Featuring Link and Ghirahim. Trigger warning for blood.

This very special chapter was co-written by myself and my very dear friend The-Talking-Absol. She wrote the juicier middle, while I handled the beginning and uh... shall I say "cleaned up" at the end? I'm honored that she offered to write this with me, and I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do.

Weather was terrible today. The wind howled and rattled the windows of Link's new house, while hail and snow assaulted the roof. The racket was so loud Link could hardly hear himself think. He sighed, laying back on his sofa, and bored out of his mind. He'd finished all of the wax carvings he needed for Zelda, and that left little for him to do until the blizzard subsided. His ears perked as he heard a knock at the door.

'Who the heck would be out in this nasty storm?' he thought.

He got up and opened the door to find Ghirahim shivering on his doorstep.

"Ghirahim!" he cried, "What are you doing outside in this weather?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course you can, get in here." Link seized the ex-demon's arm and yanked him inside, shoving the door closed against the raging wind. Ghirahim shook the ice out of his hair like a dog, and lightly brushed off his arms and torso. Link wrapped his jacket around Ghirahim's shoulders and beckoned for him to come sit down.

"What's so important that you need to come here in a blizzard?" the hero asked.

Ghirahim huffed, "I come all this way just to pay you a visit, and you thank me by bombarding me with questions? Such a rude child."

Link frowned at him and replied, "People die in blizzards, Ghirahim. I'm just worried."

Chuckling, the ex-demon lord pinched Link's cheek like a doting grandmother. "How sweet of you, Skychild! I didn't know you cared so much."

"Cut it out!" The young hero slapped his old adversary's hand away, rubbing his cheek where the ex-demon had pinched him. "So, what do you want?"

"I've already stated, Skychild. I just wanted to visit." He replied in mock defense, sprawling luxuriously out on Link's sofa.

Link appraised the ex-demon carefully. He was quickly learning the older man's mannerisms and he could tell Ghirahim had some ulterior motive, especially since the weather was so nasty. Whatever it was, he was sure to find out sooner or later, so for now he decided to simply play the gracious host. Half amused and half annoyed he asked, "I don't suppose I could interest you in some hot chocolate?"

Ghirahim rolled onto his stomach, grinning up at the hero. "Don't you always?" he cooed. Link rolled his eyes and crossed the single-room apartment to his stove and began preparing three mugs. One for himself, and two for his greedy friend.

"So," Ghirahim called, "How are things with my old adversary?"

"Fine." Link responded. Small talk was not Ghirahim's usual style, and Link was becoming suspicious.

"How's the new job?"

"Oh is ghastly!" Ghirahim cried dramatically. "That old man seems to think I'm not a skilled enough salesman so he's stuck me in the back of his tacky little kiosk organizing merchandise and sweeping up these disgusting dust bunnies that run amok. Honestly, it's as if he thinks threatening people isn't a good way to make them buy things. He wants to be a successful merchant doesn't he? And yet he takes the most roundabout way, always thanking the customers and wishing them a nice day, it's absolutely horrid! Oh and this one woman-"

Link smiled and tuned him out, nodding during Ghirahim's very brief pauses and occasionally interjecting a "Mm-hmm" and "sounds terrible" where needed. He placed two of the mugs on the small coffee table in front of the ranting ex-demon, and sat in the chair across from him, pretending to listen intently. He was half way finished with his own mug when Ghirahim snapped his fingers in front of Link's face.

"What?" he gasped, startled.

Ghirahim clicked his tongue angrily. "Have you been listening at all?"

Link shrugged sheepishly. "On and off..."

The ex-demon rolled onto his back, sighing loudly. "Such a rude child! I asked how things are going between you and Zelda."

"Oh... fine. We're still getting together to make candles and wax sculptures for Batreaux."

"That's it?"

"Well we study together sometimes..."

"Nothing else?"

"Why does it matter to you?"

"Oh don't play innocent with me. The whole town's wondering."

"Ghirahim what do you want?"

"I want to know when you're going to make your move! Everyone's always talking about how perfect you two are for each other, and why you're always hanging around together, and yet you haven't come out yet? As if it's some big secret?"

Link gritted his teeth. "Zelda and I are just good friends."

"Bullshit." Ghirahim spat. "You love her don't you?"

"Of course I do but-"

"Then what's holding you back?"

"N-"

Ghirahim swiftly closed the space between them, placing his hands on the arm-rests of Link's chair and bringing their faces close. "What's holding you back." he demanded.

"Shut. Up." Link growled, "You don't know anything."

"Perhaps," Ghirahim was so close Link could smell the chocolate on his breath, "But I do plan on knowing everything. This village is so small, and rumors spread so fast..."

"I don't have to tell you," Link crossed his arms and looked at anything besides Ghirahim, "Zelda means too much to me to gossip about her."

He saw, out of the corner of his vision, Ghirahim's eyes narrow dangerously. Memories of their past encounters, and what that look meant floated through Link's thoughts, but he was going to ignore them. The ex-demon wasn't going to get what he wanted; not tonight, hopefully not ever.

"Is that how you feel?" Ghirahim said in a voice as sharp as a dagger, "Or is she just a pretty face you hope to fuck?"

Link didn't think about his reaction; his hand curled into a fist in mid-motion and smashed into Ghirahim's pristine face.

It was too close to have much power behind it, but it did seem to catch Ghirahim off-guard. Link took the next moment to curl his legs into himself, and then push outward on Ghirahim's chest. Ghirahim fell backwards over the coffee table, then rolled into a crouch with a vicious snarl on his face and a cheek that was beginning to swell.

