Elsa was feeling a little overdressed.

By all rights, mid-March should've still been chilly, especially near a large body of water. Anna had said it was a "pond, literally; after you've lived near Lake Ontario, you're just not impressed by tiny little things like this," but to Elsa the water was a wide expanse of murky grey-blue dotted with small patches of green algae. The sun was shining brightly, the birds had already returned, along with the walkers, joggers and kids with dogs and tennis balls and Frisbees, and despite the naked trees and cloudless sky, it felt like just another summer day. If summer came before the spring equinox, of course.

Elsa shrugged out of her jacket, dropping it behind her on the blanket, while Anna rambled about her most recent story, something about tenancy rates in the theatre district. She wasn't really paying close attention but was instead enjoying the sound of Anna's voice. It was a lovely voice, a perfect backdrop to the sights and smells of a slowly wakening world. Sometimes she wished she could just sink down into Anna's voice and let it surround her fully in its warmth, infusing her with its enthusiasm and happiness. Letting Anna talk for hours was a similar experience.

Kristoff let out a huge yawn and shifted uncomfortably beside them. Apparently he didn't care for fresh air. "I don't see why you brought me here; we're going to have to go back in a half hour anyways. I was kinda hoping to catch a nap and just eat on the fly." The news van waited patiently in the nearby parking lot, the pair of fuzzy reindeer keychains dangling from the rearview mirror.

Elsa snorted. "Are you seriously sleepy? It's 1 o'clock. The sun's out: you should be wide awake."

"Didn't get much sleep last night," he muttered, scrubbing his neglected stubble as evidence. Elsa couldn't figure out how he could care so much about being clean shaven and yet not about the mop of hair on his head. Maybe it was a guy thing.

"Wesel-nose will totally write you up if he catches you drooling on any more of his precious equipment." Anna was digging through her backpack, pushing aside a bunch of notebooks, on the hunt for her food. Kristoff glared at the back of her head, crossing his arms petulantly.

"He would, but even if he yells at you, you're still employed. How come you get away with everything?"

Anna leaned back against Elsa's knees and batted her eyes at him. "Who, me?" He rolled his eyes as she took an enormous bite.

Elsa frowned at her. "Hey wait, that's my sandwich…"

Anna stuck her tongue out at her girlfriend. It was already covered in peanut butter and fluffernutter. She jerked away when Elsa tried to rescue her food. "Nope, too late, I won it!" she probably tried to say, but it sounded more like "Npppppttthhhhhh". Oh well. Elsa understood.

"Too late," Kristoff said, "she's got her icky girl-germs on it."

"I have girl-germs, too," Elsa said defensively.

"You're too clean to have germs," Kristoff said. She chuckled and shook her head as Anna swallowed and made a noise that sounded like it hurt before choking out "too big" and hurriedly reaching for her water bottle. She took a couple of swigs, sucking in breaths in between each, leaning away whenever Elsa tried to grab her lunch, giggling at the other woman's expression, which was shifting rapidly from annoyance to amusement.

Anna gasped and pointed at the group of ducklings that had converged on the tree roots nearby. "Oh my goodness, they're so cute! Elsa, can we keep one?"

Elsa shrugged. "Sure, if you can catch it."

Anna turned her torso around, giving her a look. "Elsa, how am I going to catch a duck?"

"I don't know: you're the one who wanted to."

"What, do I just sit down and go 'hey there, little ducky, you're so fine' and it'll just hop right into my hands?"

"…are you channeling Ernie from Sesame Street?"

Kristoff cleared his throat. Neither woman noticed.

"I wish," Anna said. "That's kinda one of my life's goals, to be reincarnated as a Muppet."

Her girlfriend frowned at the notion. "You want to come back as a flimsy puppet with a person's hand up your ass?"

"No, I said a Muppet, not a politician."

Kristoff discreetly began pointing down at Anna's feet, but Anna was too busy snickering at her own joke to notice. Elsa huffed.

"Oh har har. What a funny joke. See how much I'm laughing?"

