Elsa's hands clenched at one another for dear life. Belle had been silent their whole way back to Elsa's estate, where the two girls would be staying for the evening, but Elsa was suddenly feeling too cramped and too stifled to even consider that fact. Her hands ached from the tension, her back ramrod straight and her eyes focused intently on the pitch black darkness ahead of them. There was bleak uncertainty in her eyes.

Anna had kissed her. It had been a presumable accident the first time, an unfortunate misgiving but not an all-together friendship ruiner. There had still been salvageability. Mistaken, drunken kisses happened all the time, right? They were amendable. There was still platonic love to be remedied there.

But Elsa, in her stupidity, in her rush of emotions and adoration of the girl before her, had begged for another kiss. She had reached for Anna in a way she had never reached for anyone else before. Hands had brushed waist, no, grabbed waist, and noses had bumped intimately. Lips had scorched one another, branded them with the depths of all of their hopes and dreams and suddenly forever had been between her two hands and she could not breathe. She had felt her back touch the wall but had no fathomable way of defining how low her back had been there. Darkness had shrouded them, but heat and fire burned their insides. Everything had been Anna, Anna Anna. Nothing had been terrifying, or too confined. She had not felt perfect. She had felt human, and anything even akin to anxiety had fallen away.

Now, the same could not be said.

The air that sat between Belle and Elsa was unbearable. The driver, accustomed to the quick, educated banter in the back of the town car was floored when the two girls had stepped into the car, faces flushed with alcohol but not a sound to be spoken for. It was very unusual indeed.

Of course, Rodger had no idea how very unusual tonight had been. Suddenly, Elsa was acutely aware of her foolishness. She had not been aware of it in the moment, of course, nor the moment after that. She had simply stared at Anna, teal eyes wide and mouth open, damp and swollen from kissing. Her hands had gone slack around Elsa's neck, and shock seeped into her soul. Elsa had known that much, just by looking at her companion. There was something alluring to shocking Anna; Elsa doubted many people could. Still, when their lips had met for a third, a fourth, a fifth time, the whole world had compounded down into them, right there, in that moment, in that darkness. Elsa had lived, if only for a moment.

When Belle had found them in one another's arms, however, death had greeted her once more. There had been a fair bit of shocked staring, scrutiny of the redheaded girl that stared, blank faced, back at her. Then, with a single frown forming over Belle's face, the final nail was hammered into Elsa's coffin. "It's getting late Elsa. We should go."

In fear, Elsa thought perhaps she should not move. Perhaps she should just stay there, replay the moment again and again and again until her mind fell into a vegetative state. But Anna, sweet, gentle, wonderful oblivious Anna had pushed her forward. Whatever she expected from Elsa, little though it may have been, it would not be what she received. She had kissed her cheek in farewell, grinning, her eyes filled with a sudden and unspeakable joy. She had whispered something akin to goodbye. Elsa had shook.

And now they say, in silence, in fear and anguish and heartbroken destruction, in the back of her town car. Belle said nothing. Elsa could not say anything if she wanted to.

"How long?"

It was such an easy question, intrinsically simple in its nature. She could have answered it. She did not need to ask by what standard they were measuring, or what event they were measuring. No, Elsa knew all of that.

It was the stone in Belle's voice that was so unfamiliar. Belle was a number of things. She was naturally inquisitive and questioning, and had spent her whole life standing up when Elsa would not. She was familiar with the high expectations place on Elsa's shoulders, and while Elsa was expected to be in control at all times, Belle had never minded being her right hand woman.

Now, it was the cold that bit into Elsa's flesh that forced tears from her eyes. This was all going horribly wrong.

"Elsa. I asked, how long?" The voice, icy, asked again. This was not Belle, not the one Elsa knew. Belle did not know how to be ice; that was Elsa's job.

Elsa choked on her answer. "Tonight. Tonight." She could say nothing more.

Belle seemed to understand, pressing a button to ensure that the window between the girl's compartment and Rodger was sealed. When the window had risen, despite a brief questioning glance from the driver, Belle once again replaced her hands in her lap.

This is it. This is the beginning of the end.

