"When… did he first start?"
Elsa pulled away and looked at Anna in alarm. "Do you really want to know? Wouldn't you rather forget?"
The stare Anna was giving her was so heatedly unmoving that Elsa wanted to fidget and hide from it. "We can't pretend it didn't happen," Anna said in all seriousness, without any trace of her usual whimsy. "Because it did. And I know that you can't pretend it didn't happen, or you wouldn't have come down here. It's in your past—our past—and it's not going to go away. Isn't that why you came down here? To… face it?"
"You've grown up," Elsa remarked, with an air of wonder.
"Well, someone has to make sure you don't end up hurting yourself with your pigheadedness," Anna responded cheekily.
"I beg your pardon? My pigheadedness?" Elsa gasped at her, shaking her head incredulously. "You could win the Olympics with your obstinacy alone."
Anna huffed at her. "So are you going to tell me or not? No, scratch that; that wasn't a question. You are going to tell me."
Elsa hesitated, and then gave in to the temptation of looking away.
"Old habits are hard to break, huh? That's okay; I've always been very benevolent. I can be patient."
At that, Elsa found herself fighting the urge to release a very unladylike snort. She settled for a snicker instead, eyes flicking back to her sister, reluctance temporarily swept to the sidelines. "You? Patient? When we played hide-and-seek, you couldn't even count to ten! You and patience were meant to be sworn enemies, I would think."
Anna scoffed and crossed her arms. "No, my sworn enemy is math!"
"Ah, that explains why you always skipped straight from 'three' to 'ten'. You just can't count."
"Elsa!"
Elsa couldn't resist adding, "Explains why you couldn't properly count how many kisses we've had, either."
Anna gasped incredulously as the words jabbed at her dignity, face burning in a heartbeat. "I—that's not fair! I was drunk! That shouldn't—it doesn't!" she managed to spew, albeit incoherently.
Elsa swiftly dissolved into a fit of undisguised laughter.
"Elsa!"
When Elsa couldn't (or wouldn't) stop shaking with amusement, Anna indignantly shoved at her shoulders, growling, "You're asking for it, aren't you?" Without thinking, she blurted. "How many were we at, five? Should I give you a sixth?"
"Ah—I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Elsa chortled, still quivering with residual mirth.
Anna was relieved at her lighthearted response, but Elsa was too busy trying not to cackle to notice. "No, you're not," Anna retorted.
"You're right; I'm not."
Strange. It was out of place, laughter. Here. In this room. Never in a million years would Elsa have imagined that she could be allowed let out any display of amusement or contentment while being surrounded by the same apathetic four walls that used to condone her suffering. She marveled at how easily Anna had turned this chamber of horror into one of comfort and hospitality, ironic because shattered remnants of Anna's outburst still encircled them. But the damaged desk and fractured fragments of glass, even the bloodstained buckle of the thick leather belt beside them, really did absolutely nothing to dampen the lighthearted ambience gracing the room now.
Anna had made everything better. She always did.
Spirits considerably lifted by her cloud of elation, Elsa finally answered, "The first time was when I was six."
"What did I make you do?"
She sighed. "Anna, I don't understand why you want to know so badly."
"Because, Elsa, it's a part of you. What he did to you—I'm not so stupid that I don't see how big a part it plays in making you… well, you. And I…" Anna paused. And then, "… I want to help you get over it. This part that you've hidden from me for—for fourteen years."
"You hesitated. You really can't count. I can't believe I never noticed."
"Stop it! I got it right, okay? I think." Anna paused, biting her bottom lip pensively, brow furrowing (adorably) in fierce concentration. "One… two… four—yeah, fourteen. I did get it right."
Elsa was briefly distracted by the enticing image of Anna chewing on her lip, and the subsequent (highly disruptive) urge to be the one doing it instead. She flushed and tore her eyes away, suddenly very interested in a certain glass shard on the floor.
Anna seemed to have wanted to say something else, and Elsa didn't have to focus her thoughts for very long before comprehending exactly what it was. For all the times Anna had spilled her feelings in front of Elsa, Elsa had never once given her a proper response. A certain, very vocal, part of her brain was screaming at her that that was unacceptable, and should be tactfully remedied with great haste. Anna was being more adult about this than she was, she realized, with a jarring pang of something that resembled guilt.