"It's nice you've found someone to vote for come next November, but some of us can't figure out which candidate to choose unless we've got a quarter, y'know what I mean?" Anna responded with a wink.

"Excuse me for actually possessing a civic mind."

"You're excused."

"You're lucky that I find you charming, in a bizarre way."

"I think what you're trying to say is-"

The duck struck.

Anna yelped at the sudden attack, jerking her head down at the little yellow puffball, which grabbed the second half of her sandwich and motored off before she could even move. She gaped after it, at a loss for words, as Elsa's knees started to shake. "Wha-? Are you serious?" The sneaky little thief was almost to the water. She shot to her feet just as the first of Elsa's suppressed giggles snuck out.

"You-you, get back here with that, you foul son of a duck!" She sprinted after the little bird, cutting it off, and it squawked, dropping the sandwich in the dirt and bolting away towards the roots of a large tree as Anna ran after it, cursing its parentage, its species, and its stupidly cute little body for moving so damn fast and oh shit ouch this ground is hard my knees hurt and you get back here you little…

Elsa and Kristoff didn't see how the rest of the chase turned out; they were too busy laughing.


ERROR: CHECK TRAY.

She yanked open the tray and did not, to her credit, immediately scream upon finding it completely empty. She straightened and pressed the start button again.

ERROR: CHECK TRAY.

"I have checked the tray, and it's clear, so will you just be nice to me for once?" She punched the button.

ERROR: CHECK TRAY.

Elsa briefly imagined the copier falling forty stories to its death. Her mental image may or may not have included an explosion that would make Michael Bay sigh with pleasure. A pity her office was only on the 26th floor.

"There you are, Ms. Dillon." She turned her head to see Mr. Marshall, the middle-aged version of a linebacker posing as her superior, fairly bursting out of his suit and tie, striding toward her with a blonde woman in tow. Her eyebrows rose. Working amidst a sea of men in blazers, ties, and jackets (if they were feeling particularly fancy), the woman in question stood out like a brilliantly pink sore thumb, examining her surroundings excitedly. She had a gauzy scarf wrapped around her slim shoulders, which admittedly matched her pencil skirt well, and her plump lips were pulled into an innocent, if extremely enthusiastic, smile. There was a tiny mole on one cheek.

She tried not to wilt outwardly. Oh, right: the new hire. The newest woman on her floor, besides the cranky security guard, and therefore somehow her responsibility. Apparently it was impossible for men to show women around when they had the option of passing the buck to the nearest person in skirts.

"Allow me to introduce you to Ms. Charlotte La Bouff – I believe I mentioned she'd be starting this week? – so you two can get to know each other before she moves into the cubicle next to yours." The cubicle that Elsa had secretly colonized a few months before, sequestering snacks and little odds and ends that she'd need or want over the course of a day. That cubicle. She tried not to dislike Ms. La Bouff, but she was already more than a little grumpy, what with the copier situation, and so allowed herself just a single moment in which to be aggravated before she plastered a smile to her face that Ms. La Bouff returned immediately.

"Perhaps you'd like to show her around?" Mr. Marshall asked, taking a step back as Elsa set her shoulders and extended her arm. She offered Ms. La Bouff her hand and was the instant recipient of the most bone-shaking, ludicrously vigorous handshake she'd ever had, and she had Anna as a girlfriend.

"Oh my goodness, it is just so nice to meet you!" the woman fairly belted in her face in a thick Southern accent, and Elsa felt whatever foolish spurt of bravery she'd had drop all the way to her feet. "I have been dying to come in; just sweating bullets when they told me I was about to start! I can't thank God enough that there's another girl here – no offense, Mr. Marshall," she said in a much calmer, more demure tone, hardly missing a beat, as Elsa mouthed "what just happened", then continuing her avalanche of words with "And such a pretty lady, too! That jacket, those heels: honey, you have got it going on. Oh I know we're going to be the best of friends, aren't we? Tell me we are, please dearie."

