Kristoff sat up on the couch with a heavy sigh, and rubbed the heels of his palms in gentle circles over his eyes to acclimate to the not-so-subtle glow of the street lamp just outside the living room window that wouldn't let him sleep. Then he hunched over his knees and reminded himself that Anna was still mourning her husband, and whatever minuscule chance he dared to hope for had never even existed.

He wiped his hand over his brow, then slid it down to his chin. Maybe a glass of water would help wash down his disappointment. On the way to the kitchen, he bumped into an end table, and knocked over an empty chocolate box. He chuckled and thought, if nothing else, at least she liked the chocolates he picked out for her.

Not wanting to wake anyone up, he didn't bother with turning on any lights. He was confident he could find a glass in the dark kitchen, but he didn't expect to trip on the open door of the dishwasher. His hand landed on something soft and gooey, but he was too busy hopping in circles, clutching his knee, and silently breathing through the pain to think about it or why someone would have left the door open like that. Once the ache turned to a dull throb, he shut the dishwasher as quietly as he could and searched for a dish towel. But the scent of his moving hand wafted to his nose, and the sweet bouquet of cinnamon, sugar, and ginger overcame him. He popped a finger into his mouth, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he remembered the first and last time he'd tasted such mouth-watering perfection.

The array of brownies, chocolate chip cookies, and cupcakes with brightly colored frosting interspersed among folding tables spread out all over the gym, each with blue, clear white, or purple plastic table cloths was overwhelming. Kristoff only had $1.00, and it was hard to decide how to spend it. But at the far corner of the gym was a lonely table with a wedged slice of the plainest looking dessert at the bake sale. He made his way across the gym, heart pounding in his neck when Anna's bouncy ponytail couldn't seem to stay out of her way. His palms sweat as he stopped in front of her table, but her surprised smile relaxed into something that seemed genuinely happy to see him. "Would you like a slice of pumpkin pie?" she asked. Now standing over the pie tin, he realized that the only slice missing was sitting sideways on a tiny green and white paper plate in front of him with a plastic fork spearing the top. "Isn't pumpkin a vegetable?" he asked skeptically, though he instantly kicked himself for saying something so stupid. Her eyes sparkled at the challenge, though, and she leaned closer to him to whisper, "Not the way I make it." Standing so close to the table, he couldn't tell the difference between the spices in the pie and the subtle perfume that interested him way more than anything Mr. Oaken had to say about olfactory receptors. All of Kristoff's neurotransmitters reacted to Anna's pheromones, so he usually did his best to stay as far away from her as he could, which was difficult considering they were lab partners and had so many friends in common. He always liked her more than most people, but sitting so close to her that one hour every other day, and getting a hit of serotonin every time she smiled at him was so overwhelming that it was nearly unbearable. "How much?" he asked, unable to help himself as he licked his lips. She tilted her head to the small white tented sign with a green "$1.50" written in her bubbly handwriting on the other side of the pie. Kristoff's blood pressure dropped. He'd never wanted to taste anything so bad in his entire life, and now he wouldn't be able to. "... but, for lab partners, a smile will do." Kristoff couldn't hold his smile in anyway, and she handed him the plate pressed flat on her hand, and he nearly dropped it when their fingers touched. Her cheeks tinted to match her pink nails, and she tucked in her lips as she looked away. Then she bit her lower lip as the first bite melted into his mouth. It was creamy and solid, sweet and spicy. It was what he thought it would feel and taste like to kiss her. "Do you like it?" she asked, her eyebrows raised as high as they could go. He lowered his plate just enough to see her eyes, wider than he'd ever seen them, and swallowed loudly, though he didn't want the taste to leave his mouth. 'Like' wasn't the word he'd use to describe his feelings. "Kristoff?" she asked again when he froze. "I'm gonna get some water," he said, and walked away quickly. The only way he could finish the pie was alone under the tree where Sven and Ryder sometimes shared an afternoon joint. He savored every last morsel, and the pie was gone before he knew it. He had to tell Anna how much he loved it, and that he wanted another slice. He was so pumped with adrenaline that he ignored the insecurity that kept him from telling her when he took that first bite. But not even his heart rattling in his ribcage could stop him from telling her now. He took one more deep breath as the gym doors slammed behind him, counted down from ten to take the edge off, and opened his eyes again. Hans, the student body president, stood in front of Anna's table, and balanced the rest of the pie in his hand while Anna scribbled something on the price tag, which he held between his fingers, then coolly slipped it into his pocket. Anna watched him walk away with hands clutched to her chest, and a slight bounce on her toes.

Kristoff never thought he'd get to taste anything so heavenly ever again. But as he held the pie ruined by his clumsy hand print up to the moonlight that wasn't even bright enough to warn him about the open dishwasher door, he realized he had three options: 1. Leave it on the counter and hope no one noticed, which Elsa would, at the very least; 2. Throw it out, which seemed like sacrilege; and 3. Eat it.

Screw it! he said to himself as he nearly stabbed himself in the hand to fish a fork from the dishwasher. He sat at the dining room table in the dark, doing his best not to mess up any of Anna's pretty decorations, and dug into the center of the pie with the same sense of protectiveness he felt about Anna's carrots.

