I'm just gonna say I'm glad I didn't promise any of you that this chapter was gonna be shorter than the last one lmao. I also want to apologize because it took me a month to update. It was... a struggle. Despite writing every day many things didn't feel right with both myself and this chapter and that is why I took so long. I just really really hope that this chapter delivers and that the wait is worth it in the end. Thank you to all who have left kudos and who have commented, and to those of you who drop me asks on Tumblr or message me on Discord. Your love and appreciation for this story lifts me up.
Now as to this chapter... LONDON. That's all.
Enjoy!
And just how on earth did Anna find herself on an airplane bound to London on the evening of November 19?
It all began a month before. Exactly one day after having gone off on Mr. Frank and his stink-ass Scotch breath, and right after her Sunday dinner with Kristoff. They'd been laying on the floor nursing a food coma when he'd brought up Elsa's name.
"Why haven't you gone?" He'd asked.
Anna had stared at him as though he had grown a second head on top of the one propped on his elbow. "Because I've been too busy with work."
"Since when are you so responsible? You used to skip work at the bookstore every other month."
"And that's exactly why I'm trying to be more responsible."
"I don't buy it," Kristoff had said before lying on his back and letting out a burp that Anna could have sworn she heard traveling all the way up from his stomach. "You get all droopy every time you talk about Elsa. I really thought you'd have made plans to go visit her by now."
She'd bitten her lip, unsure of what to say while Kristoff reached for his phone on the sofa.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking for flights."
Anna had stared again without saying anything else. Going to London had been a concept that she'd entertained almost every night since Elsa's departure, but the possibility of it had felt so far from her reach that she would often go to sleep sighing heavily and hugging her pillow as hard as if it were the blonde herself. Something had kept her from booking a flight. Work, yes. But also her own incapability at doing something for herself. A sense of inadequacy that sprouted from the self-destructive reminder that she didn't deserve to go in the first place; that she didn't deserve this small sliver of happiness.
"What's wrong?" Kristoff had asked. "You don't wanna go?"
She'd quickly shaken her head. "No—God, I do. I just... What about work?"
"What about work? Can't he live without you for a few days?"
"Kristoff, I'm his assistant. He needs me almost on a daily basis."
Brown eyes held hers for a few seconds, resolute and unamused. She knew what he was thinking—had known for quite some time even if she had never understood the reason behind it.
"I don't like him."
She'd rolled her eyes. "Well, it's not like I can do much about that, can I? He's my boss and the job really is good. I'm getting to meet people in this business and now it's easier to know what agents look for in a writer and... yeah... I'm networking."
Kristoff's mouth had opened then closed, causing his jaw to set before he'd adverted his eyes. There had been something on his mind that day; something more serious than this conversation could have held. Anna had been too scared to hear it out loud even if perhaps, deep down, she knew too.
"Just tell me one thing," he'd said instead, "From one to ten, how much do you wanna go to London and see Elsa?"
"My desire to go doesn't fit in that scale."
"You're so melodramatic." He'd then put his phone away and welcomed Sven into his bulky arms. The dog's furry head kept covering his mouth as he continued to speak, "Talk to Hans, dude. If he's as nice as you say he is then maybe he'll give you the chance to go."
And so it had been settled—partly.
The next thing she'd had to do was approach Hans a few days later, as soon as she'd sensed he had moved past the whole party thing and gone back to his charming, amicable self. In reality, it had only taken him the weekend and nothing more than that. He'd arrived Monday morning chirpy as ever, asking her to come down with him to grab a coffee so that they could go over the plans for the week, not once mentioning the party again. Yet, she had not asked until Friday, after he'd inquired about her Thanksgiving plans and she had stumbled her way through saying that perhaps, maybe, she was sort of considering going to London for the occasion.
"London?"
She'd nodded mutely, like a bobblehead.
"How long are you planning on being gone?"
The question had caught her off guard. For the rest of the time my girlfriend's there, preferably—"I'm not sure? For a... weekend, maybe?"
Hans had been unimpressed. He'd soon started chuckling before it turned into a full-blown laughter. "A weekend sounds outrageous, Anna. You spend a weekend at the Hamptons not in London."
She'd felt embarrassed and smiled awkwardly as she tried to go along with his humor.
"What's in London anyway?"
Anna could feel herself sinking back into her chair. "...Elsa."
There was a change of beat.
"Well, who am I to get in the way of true love, right?" He'd smirked and Anna, for the first time since working for him, had not been able to tell if he was mocking her or not.
So is that a yes or a no? She'd wanted to ask because Hans had only sat there staring at a spot on the wall like he'd suddenly gone all catatonic on her, and the longer he took to respond the more Anna was convinced that he would say no.
"Do we have anything important scheduled for the days around Thanksgiving?"
They didn't. She'd known because she had checked before asking. Still, she'd made a show of checking her notes. "Nope," she'd said, her hopes rising; boiling up like water under a flame.
He'd grinned then—a slow and mischievous smile that could seem wicked in a room full of shadows. "I think that settles it then."
She'd felt like squealing. That had been too easy. "Does that mean..."
Hans had only chuckled as he stood up and stretched his torso, puffing up his chest and flexing his biceps in the process. Kristoff and Eugene did that too, she'd mused briefly while he reached for the gray coat that was draped over the back of his chair and threw it over the crook of his elbow. It looked like a gesture of finality. A settlement.
He'd walked towards the door, pausing by the chair Anna was still occupying, and rested his hand on her shoulder.
"Take the whole week," he'd suggested, and left.
It was a walk in the park after that—but not really.
Because the next and last major thing she'd had to do was ask her parents to postpone their trip to New York. Hopefully to next year because after everything that happened Anna still felt like she was taking an anxiety trip down the angsty road every time the thought of seeing her parents came up, no matter how much they may appear to have settled things between each other. She'd figured she could make something up. A fake impromptu trip with Hans or a really bad stomachache that would prevent her from leaving her bed at all. But lying had never come easily to Anna, and as it was, lying to Elsa in order to surprise her had started to give her heart palpitations.
She'd approached her father first to test the waters.
"Did you buy the tickets already?" Anna had asked the following day over the phone. She'd done the calling, which had surprised her father. It shouldn't have, she'd thought, not after all the time she'd spent doing it for them.
"Not yet," he'd said, "I'm waiting for your mother to give me the dates."
She had frowned at how business-like that sounded.
"Why?" He had then asked.
She'd stared at the wall, her eyes falling on the board filled with polaroid pictures and tiny, inspiring notes. She needed to buy another one. When she came back from London, she would.
"Do you think that maybe... you could come after Thanksgiving?"
The other end of the line had gone silent before she heard him sigh. He didn't sound annoyed. He sounded tired. "You made plans already, didn't you?"
Anna had bitten her lip, hard. "I want to visit Elsa in London."
"I didn't know she was in London."
She'd closed her eyes. "You hadn't asked..."
They'd fallen into a silence that took some effort getting out of. In the end, he'd only said he would talk to her mother but Anna had still expected a phone call directly from her. Which is exactly what happened two days later.
"London?"
Anna had to pull the phone away from her ear.
"Yes, mom. London." She'd felt like she was defying her mother's wishes again. It was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time—more terrifying than exhilarating.
"With what money? Do you know how irresponsible it is to go on a vacation when you've barely started a new job?"
"It's not barely, and Hans is okay with it anyway." She'd started nibbling at her lower lip already, her voice wavering a little as she said the next few words, "And I'm using my savings. I wouldn't dare ask you for it, don't worry."
