2020 Secret Santa gift for like-redhead-probably 3. Asked for a mythical creature au and Anna w/ a ponytail in a suit vest. Super fun, wrapped in fluff :D
Anna stands in front of the floor length mirror in her bedroom, a frown creasing her brow. She adjusts the fit of her vest one more time, changing the way the edge of the fabric sits atop her hips. It is a simple black in color, with rich red thread running vertically from top to bottom. The buttons are flat black, rimmed with an iridescent sheen that would catch light and make them appear to glow from within. A matching jacket is draped carefully on the bed behind her, still wrapped in plastic from the dry cleaners. For now she just wears the white undershirt and pants, but there is something off about it all that she can't quite place.
The doorway to the joined bathroom opens behind her and her wife, Elsa, steps out, a towel around her. "Why aren't you dressed?" She asks. "We have to be at dinner in an hour." They have been invited to a holiday party with Anna's coworkers, an excuse to get dressed up and have a good time during the winter rush season.
Anna's shoulders drop. "I don't know, something about it just doesn't feel right." She moves her hands to the undone cuff links at her wrist. They are little red gems cut like flames, something that, right now, Anna feels is a little too on the nose.
Elsa walks across the room, and as she does, she dresses as well. Sweeping from toe to collarbone, a dress of ice creates itself under her hands. Styled like an evening dress, it flows around her ankles and slides against her waist, a slit showing off her legs and the heels that materialize as she steps forward. Overlapping ice crystals lend texture and light to dress, snowflake prints growing and fading in an ever changing, eye catching pattern. Her arms stay bare, showing off her skin and the long braid that fell over her left shoulder. She was gorgeous, and she knew it as she reached Anna and smirked playfully.
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of watching you do that," Anna breathes, realizing her mouth is a little dry.
Elsa raises an eyebrow. "I think you like it when I take it off more." Before Anna can reply, Elsa is pulling this way and that on her wife's outfit. "Is it too tight? Too loose? Did we make the pants too long? I knew you weren't going to wear heels but we can try to safety pin the bottoms if you think you'll be walking on them."
"N-No," Anna replies when she finds her voice, "I just can't get over the feeling that it's a little too me. Does that make sense?"
"Well of course. It's supposed to be about you, it was designed that way."
"Yeah," Anna puts her hand on the back of her head, embarrassed, "you're right. I just haven't had something like this for me ever so, I feel a little out of place." She turns back to the mirror, catching Elsa's eye. "But, looking at you makes me feel like I didn't ask for enough flame motifs."
Elsa laughs, the ice gems in her hair sparkling alongside her earrings. "We might have overdone it a little, but that's half the fun," she says, retrieving Anna's jacket and removing it from it's protective sleeve. She holds the garment open and Anna pushes her arms through, the fabric laying itself against her shoulders and back. "There," Elsa smooths the wrinkles at Anna's elbows and flicks Anna's pony tail out from under the jacket's collar, "I think you look very handsome. The colors really bring out your hair," Elsa kisses behind Anna's ear, "your eyes," another lands at Anna's temple, "and your smile," she finishes, kissing right next to Anna's mouth.
Anna indeed grins, but she does correct Elsa. "I think that last one is you, not the outfit." Elsa shrugs, admiring her handiwork. Anna looks a lot more confident now, which only made her more beautiful.
She helps Anna do the cufflinks and stands still as Anna uses her shoulder to balance while putting on shoes. Once more they present themselves before the mirror. Anna still looks a bit unsure, but Elsa combs her bangs back with her fingers, trailing her touch down the length of Anna's jaw. Under her hand Anna stands up taller. "Ready to go?" Elsa asks gently.
"Together with you?" Anna beams. "Always."
–-
The cool tile of the kitchen warms under Anna's bare feet. There is a song in the back of her throat, remembered even though it had been in her dreams, and Anna hums it under her breath as she begins her daily ritual: plucking bacon and eggs from the fridge and reaching overhead to grab a box of oatmeal. Frozen strawberries would come a little later; normally they would have been fresh, but the dead of winter isn't exactly the best season for the little red berries.
