This one was born thanks to lianthuss, guru of modern AUs, who helped me flesh out Elsa's character voice in what is, mindblowingly, her first POV oneshot so far. If you enjoy a good modern AU and compelling relationships, please check out lianthuss' story, Sparks! It's in my favourites list along with many other good reads.

In which Elsa comes home after a long day.

Everything

Three missed calls in the time it took to park her car and ride the elevator up from the basement. Switch it off, Elsa reminds herself, even as she raises the phone to her ear.

"Elsa!" Her secretary exclaims, as if the gates of heaven have swung open to her. "I thought you finally got in a car accident or something."

"What do you mean 'finally'?" Elsa checks her watch. Four minutes. She glances down the hallway, then steps toward the floor-length window to the left of the elevators.

"Oh, you know. With your driving… oh wait, you pay my salary. Let me restart. Good evening, Miss Arendelle. Or is it good afternoon? I've never had to call you at this hour before."

That's because she's usually still in the office at this hour. Elsa represses a sigh as she perches on the edge of a leather couch. She's sure maintenance of the communal sitting area comes out of the exorbitant building management fees, and yet she has never used it, nor seen any of her neighbours do the same. Its existence seems contradictory—who would linger when their own front door is within reach?

Elsa understands it, though; the fear of going home. But her grandfather is no longer waiting on the other side of that door.

Three minutes. "You don't technically have to do anything at all, Zahra," she replies wryly. "You were supposed to clock out when I did."

"Yeah, but the loons in Marketing didn't. They're not letting me leave the building without harassing you one last time. Hold on—" Elsa catches rustling sounds followed by Zahra's impatient voice asking, "Quickly now; what do you cowards want me to say? … Seriously? Oh, just speak to her yourself, damn it."

Elsa absently takes in the bruised glow of sunset bleeding into twilight across the cityscape, and knows it'll be Zahra who returns to the phone. Everyone in the company seems to believe that Elsa is frostbite, and that her secretary is a glove to be borrowed for the small privilege of tapping her on the shoulder. Yet another of her grandfather's legacies.

Zahra returns with an exasperated monotone. "'It doesn't have to be an actual date; just five minutes grabbing coffee or something. He doesn't have to be a Calvin Klein model. Doesn't have to be a 'he', either. Someone. Anyone.' Their words, not mine."

Elsa almost chuckles, but she has a feeling Zahra's put her on speaker and she doesn't want to unnerve the others with her rare laughter. "My answer hasn't changed in half an hour."

"Cool." Zahra raises her voice. "Did y'all hear that? Over her dead body, she says."

"Zahra! That is not what I said."

"Fine. Over my dead body. Can we stop bullying the boss and go get a life now? And one more thing, Elsa."

"Yes?"

"You said you were going to turn off your phone after hours. This was a test, and you failed with excellence. Reflect on that. Goodbye."

The call cuts out, leaving Elsa with her eyebrows raised. Thousands of employees across dozens of offices, and Zahra is still the only one brave enough to call her by name and hang up on her.

Shaking her head as she walks down the hallway, Elsa moves to switch off her work phone. Then she pauses.

Sorry, one last favour, she texts Zahra. Could you please order food for anyone working overtime tonight? Put it on my card. Thank you.

Animated ellipses instantly pop up, signifying Zahra's speedy reply in progress. Usually, putting her phone on Do Not Disturb mode means she'll still see the message. But that's not what she promised Anna, and as Elsa watches the device power down, she notices for the first time that it's a different, darker black. Like the incomplete silence of an apartment that is no longer wholly her own.

Slipping the phone into her bag, Elsa unlocks the door—and steps into chaos.

"Oh! Hey, sis!" Anna shouts over the music blaring from the sound system. "Alexa, turn the volume down—no, no, not Chris Brown! Play, um… Elsa's favourite playlist! You have one, right?"

Momentarily overwhelmed, Elsa's mind goes blank. "For audiobooks?"

