can I put this?"

Zelda blinked again.

"Link?"

"Yeah. Link. Listen, this is heavy so can I just?"

"Uh. Yeah. On that counter over there."

The flowers shuffled sideways until they sat on a shelf stacked with every edition of Cosmo known to man and a smattering of get-well-soon cards. Then they sighed in relief and Link appeared, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and shirt stained with flower water.

There was a beat of silence.

"So listen, I'm really sorry about… you know." The handsome heir waved his hand vaguely and Zelda nodded, half wondering if she was delirious.

"I don't forgive you. My head hurts and the food is gross." Zelda said, a little too hasty to be genuine.

Link just smiled.

"And they think I have pneumonia. I blame you."

"…You think I gave you pneumonia?"

"Your stupid bakery gave me pneumonia."

"…I'm… sorry my bakery gave you pneumonia."

"It's the bread's fault. It's addictive. If I hadn't walked in the rain, I wouldn't have pneumonia."

"Ah. Well, the bread is sorry it gave you pneumonia."

"Good. It should be."

Another beat of silence.

"…Why is the chair moving closer?"

"Well, if you have pneumonia, you should stay warm right? I happen to be a very warm pers—"

"Link, get OUT of my hospital bed!"

"But it's warmer here and—"

"This is twin sized, not sharing sized—"

"Nonsense, it's fun size—"

"Just get out!"

A/N: Well, it's been forever and a half. I make no excuses except... forgive me, I'm back? This will get finished. Even if it takes me another couple of years to remember to do so. Though hopefully, it's not going to take that long this time around.