The inside of Elsa's dreams buzzed angrily, and she flailed a bit, spasming her muscles in shock. She found herself under a nearly catatonic redhead, and her mind ground into gear instantly, noting Anna's arm wrapped around her trunk. Sitting up slowly, she cradled her head, willing some of the pressures in her mind to flee her. Ignoring Anna's grunted disapproval at the morning's chill, she slapped the side of her overactive aural alert device she swore was also used in torture.

The feeding last night had been effortless, and satiety made Elsa's heart feel full, bloated even. Padding over the thick but rough carpet, she dragged a pair of black jeans out of her dresser, and threw it at the bed. The human-shaped lump of sleeping covers jolted at the intrusion, and freckled arms stretched out with a groaning sound.

By the time the red and grey flannel shirt joined the jeans on the bed, Anna rolled off the mattress. Falling on a discarded black dress, she grumbled and scratched her sides, looking around at the blonde's room. A mumbled hello from her passing dream on its way to the bathroom reminded her of her own existence, and she pranced unhappily to her pile of clothes.

xXxXx

Living with the girl of your dreams makes life fun, the ginger girl thought happily, slurping lazily at the banana smoothie Elsa had bought her at a nearby food truck. Sometimes, she even allowed the older girl to drink, reasoning that she couldn't just tell Elsa to stop drinking for good. Preferred patterns of behaviour are there for a reason, her second business teacher had rattled. It made sense then, and looking at the incredibly normal woman prancing around with her roller blades in one hand, it made even more sense now.

xXxXx

"That's the last bag," Elsa shouted at her door, returning her attention to the almost depressingly healthy snacks in her bag: carrots, broccoli, and ranch dip. Yuck, she thought of pushing the unsavoury vegetables down her throat. Yet, she'd do this and more in a heartbeat, if it made Anna smile. Cresting the stairs, the redhead beamed at her companion, and sucked in a breath to speak.

"I got us a treat, Elsie," she proclaimed, holding a bottle of the whiskey that the barely-functioning older woman coveted. "Crown Royal, just like you like," she mewled happily, and set the expensive-looking bottle on the table, and snuggled into Elsa's arm.

Mouth dry, the regal-looking woman stared at the bottle. Memories of happy forgetfulness came with the bottle style, and Anna hadn't even known! She wriggled around, and let her normally hidden wings envelop the little girl full of thoughtfulness and contented happiness. Maybe there could be two good things in her life again.

xXxXx

With a distracted gasp, Anna thought about what her name might mean, in the context of her relationship to Elsa. 'Shackle' spoke of being bound, chained even, and that definitely described her attachment to the girl suckling at her teat almost painfully.

Twisting to face the icy blonde squarely, the younger grinned and let loose a torrent of cackles, as her probing fingers scrabbled at Elsa's vulnerable sides. The older woman squealed and arched her back, and Anna wondered if she'd perhaps gone too far. Elsa smiled, though, and her salivating maw opened, showing elongated fangs, in a mock show of discontent.

Anna's forgotten cellphone made its burbling noise, vibrating across the wooden table. Picking it up quickly, she read the call display, and separated from an aggressive Elsa, catching her breath as she thumbed the 'Accept' button.

"Hello, Mother?"

"Hey, darling. Whatcha up to?"

Anna sighed. He mother had always tried to be the 'cool mom', even going to the extent of spending an uncomfortable(for a middle aged woman!) amount of time at corner stores, hoping to catch the latest "lingo" of the local teens. It exasperated her daughter to no end, and she constantly found herself agreeing with her aged father, that calling things "hip" was no longer "in".

"Mom, are you alright? What's going on?"

The voice on the other end paused for a moment, and Anna started running scenarios of varying unpleasantness through her mind. Her parent bit out a hasty explanation, saying that she had been fined for "tagging" rail cars, "again". Lightly biting her lip, the young woman considered her answer.

"Is Dad helping you out?" she queried, hoping for an answer in the affirmative. Sometimes her mother crossed the line from creepy to disorderly, in her quest for youthful fulfillment. Her husband, on the other hand, seemed happy with his lottery and sports news and beer.

"Yes dear," her mother droned, clearly unhappy with the conversation's flow.

"Um, you sort of caught me in the middle of something," the daughter drawled with a wry smirk, "Can I call you back in a couple hours?"

With a few more minutes of high-pitched chatter, Elsa picked herself off the couch, and strode to the kitchen/dining room. Chopping vegetables was easier than reasoning with a worrying mother, she reasoned, and opened the fridge. The first thing she saw made her forget the lazy supper she was about to slap together, and she instead headed in the direction of the dining table, sidling by a slightly queasy-looking Anna. As soon as the younger girl spied the bottle in Elsa's hand, she stopped her march to the kitchen, and followed the blonde girl to the table.

"I meant for this to be drunk with our 'meal'," she groused playfully, letting her eyes rake over Elsa's lithe figure. How she ever stayed healthy eating like she did, I'll never know. Plopping down on a stool, she thrust her arms out to stroke her lover's, and watched her drink the amber liquid. Maybe they had a chance, as a couple. They were stronger together.