Elsa was shaking nearly uncontrollably now. Desperately, she grabbed at either side of her waist, as though trying to hold herself together. Her breathing was choppy. Her eyes were clouded by tears that threatened to coat her cheeks, her heart thundering in her ears. She could no longer hear anything but her own heavy breathing, the rushing of blood through her body, and the cracks in her heart. Everything hurt. Everything felt ruined. She wanted out of the car; it felt far too hot and sweaty this close to Belle and her presumable disapproval.

A hand reached for her arm.

As though someone had shot off a pistol, Elsa jumped, turning and pressing herself as far against the other side of the car as she could, as though attempting to get away from Belle. She had expected to see anger, hatred, disgust, any number of negative emotions. She had expected Belle's hand on her arm to be a vice grip, steel against flesh.

Instead, she only saw concern in her eyes and parted lips.

"Oh Elsa…"

Belle's voice cleared the fog, if only slightly, and Elsa's heart stopped pounding. Carefully, familiar with Elsa's sudden panic attacks, Belle moved a little closer. Elsa, if possible, curled in even further on herself. Belle reached out a hand, flat and slow, so that Elsa could see that she meant only to lay it on her friend's shoulder.

"Come here, sweetheart." Belle's voice had softened, and her hand tugged Elsa towards her. The dams broke. Elsa could not stop herself.

In the rush of familiarity, Elsa let herself fall forward into Belle's arms, the anxiety releasing its grip and the fear and sadness taking its place. Her shoulders quaked with loss, as though someone had already taken everything from her.

Belle, her momentary agitation rushing away, found her previous emotions being replaced by sheer concern for her best friend. She wrapped her arms around Elsa's shoulders, cradling the girl's head into her shoulder. She tried, with everything that she was worth, not to allow herself to indulge in tears of her own. She found, shockingly enough, that Elsa was repeating something that sounded a lot like an apology. It was only then that she stopped her comforting.

Belle laid a hand on Elsa's head, pulling away and forcing Elsa to look at her. "Why do you think I'm angry?"

Elsa's tears fell harder, if possible. In stuttered, broken speech, she replied, "Anna. You-you'll h-h-hate me because of wh-what I f-f-feel!"

Belle sighed, sadness sneaking into her gaze. Finally, she placed her hands on either side of Elsa's face, and sat so that she was staring directly at her. "Elsa, stop. I have not seen you more dazed and completely enraptured as you were with that girl, and I have known you for a very long time. We do not choose who we love Elsa. Do you hear me?"

Elsa heard her, but she was not listening. She had lost her ability to listen, somewhere down the line. Again, Belle tried.

"Elsa. Do you have feelings for her?"

Elsa choked on a sob, "Yes!"

Belle could not help but smile. Ever honest, every oblivious. That was her best friend, alright.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Els. We don't choose who we love. There's nothing wrong with how you feel about her. I'm not mad at you. Hey, look at me." She pushed their foreheads together, kindness seeping into her voice. "I'm not mad at you."

Elsa's shaking finally halted, and her tears silenced. Still, they ran freshly down her cheeks. "Y-you're not?"

Belle almost giggled, keeping their foreheads together. "Never. Best friends, remember? I meant that nonsense. Didn't you?"

Elsa nodded, her nose bumping Belle's. Belle pulled back then, pulling Elsa back into a hug. When they had held each other for long enough and Belle was positive that the shaking was finished, she finally took a deep breath and explained herself.

"Elsa, I could never be mad at you because of who loves you, or who loves you. Hell, you kiss whoever you want in corners. I could never ever be mad at you for that, okay? I was frustrated Elsa, and hurt. I was hurt that… Well, that you didn't tell me. That you didn't just let me know."

Elsa froze, moving so that she could stare back at Belle. "Wait. Let you kn-know what?"

Belle released a puff of air. "Tell me that… Well, tell me that you had feelings for this girl. That you had feelings for girls at all. Did you really think I would be that angry? Were you so afraid of me that you could not even find it in yourself to just be honest with me?"

Elsa had never even considered that her friend would feel betrayed. She could only blink and stare blankly. Finally, when her thoughts had come to terms with the idea, she swallowed hard, replying simply, "I mean… Well, I… I guess I didn't quite know myself."

