Author's Note: I saw this dress that made me immediately think of 50s housewife Anna, and I just had to write this fic. All characters from Frozen or other Disney movies are the property of Disney.
Frank Sinatra crooned from the record player as Anna danced through the house, making sure everything was in order. The roast was in the oven, greens were on the stove, and a bundt cake was cooling for dessert. She finished vacuuming and ran upstairs to change into something more presentable for her husband. She settled on a green and brown lounge dress and released her hair from the bun she'd pinned it in before she had started cleaning. She dashed back downstairs, as 'The Right Girl for Me' sang out from the living room. She opened the mini-bar and proceeded to mix her husband's favorite cocktail when she heard a car door slam shut outside.
Drink in hand, she darted to the door and opened it to her man. His lips found hers before she traded the grasshopper for his hat and jacket and hung them up. "Long day?" she asked, grinning.
Her husband took a sip of the chocolatey cocktail and began to unbutton his shirt. "The longest," the soft voice replied. "I missed you."
"Why don't you go relax while I finish up dinner?"
"Thank you," he kissed her and walked up to the bedroom, ripping off the white shirt as he went, revealing the bandages underneath. By the time Anna's lover had returned, her ample chest was no longer bound, and the white shirt was buttoned back up, low enough to offer the redhead an enticing view. Elsa always had to rid herself of her bindings as soon as she arrived home or else she wasn't even slightly capable of relaxing. All of their blinds were drawn, even though the sunset looked amazing that night, to avoid any casual observers from noticing that the good doctor looked slightly different. "The roast smells amazing," Elsa offered as she took a seat at the table and lit up two cigarettes, offering one to Anna.
Anna beamed back, relishing the cigarette. "Your hair's starting to get a little long," she informed her worriedly, staring at the two inches of free hair on her sister's head, ignoring the compliment. "Do you want me to fix it?"
Elsa shook her head. "No, that's the style now, I should start slicking it back though. You don't think I could pull off a nice pompadour?" She asked, laughter crinkling the corners of her eyes.
"You sure you want to go with a hairstyle named after a French noblewoman? Seems a little too on the nose if you ask me. How about a nice duck's ass instead?" She snickered as she retrieved the roast from the oven.
"What's the difference?" Elsa asked.
"Not much, it just conjures less feminine imagery," she answered, letting the roast sit at the center of the table and serving both of them their vegetables.
"But hardly professional imagery for a doctor, I think a regular pompadour will be fine, it's just nice actually being able to run my fingers through my hair again."
"All right, you know I just worry," Anna conceded, digging in to the greens.
"It's not like I don't. I'd be arrested for fraud, you'd likely be carted off to an asylum – I'll be careful, that doesn't mean I have to stick with a buzz cut for the rest of my life," Elsa insisted, stubbing out her cigarette so that she could eat.
Anna chewed on her spouse's words as she digested the food then searched for cheerier dinner topics, as the current one was likely to make her lose her appetite. "Oh, I ran into Rapunzel at the butcher's shop today, she heard we already had a color TV and she was chomping at the bit with jealousy, she insisted that they had to come over for dinner some night and see it."
Elsa groaned, she hated having company. "What did you tell them?"
"I said that I'd have to ask you, but that that sounded lovely."
"I suppose it has been a while since we last had anyone over," Elsa conceded, letting out a large sigh, "I can handle binding for a few more hours some day, maybe next week? We could have a few people over, that way it'll be longer before the next time they ask."
Anna chewed on her lip, she understood Elsa's reasoning but she loved having guests, she wished it didn't happen so rarely, even if it was dangerous. "All right, next week sounds great, I'll let them know, Friday work?"
"Friday's perfect," Elsa agreed.
"The roast should be set if you'd be so kind as to carve it."
After dinner, they passed the rest of the evening enjoying bundt cake, cocktails, and each other's company.
"So I had to tell Mrs. Alders that her kid keeps swallowing jacks, and that's why his stomach is hurting," Elsa explained after her third drink as they discussed their days. "She was convinced that he had to have the plague, I told her she just needed to keep him away from those jacks and he'd be fine. She insisted that there should be some sort of warning, saying how was she supposed to know that her child could swallow them."