"…okay?" Elsa whispered. It was part question, part reflexive defense, but the woman fairly exploded with happiness, releasing her hand after another few sharp pumps that Elsa was certain were designed to remove her arm from its socket. She swallowed hard and rotated her elbow surreptitiously, squinting against the woman's bright smile. "It's…it's very nice to meet you, too, Ms. La Bo-"

"Call me Lottie, please. 'Ms. La Bouff' makes me sound like I'm thirty-five, and Heavens; that thought's terrifying! Bad enough it'll be true soon, but we all can dream, am I right?

Elsa glanced at Mr. Marshall for support, only to find him hurriedly retreating. She tried not to fume at his swiftly disappearing back, seeing as Ms. La Bouff was steadily inching closer. Apparently their definitions of "personal space" were somewhat at odds. She took a short step back and returned her manufactured smile to her face. "Ah, yes, and I suppose you can call me Elsa, then, if we're on a first name basis. Would you like to see the place…?"

"Would I!" Yes, that would be the response, wouldn't it?

Elsa led Lottie through the floor, introducing her to the people there – here was Mr. Parr, who, if it was possible, was even more built than Mr. Marshall, quiet, with a steady stream of designs and ideas that Elsa particularly enjoyed, even if she was too nervous to say; there was Mr. Oaken, their resident European, who always had a good word for Elsa in the mornings and took an instant liking to Lottie, the pair of them talking so quickly in accents that spanned two continents, making Elsa's head spin as her mind tried desperately to keep up; and along came Hans, douchebag extraordinaire, sidling up to Lottie with his hand extended, a smug grin on his face, wearing another one of his power suits with what he considered a snappy tie as the outfit clincher, eager to find someone else to either suck up to, if it benefited him in any way, or someone to stand on during his inevitable climb to the top of the ladder. Lottie greeted him with just as much joy as she did the rest of the crew, and Elsa tried not to roll her eyes when Hans immediately directed the conversation to his own incredible exploits as another member of the company while Lottie nodded, looking almost thoughtful.

"Oh bless his heart, he's just trying so hard, isn't he?" she asked, and Elsa shuddered as she silently brought Lottie with her to her new cubicle. The woman gasped at the sight of the newly cleaned (and hastily vacuumed) cubicle that was hers now, and she spent a fair amount of time crowing over the lovely view and the excellent new desk and the comfy chair before plopping herself down in said chair and clapping her hands with delight.

Elsa sat in her own chair and pressed her palms together. "So," she said, "have you already met up with IT to get things set up on their end? We don't have our own phone lines here, it's not really necessary, but you will be needing your email address set up soon."

"Wow, do you think they'll give me an email address, then? That's just dandy!"

Elsa snickered at her joke; and to think she'd thought Lottie on the short list when it came to brains. "Yeah, it's pretty good. And a step up from when I first started: I was lucky to get the last rug and fire."

Lottie blinked slowly. "Um…that seems really inconvenient…?"

Elsa stared at her before awkwardly coughing into her fist. "So, perhaps you'd like to visit IT next…?"


"Dinner's in the oven," were the first words she heard when she wearily pushed open the door, stepping out of her shoes and sinking her toes into the rug. She sighed and hung her bookbag up, not even bothering to take her laptop out, instead rolling her neck and groaning. It had been an incredibly long day, and Lottie had somehow managed to squeeze in a whole lifetime's worth of conversation while Elsa was still reeling. She had a hunch that Lottie had been a world-class swimmer or runner in college: there was no way a normal human being could talk like that for so long without passing out.

She stepped into the kitchen and noted the pizza box stuffed into the recycling section with a tired smile before moving on to the living room where Anna was lying on the couch, popping M&Ms into her mouth as she watched TV. Elsa glanced at the screen. "Happy Feet again? Aren't you getting sick of that?" Anna wordlessly shook her head, sitting up so Elsa could collapse next to her. She thought she saw a puff of dust arise when she did so but didn't have the energy to care. She dropped her head back against the cushions and exhaled slowly.

A hand entered her field of view, and she looked down to see Anna's palm and a bunch of blue M&Ms.