This was only partially a lie. While it had occurred to Elsa more than once that truly straight girls did not have to remind themselves to be straight, she had never allowed herself to even consider the alternative. When Anna's lips had touched hers, however, all of that had quite literally gone to shit.

Belle blinked, shocked. "Really? You… You didn't know?"

Elsa coughed, something akin to a laugh sneaking out of her throat. "Not particularly. I mean, I just thought I was… Uh… I don't know. Less than sexual?"

Belle snorted. "Asexual is the word you're looking for, dumbass."

Elsa gave a watery grin. "You only call me dumbass when you're not mad at me. So… You aren't, right?"

Her best friend's face morphed into a soft smile, pulling Elsa back into an embrace. "No. No, I'm not mad. I'm overjoyed. I'm so proud of you."

Elsa felt an unnamed warmth creep into her heart. Belle loved her, accepted her. There was something completely perfect about that moment. That is, until Elsa remembered that she would now have to face her father, changed.

"My father…" Elsa felt Belle's shoulders stiffen.

"Your father." The reply was soft, but stoney once more, though this time it was not directed at Elsa. It was true that Belle had never been a particular fan of Frédéric, with his stern voice and conservative opinions. She had spent most of her life standing beside Elsa, staying up nights with her as she completed every task her father asked of her. She had watched Elsa conform herself to the mold her father expected, projecting her every fear and need to please her father onto everyone else in her life. The thought caused anger, even still.

Elsa buried her face against Belle's shoulder and groaned. "He'll never approve…"

Belle took a deep breath, brushing a hand through Elsa's hair, wishing only to bring a girl she considered her sister peace. "No. I doubt that he will. But E, you can't let him run your life forever."

Elsa swallowed hard. "I have to. He's my father."

That was Elsa's excuse for everything. Belle tasted bile, her stomach clenching with unspoken hatred. "Elsa, I won't tell you what to do. But your father will have to come to terms with this eventually, whether with Anna or some other girl. This is a part of you. You can't hide it forever."

Watch me.

Silence fell between them then, Elsa closing her eyes and trying to focus on something other than the hopeful grin on Anna's face. She knew what she was going to do, what she felt was necessary. She hated herself for it.

I'm so sorry Anna.


Anna was floating. She felt like dancing around her room, giggling like a madwoman.

She had kissed her. Anna Bjorgman, of all people, had kissed Elsa Arendelle. The mere thought was remarkable, in and of itself. Anna tossed herself back onto her bed, giggling again.

Rapunzel sat with her head in Eugene's lap, smirking. She glanced over at Hans and Kuzco, watching their matching faces as Anna continued to bounce around the room. No one said anything, merely allowing Anna to do what she did best: ramble.

"Oh my god, for a girl who apparently is not very familiar with kissing girls damn can she do it well and holy fuck oh my God she is so good looking like how did I get so lucky am I hotter than I thought oh my fucking God someone please tell me that I'm that hot and please God let me kiss her again but really like kissing her was all like whoa and I was all like damn and she was all like again and I was still all like hot damn and whoa…"

Only then did Anna stop, her shoulders slumping, a glazed grin bubbling onto her face. She closed her eyes, sleep and alcohol drifting over her in a haze. This had to have been the best night of her life.

Kristoff stepped into the room, handing out hangover cures of his own concoction, and sliding down the wall next to Eugene and Rapunzel. He sipped his drink, trying not to grimace. "She still going on about Elsa?"

Eugene smiled kindly, scratching his goatee. "What do you think, man? Your sister's got it bad."

Rapunzel and Kristoff shared a look. Neither of them had ever seen Anna get like this over anyone, boy, girl or otherwise. This reaction to kissing was completely new to them, completely out of character. And yet here Anna was, bouncing up and down like a kid on Christmas morning, or more accurately, herself on Christmas morning. Anna did not get worked up like this. She had a tendency to jump to conclusions, sure, to prance about with pride and snark, but never was she a bumbling idiot about love. It was short-lived, fiery and hot for a moment and cold and broken the next, and Anna moved forward. That was the way Anna worked.

Well, up until that point, that is.