"Oh my," Anna giggled, on her fourth drink. "What did she think? That jacks were just swallow proof? Ow that, that does not seem like it'd be fun to digest, too pokey."
"Yeah, it wasn't a pretty picture," Elsa laughed, her voice falling back to the baritone she'd mastered for dealing with the rest of the world, "I just told her to get some laxative and that he'd be fine, though he may have some trouble sitting for a few days. She's talking about trying to sue the manufacturer, saying that it's their fault."
"Some people," Anna sighed, taking their plates and glasses to the sink. "Would you like another drink?"
"Why, Anna," Elsa smirked, "Are you trying to get me drunk? I have work tomorrow."
"But it's been ages," she whined, as she returned to the table, stringing out the vowels, "And you look so sexy in that shirt."
"Honey, we spent almost the entire weekend in bed, it has not been ages," Elsa insisted, pulling the pleading redhead to her and kissing her. As they kissed, Anna straddled Elsa in her chair, running her hands through the older woman's short white-gold hair. "You hotsy-totsy little minx," Elsa teased, breaking the kiss and following it with another, running her own hands through the shoulder-length red curls. "I love you."
"I love you too," Anna worked at the shirt's buttons, "Mr. Thomas Henriksen."
Elsa smiled, Anna rarely ever said that name in private, "That's 'doctor,' Mrs. Henriksen," she chided her, "Would you like to retire to the bedroom?"
Anna began kissing the blonde's neck, her hands caressing under the open shirt. "That seems so very far away, I want you right here," she insisted, her kissing growing lower as Elsa's skin warmed under her lips and Elsa's breath caught. Anna finished Elsa off right under the dinner table, as Elsa melted in her mouth. Afterwards, Elsa carried the tipsy redhead up to their bed, did her husbandly duties to make sure that Anna was feeling perfectly swell herself, and the two collapsed together into a deep slumber.
Elsa stirred with the sun and found a mop of ruddy hair pressed against her face and a warm body pressed firmly against her own. She kissed the hair and held the younger woman for a moment, savoring her sweet and salty scent. She treasured the morning silence with this beautiful woman in her arms, the few minutes before she had to put her disguise back on. After a few long minutes enjoying the morning, she rose and showered. She stared at herself in the mirror and bid farewell to the woman she saw staring back.
After breakfast and a goodbye kiss to his wife, Dr. Thomas Henriksen walked out of the front door, wearing an expensive tweed suit that emphasized his shoulders and a large pair of glasses that framed his face and added a serious look to his appearance. He waved to a neighbor who was retrieving his newspaper and entered his car, then headed to his first appointment of the day.
He arrived at the Andersen household at 9, parked in their driveway, and walked to the door. On the second knock, Gerda answered. "Dr. Henriksen," she beamed, "It's so good to see you. I'm sorry, Kai just left. He said to wish you a good day."
"That's awfully kind of him," Thomas responded, his baritone firmly in place, "Tell him I wished him the same. Is Olaf ready for our appointment?"
"Yes, he's just this way," Gerda answered, leading the doctor to her child. As soon as he saw his doctor, Olaf limped over to him and gave him a hug, his leg braces squeaking slightly.
"Good morning, Olaf," Dr Henriksen said warmly, "Have you been greasing the braces like I told you?"
"I haven't, doctor," he grinned back.
"I didn't think so," he laughed. "I'll do it while I'm here, have you been doing your exercises?"
"Yes sir, every day, just like you taught me."
"That's very good. Now you're going to have to be a big boy and handle your shot, it's been a month and you need a new dose of the antibody serum."
He gulped, but gave a brave look at the doctor and nodded firmly. "I can handle it."
The blond readied a hypodermic syringe of the polio antibody serum for the boy. "All right, hold still," he instructed, wrapping a tourniquet around Olaf's arm. The child grit his teeth and stared at the floor, looking firmly away from his own arm. The needle sank into the flesh with no resistance and once blood began to fill the syringe, Thomas pushed the plunger all the way down, boosting the boy's defenses against the debilitating virus. "Was that so bad?"
Olaf shook his head as a few tears filled his eyes. A soft smile lit up the doctor's face as he watched the brave little boy. Having Olaf lie on his bed, Dr. Henriksen greased the hinges on the braces, until he was satisfied that they wouldn't squeak, then unbolted them and removed them from the child. He drew several warm wet strips of wool from the warming machine by the patient's bed and placed them on Olaf's legs. The dark-haired boy winced.