"You seem to forget that part of your savings comes from our allowance."
Ah, there it is, she'd thought. Anna had said the wrong thing, of course. When it's not the tone, it is the words. Are mothers ever happy? Will their offspring ever say the right thing? Anna had thought that somebody needed to invent a stress ball specifically made for these conversations. One that blurted out reassurances every time you squeezed it and with the statement You are much more than what your parents think of you, or something shorter than that because there is only so much space in a stress ball.
She'd felt like screaming—like something inside her chest was imploding, spreading through her body like wildfire, and consuming itself into a single flicker of resentment. "I don't need it anymore," she'd whispered. What I need is a stress ball.
"I'm sorry?"
She'd gulped (nothing! I said nothing!), it felt like sandpaper. "I said I don't need it anymore..."
"Very well then," her mother had said, and how could that have made Anna flinch? "I have to go to a meeting now. Have fun and take care in London."
With that, the phone call ended.
Anna had known that if they'd had this conversation in person, she would have never been able to say anything past the word London. Her mother had always intimidated her more than her father, and in her inability to understand why she constantly found herself growing defensive. It was then, as she sat on the bed with her phone still held in her hand, that she'd understood that whatever mending they had done during her graduation had been nothing but superficial, and that distance had not strengthened their relationship but weakened it again.
The sentiment had brought along a bitterness that lasted a few days, until Rapunzel had shown up at her apartment unannounced in order to go through Anna's clothes so that she could help her pick her London outfits. Needless to say, it wasn't long before the brunette dragged her out on a shopping spree that ended with the purchase of two pairs of skin-tight jeans and a dress that hugged the curves of her body perfectly so.
Rapunzel had stared at her from outside the fitting room, surveying her body from top to bottom before opening her mouth and saying:
"You're gonna make Elsa gayer than she already is."
Anna had never purchased something so fast in her entire life.
"So that's how it happened..."
She sees Elsa's hand move across the table and welcomes it in her own. "Your mom," she says, shaking her head. "She didn't have to take it out on you like that."
Anna shrugs meekly. "It was bound to happen one way or the other."
"Still. It almost felt like it was done out of spite."
Her hand squeezes Elsa's at this. The physical sensation of touching her is far greater; far more real than any sorrow her heart may feel right now at her mother's reaction. What occurred between them is in the past. Tonight, she gets to be with Elsa again and that is the present she wishes to dwell on.
"Can we talk about that some other time?"
Elsa hesitates for a moment before breathing out a soft, "Okay." A faint smile spreads across her face afterwards. It lights up her eyes and Anna, getting lost in them, feels like she could fall in love all over again.
They've ended up having dinner at a small Mediterranean restaurant near the bank of the Thames after having gone up to Elsa's room to pack up some clothes for the week and having spent a little more time than was necessary at the hotel room.
Because as soon as the door had closed behind them Anna had pressed Elsa against it, still damp and cold from the rain. And how could she ever begin to explain that? The feeling of Elsa's tongue connecting with her own; the moans that reverberated in the silence of the room; the insatiable need she had been holding onto for months. None of those things had failed to send heat straight down to her center. And when her girlfriend had mumbled in between hungry, lustful kisses, "We should take a shower," Anna had been all too happy to comply.
She'd jumped right after her, making Elsa squeal and laugh in surprise.
"What?" She'd asked, "You said we needed to take a shower."
"I never said together," Elsa had said, her eyes revealing the opposite.
She'd smirked at that before clashing their mouths together and running her hands over the skin she might as well have had dreamed of almost every night with how much she fantasized about it. The sensation had been overwhelming; as encompassing as the hot water that poured down on them. To feel like she was rediscovering Elsa's body, relearning the whimpers that escaped her lips, memorizing all over again the way her fingers felt inside of her... Could anyone blame her for acting like a horny teenager?
They'd finished in the shower only to continue in bed, until Elsa was left in a blissful state of exhaustion at the hands of Anna's tireless lust. They lay naked with limbs intertwined and that, right there, had felt like the worthy culmination of everything she'd had to do to get here. Because Anna had finally recognized peace in the softness of her voice, in the faint freckles on her nose and the familiar glint of her eyes. She recognized it in the way Elsa laughed at the comments she uttered under her breath; in the way she gently nibbled at Anna's lip every time they kissed; in the way Elsa's hand went up to push her ruffled bangs away from her forehead.
Because if a person could feel like home, Elsa would always be exactly that.
Back at the Mediterranean restaurant, Anna continues to eat her tabbouleh salad.
"So what's the itinerary for this week?"
The blonde arches an eyebrow. "I just found out about your visit a few hours ago and you think I have an itinerary already?"
She tsks through a mouthful. "Whatever happened to the Elsa I knew?"
The girl in question leans across the table, her expression dead serious and her lips set in a thin line. Cold, blue eyes stare into Anna's, allowing her the time to take that back. But Anna doesn't. She's too busy munching on her salad.
So Elsa speaks with a voice that doesn't waver: "She was too busy screaming out your name to make an itinerary."
Anna chokes on something—a quinoa seed, a cucumber, a goddamn pea, she doesn't know—but her cheeks turn beet red while her girlfriend looks on with a mixture of concern and amusent and slides a cup of water that Anna accepts with a glare. The nerve this woman has to call her out like that in public.
She chugs the water, and when she's positive she's not going to die with a quinoa seed stuck in her airway (That could go on the dumbest ways to die TV show I used to watch), she covers her face. She can feel her cheeks grow warm against the skin of her palms before Elsa's hand reaches out to graze the back of Anna's right, fingers tickling her wrist before wrapping themselves around it. She gently pries it away from her face until Anna removes her other hand and looks at the blonde from below her lashes. She can't bring herself to do the glare this time.
"What's with the shyness?" Elsa asks softly.
She bites her lip. The embarrassment is beginning to dissipate but her throat is still raspy when she says, "I'm just... feeling all kinds of things right now."
"What kinds of things?"
Anna looks at the girl sitting on the other side of the table and suddenly the distance feels both unbearable and utterly surreal.
How many times had she closed her eyes only to imagine that Elsa was sitting right there with her?
"I just feel like my emotions are all over the place," she says, but when Elsa begins to frown she feels the need to elaborate. "They're good emotions. All good, I promise. But they're kind of overwhelming... Like I can't contain them all at the same time."
A smile soon appears on Elsa's face. Still, she doesn't respond right away. She lifts up the hand she is still holding and brings it up to her lips, kissing each knuckle with a devotion that nearly brings tears to Anna's eyes. There has to be a dichotomy somewhere, she thinks, between the intimacy they're sharing and this place that smells like Falafel and keeps blasting Greek pop music from its speakers. But then again, intimacy isn't about the place, is it? It's never been... Anna could be standing with Elsa in the busiest corners of Mumbai or Tokyo or New York City, and she would still be able to feel this tenderness between them.
"I know what you mean," Elsa finally tells her.
"You do?"
"Of course I do," she chuckles against the skin of her hand, covering it with warm air in the process. "You have no idea how much I missed you, Anna... It's making me feel all kinds of things too."
The last of her tabbouleh is forgotten—she doesn't think she can put another mouthful of that deadly salad in her mouth. All she can focus on is this. This sensation; these good and inexplicable things that have no need for words because they are right here, revealed by their actions, only for the two of them to see.
"Are you done with your salad?" Elsa asks.
"It almost killed me, so yes."
A giggle. "Come with me then."