"Anna-banana, I'm super pleased that this thing with Arendelle worked out well for you, but you've gotta get some sleep." Kristoff had closed his eyes and was slumping against Eugene's shoulder, Sven coming up to lay in his lap. Her other companions all seemed to be feeling the same, their eyes slipping closed.

Anna said no more, but she could not find it in herself to sleep. She wanted nothing more than to relive kissing Elsa for the rest of her life. She remembered, with shocking vividness, the look on Elsa's face when she had first kissed her. She remembered the apology that was already slipping off her tongue when Elsa had asked her to come back, to return to her mouth, to love her. This was all too much. Her heart swelled at the very thought of kissing Elsa, with the familiarity of her mouth by the fifth kiss. Their kisses had alternated, sometimes soft and sweet, other times hard and passionate and hungry. She couldn't say that she had a favorite, though she distinctly remembered one kiss resulting in a sound from Elsa's throat that mad Anna try to figure out where the nearest bedroom was.

It was true; kissing Elsa had been a godsend of a moment. She imagined that's what the religious referred to as "an epiphany." A moment of earth-shattering wonder.

Anna knew she was bad at a number of things. She had never particularly excelled at math, and she was fairly poor at anything athletic that wasn't soccer. She had atrocious hand writing, she was a terrible owner when it came to small pets, and she dressed like a wealthy hobo. Nonetheless, the one major character flaw Anna knew she maintained was her ability to fall in love, and then leave.

But there was something about Elsa, something about trembling lips and wide, shocked blue eyes and soft noises in the back of throats and everything about their collision that was just, well, different. Elsa was nothing like the other men and women she had flayed. She wasn't just something to be toyed with, but to be understood, to be loved. She wanted to know Elsa, body and soul and mind and all of the grey area between. She wanted to be needed by Elsa. She wanted Elsa to point out her flaws so she could fix them.

For a moment, Anna let herself return to that moment in the hospital, when she had been so certain that she loved Elsa then. It occurred to her that perhaps Elsa was like a videogame. You had to beat each level, love each level with the fullest extent of your heart to reach the next. It was a never ending series, with boss-fights and dungeons and terror and triumph. How many levels Elsa contained, Anna could not be certain. None the less, this had to have been better than any videogame, maybe ever.

Her smile was placid, warm and comfortable and dazed. She just felt… warm. Warmth, everywhere, consuming her. It was that same feeling that had warmed her that day in the hospital, their first real meeting as friends, the day she had watched Elsa snowboard… It had all been culminating in this moment.

Everything had led her to Elsa.

Despite this warmth, something dark and unfamiliar crept into her heart. She felt a tinge of insecurity, a fear that she could not place. As utterly pleased, as utterly happy as she felt in that moment, she could not deny that when Elsa had left, she had looked nothing less than terrified.

Anna tried not to think on it long. Instead, she pulled out her phone, realizing that it was promptly 4:27 in the morning. An excellent time for a morning after text, me thinks!

Anna chuckled at herself, if only to settle the sudden clenching in her stomach. She inhaled deeply, trying to find the best way to convey to Elsa that she was fairly certain that the world revolved around platinum hair and icy eyes. Or, at least, that she had had an excellent time kissing her.

With the text securely sent, Anna smiled in her own satisfaction, and curled up on herself. Her eyes finally fell heavy, and, still drunk and in her party dress, Anna fell asleep with thoughts of soft smiles and cool lips on her mind.

Elsa did not reply.

Author's Note: I am so so so sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I am trying to the best of my abilities not to completely slack off at the end of my senior year, and calculus is kicking my ass. Regardless, I hope you'll forgive me.

For those of you thinking you were just hopping on a cute little fluff train, I apologize, but you'll wanna get off at the next station. There will be a lot of angst I MEAN A LOT OF ANGST from here on out, with intermittent fluff and then definitely some really unfortunate events that hopefully will make you want to cry. As my all time favorite poet once wrote, "The course of true love never did run smooth," and I can assure you it will not run smooth for these two.

Thank you for your love and support, and for those who have corrected me and offered me criticism, thank you so much for recognizing my humanity and assisting me in amending my own idiocy. Your reviews have truly meant the world to me, and the support this fic is receiving is just tremendous. Keep it up guys, we've got a long way to go!

As always, much love.

-Abby