A/N: Post-Once Upon A Dream. Inspired by the Super Bowl - what if after returning to Arendelle, Hans misses football. This is very short, no real purpose aside from I thought it was fun. :) let me know what you think!
Elsa's voice is low - scolding, "Hans!"
Arendelle's Prince Consort fails to even offer a glance in her direction.
Instead, the man spreads his arms wide, gregarious bounce to his step as the brown, pigskin ball lands in the arms of one of the guards (her personal guard, just to be clear, who's evidently abandoned his post to do Hans' bidding). One of many he's recruited to play his ridiculous game.
"YES!" Hans cheers, running straight into the mass of writhing bodies piling themselves in futility to acquire said pigskin ball, on garden lawn. "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout!"
Elsa has half a mind to drop a pile of snow upon everyone, to remind them that they are Arendellian - they behave more civilized than this.
But frankly dropping a pile of snow doesn't strike her as particularly more civilized, so she resists the urge.
The sudden obsession over this scrimmage game involving an oblong leather ball began shortly after Hans' return from Scotland two months ago, and the revelation that a game similar to American football exists in this world.
Elsa cringes as a large, wall-like man suddenly takes Hans to the ground during the next play, when he wasn't quick enough to rid himself of the blasted object. Or so she guesses, having never watched American football in her former life. Or whatever this is, in this life.
"He's going to hurt himself, you know." Anna sighs, suddenly materializing beside Elsa on the balcony overlooking the bizarre display that has become an afternoon ritual as the summer has worn on. For what it's worth, she looks equally displeased. She studies the way Hans gingerly rolls his shoulder, wincing at the motion.
"Not before ruining the lawn." Elsa mutters. The pox marks are now visible from the balcony, and the gardeners have been most disgruntled over the present state of affairs.
"So - are you going to talk to him?" Anna drawls. "Just asking, 'cause he's got Kristoff recruiting some goon from Corona to play defensive lineman."
Elsa glances at Anna who looks confused.
"I'm not even sure what that means." Anna confesses.
"Nor I. But I think it's time."
oOo
"Babe - can you frost my shoulder please?" Hans has the nerve to actually whine as he lays beside her in bed, ignoring entirely her displeased glare.
Despite that, she won't allow him to suffer.
It's not as if he's neglected his duties, per se. He's doing this in his free time, when Elsa is busy, or otherwise needing time to herself.
It's just that he's acting like an idiot. On a now daily basis.
"So I'm thinking of trying to spread the game around," Hans says. "Maybe have a tournament."
Elsa pauses her ministrations over his shoulder, frost thawing momentarily. "A what?"
"You know, like a championship tournament. I won't call it the Super Bowl, of course, but it could catch on..."
Elsa knows she's being petty - however that doesn't stop her from unleashing her ice across his entire back, with a smirk.
Hans is absolutely offended, "What was that for?"
"Act your age. You're too old for such nonsense." Elsa says flatly.
Hans cocks an eyebrow.
"And you are ruining my lawns."
He stares at her.
"You can't keep trying to smash each other over a toy ball there."
Hans blinks.
"You're a genius." Hans says in awe, genuine awe. "Why didn't I think to make a proper field in the first place?!"
Elsa catches his eye and he's alight with excitement. Not at all offended.
She rolls her eyes, "No."
"But it will preserve your lawn - and you won't have to watch as I exercise."
Elsa actually likes that part, especially when he'a stripped himself of various layers because of the heat, revealing lean muscle and broad shoulders...
"It's not all bad." She catches herself saying, rather softly. Needy.
Hans is watching her carefully, sultry smile suddenly playing at his lips. "You like it when we play shirts and skins?"
She pauses, sinking teeth into her bottom lip. Oh how this conversation turned quickly.
"Does that refer to the times you play without most of your clothing on?" Elsa feels a little breathless.
"Yes," Hans smirks. "Skins."
"Oh bother." Elsa hums her response, blush blooming brightly, "The lawn will recover."