"I saved them for you." Elsa chuckled and accepted the present. "Thanks." She tossed them into her mouth, crunching slowly as she settled into the couch and just breathed.

Anna eyed her, her feet propped up on the coffee table, and slung her arm around Elsa's shoulders. She gratefully leaned into her touch, her girlfriend's warmth seeping into her even through the jacket.

"I'm guessing we're not going out tonight?" Anna asked. Oh, right: that's why she had been excited this morning, it was Friday, and they'd been planning on going out with Flynn to a few bars. Or maybe Eugenie: she wasn't sure what persona their friend was going to adopt until he, or she, showed up, wearing either a shirt and slacks or flamboyant makeup and Gucci knockoffs.

They had met when Anna's wheedling had paid off and Elsa had gone with her to a gay bar; Flynn, or rather, Eugenie, as the elegantly dressed drag queen deemed herself, had taken one look at Elsa and declared the town not big enough for two queens. She decided aloud that she could be the queer while Elsa could be the queen, and Elsa had stammered out a confused "thank you?" while Eugenie waved her hand flippantly. She was a lot more offhanded with her words than Elsa was, but there was something liberating about it; even if Elsa could never attach the word to herself, because it felt too political, she could at least appreciate that Eugenie referred to herself as such without a hint of disrespect.

She dragged her fingers through her hair as Anna rubbed her back, and she hummed in pleasure before sighing. "Yeah, I'm not really feeling up to it," she said, hanging her head apologetically. "I know Flynn was looking forward to going out."

Anna shrugged. "It's okay; we can just have the weekend together instead of the night. 'Sides, we'll probably feel better for it, anyways. You want to do anything here tonight, or...?"

Elsa shook her head. "Honestly? I'd rather just go to bed early." Anna raised her eyebrows. "Sorry, it's just…I'm kinda tired." At Anna's head tilt, she scratched the back of her neck and admitted, "We have a new hire, and I'm the one who got stuck with seeing her around and…she's, uh…interesting."

"Oh? What's she like?"

Don't say blonde, don't say blonde, don't say blonde-

"Blonde," Elsa said, and clapped her hands over her face.

She lowered them to see Anna quivering at her side, eyes flicking between Elsa's own and her hair, lips white as she pressed them firmly against each other, though the ends were curled despite her best efforts to control her smile.

"I don't mean blonde in the blonde way, just…she's kind of exuberant, and uh, maybe a bit scatterbrained, and very, very, very happy to meet new people, and…uh…" This really wasn't helping her case any. Anna nodded slowly in response to her hasty not-explanation, her grin overtaking her face.

"Well," she said, her voice just a tad high, "doesn't she sound like fun? When do I get to meet her?"

Elsa pictured the pair of them in the same room together and a part of her brain broke.

Anna frowned at her. "What do you mean, there aren't any bomb shelters that you know of?"


Elsa whistled between her teeth as she pulled open the cabinet door, scanning the shelves before she came upon the powdered sugar. She pulled it out and placed it beside the bowl of already mixed ingredients that was waiting on the tabletop. It was nice to be cooking alone: there was something therapeutic, almost artistic, about blending ingredients together and watching what became of just a little creativity and talent, along with a lot of science and history behind it. And while it was all well and good to spend time with her girlfriend, she had gradually come to the realization that Anna, who believed that chocolate fell from the sky fully formed like manna, was slightly less than experienced in the kitchen, and thus it was generally up to Elsa to feed the pair of them. Not that it hadn't been loads of fun to teach Anna that yes, it was possible to make the delicious treat by hand. Even if the other woman had been a little too enthusiastic to really care about how this was done.

A memory flashed before her eyes: "It's just…it's just such a wonderful time to be alive," Anna sobbing into the electric mixer as she fed it chocolate chips, Elsa eyeing her strangely before carefully reaching around her to unplug the item.