They exit the restaurant hand in hand and exchange very few words for as long as they continue to walk on the main street that leads to Lambeth Bridge. It gives Anna the time to take certain things in, like the still unbelievable fact that she's in London right now and not New York.
She looks around her while she lets Elsa be their guide. She notices the buildings, most of them with brown brick facades and none of them tall enough that she has to crane her neck all the way back. She sees the street signs: white rectangles with black and red letters fixed on the walls rather than displayed on tall metal posts. Horseferry Road, one of them reads. She looks to her left and sees a red double-decker drive by before she's hit with an elation that almost causes her to start jumping up and down. She watches the strangers that pass them by—a tall gentleman carrying a briefcase in one hand and swinging a closed umbrella with the other; two middle-aged women with their heads bent close to each other, gushing about something that sounds important; a younger girl walking her dog, lost in her phone. Strangers: all the same when placed in the background of a city; all unique when looked at from up close.
Anna likes London, she decides. The little she has seen at least. But when they reach a park that is nearly devoid of people and Elsa leads her farther in to where the river meets its bank, Anna thinks she could fall in love with it.
They walk all the way to the concrete parapet that stands between the Thames and the park. The city lights glimmer on the surface of the river and in the distance, Anna can see the London Eye lit up in bright red. The branches of the trees sprout up and above them as if they were trying to reach out to the water, making them look like black tendrils against the moonlit sky. The air... It is a little colder here. Sobering.
She is distracted by this view until she feels Elsa tug gently at her hand. When she turns to face her, the blonde is already smiling.
"It's pretty, isn't it?"
She nods. "I don't think you ever told me about this place in your postcards. Or during our phone calls for that matter."
"I only discovered this a few days ago," Elsa explains, "I wished you were with me almost as soon as I found it."
Anna sighs, understanding the feeling before leaning closer and letting her arms instinctively wrap themselves around Elsa's waist. It should be silly, she thinks, if not downright ridiculous to miss someone this way when only a few months have passed. But Anna can't help it and she has a feeling that neither can Elsa. Not with the way she is hugging her with as much longing as the one Anna had been carrying in her own heart this whole time.
"Distance's been so hard," Elsa whispers as they continue to embrace. "I'd been feeling so out of touch with myself... I don't know how else to explain it. But having you with me right now just makes me feel like things make sense again."
She steps back a little in order to take a better look. Elsa's freckles are lost to the night, but the flicker behind her blue eyes has remained intact. Anna doesn't say anything yet. She can tell there's something else struggling to come out of her girlfriend's mouth.
And finally: "Do you think it's normal?"
"What do you mean?"
The blonde's arms go down to her sides in order to wrap themselves around her own torso. "I don't know how to say it..."
"Just try, it's okay."
She looks away as if trying to transform her thoughts into words. A few seconds pass before she looks back. "You've been feeling something similar haven't you?"
Anna frowns, confused by the way she's responded with another question rather than answering the previous one. She thinks for a moment that Elsa is trying to deviate from talking about herself, but something in the way she's asked this keeps her from entertaining the notion for too long.
Besides, how many times in the past few weeks has she wished to talk about what's been eating away at her own mind?
"I feel... lost," she whispers after a while, "Like I can't focus on anything for more than a few minutes. I keep looking for inspiration everywhere I go and that helps me sometimes, but of course it still isn't enough."
"Have you been writing?"
She gives a rueful smile, closes her eyes, and welcomes the hand that tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "You know the answer to that," she says.
Elsa pulls her closer again, draping an arm over her shoulders and placing a lingering kiss on her forehead. Anna can hear the long exhale that escapes through her nose.
"I've been asking myself if this is all because we're apart," Elsa then murmurs, "And that's what makes me wonder if it's normal. Or maybe normal isn't the right word but... I don't know. I'm scared it will affect us in the end."
"Why would it affect us?"
Another pause; another well of silence. She listens to the tree branches being rustled by the wind and the sounds of the city melding into a single static noise as she takes a step back with the intention of fully facing Elsa. There is sadness behind the girl's eyes, and for the first time since she's arrived in London she wishes that circumstances were a little bit different. A little less heavy from words left unsaid.
"Because," Elsa says, "I want you to be happy, Anna. Even when we're apart."
"But you're only going to be in London for a little while longer."
"It's not just about London, baby."
Anna frowns and looks away. The surface of the river glimmers with a thousand lights.
"I'm still not sure what you're trying to say," she mutters. A memory is being shoved to the forefront of her mind. She is recalling that night in Los Angeles, thinking back to Hans's unwarranted advice and his reminder not to be swallowed by the comfort of love.
Is that the same thing Elsa is telling her right now?
"Anna," she breathes, reaching for her hand. "What I'm trying to say here is that I love you so much sometimes I feel like my heart could leap out of my chest just by thinking of you. That I feel like crying sometimes when I look at you because I still can't believe my luck, and that being far from you makes me feel like a part of me is constantly missing to the point that I can't function properly. But that scares me... It terrifies me because I don't want that to take over yourown life. And I don't want to be the person that could ever get in the way of making your dreams come true."
Elsa stops only long enough to take a breath. The weight in her words has not gone unnoticed and neither have the emotions swarming in the depth of her eyes. Anna is searching for something to say; anything that will ease her troubling mind. But before she can find it, Elsa continues in a voice so soft it threatens to break.
"I don't want to ever be the reason you stop doing what you love."
The statement pulls at her heart in a hundred different directions. "But you're not," she rushes out, "If anything you've been doing the opposite. You make me happy, Elsa. And you make me feel loved... When could that ever be a bad thing for me?"
There is more to it, Anna knows this. There are more reasons behind her current inner struggle that are hiding from her as though shadows in the darkness. And how can she ever explain something that she can't even recognize herself?
Elsa nods weakly, accepting the embrace that Anna initiates with a need for solace that is almost palpable. "You made me promise," she says into the tresses of her hair. "Remember?"
"Promise what?"
"The day of your graduation you asked me to promise you that if you weren't happy..."
She pulls back from the embrace.
"Elsa, I swear to God if you break up with me the day before our anniversary I will throw you in this river and never look back."
The blonde bites her lip, and Anna can tell it is because she's trying to suppress a smile.
"Besides," she continues, "I never said I was unhappy. Did you not hear a thing I just said?"
A giggle espaces her. It would be a delightful thing under different circumstances. Who are you kidding? It is delightful even now.
"I was just reminding you."
"I don't need a reminder about that ever again, thank you."
Elsa kisses her cheek before mumbling, "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. You don't have to be sorry about threatening to break up with me."
Finally, a laugh. Soft and airy; exactly like the one Anna never gets tired of hearing. "I would never threaten you like that." She then grabs Anna's hand and guides her back towards the main street. The mild hustle of this Friday night feels like a bubble burst and this time Anna welcomes it gladly.
"I'm sorry for being such a downer," the blonde says after a few minutes.
"A party pooper is more like it."
Elsa's hip playfully bumps into hers.
"How about we just enjoy London this week? " She suggests as they begin to head towards Westminster Station.
"I'll say you've never had a smarter idea."
"I've had many smart ideas. I'm not sure what you're talking about."
It is possible that none of what they've discussed will make sense tomorrow. They could blame it on the sensation of being carried away by the heavy emotions that have come with seeing each other again. Or perhaps, even, on nothing at all. On impossible circumstances and unwarranted fears that oftentimes are as capricious as the moment that brought them. But whatever the reason might be tomorrow, Anna chooses to settle it with one last thing:
"It's not just my happiness, you know?"