Bacon begins to sizzle under low heat, milk and oats go into a saucepot to simmer, and Anna rough chops some walnuts to add on top. She hears rustling from down the hall and smiles. That's her cue to fill the kettle, but it doesn't go on the stove with the rest of the cookware. Instead, Anna allows the water to fill up enough for a mug or so, then cups the bottom with both hands, releasing a focused breath through her nose.
Heat trickles through her veins, down her limbs, and pools into her palms. Anna inhales again, taking in the sharp winter air flowing through the apartment, then exhales slowly once more. Miniscule traces of flame dance around her eyelashes, so small even she can barely see them. A scattering of embers buzz around the backside of her hands, along the thin hairs on her forearm, like curious fireflies. The kettle begins to glow a dull red between her hands and Anna finishes her song with a little trill as her wife steps from the hallway into the doorway of the kitchen, trying and failing to hide a massive yawn.
"Morning, Elsa." Anna taps the sides of the kettle with her fingers. "Food or tea first today?"
Elsa regards Anna for a moment, then the stovetop. Both her ice blue eyes were still dark with sleep, exhausted after a long night of fun and revelry, but Anna knows they'd be their usual bright and sparkly soon enough. The same winter chill that seeps into Anna's skin and bones to raise goosebumps is what energizes Elsa this time of year. While practically lethargic in the summer, come winter, especially this close to the solstice, all Elsa needs is a few deep breaths, the kind that froze and choked the throat of most people (Anna included) but ignites something in her, giving her a sheen that lasted all day.
But it was still a little too early to walk barefoot out on the snow covered lawn between apartment buildings, especially in just an oversized shirt and short pajama pants.
Well, at least on a weekday. On a weekend, anything goes.
Elsa seems to make up her mind, but instead of answering with words she steps forward and cradles Anna's face with her hands, tilting her up into a gentle kiss. Anna smiles again, feeling Elsa do the same, and moves the hot kettle a little further away, just in case.
"Slight alteration," Anna amends when they step apart. Elsa hugs her arms around Anna's waist from the side, "Food of tea second, today?"
"Mmm, tea please," Elsa murmurs.
"Coming right up." Anna nods towards the window over the sink. "Do you want to recharge outside today?" Elsa was quiet again as she thought, then she shook her head, curling herself closer to Anna.
"I want you to do it, if that's okay."
Anna kisses blindly in Elsa's direction, catching the top of her cheek just below her eye. "Of course! Just a moment then."
They watch and listen, the kettle growing hotter in Anna's hands. Elsa hugs her tighter, relishing Anna's warmth. Tendrils of flame dance along Anna's hair, pulled back away from her face in a simple braid that let the rest cascade down her back. Her already red hair takes on a subtle glow, like the coals at the bottom of a cook-fire, pulsing with heat as Anna concentrates. More little embers dislodge themselves as Anna rolls her head, cracking a few joints in her neck. They flicker and waver like lanterns in the night sky, fizzling long before they are dangerous. They light up so prettily against Elsa's hair, catching something a little magical in return.
In the dim morning light, Elsa's hair hides tiny ice crystals, shimmering like glitter. The ice was always there, not just for fun occasions like last night. Sometimes they are thin and weak like the barest translucent coating of rainwater after the night dips just chilly enough to freeze. Other times it's bushy and delicate, stabbing this way and that but collapsing under the faintest touch. And, very rarely, it was hard and thick like ocean rime, sticking Elsa's hair up in all directions like a lion at the salon. It all depended on the weather, and Elsa's mood, and the alignment of the moon and– well actually a lot of things, but right now the faint dusting mostly meant that Elsa was extremely low on power. Not energy, per say, that problem could be solved with calories, rest, and relaxation the same as any normal human, but her power reserves had faded, taking with them a little extra spark. It explains her persisting drowsiness and inability to keep her bangs from hanging over her face.
Eventually the kettle whistles and rattles in Anna's hands. A mug is retrieved from the cabinets (Elsa's favorite, the one with the little dancing snowmen) and tea begins to steep in hot water. Anna puts the remainder on the stove, flipping the bacon and stirring the oatmeal to prevent it from burning. Her palms still glow slightly orange but they dim quickly as Anna stops tapping into the magic flowing through her blood.