She couldn't get too wrapped up in her thoughts: the oven was already preheating, so she had to be quick if she was going to have the cookies ready when it dinged. Still whistling, she drew a finger down the recipe book and tapped it over the line where it described the icing, and measured some out before putting it in a smaller dish to the side. She turned back to the table and caught Anna with her finger inside the bowl, eyebrows high and eyes wide, completely frozen. The other girl slowly drew her finger to her mouth and sucked the cookie dough off of it, her eyes never leaving Elsa's, Elsa, who was pursing her lips and glaring at her girlfriend.

"That," she informed her testily, pointing at her with a dirty spoon, "has raw eggs in it, and I really hope you washed your hands before you-"

She was cut off when Anna yanked her finger out of her mouth and gave her a hard smooch before bolting out of the kitchen, giggling madly like the sinfully cute little leprechaun she was. She'd shake her wooden spoon at her, but both her hands were pressed against her lips, over her tiny, but growing smile.

Flynn swaggered into the room, glancing at the cookie cutters and bowl strewn across the table. He groaned and scrubbed his eyes, collapsing onto a stool like every muscle in his legs had given out as one. "Woman," he said, dropping his head to the island counter, "what are you doing to my poor kitchen?" His voice was muffled against the tiles. It was hardly fair of him to complain: she was well aware of the fact that he hadn't the faintest clue of what he actually owned and had a terrible habit of eating takeout for breakfast and ramen for lunch, with fast food dinners to top it all off. A little home-cooking never hurt anyone.

"I'm making cookies," she told him sweetly, and he looked up, intrigued.

"Oooh, I like cookies. What kind?"

"Raisin oatmeal with bran flakes mixed in." He drooped instantly.

"She's lying: they're sugar cookies," came Anna's voice from the hallway.

"You shouldn't know that," Elsa replied, as she scooped out a heaping spoonful and deposited it on the waiting wax paper, Flynn's eyes following her movements as he drooled. She shot him a look. "And you," she said, emphasizing the word, "are going to be very careful about how many you eat: if I catch you eating more than two in one sitting I'll call your mother."

"Oh come on; what's it going to take for me to have more than two cookies at one time?"

"Probably a cure for diabetes," Anna offered, clomping into the kitchen, now wearing her thick winter boots. They matched her short-shorts and T-shirt quite well. He grumbled about overbearing ninnies and scratched his goatee, dropping a quick "sorry" when Elsa glared at him for threatening the health and safety of her cookies with gross beard hairs. He tried to sneak a piece of dough into his mouth and whimpered when she smacked him with the spoon.

"Always at the mercy of cookware," he said, rubbing his hand, and watched her without further comment as she prepped the cookies for baking, finishing just in time for the thermometer to ding. Anna settled into the stool beside him, and Elsa turned back to see the pair of them sitting next to each other, chins in their hands, watching her with identical looks of want, though she suspected for different reasons, considering Flynn had a thing for big, strapping men and a crippling weakness for sweets, while Anna's eyes were lingering on Elsa's ass without the slightest hint of shame. She shook her head and began to clean the counter, putting the dirty dishes inside one another before sweeping up crumbs and excess flour.

"She's the perfect wife, isn't she?" Her girlfriend's voice was a mix of complete devotion and smug possessiveness; Elsa lifted at eyebrow at her, and Anna blew her a kiss.

He hummed his agreement. "Too bad that's not an option."

"Yeee-eeet," Anna sang, and bounced off the stool, taking the dishes Elsa offered her and depositing them in the full sink to soak. "C'mon, you were going to show me your new system," she said, tugging on Flynn's arm, leading him out of the room.

Elsa's pocket buzzed, and she pulled her phone out, glancing at the screen. "Dad" was calling her; she quickly flipped the phone open and brought it to her ear. "Hello?" The room was already beginning to fill with the delicious aroma of the baking cookies.

Two rooms over, she could hear Anna and Flynn collapsing onto the sofa as the TV clicked on.

"Oh, hello; I was just calling to check up on you. Your mother didn't get to call because she was wrapped up in planning her mother's birthday party, and we hadn't heard from you in a while."