"You didn't do anything," asserted the older sister, conceding defeat, "It was me who didn't do enough."
Anna's look of intense concentration shifted to one of concern. "What do you mean?"
"You got hurt, Anna. And it was my fault for not being careful enough."
"What do you mean, it was your fault? Did you deliberately shove me to the ground? Push me off my bike? No? If you didn't do anything of the sort, I fail to see how anyone could blame you for it."
"Regardless, I'm your older sister. I should have known better," Elsa recited, the words feeling worn and tattered on her lips after having been viciously repeated to her so many times in her childhood. Or maybe she was feeling worn and tattered after having absorbed the full brunt of their meaning until it became engraved in her, the words incessant like the perpetual waves of the ocean carving the boulders of the shore, eventually bending even solid stone to their unrelenting will.
Anna caught the melancholy in her voice—or was it written on her face? Nevertheless, the younger girl adopted a ferocious look of determination, which bore some semblance to the face of a lion tamer, ready to undertake the dangerous task of tempering a carnal predator, thwarting years of habitual instinct. "Elsa, you're responsible for you, and I'm responsible for me. Whatever stupid things I did as a kid were of my own volition; you did not force me to do them. You probably tried to stop me, but I never listened, right?"
"Still—"
"If you insist they were your fault, Elsa, then it was Dad's as well as Mom's as well as Gerda's and the maids' and the gardeners' and the goddamn stray cats' and dogs' faults, too. And the rats and the squirrels and the raccoons and whatever else that live near our house should also share the blame. Because they didn't stop me, either. So stop being so greedy and hoarding all the responsibility."
The corner of Elsa's mouth twitched at the last statement, while the rest of her absorbed her sister's words. "Hoarding the responsibility?" She repeated, almost smirking at the irony.
"Like a goddamn leprechaun with his pot of gold."
She was amused. "Is that how you'd put it?"
"Look, I skipped all my talking lessons along with my eating lessons and walking lessons, okay?"
"That much is obvious, I think," Elsa sported a lopsided grin, blithely needling further at Anna's self-advertised patience, which elicited a playfully irritated grumble, and Elsa laughed again. She added thoughtfully, "Although, I've heard that you can wish for a leprechaun to give you their pot of gold if you catch them."
"Is that so?" And arms were abruptly thrown around her again as Anna emphatically dragged their bodies back together in a bear hug.
"And I heard it's three wishes," the younger girl countered, and then chuckled against Elsa's shoulder as she realized the absurdity of what she was currently bargaining for.
"So I'm apparently a leprechaun with the ability to grant wishes for people," Elsa retorted, although she, too, wrapped her arms around her sister, relishing the warmth of Anna's hold.
"You can grant my wishes, and no one else's!"
Well, she wasn't planning on granting anyone else's wishes anyway. "Fine," she relented, "Two. I'll grant two." Was she really haggling with Anna about how many things the girl could ask for? In reality, Anna could make about a million requests and more, and Elsa would gladly fulfill each one to the best of her ability.
"Really?"
She nodded.
"First," Anna announced, after a long silence, which Elsa guessed could only have been filled with careful consideration, like a child deciding which candy she wanted after being told she was only allowed a limited amount. "Can we move out? I can't… We can't stay here. I don't want to stay here."
Elsa shifted her weight onto her ankles—well, one ankle. She had awkwardly managed to get on her knees in her quest to embrace Anna, and that left her injured leg in an uncomfortable position under her (again). Although, she was pretty sure she already delayed the recovery of her leg with her collapse in the bathroom earlier, so she figured a bit more time in an awkward position probably didn't make much of a difference at this point. "Do you really want to?"
Anna nodded slowly, "I don't know how you could stand being in the same area as—oh god, for… ten years. How did you keep this quiet for ten years, Elsa? If I hadn't come home when I did… how much longer were you planning to keep quiet?"
Elsa sighed dejectedly and her gaze changed to one of apology. "As long as I could. I didn't want you to think less of him. I know how much you looked up to him. You're right; you're not made of glass, and you're much stronger than I thought, but I would still have given anything to not have to tell you this."
"I'm glad, though. I'm glad you did."
Elsa stared at her, utterly baffled. "How could you possibly be glad about that?"