Elsa turns to look at her with an expression that goes from confusion to realization. She then gives her a smile that conveys a love too big to put into words, and lifts up the hand she is holding in order to give it a kiss.
"I know, baby," she says afterwards. "I know."
The next morning welcomes Anna with what feels like a proper punch in the face, and if it weren't because Elsa has woken her up with the tenderness of a thousand tiny kisses, she probably would have cried as well.
"Who said jet lag couldn't kill you, huh?"
"You're hardly dead, Anna."
"I feel dead."
A warm hand trails up the skin of her back in one painstakingly slow motion, though it is soothing enough that her eyes close with the threat of not opening up again in a few more hours. She can feel Elsa's body lean closer to her, and smiles. Cuddles should be imminent at this point.
Alas...
"Nothing that a nice and steamy cup of black tea can't fix," Elsa whispers in her ear.
Her eyes fly open. "That's blasphemous, Elsa."
"It wouldn't hurt you to try it."
Anna rearranges herself so that she can face her girlfriend. The white duvet is halfway to the floor and the crispy clean blanket—clean as in what you don't know can't hurt you because this is a hotel after all—is disarranged between their legs. She has no real desire to argue about tea and coffee. Not right now. All she wants is to feel Elsa's nakedness pressed against hers and see if that can coerce the girl into sleeping for a few more hours—amongst other activities.
She buries her nose into the small space where Elsa's shoulder meets her neck and shamelessly breathes in her scent.
"Happy anniversary, baby," she mumbles against her skin.
Elsa hugs her tighter. "Happy anniversary, you caffeine addict."
Anna laughs out loud, but regrets nothing.
It takes them more than an hour to get up and another hour to get ready. They keep stealing kisses from each other, getting distracted with playful hands, and falling back on the bed time and again until Anna calls for a truce because Elsa is relentless with her tickle attacks. She'll do anything, she says. She'll even try black tea.
Elsa suggests trying out Turkish breakfast which, albeit a strange and random choice, Anna accepts eagerly. If there is something she has learned throughout the year is that her girlfriend is always on point when it comes to choosing food and restaurants. It's like a secret talent. A premonitory gift that is both useless and incredibly awesome.
At the restaurant, they are sat in a table that is soon covered with small plates ranging from sweet, fruity jams and spreads made out of molasses and tahini, to tangy slices of feta cheese and freshly baked bread. Anna also goes as far as ordering eggs à la menemen; a spice-infused meal scrambled with bell peppers, tomatoes and green onions that leave her almost drooling on the table and forgetting about coffee for a while.
"Not that I'm complaining," she says through a mouthful, "But why did you bring us here and not some place where they serve biscuits and stuff?"
Elsa wipes the corners of her mouth with a tablecloth and takes a sip of water before responding. "I've been wanting to take you here since I first saw it on my way to the institute."
Anna is satisfied with the answer. Now that she is mildly awake, she is beginning to think of everything they have planned for the day, so much so that she is practically buzzing with energy even though she still hasn't had her daily cup of—
"What's this?"
A small, tulip-shaped glass on a white porcelain saucer has been carefully placed next to Anna's plate by a server who speaks very little English but makes up for it with lots of smiles. He nods at her and says, "Chai" before leaving.
Anna stares at the liquid contained in the glass and then at Elsa who is sporting a sly smile even as she looks down at the piece of bread she's currently covering with chocolate spread.
"You tricked me," she says, narrowing her eyes.
"Did not," Elsa responds.
"Did yes."
"Black tea has caffeine too, you know?"
"I do know," she grumbles.
"Just try it then," Elsa says, bringing the bread up to her mouth.
Anna sends another glare her way before she drops a sugar cube in the tea and dissolves it with a spoon. This whole scheme just so that she can skip her morning routine does not sit well with her. Today is their anniversary. It is supposed to be a celebration of trust and love and respect and—Oh... Okay. This is good. The liquid sits warmly in her mouth as she processes it all in nothing more than a few seconds. It is sweet and probably the best tea she's ever had, but Elsa doesn't need to know any of this.
"I'll finish this," she says with a poker face. "But I also need to try their coffee. You know, for research purposes."
Needless to say, her face gives away her real emotions because it isn't long before Elsa starts teasing her about enjoying the tea a little bit too much. When all is said and drunk, Anna orders two Turkish coffees—Elsa isn't the least bit enthusiastic, mind you—. The waiter comes back holding a small tray that he sets down rather ceremoniously (the first warning). He then places in front of each girl an empty demitasse cup with a Turkish delight by its side—"I'm scared," mumbles Elsa—, and sets out to pour dark, unfiltered coffee from a tiny pot-looking thing the likes of which Anna has never seen in her entire life (the second warning). He smiles the whole time as he works on clearing their table, oblivious to Elsa's troubled expression and Anna's childish excitement. It isn't until he has left that the redhead speaks.
"So they're tinier than I expected."
"That's not a good sign."
Anna brings the cup up to her nose and sniffs the strong scent of caffeine. "Hello, my dear. We meet again."
"Hello? Your girlfriend's sitting right here."
She smiles sheepishly. "Can we do a toast?"
Slightly reluctant, Elsa raises her cup to the level of Anna's.
"Elsa," she begins, "I'm pretty sure you think I'm an addict by now but you must know that if there ever is a time where I must choose between coffee and you—or better yet, between chocolate and you, I will always choose you. I wouldn't trade this year for anything in the world and with that being said, I want to toast to all the years I want to keep spending next to you."
"That is very romantic."
She shrugs. "I try."
The blonde gives her an endearing smile. "It goes without saying that I love you," she says, "Even if I do think you may have a coffee problem. I love you more than what any heart metaphor could convey and beyond any words we could find in a dictionary, and I just hope that I keep having the opportunity to make you as happy as you make me for many years to come."
Anna grins, proud of their impromptu little speeches. She then clinks their cups together, conjures a British accent that will continue to pop up throughout the week—"Cheers, mate!"—and takes the first sip of her coffee.
"Holy shit—"
"Oh God—"
"This is strong as shit—"
"Anna!"
But Anna is not listening. She is reaching for her water, taking a large swig, and then reaching for her cup again. She takes a smaller, more careful sip and hoots like she's just gotten hit with the best high of her life. Meanwhile Elsa is ever the more cautious and reserved. She washes down the first taste with water and tries again. She looks so sophisticated drinking from that tiny cup (like she's having tea with the Queen) that Anna doesn't know how she does it, but soon enough it is gone and so is the Turkish delight that tastes like powder sugar and pistachio gummy.
"This is the first time I've had coffee since I got here," Elsa states.
Anna stares at her; unsettled, excited and guilty all at the same time.
This is gonna hit good, she thinks.
And it does.
To say that she has never seen Elsa this hyper would have to be an understatement because somewhere between the nearest underground station and their stop at Green Park, Elsa starts to behave like six-year-old Anna inside a bouncy castle, high on cotton candy, and with her parents begging her to come out because it is time to leave and wouldn't Anna like to come home and take a nap?
They exit the station with Elsa skipping steps and Anna wheezing right behind her.
"I feel like going for a run. Would you like to run with me?"
"Absolutely not."
She takes her by the hand towards the entrance of the park, laughing as she goes because Elsa really has gone as far as giving her the puppy eyes.
They are on their way to the Buckingham Palace; Anna's first choice on her to-do list (written on a napkin that she took from the airplane's stewardess because she packed her journal inside her checked-in bag, and what kind of writer does that anyway?). She is excited to say the least, and she would certainly run if it weren't because Elsa would probably outdo her like an Olympic athlete high on steroids and not caffeine.