"They're not too hot are they?" the doctor asked, drawing back.
"No, they're fine, it just hurts a bit, I don't like having the braces off," Olaf answered, his grin having all but vanished from his face. "You can keep going, doctor." Thomas wrapped the hot packs and pinned them on the boy's legs.
When the treatment was done, he sipped coffee in the kitchen with Mrs. Andersen. "It's getting worse," she said flatly, the pain had settled too low in her gut to reach her voice.
"It's progressing, but very slowly," Thomas insisted, "He still has a long life ahead of him."
"And what kind of life is that for a child?" Gerda asked. "Everything my poor Olaf will have to go through, I almost wish it took him outright."
Thomas stared at the clock on the wall behind Gerda, unable and unwilling to meet her eyes. "Do you think Olaf is happy?" he asked, his voice hard.
"What?"
"Olaf, your child, the boy we're talking about, do you think he's happy?"
"How could he be happy?" She cried, the emotions finally stirred from within as tears fell down her face and sobs rocked her body.
"Look at that boy's face and tell me he's not happy to be alive. I've treated people in far less dire conditions than him who didn't have half the drive to live that he has. Do you really think he's not happy?" His eyes fell on the older woman, cold blue met the older woman's gaze and her eyes fell to the table.
"He shouldn't be," she sobbed, "But he is. He loves life, he loves his family, he loves everything. And he REALLY loves The Lone Ranger," she laughed.
"All right, then you stay brave and I'll bring him a new cowboy hat next time I'm here, deal?" He offered.
She nodded. "You're a good man, doctor. Do you have any children?"
His own gaze fell to the table as the old wound reopened, "No," he sighed, "We were never blessed."
"I'm sorry," she breathed, feeling guilty; she hadn't meant to hurt him. "You would be a great father."
"I'd like to think so," he sighed, standing from the table. "You have a good day, Mrs Andersen."
She led him to the door and retrieved his hat for him. "Stay safe, I'll see you next month," she said in farewell.
Back in the car, her disguise slipped, as Elsa punched the passenger seat, more tears forming in her eyes. She had always known there was no way for her and Anna to have a child, but it had taken a long time for them both to accept the fact. Anna had once proposed that they have someone else do the deed, but they couldn't take any risk of someone finding anything out, while adoption was risky due to any background check they may run on the dead child from whom Elsa had stolen her new name.
She took a few minutes to collect herself, taking deep breaths as she tried to reassert the disguise. With substantial difficulty she managed to regain control. Dr. Henriksen drove back to his office.
The moment Thomas walked in through the door to his office, three pairs of eyes fell on him with a frightful hunger. The eyes belonged to his receptionist and two patients who were waiting to be seen. He had long since grown used to the fact that the eyes of most women in any room would follow him, ever since his college days, yet it still always felt invasive, and he had never been quite able to escape the fear that in their ravenous observation they would find some trait that just wasn't quite right and his secret would be out. "Good morning," he announced to the waiting masses who all greeted him back in unison. "Who's first?"
Ms. Hart, the eager beaver, raised her hand, so, rolling his eyes, Dr. Henriksen escorted her to the exam room. The sterile room, full of metal instruments, with its garish yellow walls greeted them as he led her inside. She took a seat in the well polished chair and began to describe her problems. "I've been up coughing every night," she complained. "I'm worried I'm getting tuberculosis!"
Examining the woman's lymph nodes, the doctor asked "Have you been producing any blood or phlegm with the coughs?"
"No," she replied enthusiastically, leaning giddily into his touch.
"Have you been having any night sweats or chest pain?"
"No, just coughing and sneezing."
"Say 'Ah.'" He placed a tongue depresser in the woman's mouth and stared in, taking note of her slightly swollen uvula. "I'm pleased to announce that you do not have tuberculosis. It looks like it's just a cold. Just take some cough syrup and you'll be fine. Come back if the cough persists." He handed the woman a bottle of Watkins cough syrup, confident that the mixture of alcohol and chloroform would ease her ills.