She smiled and leaned back against the counter, twirling the end of her apron string around one finger in lieu of a cord. "Yeah, I heard from Uncle Ryan it's going to be something big; tell her I'm sorry I couldn't make it, okay?"

"Actually, that was something I wanted to talk about…"

"Oh?"

Anna's voice drifted in through the open doorway. "Oh man, I haven't played this game in forever!"

"I've got a game going midway through: you want to start over or go from there?" There was the sound of a game cover cracking open as Flynn spoke. "I have to warn you: it's on hard mode. I won't blame you if you chicken out. It's perfectly fine to be a coward."

"Are you kidding me? I'm totally ready for anything. I am readiness personified. 'Ready' is my middle name, in fact. I was born rea-"

"Got it; just hit the button already, my beard is turning white."

The phone crackled in her ear. "Sorry; went through a tunnel. Yeah, see, your mother and I were hoping that, because it's your grandmother's 75th, you'd be able to attend. We were planning on holding a reunion, too."

Elsa considered this, tapping her fingers on the counter as she glanced at the oven door, through which she could see the cookies puffing up.

Her family wasn't particularly religious, more the type that would attend church and Sunday school on one day of the week and not doing much else besides praying briefly over meals the rest of the time, so whereas she had certainly become accustomed to the Catholic faith and its teachings, she hadn't much background in actually practicing the religion. Her grandmother, on the other hand, was a staunch member of the faith, attending church at least three days out of seven, donating to various religious institutions associated with Catholicism, even on her slim pension, and insisting that "Elton" be confirmed before "he" went off on whatever silly little adventure away from home "he" was planning after graduation. Her view of Elsa, therefore, had been twisted and warped around a string of rosary beads and tight, worried eyes as she prayed for her only grandson.

Elsa loved her grandmother in the way that a child loves the Sun: she felt the warmth of her love, but only from afar; when up close, it burned against her skin, the love turning into something else that was less than enjoyable, or healthy, for that matter. She couldn't bear the thought of rejecting her parents, even if their actions put them in the same camp, or at least along the same spectrum, as their own parents, but she could beg leave of her financial situation to avoid visiting her grandmother, who lived even farther away than her parents did. As a result she had sent her many birthday cards in place of actually attending any of her parties, and the thought of doing so filled her with a sense of dread she couldn't express to her waiting father.

From the living room there came the sound of crashing and a high-pitched alarm.

"…hang on, that's bad. That's bad, right?" Anna sounded unsure.

"Why yes, alarms tend to be bad." Flynn sounded much more sure. He should know: his short-term career as a shoplifter in high school had included a crash course in what sounds to avoid.

"Could…" She swallowed around a lump and took a couple of deep breaths. Through the phone, she could hear her father waiting silently for her to continue. She frowned and opened her mouth. "I don't know if I have the money to spend for that." She hated lying to him, but sometimes the words felt better in her mouth than the truth.

"We'd be able to pay for that, since it's a special occasion." He paused for a moment as she wrapped her arm around herself nervously, and then continued. "Was there something you wanted…?"

"Could I take Anna with me?" she blurted out, before she could think better of it. "I know it'd cost more, but…I'd really like it…yeah." She closed her eyes and muttered curses under her breath as the phone went dead for several long moments.

The high-pitched alarm from the other room transitioned into a warbling trilling, accompanied by a series of gunshots and Anna's short, breathless screams.

"Oh come on, just-just use your plasmids; stop, stop…put the wrench down!"

"You can pry it from my cold, dead fingers!"

"Would she even want to come? I mean, it would be nice to finally meet her," he said, and even if his voice sounded a little strained it was the first time he'd ever expressed an interest in her girlfriend. Elsa pressed her hand to her mouth giddily and nodded. She smacked her hand to her forehead and said, "Yes, I…well I mean, I'd have to ask her, but I'm sure she'd love to come with me."

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

"Holy shit you suck."

"…um, am I hearing screaming?" her father asked, and Elsa cringed. "Yeah, that's…that's Anna."

"Uh, is she okay?"

"Yeah, we're just uh," she said, and bit her lip, "um, we're at…we're at a church retreat."