Long ago, when the world was younger and still marveled at the things that hid beyond the pale, one of Anna's ancestors had decided the best thing to do was have a relationship with a being of fire from another plane of existence. Happens to the best of us. Skipping and hopping through the generational gene pool forever after had been the gift of heat and flame. So Anna's parents hadn't been entirely surprised by their child's ability to sneeze fire on command, but it had been a learning curve. In modern day, magic was common, but spread so thin that most people hardly had any power at all. So when someone like Anna came along, or Elsa, with a magic that made parlor tricks look, well, cheap, it was a rare thing indeed. It also made the dating scene a little complicated. Rare enough to find someone magical, more rare still to find a compatible partner. Shrink that already small pool into a quarter-sized drop on the countertop to account for the difficulty it is to get lesbians to admit any feelings for each other, and the chances that Anna and Elsa got together at all shrank to atom-sized.
And yet, the two of them had felt since the very first moment they met that there was always something meant to happen between them. And they were grateful everyday that that 'something' ended up being each other's forever.
Anna walks back to the table, setting the mug down within easy reach of her wife who had seated herself at the kitchen table. Elsa sniffs appreciatively, a gentle lemon, honey, and black tea steam wafting against her nose. It's perfect, and she looks forward to being able to drink it. But first things first. Or third, as it was turning out.
Reaching under the hem, Elsa pulls her shirt over her head, exposing the entirety of her bare back. Her skin glistens faintly; more ice, Anna knows, small enough to be microscopic. Elsa releases a breath, not at the chill in the air but in anticipation. Anna takes the shirt and drapes it over an adjacent chair.
"Comfortable?" Anna asks, leaning over the back of Elsa's chair, close to the shell of her ear. Her wife nods and makes a tired affirmative noise that kicks a laugh out of Anna. "Okay, okay, no more delay."
"Just a little," Elsa manages softly. "I can do the rest later."
Anna considers this before running her thumb across the top pads of her fingers, finishing with a snap. A brilliant orange flame appears over her hand, smokeless and bobbing, a little larger than a golf ball. It's twin sprouts from her other hand, and Anna begins.
Though there were undoubtedly many ways to accomplish this task, it had become important to both women that this recharge process be soft, gentle, and giving. Anna starts with Elsa's shoulders, stretching down to nuzzle her chin into the crook of Elsa's neck as she descended the length of her wife's arms. The flames do not scorch or burn, don't melt away skin and bone, but flow, like a gel, coating Elsa's arms as Anna leisurely moves from elbow to wrist. Elsa had once compared the feeling to being wrapped in a heated towel, inch by luxurious inch, and now she hums appreciatively as Anna reaches the end of her hand and comes back up, tracing the underside of her forearms. Anna's scent is all around her, and Elsa inhales deeply, endearment blossoming in her chest. Unlike the fires of man, Anna doesn't smell of ash or charcoal but the headiness of warm sap, the sugary sweetness of a marshmallow, and the cheery wood-smoke of cedar and pine. Occasionally, when she's hungry, Anna smells of cooking (which only makes the problem worse), but even that is something Elsa loves about her.
Anna reaches the crest of Elsa's shoulder and drags the flames up the slope of her neck, her touch becoming softer. Thinner tissue didn't need as much heat, but she smiles when Elsa tilts her head forward to allow better access, her white-blonde hair spilling over her head like a curtain. Her fingertips sink into Elsa's hair, the flat of her palms covering the space behind her ears. Elsa sighs when Anna drags her thumbs past the pressure point at the base of her skull, massaging her flames into Elsa's hairline. Finished with that spot Anna dips back down, into Elsa's back, running her hands along smooth shoulder blades. It's a bit of a difficult reach because of the chair, but Anna makes it work. She knows every inch of Elsa's body, follows every indent of her spine, and makes her touch light when she moves outwards to Elsa's sides. Elsa twitches anyway, always being a tad ticklish, but Anna adjusts and it doesn't happen a second time. There is of course, always the temptation to reach all the way around, knowing that Elsa is naked beneath her hands, but there were better occasions for that. Right now, Anna just wants Elsa to return to her usual self.
The changes happen when Anna climbs back up Elsa's back to her shoulders and starts anew.
This time, the glob of fire retreats back into Anna's hands, lighting up her skin with patterns so old they've lost their meaning. Flickering swirls and glowing symbols stretch past her palm into her arms. Now, when Anna touches the residue left on her first pass, it dissolves, sinking into Elsa, past her muscles and bones to reach beyond, to her own icy magic.