"What? Oh, shucks. Alexa, play… play… actually, never mind. Stop the music. Sister bonding time." Anna grins over the mess of the kitchen counter. "Someone's home early."

Elsa cocks her head in bemusement as she bends to unzip her boots. "Someone told me to be home for dinner at six. It's six o'clock now."

"I thought you'd take that flexibly to mean, like, eight."

"Believe it or not, one of us actually takes punctuality seriously."

Anna lets out a laugh as she fills the salad spinner with greens. "Okay, but you also take work seriously. Too seriously, remember?"

"I remember. I pay the same respect to my promises. I successfully turned off my phone before I came through the door, which means you owe me Lindt chocolate."

"Drats."

"You already ate it, didn't you?"

"Maaaaybe? Hey, lend me your expertise with the salad? I need to check on the pasta bake. And while you're at it, can you pretty please cut the carrots?"

Rolling up the sleeves of her blouse, Elsa fights a smile. "I'll have you know my kitchen was spotless before you moved in."

"Oh, please; you didn't even use your kitchen until I came along to feed you. And no, washing cutlery after eating takeout does not count."

"I am occasionally capable of making food for myself."

"Salads. You made nothing but salads."

"I fail to see anything wrong with that. Salads are healthy and simple to prepare." Elsa rinses the chopping board and plucks a knife from the block. "How was your day?"

"Awesome! Well, it wasn't so awesome when I slept in and missed my morning lectures—but it is awesome that they're recorded. Now I can catch up whenever I want… yeah, okay, it's never gonna happen. I'll charm Belle into sharing her notes. Good plan? Great plan. How was your day?"

"It was good."

"Hmm. Nope. Not buying it."

"Everything was fine, Anna." Aside from being pestered to do 'candid photoshoots' with 'personalities of interest' to promote her 'public image'. "There's nothing to worry about."

"You sure? Because you're chopping those carrots quite aggressively."

"Am I?" Sensing more questions on the way, Elsa cuts in with, "Salad dressing?"

"What? Oh, I was thinking of balsamic mayonnaise. It's super yum and easy. Just mix balsamic vinegar and mayonnaise together."

There was once a time when Elsa's fridge was empty but for milk and salad greens. Now, it's so jam-packed she almost has to disembowel it to find the mayonnaise. "In what ratio?"

"I dunno. Just eyeball it and stop when it feels right."

"How can I know it's right if I don't? Is there a recipe?"

"Sure—in my head. What's with that look? Just trust me! First, chuck some balsamic vinegar in a bowl… yep, that's it. Now add mayo. We need way more than that, silly. More, more…"

Give her more time, Agnarr, she hears her grandfather murmur. The girl is clearly still traumatised. Forcing her to face the little one too soon won't help. Let her spend more time with me. She'll go home when she's ready.

One more week. One more month. A year. More, more, more.

She was never ready.

"Tired?" Anna reappears at her elbow, spatula in hand.

Elsa blinks. Then she pushes a smile onto her face. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, I'm not falling for—oh god, that is way too much!"

Elsa looks down to find the bowl overflowing with mayonnaise. "Oh no."

"'Oh no'?" Anna doubles over with tears of laughter streaming down her face. "You practically squeezed out the whole bottle!"

"You didn't tell me to stop!"

"I forgot! You're supposed to be the smart one!"

"Well, I—I can't be everything!"

It comes out strange; too loud and soft, an outburst as much as a choked confession. It puts a similarly strange look on Anna's face as the two of them stare at each other.

Take it back, Elsa berates herself. Laugh it off. She needs you to be stronger than that.

Before she can say anything, though, Anna declares, "Okay, that's it—you're relieved."

"Of?" Elsa asks in confusion, as she's steered out of the kitchen and onto the couch.

"Everything! You're going to switch everything off and take a nap."

"Anna, I'm fine. I'll get the dressing right this time. Let me look up a recipe."

"Nope!" Her phone disappears from her hands and is replaced with a cushion. Then another, and another.

"Anna!" Elsa laughs. "Stop burying me."

And yet, it feels like she's finally coming up for air.