She pulled the phone away from her ear, holding it up and waiting a second for Anna to shout "Oh my God!" before returning it to her ear.

"…okay…" he said, sounding entirely unbelieving.

"ELSA HELP ME!"

She laughed. "Hang on, Dad, Anna's calling me." She dropped the phone to her chest and called through the doorway, "Okay, sweetie, what did you need?"

"I've run out of Eve for my plasmids and the splicers are all over my tail and I've set off alarms and-"

Flynn cursed impressively as Anna squealed, "oh shit I did NOT mean to shoot that Big Daddy fuck me fuck me God damnit…"

Elsa blinked. She slowly lifted the phone to her ear. "I'm going to need to call you back," she told her father, speaking clearly and calmly, "I think she's speaking in tongues."

"I'm not your grandmother, you know: you don't have to lie to me."

She rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah…"

He chuckled, and she remembered a time when she and her father spent hours playing with model boats and trains together, he showing her all the things his own father had shown him, how to get the sails to sit just right, how to paint the toy figures so that they appeared alive, how to salvage a wheel when she broke it in her enthusiasm, and smiled.

"But if you do need to go I won't keep you."

"Ah, no, not really. We're kind of just spending a lazy weekend together at a friend's house. Not doing anything exciting, really."

The sound of a machine gun and whimpers notwithstanding, of course.

"It's okay: I don't want to spend too much time on the phone while driving, anyways. I just needed to let you know so that we can work out details over email, okay? I'm certain your mother would agree to hosting Ms. Lillian, if she wants to come."

"I'll ask her," she said firmly. It'd be weird…no, it wouldn't be weird. She'd met Anna's parents, and now she was going to return the favor. It wouldn't be weird at all. Totally normal. "See you later, Dad."

There was a brief squeal of static, and she drew the phone away briefly, pulling it back quickly when he spoke.

"See you later, uh…honey." He sort of stumbled on the last word, but Elsa heard it perfectly. Her jaw dropped open, but before she could ask him about it he had hung up. She glanced down at the screen, still startled. It…it wasn't quite the same as calling her his daughter, but then, he'd never called her by any endearment before, and there was something…

"Oh my God-Sarcastic Jesus, take the wheel!"

"I'm not going to-stop trying to give me the controller, you're going to fail on your own!"

"Yes, I am oh God help meeeeeeeee…"

"Oh wow, look at all that blood. Hey Elsa, come look at all this blood!"

Elsa deliberately ignored him and checked the oven, where the cookies were just beginning to turn a lovely shade of golden-brown, and she licked her lips as she pulled on a pair of oven mitts. She smiled as she drew the cookies out, noting how they'd retained their shapes as snowflakes quite well. She began placing them on the rack as the sounds of bloodshed continued in the background.

She stopped and glanced down at her pocket, where her phone sat, and mulled over the previous conversation. Her father usually left the check-ins to her mother, and so she hadn't had a chance to see if her mother's recent acceptance had spread. In every other talk they'd had, though, he'd always made sure to say "goodbye Elton", so the fact that he hadn't was a good sign. Maybe even a step in the right direction. She allowed herself a small, quiet smile as she imagined a day when she could say goodbye and hear both her parents wishing Elsa a good night; a year ago, it had seemed like a crazy dream, but now…

She'd have to tell Anna. But not now, not when she was still unsure of what it meant herself.

There was a sudden silence. Elsa deemed that her cue to enter and, forgetting about silly things like "cooling" or "waiting" or "bake at hundreds of degrees", scooped the cookies onto a plate and headed for the living room.

"Look!" Flynn said excitedly, indicating the screen, which was displaying a rather gruesome image. Anna's slowly shaking head was in her hands, the controller tossed on the couch between them. "Anna made you a picture!"

Elsa settled her hand on her hip and cocked her head, examining the image. "Well," she began, "it does have a lot of pretty colors to it, but I'm not sure of the significance. What were you trying to say?"