The next patient was just as uninteresting, but even grabbier. He would hate to think what her husband would say if he knew how she was behaving. After refusing her advances for the fourth time during the session, Dr. Henriksen informed her that she could use some bed rest, and sent her on her way.
He glanced at the clock. That had taken far longer than he'd anticipated, Kristoff and Hans would be here any minute to drag him to the golf course. He didn't mind, precisely, especially since all of his appointments for the day were finished, but it always struck him as slightly unprofessional.
Something fell over in the hall and Thomas heard the loud clattering as the contents of whatever was knocked over fell to the floor, as well as the stomping feet of the people responsible. "Applesauce," a muffled voice exclaimed, "I can't believe I did that again."
"You knock it over every time," a firmer but no less muffled voice replied. "I don't know why they don't just move it so this doesn't keep happening."
Thomas could hear the sounds of metal objects smashing together and something scraping on the ground. "Where's the last one?" The voice asked sounding panicked.
Thomas stared at the door. He had moved that table. Every single time. Kristoff seemed to vary his path explicitly to knock it over. After another minute of scrambling sounds, a voice called out "Eureka!" A moment later the door opened, revealing a tall blond man in a suit that scarcely fit his Herculean physique, and a thin red-haired man, staring snidely at the other one as if he also couldn't believe that he continued to knock that table over.
"Hey, Thomas," the blond greeted Dr. Henriksen. "You ready for our game? Tee time is at 1:00, we should hurry."
"I'm ready," he sighed, "Should I just bolt that table to the ground? Nothing else seems to work."
The muscular man flushed. "You heard that?" He asked, looking like he wanted to run back through the door.
"I hear it every time, Kristoff." Thomas stood and took the younger man's hand in a firm grip. "It's fine, I'm ready, just try actually being careful for once. Good afternoon, Hans," he added, turning to the redhead.
"Good afternoon, Thomas," Hans replied, flashing a devilish grin, "I'm sorry about this oaf, I'll keep him on a shorter leash next time."
"Perhaps you should do so literally, it seems the only way it could work." Both of them laughed while Kristoff glared between the two of them, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "You driving?"
"Of course," the smile flashed again, "You haven't seen my new hotrod yet, I have to show it off."
"Oh really?" Thomas asked, interest painting his features,"What did you get?"
"A corvette," he replied calmly, acting as casually as he could about the brand new model.
"You got one early?" the doctor marveled. "That's a two-seater though, isn't it? What, are we putting Kristoff in the trunk?"
"That would seem fair," he sighed. "But no, he can drive himself, you have to come join me in testing out this new luxury. I promise, you won't regret it, she actually purrs."
They walked out to the car, Kristoff going his separate way and saying he'd meet them there, and Thomas slowly walking circles around the convertible, admiring every inch of it. Anna's Buick and his Ford were both a couple years old at this point, and he was a little envious. "No way you've already modified the engine on this thing," he insisted. "And changing her at all seems like such a shame."
"Had my mechanic fix her up as soon I got her, not even supposed to hit the market for another three months, I had to pull a lot of strings," he bragged, prompting a low whistle from the blond. "Get in, we're not letting Kristoff get there before us," he instructed, pulling on his driving gloves.
Thomas needed no convincing and promptly climbed into the passenger seat, as Hans started the car up. The engine purred to life, exactly as Hans had promised, and the car swiftly pulled out, accelerating with an ease that reignited the slight tinge of envy Thomas had felt. He watched as they passed Kristoff and sped off towards the country club, Hans sparing him a knowing glance.
After they finished their eighteen holes, the three men retired to the club for drinks. The buxom waitress who served them caught Kristoff's eyes with ease, and even Thomas couldn't help but stare. "Go right ahead, Kristoff, I'm sure even you could land that little trollop, it's the only way she can get anywhere in life," Hans growled with disdain clear in his tone. Thomas stared at him, he had his moments of overt chauvinism, but that was a bit much even for him.
"You think so?" Kristoff asked, not even noticing the disgusting way it was said. "Maybe I should give her my number."
"I think your wife may be a little irritated about that," Elsa growled, the words escaping through Thomas's lips.
Kristoff stared at his friend and Hans let out a slight chuckle before announcing "Oh don't be so soppy, you expect me to believe you've never, how shall I put this lightly, had a slight dalliance?"