Just as Kristoff's fork found his mouth some tiny feet padded on the creaking wood floor. His heart stopped because he shouldn't have eaten the pie, and he especially shouldn't have eaten it center first from the pan as though he were raised in a barn. And of all people to catch him…

Anna stood there with her hand on the light switch staring at him, as though she were processing what was happening. Despite feeling guilty, Kristoff put the last bite from the fork into his mouth, even though he was still working on the previous mouthful, before lowering the fork. He waited for Anna to yell at him for ruining her perfect pie, but she didn't. It was much worse than that: she didn't say anything at all.

Kristoff leapt after her as she went to the kitchen.

"Wait, Anna, I'm s–" Kristoff said as softly as he could before nearly running into her outstretched fork.

"Where are you going, Kristoff?" she asked.

Kristoff covered his open mouth in fear, and walked backwards to his chair.

His eyes swept upwards, not wanting to undress her, but also unable to look away. Her silky, forest green nightgown and fuchsia robe clung to her figure, which was wider in certain places than the last time he saw her, and infinitely sexier. Her robe dipped down on one side to expose soft skin, now covered only by charmingly tangled hair spilling over her bare shoulder.

Kristoff defied the laws of nature to force his eyes up to the same hopeful expression Anna had on her face at the bake sale rather than letting them linger on every dangerous curve he wasn't supposed to even know about.

"Open up!" she said, and he tilted his head back for her without even questioning why.

He wasn't going to say no to all the freckles on her nose or the green flecks in her eyes that his memory hadn't exaggerated at all, and the can of chocolate whipped cream she held over his mouth.

The chocolate began to melt on his tongue like a marshmallow sitting on top of a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Then she held a forkful of pie up to his mouth, and implored, "Now, take a bite!"

Kristoff lost himself as the silky cream mingled with the gooey custard laced with ginger and spice, sealed together with a smooth and sweet chocolate finish. And it was a shock to Kristoff when Anna waited for his approval the way she had the first time.

"Well?" she bit her lip nervously, "How does it taste?"

There was no way he was going to run away from her without answering again. "It's delicious, Anna."

A demure smile spread across her face, along with a slight blush, and Kristoff let out a deep sigh of relief that he finally managed to say the right thing.

Anna leaned over the table on her elbows and scooped a forkful for herself.

"So, how come you didn't serve this tonight?" Kristoff asked.

"Oh, it was burnt around the edges," she said, sliding into the chair next to his, and frowned. Then she bunched her face bashfully to the side, and admitted, "I actually made two others that also came out badly. You know, it's been so long since I made pumpkin pie. And I just can't seem to help burning the crust. I just…" she trailed off to the side, then knitted her brows together and nervously turned her eyes back to him without making eye contact, "... I wanted it to be perfect."

She blushed a little, and just barely looked up at him as though ashamed and expecting his disapproval.

"But it is perfect, Anna. Still perfect, actually. It's exactly as I remember it."

Anna brightened, and sat up straighter.

Her crinkled eyes, pink glow illuminating her already bright face, and the smile he never thought he'd get to see again encouraged him to open up a little more. He never got the hurt in her eyes and the disappointed frown that tried to be an understanding smile on her face when he couldn't answer her question back then out of his mind.

At least he had a second chance to answer that question, and knowing that nothing was going to come of it made him braver because all he had to do was make her happy. And all it took was telling the truth, which was easy.

He looked her directly in the eye, and stated firmly, "I've never had pumpkin pie as good as yours."

But he had to look away as he finished the thought, "I was actually a little disappointed that you didn't make any for tonight."

Her eyes shimmered, and she placed a hand over her heart, then she frowned, "I'm sorry! If I had known, I–"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, Anna, that's not not what I…"

Howling winds rattled the windows to interrupt him, and Anna rubbed her upper arms, and said through chattering teeth, "I'm gonna make some tea. You want?"

She raced to the kitchen before he had a chance to respond.

"Meant," he muttered to himself with a cringe.

He sighed and kicked his feet out in front of him, covering his eyes and forehead with the palms of his hands. He replayed that exchange in his head to figure out where it went wrong, and he sat up straight and dropped his hands when he remembered why Anna was making tea.

He went to the living room while she wasn't looking and stuck a few logs inside the fireplace, then ripped some pages from last week's newspaper before tossing a match to them.

He was shifting the logs with a poker and stoking the flames when Anna raced into the room, and happily said, "Aww, Kristoff, you didn't have to do that!"

He sat down on the love seat as she set the tea on the coffee table, then he sat down on the love seat and reached for a mug.

"Be careful, it's really hot," she said as she sat down next to him.

"The tea or the fire?" he teased.

Anna stuck her tongue out at him and he fell in love with her all over again.

"I thought you like the heat?" he asked as he wrapped the afghan draped over the back of the couch around her shoulders.

"I do. But you don't."

Anna didn't notice how quiet and still Kristoff became. He was astounded that she remembered such a mundane fact about him.

She finally settled after turning herself into a human burrito with her knees to her chest, all except her wiggling toes that just didn't fit. She turned towards Kristoff and wedged them under his thigh.

He automatically lifted his leg to cover as much of her feet as he could, though he tucked his lips in to stifle a laugh.

"What? I'm trying to cool you off!" she said through a teasing smile.

Then it got quiet. Awkwardly quiet.

And out of the blue, Anna turned her eyes up to him so intently that he couldn't look away if he wanted to, and she asked him the last thing he expected. "How come you disappeared?"