Besides, Anna wants to take her sweet time getting there. She wants to relish this exhilarating momentum of exploring a new city and everything that comes with it. She wants to stroll in this gloomy weather, across entire lawns covered by orange and yellow leaves; to observe the tourists and the natives; to make up stories in her mind, and forget about everything and everyone for a while so that it can be just her and her sweet, hyperactive girlfriend.
"Did you know the Buckingham Palace was completed in seventeen oh five?"
"Nope," she says, letting Elsa swing their hands back and forth between them.
"Did you know their doors are open to the public only during summer?"
"That's kinda lame."
"Yep. Did you also know they have a private cinema? And a clinic? And a pool?"
She stares at her. How on earth do you know that?She wants to ask, but Elsa is already blurting out another question. "And did you know there's a way you can tell if the Queen is there?"
Anna grins. "Do tell."
Elsa's eyes widen. It is as though she was waiting for this very moment her entire life. As if every piece of knowledge she's ever had culminated right here, right now.
"Okay," she says, "So the Union Flag—you know, the national flag we can all recognize—if they have that flying over the top of the Palace that means the Queen isn't home. But, if they have the Royal Standard, which is an odd combination of lions and a harp on red and blue and yellow backgrounds that somehow represent England, Scotland and Ireland. And I'm not sure why Wales isn't in it, I'll have to check and get back to you on that because there has to be a reason and... Where was I?"
Anna bites her lip. Out of concern, she reaches inside her bag, pulls out a bottle of water and hands it to her. "You were getting to the part about knowing when the Queen is home."
"Right," Elsa nods before taking a gulp of water and handing back the bottle that is now nearly empty. "So the Queen is home if the Royal Standard is flying over the Palace."
They pass a group of tourists hovering their heads over a single map. The sight reminds Anna of a flock of pigeons trying to pick at the last bread crumb.
"Let's make a bet then."
"Deal."
"I haven't even told you what the bet is."
"Doesn't matter. I'm feeling edgy today."
We'll see how long that lasts, Anna thinks and laughs. "Okay. I'm betting on the Queen being home. If she is, you owe me a lap dance. But if she's not then I owe you a box of your favorite biscuits."
"Why do I get biscuits and you get a lap dance?"
"Because whoever makes the bet makes the rules." And because the chances of the Queen being home seem much lower than her being out and about. Anna knows what she's doing—even when she doesn't act like it.
Which is often.
"But I want a lap dance too!" Elsa exclaims.
An elderly man looks up from the map he's surveying, alarmed and clearly disturbed. Anna doesn't know how to react other than by flashing him a smile that is more apologetic than humorous and pulling Elsa away from prying ears.
"Give me a good reason why I should give you a lap dance," she says, curious to hear the answer.
Elsa looks offended. "Why should I need a reason for wanting a lap dance from my girlfriend? Why do you want a lap dance."
"Because it's our anniversary."
The canopies of the trees are beginning to thin out, giving way once more to the gray London sky. They are approaching the Palace. Anna can tell by the way clusters of people are loitering around as though waiting for the same thing—for the Queen to appear.
Which she won't.
The first thing her eyes look for at the sight of the Buckingham Palace is the flag and she bites her lip when she finally sees it: the Queen isn't home.
"You owe me a lap dance," Elsa announces.
"Correction, I owe you a box of biscuits."
There is a smirk and an overly seductive gaze—this girl really did have too much caffeine. "We'll see about that," she purrs.
They sit on the stairs that lead to the monument dedicated to Queen Victoria: a gilded sculpture of an angel built on top of a marble pylon. Below it, the Queen sits almighty and fully enthroned, surrounded by various statues signifying different virtues, and if that's not the way to go then Anna doesn't know what is. Next to her sits Elsa, her knees bouncing up and down with so much suppressed and uncharacteristic energy that Anna is beginning to wonder when it will wear off—if at all. She lifts her hand up to check the girl's pulse out of curiosity and is met with a pair of wide, bewildered eyes.
"Your pulse" she explains, but in response Elsa takes her hand, gives it a kiss and holds on to it. Anna stares at their joint hands, unsure of how to proceed.
"Do you ever think Buckingham is a bit too square?" Her girlfriend asks.
"Uh... no? I had not thought of that before."
"If I were the Queen I would make it more spiky, you know, with spikes? And I'd build a large empty foyer with some fountain in the middle of it and a large spiral staircase that leads to a single room—ours—and it will be this huge bedroom with maybe a bed and a chandelier and a huge balcony I can use to look out at the lands of our kingdom."
"That is highly unpractical and oddly specific," Anna points out. "Where would the restrooms be?"
"Downstairs and to the left."
She chuckles and pats the hand she is still holding in her own. "With this much knowledge you should become an architect instead."
Elsa stares off. She falls dead silent before opening up her mouth again. "I have one semester left of med school. Then I have three years of internal medicine and three or so years in cardiology fellowship. Maybe I couldsqueeze in an architectural degree in there somewhere. I can look into it when I get back, I've heard Columbia has really good programs."
Disconcerted, Anna squeezes her hand, drawing the blonde's attention back to her. "No, sweetheart," she whispers, "Just... No."
They stay for a while longer with Elsa doing all the talking and Anna doing all the listening. It is amusing, and even welcomed, to witness her going on and on about the Queen and the Palace and the people they get to observe. Strangers from all over the world stop by for a picture, never failing to stick around in order to observe a royal landmark that would appear uninhabited if it weren't because of its guards with their red uniforms and their funky looking hats. Anna takes out her polaroid camera and snaps a few pictures. They're all going to her new board, she decides, and she's gonna title it The London Board.
It isn't until the caffeine begins to wear off—and Anna senses this by the amount of times Elsa places her head on her shoulder and the amount of minutes that go by without her saying something—that they decide to move on to the next destination.
They stop by the souvenir shop because Anna wants to see if their finest tea really is that fine but also because she loves souvenir shops. There is something rather charming about eating off a plate that has a picture of the royal family and a fridge magnet of the Queen whose tiny, pigeon eyes will judge you every time you reach for the milk in order to pour it into your coffee.
What she finds instead, amongst other royal-looking things that are too dangerous to be held by her hands, are shelves upon shelves of chinaware. Was it expected? Not really. But is it surprising? Not at all.
Anna reaches for a teapot (the least expensive one) with utmost care and shows it off in front of Elsa. "Would you like a cuppa tea, dahling?"
The blonde covers her mouth to hide a laugh. "Anna, stop—"
"Don't be daft, sweetheart," she exclaims, making a show of serving the tea. "I know you like it when I talk posh."
She makes another pouring gesture but in the process of doing so she catches the glaring eye of an employee. It immediately wipes out her smile as she puts the teapot back where she found it.
"Aren't you going to join me for afternoon tea?" Elsa asks, oblivious.
She shrugs while she casually places Elsa between the lady's suspicious eyes and herself. "No it's okay, you know how I feel about—OH MY GOD THERE'S A CROWN."
Everything is forgotten: the chinaware, the British accent, the girlfriend, the lady employee who reminds her of Miss Pattinson and the inquisitive eyes she threw her way every time she entered the library at school (and really, what's up with that? She only used up the printer's ink once). Everything is shoved to the back of her mind as she lifts up the transparent box containing a crown made up of gold, plastic arches and smooth, cheap-looking velvet.
She holds it up ceremoniously, her eyes beaming with awe. She can sense Elsa's presence with the way familiar warmth radiates and encompasses her back. Slender arms wrap around her waist and she welcomes the sensation for a few seconds before turning around in them. She is grinning; still holding the crown. Elsa's eyes examine it before gazing up at her.
