A/N finals procrastination produces another chapter. If any of you are excited to see this, I'm sorry to say it kind of sucks; it's not new or terribly insightful. But if you want shameless Link/Tracy fluff and (goodness only knows why) you want it written by me...you're in luck. XD

ii i i ii ii ii i

The first one-month anniversary was important, apparently.

Unfortunately, he didn't know what to do. Tracy got flowers every morning at her makeup table, so that was out. She preferred savory to sweet, so chocolates were out and giving beef jerky to one's sweetheart just isn't the done thing. The only jewelry he could really afford was bubblegum jewelry, and besides, it was probably too early for rings and necklaces.

There was something...a song, one of those three-AM revelations that you sometimes forget by morning, but it said Tracy to him and he thought she might like it with a little polishing. Specially-written songs were romantic, weren't they? (He was thinking ahead, it must be admitted; he knew he would forget some date, somewhere down the road, and he wanted the first important one to be memorable.)

Okay. Picnic in the park, give her the song, walk home holding hands (he planned the route that would allow for an estimated eleven sneaked kisses. Maybe twelve if he pulled the shoelace ploy.)--the other guys, privy to his distracted planning, thought he was ridiculous for going to such trouble instead of just taking her to a restaurant and giving her flowers, but then they weren't fortunate enough to have a Tracy and didn't know the responsibilities it entailed.

He showed up at her door at seven with the picnic basket and a smile. Tracy's parents, thank goodness, seemed to like him ("You're sweet to me, and apparently having a job means you have a 'steady character'," she whispered) and sent them off with congenial smiles.

(she waited to kiss him until they were out of sight, though.)

They slowly headed towards the park, picnic basket swinging between them. Tracy chattered happily, and Link responded with his customary cool as a cucumber composure. (Outwardly. Inwardly...well, apparently butterflies don't mind the cold.) Everything was going quite well.

...until the skies unexpectedly opened up three kisses into the trip and decided to gift the city with a downpour. They ran for cover, Tracy whooping with laughter at the rain and Link laughing at her undampened enthusiasm. They found an overhang just big enough to keep the wet off and stopped, panting. Tracy shook herself like a puppy and grinned up at him. "We could eat our picnic here."

But he was already inspecting the basket and shook his head mournfully, sending his collapsing hair whipping across his cheek. "Soaked through. Unless you want brownie soup..."

"Oh." She laughed a little. "No soup, thanks." She looked a little disenheartened, and he bit his lip.

"I guess I could give you your present now." Under her curious eye he tried to pull the folded papers out of his pocket, and they came apart in his hands. He was suddenly and intensely grateful for the disintegration of his 'do, because the wet black locks would have hidden any signs of tears. (If he was crying. Which he wasn't. At all.) "I wrote you a song," his voice cracked slightly and he cleared his throat. "Just...you know. Something. But it's..." he fingered the wet shreds lightly and shrugged, dispondant.

"You could sing it for me," she offered quietly. When he looked up, she gave him an encouraging smile. "Please?"

"Well...sure, I guess." He stood up--a bit awkwardly, but it seemed like the thing to do. "I woke up today, thinking of a sunshine girl..."

When he finished, trailing off unsteadily, he sat down. She was silent and he blurted: "I'm sorry. I probably should have got flowers or something. Amber--anyway, flowers or chocolates. It's just a stupid song." There definitely weren't tears in his eyes as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "And it rained all over our anniversary outing," he finished...sulking slightly, it must be said. (What did he ever do to the world to deserve this?)

She was still quiet, and he looked up through a fringe of hair. She looked like a (darling, adorable) drowned rat, but she was smiling at him, a bright wobbly smile that made him go all wobbly inside. "Link," she said in an alarmingly teary voice; but before he had a chance to panic properly, she flung herself into his arms. "Every girl gets flowers! I love my song. And I like the rain." She pulled back and grinned, sunshiny-bright. "And I really, really like you."

"I like" love, he thought, "you too, Trace." He suddenly smiled innocently at her. "You like the rain?" She nodded at him besottedly, and he grinned. "Great!" He hefted her bodily and ran out from under the awning into the still-increasing downpour.

"Link Larkin!" she shrieked. "I'm gonna get you for that!"

It was a happy shriek, though.

Link was quite pleased with himself.