"I was just trying to save my ass," Anna mumbled, at the same time Flynn snidely declared that it was "modern art" and therefore well beyond Elsa's capability of understanding.

Elsa glared at him peevishly. "I am not falling for this again, thank you." Anna looked up from her hands, confused, and Elsa blew out a long, hissing breath before reluctantly explaining that Flynn had once suckered her into watching a certain film on the grounds that it was a modernized version of George Orwell's famous novel. She'd made it to the scene where they shot the horse before she realized that "Animal Farm" and "Animal House" were not, in fact, related, nor was the rampant beer consumption a symbolic representation of the gluttonous bourgeoisie draining resources from the impoverished lower classes, despite what Flynn had claimed with all the sincerity of a priest.

Flynn was shaking with laughter as he gasped, "But you know what the best part was?" Elsa closed her eyes and tried not to grind her teeth. "She got so upset with me that she started taking notes to prove me wrong."

"Oh no," Anna said, sighing, "please tell me you didn't, Elsa."

"Cookie?" she asked irritably. Anna happily accepted the still warm treat, instantly sinking her teeth into it and moaning in pain and pleasure.

"I'd like one," Flynn said expectantly.

Elsa sat between them and gave Anna the plate, thus securing forever her girlfriend's love and loyalty, while Flynn crossed his arms and pouted.

"Well fine then. Your turn?" He offered her the controller, and Elsa just gave him a look.

"Elsa's not good at video games," said Anna, who pronounced it "vi-ieo gaice" as she fanned the air in front of her mouth frantically. She gulped and shuddered, squirming in her seat, and Elsa brushed the crumbs off her lap. "So I set her up with the Sims, you know, see if she liked other games, but she stopped playing after only two hours."

"I wasn't aware it was possible to play for any period of time less than eight hours," Flynn admitted, crunching on his own cookie. Elsa blinked, startled, and jerked her head at the plate, where a cookie was missing. Wait, how did-

"Yeah, she set up a house with a pair of sisters – sisters or girlfriends? I don't remember – and at one point the game glitched, or maybe she did something by accident-"

"Oh sure, blame me," Elsa said, sniffing.

"-because the door to one sister's bedroom disappeared, and I couldn't figure out how to put it back, and Elsa just kept getting more and more upset because the Sim kept getting these little moodlets about how she was so unhappy and lonely and wanted to be with someone, and she just rolled wish after wish to see her sister, but couldn't."

Flynn nodded and brushed his lips free of crumbs before taking a bite of a second cookie. Oh come on.

Elsa stole the plate from Anna's lap, ignoring her discontented squawking, determined to keep an eye on it. "And then," she said, "you restarted the game after it froze, and we had to remake the second sister, because her hair stopped working, and I just gave up and went back to Minecraft. I least I understand how that works."

"She's already built this enormous palace," Anna said between huge bites: she clearly hadn't learned from her experience from before. "Made out of diamond," she added, this time out of the corner of her mouth. Elsa could practically see the steam coming out of her.

"Ice," she corrected. Flynn tried to nonchalantly lean back against the couch, his arm coming up, and Elsa tapped her fingers against the plate edge in warning.

"Well yeah, but you can only use diamond, so…"

"I'm pretending its ice, because that makes it prettier." She glared at Flynn's hand as it edged closer to the cookies, and it retreated silently.

"It'd be a lot prettier if you'd just let me play with it," Anna fairly whined.

"I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop sneaking onto my account and planting flowers in my ice palace."

"Look, it's beautiful, but it'd be so much nicer with a bit of color, you know? Like reds, and greens, and blues…"

She made a face. "That just doesn't work with ice. Ice is supposed to be iridescent: it produces the colors by itself."

"Yeah, except not in like 8-bit blocks."

At her side, Flynn gave a heaving sigh and shook his head in resignation. "Listen, I didn't want to have to do this, but…here it comes." Flynn tilted his head and pinned Elsa to the couch with his puppy dog eyes, and she felt her resolve shrivel up against the onslaught of adorableness, he only relenting with a happy little noise when she sighed and handed him a cookie.