"You want it, don't you?"
Of course she does, and of course Elsa gets it for her.
The crown is much tinier than the real deal but it is still large enough that they can take turns balancing it on their heads. Elsa, with her infinite poise and straight back, is able to walk with it for an indefinite amount of time. Anna can do sort of the same thing—if she focuses hard enough. She wonders as they go from the souvenir shop to the Westminster Abbey if there is some sort of British etiquette that goes against their actions, but all they get are disdainful looks and that is a win in her book.
Next stop: The Abbey.
It looks like the Notre-Dame but skinnier. Or so Anna thinks as she cranes her neck to stare at its facade, her crown in one hand and Elsa's hand in the other. Inside, it is a cathedral but prettier. It is monumental and majestic, with the intricately carved designs of its arches and the lavish structure of its chapels. Her ears fill up with nothing but the sound of hushed voices and muffled footsteps as she lets Elsa take her by the hand; their fingers intertwined very loosely together.
They wander slowly through the nave, walking past the choir before approaching the High Altar. At the sight of it, Anna's mouth goes agape.
"Let's get married here," she blurts out.
"What?"
"What?" She widens her eyes, whips her head around, and exclaims, "Oh look at those chairs!"
Elsa looks at her suspiciously and mildly coy for the rest of their visit, and Anna could swear she catches her blush more than once.
They soon become hungry and in search of a place serving fish and chips. A rare delicacy. Anna knows this because she chose it herself. The place they find is small and unassuming, with very few tables inside and a single red poster hanging from the wall that says Keep Calm & Eat Fish & Chips.
As they begin to eat, Elsa's phone vibrates against the table. Anna knows she is not one to check her phone when she is eating, but with the screen facing up and showcasing the incoming message, she can tell curiosity gets the best of her.
"Sasha wants to meet you," she says.
"Where and when?"
The blonde types on her phone for a while before placing it on the table again and going back to her baked fish. It doesn't take long for a new message to come, and when she reads it, her eyes widen for a split second.
"At a club tonight," she mumbles.
Anna gasps. Her hand goes up in a fist pump, the French fry she's about to eat nearly flying out of her grasp. She is excited. Tired, jet-lagged and sore for some reason. But excited.
And why?
Because she knows exactly what she's going to wear.
The nightclub sits at the heart of Piccadilly. A small line has formed outside while loud music resounds against its walls and leaks out onto the street in a heavy, muffled beat. There are dozens of pedestrians treading back and forth on the street. Some are tourists; some are people finding their way home. Most are strangers looking to have a good time.
Elsa and Anna are standing by the entrance of the club, right below the blue and purple neon lights that comprise the sign hanging high on the brick wall of the building. They are waiting for Sasha; Anna is pulling at the hem of her dress; Elsa is staring at her.
"What?" She asks with a bashful smile.
"I'm just looking at you."
"Why?"
Anna tucks her hair behind her ear. She feels shy, not because of the intensity behind Elsa's gaze but because this dress feels very short all of the sudden. She doesn't remember it being this revealing when she first tried it on. But then again, she didn't have a fall breeze going up her ass in the dressing room.
However, Rapunzel had been right. Elsa has not stopped looking at her since she stepped out of the bathroom wearing a black, spaghetti-strapped dress that hugged every curve of her body and ended mid-thigh. Do you feel gayer? She keeps wanting to ask.
Elsa makes a move to reach for her hand that Anna meets halfway before closing her eyes and welcoming the kiss that she leaves on her lips. She can feel her warm, minty breath when she responds.
"Because you're gorgeous."
Somewhere behind her, there is a squeal too low-pitched to belong to a woman. A few seconds later, she watches Sasha join them with unparalleled enthusiasm. The first few things that go through her mind are that Sasha is tall—very tall; taller than Kristoff tall—, that he is very handsome, and that he is beaming. His smile doesn't leave him from the moment he greets Elsa to the moment he pulls her in for a hug that vanishes any sense of unfamiliarity. "I'm so happy to finally meet you," he says, and Anna doesn't have a hard time believing it.
As they join the short line to get in, Sasha gushes over their outfits. He makes Elsa twirl and the girl does so with a blush, timidly showcasing the deep blue dress they'd ended up buying last minute because she had not a single piece of clothing with her that could be deemed appropriate for a nightclub.
He does the same with Anna, snapping his fingers and exclaiming, "Yas, queen," as she goes.
"Are you drunk?" Elsa asks.
"I'm offended that you feel the need to ask that."
They move through the line until they reach the bouncer, have their IDs checked and are let inside. Once there, Sasha leans down to whisper something in her ear: "I may've had a drink while I was getting ready."
After coats are checked in, the girls follow him up a flight of stairs. It is dark except for a pair of blue neon lights that travel from the bottom all the way up to the landing. If she touches the wall next to her, she can feel the beat of the music booming against its surface almost the same way she can feel it against her own body. Exhilaration rushes through her veins, driving her to squeeze Elsa's hand in anticipation. She doesn't recall the last time she was in an actual nightclub (because you got really drunk and you don't remember anything other than Kristoff calling a cab for the both of you) but she is looking forward to sharing this experience with her girlfriend.
The club is crowded; the dance floor is bursting with people. It is dark—except that it isn't. Because in the vacuum of this darkened room, lights of all colors fly around as though they were intended to be caught by the hands that keep reaching up to the rhythm of the music. Yet, it isn't until they make a beeline for the bar that Anna begins to feel Elsa's tension emanate from her in waves of subdued tension.
Leaning closer, she says: "We can always leave if you want."
Elsa gives her a reassuring smile and shakes her head. "I'm okay," she mouths.
When they reach the bar Sasha turns to them before eyeing Elsa rather closely. "Okay," he says, "Let's get some alcohol in your system cause this is mad overwhelming."
Anna watches him with curiosity as he towers over most people and leans across the bar in order to gather the bartender's attention. Her eyes then fall on Elsa as she takes everything in with slight unease, so well-hidden that it would be easy to miss if someone didn't know what to look for. The fact that Sasha has seen this, has acknowledged this, and has now set out to find a way to help her loosen up fills Anna with a deep sense of gratitude that is hard to explain.
He soon hands them each a drink—two vodka cranberries and one gin and tonic for himself. They don't cheer; they go right at it. Anna tastes the alcohol right below the fruitiness of the cranberry juice. It is strong enough that she grimaces the first time.
"I'm so excited you're here," Sasha tells her above the sound of the music. "This whole time I've felt like I've known you already."
"Why?"
He drapes an arm over Elsa's shoulders in order to pull her closer. The blonde is smiling behind her glass, and Anna doesn't miss the way she doesn't try to pull back from it. "Because she won't stop talking about you."
"Is that so?"
"I may or may not talk a lot about you."
"She may or may not ever stop talking about you is what she meant. This whole time she's been like Anna is a writer. Anna would like this chocolate. I miss Anna. Anna sent me a picture—Anna, Anna, Anna," he laughs.
Elsa covers her face, making both of them laugh harder.
"Don't get me wrong, it's adorable," Sasha exclaims, "I want a love like yours when I grow up."
"You're my age," Elsa retorts loud enough to be heard, and squeals when Anna reaches out to pull her against her body.
She kisses her without so much as a warning, drawing a hollering sound out of Sasha that goes unnoticed because she is too busy deepening a kiss that only breaks when she runs out of air. Her hands have traveled up to hold onto Elsa's slim waist and, in retrospect, she will realize that they barely went without touching it for the rest of the night.
