"So I'm… uh… failing English?" Link doesn't have to look at her to know that his daughter's hands are wrung together tighty and knows that his daughter is unreasonably nervous. His daughter holds herself to higher standards than Link holds her to, and he knows that there's probably a logical reason she's not doing too hot in English right now.

He peels his eyes from his word document and eyes Zelda. As expected, his adopted daughter's hands are wound tightly together and her eyes are glued to the dingy carpet of his office. He raises a delicate eyebrow and knows by the cringe on her face that his message has gotten across successfully. Explain.

"I… well," a blush spreads across her face and she cringes even more, "there'sthisnewgirlinschoolandshe'sreallyprettyandIcouldn'tfinishmytestbecauseIwasstaringather. "

He feels rather than sees his other eyebrow inch up his forehead. His poor daughter's got it bad. He clears his throat and tries to contain the loud laughter that's bubbling in his chest. He can't, however, fight the amused smile that takes over his usually stoic face, "Babe, just because you failed one test does not mean you're failing English. I know you. I know you can bring it back up. I know you think grades are everything, but I just want you to have fun while you can. You'll be in school for only two more years, and then college, and then you'll spend the rest of your life working…" he trails off, noticing her still guilty face and feels his smile fade. "This isn't just about the test, is it?"

Zelda winces, "When my English teacher, Mr. Rito, questioned me about my poor grade, I, uh, kind of said I was having family issues?"

Link sighs, and pinches his nose. "And what," she flinches slightly under his stare, "exactly did you say was going on?"

"I may have said that it was too much for me to talk about and that he should call you after school ends."

"So you want to fake a family death so that you don't have to share that you were ogling the new girl so much that you couldn't finish your test?" Link asks, shutting his laptop and trying to figure out whether or not to just out his daughter like the dirty, dirty, liar she is.

"I… well, it doesn't have to be a family death. I don't think I have the skills to fake cry-" at this Link gives her a disbelieving look, remembering all the times she manipulated him with tears when she was a small child, (he caved everytime, because he's a huge pushover all the time when it comes to his lovely daughter) "so maybe fake a bad breakup or something? You're a writer. You can figure something out right?"

Link doesn't deign Zelda with an answer, instead he gets up to stretch like a particularly lazy cat. The satisfying crack of his joints makes him sigh contentedly, and he pulls Zelda in close, giving her a hug and planting a kiss on her stupid blonde head. "You, my girl," he muses her hair affectionately, "are a whole mess."

The phone rings loud and shrill through the house, prompting Link to disentangle himself from his daughter and make his way to the nearest house phone, wherever that may be. It takes two more rings for him to find it, but Link eventually answers the phone with a sigh and pointed look at his daughter, who's been trailing after him during his quest for the phone.

"Hylia household, how may I help you?" He intones carefully, watching the way Zelda shifts and wrings her hands together.

"Ah, yes, this is Mr. Rito, Zelda's English teacher, may I speak to Zelda's father please?" The voice that comes through the speaker is a smooth baritone, entirely too smooth for someone who, by Zelda's previous descriptions, is a real ass. And really, sounding that good over the phone should be illegal, as far as Link is concerned.

"This is he." Link replies stiffly, covering any surprise he may or may not have felt about Mr. Rito's voice.

"Mr. Hylia, I'm not sure if you know this, but Zelda has recently scored very low on her English test, and I was wondering if you would mind coming into school during my conference period to talk about why she's doing so poorly all of a sudden. Are you free tomorrow from 1:00 to 1:55?"

Link blinks. He hasn't had to go to a parent teacher conference in a long time. "Of course," he replies smoothly, "and please, call me Link." He adds almost as an afterthought.

There's a long pause, the pause that usually signifies a recognizing of Link's name. He is widely known as the best author of their time, from his strongly controversial anti-heros to his wildly popular fantasy books. "Link Hylia? Like the author?"

"Yeah," he fakes a laugh, "looks like you caught me."

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow." The line beeps dead and Link blinks before chuckling. His fans were all very different upon meeting him for the first time.

"Your English teacher is a fan." Link says after putting the receiver up. Zelda laughs quietly, before shrugging.

"Everyone is a fan, you're a world renowned author."

"I demand payment for all the lying I'm about to do in the form of movies and snuggles."

"As is expected in this household."

"Oh, and the tea about this new girl. I need inspiration for a new novel."

"Only if you promise to never say tea like that in my presence ever again!" Zelda shouts at his back.

Link cackles loudly.

Revali doesn't do a lot of things. He has a lot of things he wants to do, and a lot of things he has to do. He does neither, he wanted to be a writer, he majored in English and everyone told him he would do great things, but here he is three years later, working at a high school teaching English to a bunch of teens with daddy issues. The only form of writing he participates in now is writing fanfiction for basically all of Link Hylia's books, and now he learns that one of his slightly okay student's dad is the one person Revali admires the most in this world. Link is easily the most attractive thing to grace this earth, has a wonderful daughter, is stupidly rich, and anyone who's ever bothered to crack open a book knows his name.

It's not a secret that Revali is both bitter and jealous.

(People don't usually like him for his bubbling personality.

In fact people usually don't like him at all. So there's that.)

Every morning, he cracks open a laptop to write about something, anything, usually something inspired by Link Hylia, usually a fantasy AU and usually with a lot of symbolism involving birds.

It's a Thursday afternoon, right after Revali's sixth period, when Link Hylia arrives in his quaint English classroom, the perfect image of sex on legs, which is unfair since Revali is pretty sure he just looks like a normal human being. They shake hands, and Revali oh so carefully takes stock of the calluses lining his fingers and thinks, this is what a writer's hands feel like.

"The reason I called you here today is that your daughter, Zelda, has consistently scored the highest out of all her students, and yet recently I've noticed that her grades are steadily falling in this class. I imagine she's not paying enough attention in class, is there anything going on at home that I need to be aware of?" He asks finally, breathing in and hoping that Link doesn't go off on him like some parents are prone to.

"Our cat," Link starts, shaking his head, "he died recently. Really tragically, actually, hit by a dumpster truck. I imagine she's very distraught, as it was her mother's favorite cat." His lips quirk up and blue eyes stare deep into Revali's, like they're searching his soul for something Revali can't see, "I can't think of any other reason that might be distracting her."

"Ah, yes, I suppose that makes sense-" the shrill ringing of a phone cuts through the air and Link pulls out his phone, his eyebrows climbing high on his forehead.

"It's my agent," he explains quickly, "I apologize our time has been cut so short, but it seems from the last fifty text messages he's sent that it's fairly urgent." Link grabs Revali's hand, raising it up and oh-

Oh my.

His lips graze the back of Revali's knuckles and he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, as Link turns and saunters out of his English classroom.

Of course the ass on the man is nigh perfect too.

Of course.

Fuck.