Thomas scoffed, looking at the other man like he'd just suggested he had murdered someone. "I would never," he stated firmly, his voice cold.
"Well then clearly you're quite blessed," Hans laughed, "my wife could never begin to keep me entertained."
Kristoff continued watching the server while his companions debated.
The coldness brought ice to Thomas's words, as he growled "you have a child."
"What of it?" Hans asked, his gaze piercing into the doctor's blue eyes. "I'm there for my son and I'm there for my wife, it doesn't mean I'm not entitled to look after myself as well."
"Walking out on your family is hardly looking after yourself."
"A man has his needs," he chuckled, unable to comprehend what was bothering his friend, "and it's not like it happens often. Besides, I do so much for my family, and all she has to do is stay at home and look after the children. Speaking of, when are you two finally going to have that child? Anna will be too old before you know it, and you'll have to go 'walk out.'"
Thomas's fingernails scraped into the armrest of his seat as he glared back at his friend. "We've been trying for years, I suspect it's never going to happen." He attempted to keep his voice as steady as possible, but the task was not easy, Hans had managed to get under his skin far more than he would ever be capable of admitting.
"Then maybe you should go find some more," he hesitated, searching for words, "fertile ground on which to spread your seed. As I said, a man has his needs."
Thomas was seconds from slamming a fist into the other man's perfect jaw when their waitress returned to their table and Kristoff loudly and flirtatiously ordered them another round. When the waitress left, she had taken some of the ferocity of their discussion with her, and the three fell in to discussing Hans's new car, and Thomas's upcoming dinner party.
"I have been meaning to take a look at a color television," Kristoff announced, "I mean is it really as realistic as I've heard?"
"It's like being there," Thomas confirmed.
"Well then, I'll have to be there," Hans decided, "I already got to show off my new toy, I look forward to seeing yours." He had warmed somewhat, but his tone showed that he was still clearly angry at Thomas.
Checking his pocket watch, the doctor announced, "I'll see you there then, but I'd rather not be late for dinner, would you mind taking me back to my car?"
"Running back to the old ball and chain already?" Hans snickered. "Let's get going, have a good night, Kristoff."
When Thomas walked in through the door of his home, he breathed in the scent of the pork chops sitting on the stove and heard the sounds of Big Mama Thornton's 'Hound Dog' coming from the record player, as he pushed Anna against the wall, almost knocking the drink out of her hand, and kissed her with a passion great enough to apologize for the follies of his adopted gender.
Anna managed to steady the drink and wrapped her free arm around her husband, answering his kiss with equal vigor. She wrapped a leg around him and raked her fingers through his hair, knocking his hat to the floor.
When the apology had been adequately expressed, Thomas leaned back from the kiss and ran pale fingers across red cheeks. "I love you," he announced with a conviction that only those three words deserved.
"I love you too," Anna breathed, looking at him with a mix of lust and shock.
Thomas finally took the drink and downed it in a single gulp. He then threw his jacket onto the coat rack and began ripping at his shirt. A few minutes later, a substantially calmer Elsa sat at the dinner table across from her sister, wearing a purple evening gown. It was rare for Elsa to wear a dress and it attracted Anna's curiosity, as well as her repeated glances. "I'm looking forward to our party," Elsa informed her.
"Our party?" Anna muttered back, too distracted by the vision before her to comprehend the words.
"The dinner party we're throwing next week, to show off our TV. I'm looking forward to it, it'll be nice to show off to those knuckleheads. I think it's about time we one-up them instead of staying in the shadows."
"But you normally insist that we have to keep a low profile and not attract attention, that that's how we get caught and ruin everything. I mean I'm still excited for the party too, but let's not get carried away," Anna insisted, caution slowly inoculating her against the blonde's charms.
Elsa stared at the younger woman, allowing her words to anchor her. "You're right, let's not do anything too extravagant, but I can still enjoy a bit of showing off."
They dug in to their pork chops as they both considered the next week's party. Anna imagined having all of her friends over, seeing everyone, and having the opportunity to be with her partner around other people. Elsa imagined wiping the smug look off of Hans's face.
After dinner they had the fudge that had been cooling in the fridge since Anna had made it that morning, and spent the evening appreciating the object they would soon be showing off. I Love Lucy was on, and it would have been a shame to miss that.