Elsa trembles and her breath hitches. In the wake of Anna's hands grows coarse white fur, spiraling down the outside of her arms, sweeping up the nape of her neck, and tangling along the ridge of her spine. It's not overly long, barely an inch at Elsa's elbow and two at the line where shoulders and spine meet. Anna loves every bit of it, especially knowing that it was what made Elsa really truly Elsa, even if they both weren't exactly sure what that meant. Though the origin of Anna's magic was well known, Elsa's wasn't. They had guesses of course, but there were a surprising amount of magical creatures that loved the cold and had fur. Not too many had Elsa's recharge ability though, consuming heat and flame within their body to create more cold, so that narrowed down the list a little. Technically, it eliminated Anna's favorite guess, the one that made her wife blush prettily and push her away when Anna teased. She just couldn't see a Tundra Salamander making the noises Elsa did, especially while ah, intimate….
But, Frost Trolls on the other hand…
None of that matters though as Elsa exhales and steam comes out, her chilled breath hitting the warmer air. The ice crystals in her hair multiply and grow, letting Elsa frost her bangs above her head as she prefers. Her eyes flash blue as she leans back, looking up at Anna, so much more alive and alert than before. Her voice practically bubbles with light as she says, "Thank you, Anna," and smiles, revealing the smallest hint of elongated canines. She pulls Anna down to place a kiss on the underside of her chin.
"You're welcome," Anna replies. And she tries to hide it, she really does, but buried in those two words is a little rasp, a little drag, and Elsa notices immediately.
"Oh, Anna," Elsa gets up, studying her wife's face. Anna's grin has a little less brilliance, her eyes a little more grey than green, a flame turned down to conserve fuel. Elsa frowns, a little pout on her lips. "I said only a little."
"I know, but you were still tired from last night, and the days before, I could tell," Anna defends, even as she sinks into Elsa's touch. Though she was loathe to admit it, fatigue pulls at her from the chest down, her arms feeling heavy and leaden. Power trickles through them sluggishly, and instead of floating away, Anna's embers begin to sink to the floor.
Elsa helps Anna into the same chair she had occupied, putting her shirt back on too. She presses a kiss to Anna's hairline, just above her forehead, then finishes what Anna started before she'd arrived. All the food gets plated and bowled, utensils appear, and another mug gets pulled down from the cabinet, this time covered in sunflowers. Elsa adds a pot of water to the coffee machine, waving her hand at Anna when she tries to get up. "I'll handle it, let me take care of you, too," Elsa insists when Anna hesitates to sit. Her wife may not have the same ability to consume another's magic to refuel, but caffeine was a totally normal, totally reasonable, lovingly aromatic substitute.
Elsa cracks two more eggs in the pan and adds more bacon before bringing everything to the table. Anna's eyes light up at the bounty before her, tucking in immediately. Coffee percolates and Elsa adds sugar and cream. She puts a hand over the rim as Anna grabs for the mug, looking at her pointedly. Anna has the good graces to blush lightly, her eagerness bludgeoning past her common sense. Fire powers or not, a burnt tongue was still a burnt tongue. While Anna eats, Elsa adds frozen strawberries to her oatmeal, popping one in her mouth idly. The hot food would melt the rest eventually, but Elsa preferred them this way. It gives Anna brain freeze just watching her.
Elsa wraps her hands around the tea that has been steeping for a while now, a warmth spreading from her heart that has nothing to do with the beverage or the food. Energy returns to Anna's movements, the green tint of her eyes gleam, and her little embers hover like impatient pets, as though they too will be fed from the same plate.
Speaking of, it's suddenly empty, and Elsa hides a grin inside her mug at Anna's unsubtle glance at the stove top. But when Anna pushes back her chair to serve herself, Elsa stops her again, loading Anna's plate instead and bringing it back with a smile and another kiss. Anna smelled like French toast, and Elsa made a mental note to buy cinnamon and another dozen eggs to make batter. But later, not today. They both had taken the rest week off so they had nothing but lazy days to look forward to until the end of the year. They'd have plenty of time, plenty of moments.
Elsa hoped the rest of the year –no, the rest of their lives– would be filled with more moments like these: with good food, ample love, and just a little bit of heat.