Work Text:
“Your hair is almost long enough to braid now.”
Link cocked his head, his current position preventing him from turning around fully to see Medli’s face. There had been something subtly amused threading through her voice that caught his attention. “Do you like it?” he asked, giving the aforementioned locks a little shake for emphasis.
“I do. Long hair is quite traditional among the Rito. It makes you look more like... one of us. Um, not that your hairstyle was ever a problem before. I just think it looks nice like this.”
She ran the fishbone comb with its needle-like teeth through his hair again, all the way from the scalp to the ends, and Link felt something not-quite-tangible drain from his shoulders. A tension that he hadn’t even realised he was carrying? He supposed life had been a touch chaotic lately, what with his grandma suddenly falling ill and Dragon Roost being invaded by hostile pirates...
But things had calmed down in the last day or two. His grandma was recovering slowly but surely under the care of the islanders, and the pirates really hadn’t posed much of a threat once Link unleashed his full fury on them. He had slain an Evil King. A few no-gooders armed with notched sabres and rope weren’t going to bring him down, although that wasn’t for lack of trying, and they’d managed to inflict a couple of minor wounds on him during the fray. Now bandages rustled beneath the sleeve of his left arm whenever he moved, and the Rito were bending over backwards to repay him - which mostly only served to make him uncomfortable.
He was still worried about his family, but he could reach them in minutes with the help of the cyclones, and right now, he desperately needed to relax with his favourite Rito.
He supposed he hadn’t realised just how much he needed it.
He practically purred as Medli continued to comb his hair, the rough bristles lightly scraping the nape of his neck and igniting his nerve endings with flickers of delicious sensation. From here in Medli’s room, the crashing waves and shrieking seagulls were muffled by sheer rock, but not entirely muted. The familiar soundtrack blended so well with the physical comfort that he was a little surprised he hadn’t fallen asleep.
“I’m happy you like it!” he said over his shoulder, still trying not to move too much. “Honestly, it was just an experiment. Aryll dared me to grow it out.”
“Do you think it will get longer?” He felt the tip of Medli’s finger poke him somewhere between his shoulderblades. “It reaches to here now.”
“I think it’s still growing, but it’s definitely slowing down.”
“Will you keep it this way? It’s up to you, of course.”
From the way that last part was hurriedly tacked on, Link guessed she didn’t want to risk upsetting him by suggesting he do something purely for her benefit. Medli, dutiful though she was, loving though she was, hadn’t quite gotten the hang of considering herself. If she wanted something, she wanted it carefully, and any expression of desire had to be smothered in a cloak of only if you want it too.
Link understood the necessity of give-and-take in a relationship. He was fast becoming aware of the delicate balance that kept the boat steady. He knew that sometimes compromises needed to be made, and Medli should not have to feel bad about wanting something for herself. Far from dissuading her, he longed for the day when she felt able to express her desires without fear.
“I think I might,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “But if it gets any longer, I might have to start tying it back. You know, to stop enemies grabbing it in fights, or getting it stuck on things.” That seemed like a healthy compromise.
The comb never ceased its soothing motion, raking through the calm ocean of his hair like a dinghy riding the waves. Medli had managed to tease out the salt-induced tangles so quickly that he hardly remembered the pain of her doing so. “I can teach you to braid it, if you would like,” she said quietly.
Unbidden, a grin worked its way into the corner of his mouth. “I would,” he replied, reining back his excitement to match her tone as best as he could.
He felt rather than saw Medli shift closer, felt her breath drift past his ear before she planted a kiss on the side of his head. He turned to catch her eye before she could move away, and she smiled bashfully before ducking out of sight behind him. The last thing he saw before she disappeared from view was her long red hair cutting through the air, and a thought occurred to him.
“Hey,” he said. “My hair gets tangled because of the salt when I’m out sailing. Does yours get messy when you fly?” Between cyclone riding and his brief experiences with the Deku Leaf, he was pretty sure that strong wind and hair didn’t mix.
“Oh, yes, quite often,” Medli admitted. “But I make a point of grooming it every morning and evening, so you probably won’t catch it in a bad state unless you find me in the middle of the day. Also, I tend to tie mine back, which helps reduce knots.”
Link cast his mind back to the few occasions he’d seen her at high noon. She was usually busy with her attendant chores around that time. He never resented her absence; he knew how much the job meant to her, and she always made time for him when the sun slept.
“Can I brush your hair for you someday?” he asked innocently.
The comb faltered, snagging halfway down his tresses before jolting forward suddenly as if to make up for lost time. “...You’d do that?” she said, soft with surprise, a hint of embarrassment and... wonder?
“Of course!” Is this another cultural thing I should have researched? For all their compatibility, he sometimes forgot that he and Medli had grown up in completely different worlds. “You're doing it for me, so it's only fair, right?”
Medli had to take a moment to pull herself together, which only concerned him more. She continued brushing with an intensity that suggested the repetitive motion was keeping her grounded. It wasn’t harsh or rough by any means, but Link turned his head slightly, trying to get her attention.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked with a nervous chuckle. “You know I’m terrible at understanding other people's cultures...”
To his relief, when she spoke, he could hear the smile in her voice. “You’re not terrible. It just caught me by surprise, that’s all. It actually... means a lot... Rito mutually groom the hair and feathers of those they’re especially close to. It’s, um, a bonding ritual, of sorts.”
Like birds. Why didn't I guess?
“Then I want to do it even more,” he said, injecting every degree of the warmth he felt into his words.
Occasionally oblivious though he might be, Link loved the opportunity to express his affection in a way that spoke to her personally.
Just like the day he’d presented her with a beautiful Golden Feather plucked from the heart of the Tower of the Gods.
“...Tomorrow morning, maybe?” Medli suggested, her voice quavering like a note strung across cold air, fragile yet threaded with the sound of hope. “Will you be staying on the island tonight?”
Rather than answer verbally, he stretched out a hand behind himself and enfolded her slender fingers with his own.