They blaze through the first round before venturing out onto the dance floor. Sasha, being the tallest, pushes through the crowd while showing off some moves and holding up a gin and tonic that tilts dangerously every time he sways his hips. Elsa is walking closely behind Anna, which she doesn't mind, especially not when she keeps nuzzling her neck after every other step. At some point Sasha stops and she realizes they're practically in the middle of the dance floor. All around them people are dancing, their loose bodies cast in shadows one second and lit up in a dozen colors the other. Some look like they know what they're doing; some others don't. But what is the point of dancing if not for reaching a sense of liberation? Add alcohol to the equation and you will have a crowd full of people who don't care what they look like.
The upbeat is loud and heavy—sensual. It reverberates inside of her like echoes inside a cave while the bass line guides the movement of her hips. She is trying not to spill the glass of cranberry vodka she is holding in her left hand but the action is hard when she is also trying to hook her arms around Elsa's shoulders. It is all she can focus on: the sensation of Elsa's body writhing against her own. The dress she's bought shows off her neck and her cleavage, and Anna has to fight everything in her not to bury her face in there. She takes a drink every time her mind goes there—it makes the second one go rather fast.
When Elsa finishes her own many songs later Sasha leaves and comes back with another round. The definitive one; the one that signifies tilting over the fine line between sober and buzzed.
Anna feels like letting loose tonight, but something tells her Elsa is still holding back.
It drives her to take the girl's hand and turn her body around until Elsa's back is facing her front. Her arms immediately wrap themselves around her waist, pulling her closer. "Dance with me," Anna whispers in her ear, "Just let go, baby."
Their gazes connect for a brief moment; blue eyes flickering beneath the blinking lights of the club. It is arousing, the way in which Elsa closes her eyes after a while, throws her head back and begins to move her hips with increasing sensuality. Lost in the moment, Anna runs her free hand up and down her waist and spreads it over her abdomen so that she can press herself harder against Elsa. Her lips fall on a bare shoulder, nibble at the skin and soothe it afterwards. She feels intoxicated and it is not just because of the alcohol.
There is something inherently sexual about the way they're dancing with each other, something that no longer recognizes restraint. The beat of Anna's heart is increasing without her knowing; it is mixing with the thunderous beat of the music. She could spend the rest of her night doing this, she muses, with nothing more than the thought of Elsa filling her senses.
Somewhere next to them Sasha is dancing with girls and guys alike. He cannot be stopped. He is a showman and this is his moment.
The song soon ends, fades out, and introduces pop onto the dance floor. It is a mood changer and Anna welcomes it by grabbing Elsa's hand and twirling her around.
Aware of her girlfriend's aversion to crowded places, she tries her best to take her mind off it. Alcohol has done its job, all she has to do now is keep it up—which really isn't hard at all. She moves her shoulders and her hips to the rhythm of the song, raising their joint hands, and grinning when Elsa moves along with her. They are playful with each other, showing off dance moves that become looser, bolder and sillier. She rarely sees Elsa let go like this and to Anna, there is no greater sight.
She feels like closing her eyes and so she does, threading her fingers through her own hair, allowing herself this moment. A hand reaches for her waist and she smiles without opening her eyes. The action fuels the sensuous movement of her hips, and the way the hand squeezes at her waist lets her know that Elsa is enjoying it as much as she is. The attention she is giving her, Anna doesn't want it from anyone else.
Sasha finds them again at some point, daring Anna to a dance battle she is bound to lose. He is too fabulous, he is one drink ahead, and he can vogue; a fact that stands solely as the biggest opposite to the serious cardiologist Elsa claims he is.
From the myriad of people around them, two guys show up with smug, tipsy smiles before she catches Elsa's body miss a beat.
"Oh honey no!" She hears Sasha exclaim. He sashays to where they stand, grabs the men's hands and says, "You're gonna have to dance with me because these two are taken."
Man 1 and Man 2 let go of him with bemusement and distaste before walking away—on to their next victim.
"Where's your drink?" Elsa asks him. There is a hint of buzz in her voice.
"I don't know," he laughs, completely unaffected. "I think somebody stole it. I need another one."
"I need to pee first," Anna announces.
She chugs the rest of her—third? second?—drink, hands the empty glass to a random dude who was about to start writhing against her back, and pulls Elsa in for a languid kiss before strutting away on high heels. She was smart enough to carry a pair of flats inside her purse; these shoes are killers both in the metaphoric and literal sense. She also realizes halfway to the bathroom that she doesn't know where the bathroom is. The only way she knows she's found it is after she sees a short line made up of girls in various states of inebriation. She joins in right behind a group of girls that is throwing Spanish words at each other in a rapid-fire exchange. Anna is tipsy enough to be openly fascinated by this, and she stares until one of them catches her.
The girl, shorter than her by a few inches, stares back. Her dark, brown eyes are glassy and her accent is slurred out when she says, "I love your dress."
Anna blushes. "Thank you. I like your hair."
Another staredown. Spanish-speaking Girl draws closer, deeply fascinated. "And I love your make up. How do you do that to your cheeks?"
"Son pecas, estúpida," another one exclaims.
Anna has no idea what she's said but she'll take it. "They're freckles," she explains with a giddy laugh.
"Sorry," a third girl says, "She's stupid and drunk."
"What's your name?"
"Anna."
Girl número uno goes to extend her hand but forgets about it midway and hugs her instead. "Tocaya," she gushes.
She has no idea what is happening; has no idea what tocaya means, nor why a random girl is hanging from her shoulders. But she accepts this because somehow she has been welcomed into the clan with a single word and now she has four new friends.
Anna will not remember this in the morning, but what Elsa says happens next is that she returns with a horde of drunk Mexican girls trailing after her.
The moment she sees her girlfriend again she throws herself into her arms because holy hell she is hot. This dress she has on is tight in all the right places and Anna can think of a hundred and one things she could do if only she could take it off. Pop gives way to something else: a latin rhythm that makes her new friends rejoice as though they were waiting for this the whole night and one that Anna recognizes because she's heard it coming out of the bodega when Marta is working her shift. "Scandalous," Elsa had once called it.
Sasha leaves when she is back, and returns much later with more drinks and a guy.
"Who's paying for all these drinks?" Anna asks before taking a sip. It doesn't taste like vodka anymore. That should worry her but she has no time for it.
"My sugar daddy," Sasha says, mimicking a hair flip.
She turns to Elsa who shakes her head. The real answer remains unknown.
Their bodies soon draw close to each other again, like magnets. The girls she's brought with her from the bathroom are going absolutely wild, so much so that they are shouting the lyrics and nearly grinding against one another. The songs keep shifting, and when the bass drops so do they. Anna's mouth goes agape at what she sees—the girls are nearly squatting, and how on earth do they keep dancing in those heels?
She turns to Elsa to make sure they're looking at the same thing and finds her holding her drink halfway to her lips and sporting a rather disturbed expression on her face. It makes her burst out laughing.
"What's wrong?" She asks.
Blue eyes find hers. "Nothing."
"Are you flustered, Elsa?"
"No," she says, "It's just very... blunt."
Anna grins as she takes the hand that isn't holding a drink. "Scandalous."
Elsa glares at her and she responds by taking a step closer. The dance may be blunt, but she would be lying if she said it didn't make her feel like doing something... scandalous to this girl. She takes a large gulp of her drink—the last one of the night—, places the half-empty glass on the nearest surface she can find (she hopes nobody in this VIP table minds), and watches Elsa do the same. It draws a mischievous smile out of her.