Link didn't give him the opportunity to bound back, leaping forward off the chair at Ghirahim to grab him and take them both down to the floor. They began rolling, screaming obscenities, and fighting as voraciously as they had done many months ago, only with their fists and words instead of swords and magic.

Link was distantly aware of the damage to the cottage they were causing. Right now, his vision swam red as he lay blow after blow, aiming at any part of Ghirahim he could reach. All the building rage of the past months dealing with the pretentious bastard, along with tonight's taunting, was concentrated into every punch, and every kick. Ghirahim was on full-power too, however; Link could feel the bruises and cuts already forming in all the places the ex-demon had landed his own blows. When Link punched him in the ribs, Ghirahim back-handed him hard enough to hear his jaw creak. When Ghirahim kicked Link in the shoulder, Link broke Ghirahim's nose under his palm.

At some point, Ghirahim rolled on top of him and roughly seized his hair. Link cried out, his hands going to his enemy's throat, but Ghirahim thrust Link's head up, and then slammed it back down into the floor with enough force for Link to see stars. Ghirahim didn't stop, though, and did it again, and again, and again...

Ghirahim stopped when the sky-child's eyes rolled back into his head and the hands fell ungracefully from his throat. Unclenching his hands from Link's hair, he leaned away and took a moment to wipe off the blood that had begun to crust under his nostrils.

'Rotten brat.'

For those few minutes, Ghirahim had felt a piece of himself return from when he still had demon's blood running through his veins. He had felt the wrath and need to spill blood erupt in him, and had gratefully taken it out on the child, who had been just as happy to give as much back.

The stench of blood and sweat was still heavy in the air. It pushed Ghirahim's blood to continue boiling, even though he knew the fight was over. It was awakening old instincts, even though he wasn't in quite the same body anymore, because they had been so ingrained in him and he had been delighted when he could indulge in them in the past so often that...

No. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Not here; not with this pathetic-

He shouldn't have looked, but his traitorous eyes glanced over the body below him, and the sight of his enemy's blood caused his insides to lurch.

He needed.

He picked up an arm, experimentally, carefully examining the shallow gash along the front of the forearm. He brought it up to his nose, although still hurt and swelling, and inhaled the scent of the wound deeply.

It was...intoxicating.

More.

He brought it up to his white lips, parting them only slightly, tasting.

MORE.

Unable to resist, he enveloped the gash with his mouth, running his tongue up and down it, closing his eyes in ecstasy. This; this was just like the days he recalled so fondly, only amplified to a point he had never reached because it was Link- his enemy, the hero, the boy-child he had hated for so long. The metallic tang was very much welcomed.

He was upset when it seemed reluctant to bleed much more than it already had. Perhaps, in this disgusting human body, spit had healing properties.

However, his pulse raced again when he saw a wound still open and bleeding on the shoulder of the other arm, and he eagerly leaned down to try another taste.

And then, he could smell; there was another one, close by; so close, too close...

His tongue darted out to catch some of the blood oozing out of the cut in the junction between Link's neck and shoulder, and Link gave a low moan in his unconscious state.

It was like a bucket of ice water to the face. Ghirahim shot up, realized what he'd been doing (was about to do) and leapt off of Link like the boy had been lit on fire.

Which might have been a better option than this, Ghirahim mused. He stood, and took several deep breaths. Glancing out the window, he was relieved to see the blizzard was still raging outside and it was still very late at night. Backing away from Link's unconscious body, he strode to the other side of the cottage. This was a very bad situation. He and Link had always fought since he became mortal, always gotten into fist fights, but never quite as violent as this.

He bit his lip. If the Skyloft council found out...

No. They wouldn't. He could fix this. Blast it, if only he were still a demon, he could just kill all of them. If he were still a demon he would want to kill all of them. Swearing under his breath, he began rummaging through Link's cupboards and drawers. At last he found exactly what he was looking for. A bottled fairy Link kept in case of emergencies. He scooped up the bottle, and knelt down next to the fallen hero. Uncapping the bottle, he dumped the fairy onto his body. She quickly got to work, fluttering across the boy's wounds, sealing them up and cleaning away the blood. Ghirahim seized the empty mugs and quickly began washing them in the sink. Carefully he placed them back in their cupboard. He straightened the sofa, turned the coffee table back on its legs, reoriented the chair; everything he possibly could to erase the evidence. When the fairy finished her work, she flew away, disappearing through the wall.

Very carefully, Ghirahim scooped up the young hero's body. The boy moaned quietly. Suppressing panic, Ghirahim quickly carried him to his bed, and laid him in it; hoping he wouldn't wake up.

Double-checking everything, he confirmed that the place looked good as new. Inwardly kicking himself, the ex-demon lord snuck out the door and back into the wind and snow. As much as he would have loved to continue their brawl, he knew his life literally depended on this event staying a secret. Even as mortal and wretched as his life now was... he didn't want to lose it.

Link woke up the next morning, comfortably in his bed. His head was throbbing, and he recalled the fight he'd had. But there were no signs of Ghirahim anywhere, and he couldn't remember going to bed either. He shrugged it off as an unpleasant dream.

In the following days Link and Ghirahim regarded each-other as if nothing ever happened. And in a way, to one of them, it hadn't. Link never told Ghirahim about the violent "dream" he'd had. As far as he was concerned, everything was right as rain.

Only he couldn't recall what he'd done with his spare fairy.