A/N: You know what's better than pointless fluff? Pointless domestic fluff. Granted, this one has a bit more direction and plot than last time, but at the end of the day this is yet another purely self-indulgent story. The pacing of this one feels wonky to me, but I couldn't find a way to fix that, so feel free to leave suggestions for improvement in the comments.

Link and Malon are 23 now. I also just realized that in spite of my earlier warning, so far, all of my oneshots have been in chronological order. Don't get used to that, because I plan on breaking formation soon.

Malon was an authority on pet names. She used them even more than proper names. She had spent her whole life sweet-talking her animals, with terms of endearment like Honey, Sweetie, Sugar, and the like. When Link started courting her, the habit made a natural transition from her farm animals to her betrothed. He had to get used to answering to Darling, Sweetheart, and, when Malon was particularly cross with him, a sternly enunciated Love of My Life. But the habit of using pet names was firmly one-sided. Aside from the occasional, but still affectionate My Lady, Link was only comfortable using Malon's given name.

Until a strange day about a year after their wedding.

Malon was standing over a pot of stew, humming and swaying, one hand propped on her swollen hip as she gently stirred the contents of the pot with a wooden spoon. At six months along, the baby was really starting to show, and she had to shift her weight from one foot to the other to keep from getting tired. Link was at the kitchen table, adding up some figures from that morning's milk delivery. Malon had almost forgotten he was there until he spoke up suddenly.

"Do you want me to do that, Honey?"

Malon froze, hand still on the spoon, and looked over at him with an odd expression.

"What?"

"I asked if you wanted me to do that," Link repeated, nodding at the stewpot. "You look like you need to sit down."

"Oh... Oh! N-no, I'm fine, thanks, Sweetie." She went back to vigorously stirring, thinking she had misheard him. Link just wasn't the type to use pet names. It went against his nature of saving words until he absolutely needed them. Beyond that, he just was not comfortable showing affection in ways that outside observers could easily interpret. He had an entire system of seemingly mundane gestures that meant everything from You're beautiful, to I'm worried about you, but he almost never spoke words of sentiment out loud, especially not in a place as public as their kitchen, where either Talon or Ingo could wander in at any given moment. She decided to forget about it, in spite of the feeling of her heart melting in her chest, and didn't say anything about it.

For a week, nothing else happened out of the ordinary. Malon tried her best to forget about the Honey Incident, as she had taken to calling it in her mind, chalking it up to either a fluke or just a misunderstanding. She admitted to herself it was nice to hear, even just once. Strange, coming from Link, but still nice. But she had more important things to worry about. Pregnant as she was, she was forbidden from doing any intensive labor around the animals, but that didn't mean there weren't deliveries to be planned, Rupees to be exchanged, and baby blankets to knit. She stayed as busy as ever, and actually managed to put the strange occurrence out of her mind for a time.

Then it happened again.

"You should come to bed, Sweetheart."

Malon froze, fingers going stiff on her knitting needles. It was late, well past bedtime, but she had all but promised herself she would finish this blanket tonight. She had been so absorbed in her work, she had not noticed Link was in the room until he was directly behind her chair.

"Malon?" Link put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yes!" she squeaked, dropping her knitting as though it had burned her, suddenly flustered again. "Er...Yes, I-I'm fine. And you're right. I guess it is pretty late." She set her work on the side table and heaved a massive grunt as she struggled to get out of her chair. Link came around in front of her and hauled her up, just a hint of an amused gleam in his eyes. "Oh, shut up," Malon grumbled, swatting his hands away as soon as she was on her own feet.

"I didn't say anything," he replied cheekily. Hadn't he, though? Once could have been a fluke, but twice seemed unlikely. And she had heard it very clearly this time, there was no mistaking what he had called her. She stalked upstairs to bed wishing she could quell the girlish butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. Once again, she did not say anything to draw his attention to it. Perhaps he did not even realize he was doing it, and maybe he would stop if she brought it up. As strange as it was to hear terms of endearment coming from Link of all people, it was also very nice, and she was not sure she wanted it to stop any time soon.

It did not stop. It happened again. And again. And again. Honey, Darling, Sweetheart, Dear, they were all becoming more common as time passed. It was almost making her frantic. At first, it was only when they were alone together, but even then, it sent a strange new thrill down the center of Malon's heart whenever it happened. She wondered if she was losing her mind, or maybe the baby was making her feel this way. Either way, it was still just as strange as ever. And Link still never seemed to notice, no matter how badly he startled her. It was a bit unfair, really. It used to be that she was the one who always got him flustered. Now all he had to do was evoke words that were commonplace in any other household and suddenly she was like butter in his hands. Was he doing this on purpose? That seemed very unlike him, but then again, this whole thing was very unlike him. A month passed, and soon he was even letting the little names slip out in front of her father.