Something is taking over, and it feels very much like lust.
She snakes her arms around Elsa's waist before pulling her in once more, impossibly closer. As the song continues to play Anna's hands make their way down her spine, edging dangerously close to the curve where her lower back meets her ass. Below the beating sound of the music, a shuddering breath escapes the blonde, and Anna responds by leaving an open-mouthed kiss on her pulse. Her actions are escalating this time, mindless of the people around them, driven by the way Elsa holds onto the back of her neck in a way she recognizes too well.
Anna's mouth ghosts over the skin of her shoulder before it travels up her neck and hovers over her lips. They keep on dancing like this for some time, their breaths mixing together; their lips never quite touching. It ignites an insurmountable amount of pleasure in Anna that suddenly makes her feel as though she could go insane.
"Come with me," she mutters, already pulling Elsa away from the dance floor.
It all happens in a blurry sequence that will be hard for her to recall in order. There is no one waiting in line outside the bathroom (or so she says because Elsa is adamant that there was but what does it matter anyway?), so she stalks in with determination before heading for the stall farther away from the door, pulling her girlfriend in by the hand, and closing the door afterwards.
Seconds later, she has Elsa pressed against the wall. The moment has caught up to their actions. It leads to a silence in which they are both spellbound while glassy, blue eyes focus on her; inviting and seductive.
"This is very unsanitary," Elsa mumbles.
"Shush."
"And people are waiting to pee."
Anna responds by taking her wrists, lifting them up and pinning them against the wall above her head. "Then I'll be quick," she breathes before finally closing the gap between their lips.
She wastes no time. Her tongue meets Elsa's in one deep and languid kiss that shoots heat straight to her center while her right hand begins to travel from the blonde's neck to her chest. She squeezes her breast with shameless desire, swallowing the moan that escapes her mouth. There is no deliberation in her movements; not a single premeditated action. It is all driven by her need to touch. A need that cannot wait any longer.
Anna drags her hand farther down and chooses to take her time cupping Elsa's ass while simultaneously pressing herself harder against her. The girl moans again, this time louder, and somewhere in the back of her mind Anna thinks that she should stop. But Elsa is watching her with half-lidded eyes and before any decision can be made she grabs her hand and guides it down her body. In a single action, Elsa has ceded control. And when she spreads her legs a little wider, she gives in completely.
It is swift, yet tortuously slow the way Anna's fingertips travel up the tender skin of Elsa's inner thigh, riding up her dress in the process. She continues to kiss her with fervor; continues to nibble at her lower lip and caressing it afterwards with her tongue. They don't have much time before someone starts banging on the door, and it is with this in mind that her hand reaches Elsa's lace
underwear. The fabric is damp already, and Anna moves past it without a second thought. Her own breathing begins to increase in tempo as she runs the tips of her fingers up and down Elsa's folds, briefly teasing her clit. A moment later she will reach her entrance, nibble one last time at her lower lip, and slowly push two fingers inside.
Elsa covers her mouth at the sudden intrusion but despite the booming sound of the music coming from the dance floor, Anna can still hear her moan. She smirks, feeling herself grow wet as she watches the blonde throw her head back and close her eyes.
This view is the one she will remember with utmost clarity tomorrow morning. She will laugh because Elsa will remain embarrassed for many days to come and Anna will say, time and again, that waiting was never an option.
It is a starless night.
Meanwhile, a gentle fog blankets over London, diminishing the bright city lights and shaping them into a soft, tremulous reflection cast on the dark waters of the Thames.
Anna can see the Big Ben approaching as they make their way towards Westminster Bridge and spends the next few seconds observing it in solemn silence. She remembers feeling something similar the first time she saw the Empire State from up close. A sense of reverence, like a quiet astonishment. Breathtaking, is what she can think of before she closes her eyes for a second, willing her mind to hold on to this memory forever.
Years later, when she is less buzzed and much more mature, she will realize that it was never about the place, but the person.
She swings her black heels back and forth in her hand, smug and rather sleepy, whistling the same tune every so often, daydreaming of everything she has yet to live with the girl walking by her side. Next to her, Elsa goes on watching her with a rosy tint on her cheeks and an enamored smile on her lips.
This late at night, it feels as if they were suspended in time. A car slowly drives by and a few minutes later, so does another. Farther ahead, she sees another couple walking hand in hand, crossing from the other side of the river. And from the city, no greater sound emanates other than the soft flowing of the Thames and Anna's own little tune.
A moment later, Elsa's mellow voice will fill the air.
"I wanted to write you a letter," she says. She's been acting coy—and much more sober—since they came out of the bathroom stall, but she's got that post-orgasmic glow going on and she cannot deny it no matter how much she tries to swat Anna's poking fingers away.
"You did?"
"I thought we weren't going to have our anniversary virtual dinner. But I still wanted to do something to commemorate it somehow... I still wish I had."
Anna slows down once they're past the parliamentary building and the Big Ben, pulling Elsa along towards the parapet of the bridge. She leans back on it and smiles when Elsa steps closer.
"Now I'm curious."
Elsa chuckles. "Of course you are."
Gently, she grabs her hands before intertwining their fingers together.
If there is something Anna has always loved it is words. Their power to express what goes through a person's mind and heart is one that can never be taken away from them. It is an inherent quality; their biggest purpose. For years, she has played with them. She has used them as the foundation of entire stories that she's hoped can move a person's life because she wishes, more than anything, that someone will one day read her words and know that through them she is gifting a piece of her soul. She also knows—has learned for years—the importance they can have in mending a broken heart and she knows their value, too, because she has spent far too long recognizing that their absence can hurt just as much as the most hurtful of words.
Which is why, with Elsa, she will never cease to crave them.
"Tell me more," she says.
"Well..." Elsa begins, briefly focusing on a point past her face. "I wanted to write about everything you've made me feel since I've known you. Because for me it was... strange, you know? Back then, I didn't even think that I would ever be able to experience love like this. But then you came into my life and it's as if you've been teaching me all along."
Her voice suddenly softens, mirroring the tenderness behind the eyes that now search for Anna's. "I could probably spend hours and I could use up every word I can think of to describe this happiness I feel when I'm around you. You make me feel loved and special even on the days when I feel like I don't deserve it because I know I can isolate myself pretty badly and that drives you crazy." At this, she chuckles and Elsa smiles. "But you have to know that everything you give me, I strive to give you just as much if not more. Because you deserve the world, Anna, and the entire universe if I could only find a way to turn it into a pocket-size thing."
"You deserve the entire universe too," Anna mumbles. Her eyes are burning with unshed, happy tears. She could sob right now if she wanted to, quite frankly.
"Can I say something very cheesy?"
"You know I love cheesy."
Elsa raises a hand to brush her bangs to the side. She is taking her time for some reason, letting the seconds go by while everything around them keeps on existing as it once was and as it will continue to exist long after they are gone. But this moment as it stands before time is theirs; this Big Ben; this London Eye in the foggy background; this Thames river. This whole city belongs to them tonight because that is how Anna will see it in her memories for the rest of her life.
Because in the end, it isn't the place that takes her breath away, but Elsa's soft and everlasting words.
"Sometimes I feel like it's with me already," she finally says, "Because sometimes I feel like my universe is you."
Aight so
"Son pecas, estúpida" - They're freckles, stupid.
"Tocaya/o" - it's used to refer to someone who has the same name as you.
Any Mexican readers in here? HOLLER MADAFACKAS!