The irony of the situation was not completely lost on her. She doubted there was another woman in the world who was this worked up about her husband using a pet name or two. But this was Link, and pet names had always been her thing. As warm and fuzzy as she felt when she had heard them, this was just too out of character for him. She even entertained the thought that maybe he was cursed, under some kind of magical influence, though that did not last very long. Link was far too smart to get himself cursed. Besides, in every other aspect, he was completely normal. That left only one other explanation.

Link must have changed.

She was surprised at how much the thought scared her when it first occurred to her. This was not anything life-changing, or even unpleasant. In fact, she hoped to Nayru he never stopped, because now she was getting used to it and would really hate it if he did. But the idea that the Link of today was different from the Link she married was a jarring one. What would she do if he ever changed in a really big way? Then a doubly horrifying thought occurred to her, as she was in the middle of cleaning the lunch dishes one afternoon. What if she changed too much, and lost what made him love her? Her hands froze for a moment, and she found herself staring unseeing into the bottom of the sink.

"You alright, Dear?"

Malon started and looked up. Link was beside her, glancing curiously between her still hands and her face. The late afternoon sun flowed through an open window nearby and made his golden hair shine as though it had just been burnished. She had not even noticed when he came in.

"Yes... Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" she inquired, looking back down at her dishes.

"You've been scrubbing that plate for the past ten minutes," he informed her, taking the offending article from her sudsy hands and gently shooing her to the side as he rinsed it under the faucet.

"Well, I was just thinking," she replied, taking up a towel to dry the plate when he handed it to her. Link hummed noncommittally in response. She knew he wanted to know what had her so preoccupied, otherwise he would not have asked, but he was also giving her enough space to keep it to herself, if she wanted. Was it possible that he could one day lose that understanding and sensitivity? Was it possible that she would lose the ease with which she always told him what was on her mind? "What would you think..." she said slowly, running the towel across the plate again even though it was dry now. "...if I...if I stopped calling you Fairy Boy?" He looked up abruptly from the mug he had been scrubbing and gave her a queer look. He had not been expecting that. "Well?" she prodded, towel now hanging limp in her hand. "How would you feel?"

"Are you...wanting to call me something else, or...?"

"Just answer the question, Link," Malon cut him off with an amused smile. "What would you think?" Link looked back down at the mug and resumed scrubbing, thinking for a moment.

"I suppose I'd wonder if you were mad at me," he answered honestly. She must have looked offended, because he hurried to rectify the statement. "I mean, if I thought anything of it at all! I'm not the most observant person when it comes to these things, and..." Malon still looked offended. He quickly decided to change the direction of the conversation before he dug himself into an even deeper hole."Wh-why are you asking?" The pump above the faucet squeaked as he pushed it down with more force than was necessary.

"Oh, I don't know," Malon sighed, rubbing the twice dry plate yet again. "I was just thinking about us, and about people, and I thought, people can change, you know?" Link's hands froze on the mug he was rinsing, and Malon saw his eyes dart nervously in her direction for a split second. "Stop worrying, I still love you," she told him, finally setting down the plate and taking the mug. "But...we're not going to be the same people in twenty years, are we?" She glanced down at her hands, suddenly shy for some reason. "We'll probably be really different. And I guess...Well, I guess I was wondering if things between us would look different, too."

"Oh," Link replied, looking only slightly less nervous. Things were quiet between them for a few minutes afterwards, and Malon started to wonder if he had anything to say at all. Finally, he handed her the last dish to be dried, and met her gaze with his own. "Would it really matter?" he asked quietly. "Even if things looked different, we'd still love each other, right? We...We promised we would, after all. And even if we're totally new people in twenty years, I don't..." He paused, and the tips of his ears turned pink. "...I really don't think I could stop loving you."

Malon dueled valiantly with the sudden urge to kiss him senseless for a little while, but ultimately lost the fight. Tossing the towel and the only half-dried bowl onto the counter, she grabbed his face with her damp hands and did just that. He was visibly discombobulated when she let him go a minute later, though certainly not displeased. He looked at her with an expression of confused amazement that she remembered witnessing the first time he had ever seen a horse as a child. Years later, that expression was still the same.

"I guess important things don't change as easily, do they?" she murmured.

"...What?" Link mumbled stupidly, still breathless and distracted.

"Nevermind," Malon laughed, pushing him back teasingly. She snatched up the bowl and towel again, enjoying the heat welling up in her cheeks and heart. "You know, you've been awful sweet to me lately," she told him lightly, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"I have?"

"Yes," she replied matter-of-factly. "It's been quite odd." She paused, waiting for his reaction. He continued to look confused. So he really had not been doing it on purpose. That was so like her Fairy Boy not to notice something like that. She felt a surge of affection rise up again, along with a hint of fond exasperation.

"Do...Do you want me to stop, or...?"

"No. I like it." She set down the bowl again, and turned to face him. "It's a change I can get used to..." She rose up on her toes and planted another kiss on his cheek. "...Darling."

And with no further explanation, she swept out of the room to return to her knitting, leaving her husband to wonder if she was still going to be this maddeningly cryptic twenty years from now.