"Because you look happier. And it makes me happy that there's one less thing you're keeping from me," she stopped, and eyed Elsa suspiciously, "Which, by the way, if there's anything else that you think I'm too fragile to know about, well, you better spit it out now."
"No," Elsa shook her head, relieved. "There isn't."
"Then when can we move out?"
Elsa pondered the question, outlining her schedule for the next couple of days in her head, carefully considering the preparations she needed to make. "Depends how fast I can find a place." She hissed involuntarily when the dull throbbing in her leg developed into a sharp jab.
"Oh!" Anna jumped away in surprise, suddenly registering the consequences of Elsa's kneeling position. She hopped to her feet and extended a hand to her sister, "Sorry," she said sheepishly, "I-I didn't realize." A look of guilt crossed her face, one that Elsa wanted to vehemently wipe off.
"Don't be," Elsa took her offered hand and allowed Anna to pull her to her feet, supporting herself against the wall when she realized that the desk was no longer available. She really hadn't thoroughly planned the manner of her revelation of their father to Anna; what part of her brain thought it would be smart to just abandon her only means of transport? How the hell was she going to reach the crutches strewn across the floor with her injured leg screaming in protest?
It was as if her sister could read her thoughts. Admittedly, her dilemma wasn't a difficult one to infer, but still. "I'll get your crutches," Anna declared for the second time in the span of a few hours, guilt still brewing on her gentle features as she turned to fetch the deserted equipment.
A flash of gold blinked in Elsa's peripheral vision, and she turned her attention to one of the picture frames that had landed face first on the ground when Anna had kicked over the desk. The aged golden frame lay forgotten in a pool of glass fractals, the impact having shaken the backing board loose of its metal cage. The backs of two photographs peeked out from behind the cardboard, stained a light yellow by the pendant lamps. Two photographs. Didn't picture frames normally only house one?
Curious, Elsa gripped the shelf of the bookcase beside her, careful not to further annoy her objecting leg, and lowered herself to the ground to reach for the pictures. One of them, the one that would have been displayed if its dwelling were still intact, had captured a smiling young Anna, around the age of six or seven, arms lazily thrown around a snowman, which Elsa could only interpret as a poorly attempted imitation of Olaf. The snowball comprising his head was rounded instead of its signature oblong, and he was missing the feet that they normally made for him. The body itself was rigidly square, as if someone had taken a saw and hacked a sphere into the stiff cube that it was.
Elsa could immediately discern that this snowman had not been made by herself and Anna. Needless to say, she had never seen this picture before, either. They rarely had their picture taken in their childhood, unless it was for pretentious family portraits used to ornament the halls for the sake of putting up a showy display of family unity for any visiting guests.
She was so engrossed in the wistfulness of Anna's smile that she didn't notice the redhead beside her until a melancholic voice shook her out of her thoughts. "Dad… built that snowman with me."
Elsa could respond with a pathetic, "… Oh."
"He didn't want me to bother you, even though it was snowing outside," Anna told her, helping her to her feet again. "He tried, but it wasn't Olaf," Anna murmured, an echo of Elsa's own thoughts, a hand flying to her neck to trace the outline of Olaf that they both knew so well. "It wasn't Olaf." In a fit of spontaneous anger at the thought of their father, she impulsively snatched at the picture.
If it was anyone else holding the photo, they would have never anticipated such a reaction. Only Elsa could have foreseen Anna's response, and in a split second she held the offending image away from her sister. "It's okay," she breathed, her other hand looping its way around Anna's shoulders, in an attempt to keep herself steady and to soothe her sister. "It's okay."
Elsa knew her better than anyone else, and she understood that Anna's embittered attitude towards the photo could only have been born from feelings of betrayal and resentment; after all, she had just experienced the same only moments before. She hurriedly stuffed the pictures into the back pocket of her jeans, deciding she would look at the second at a later time, and took one of her crutches from Anna's grasp, keeping her arm around her sister.
"I can't forgive him," Anna whispered, staring at the ground. "I can't."
She and Anna shared different views on what her father did to her, Elsa realized. She thought it was righteous punishment, while Anna saw it as a vile offense. It didn't matter what their perspectives were, Elsa finally decided. She knew now that she didn't want to dwell on the past, and she didn't want Anna to, either. "You're not meant for hatred," Elsa told her gently, "And hating him doesn't fix anything."
Anna looked at her, admiration shining in her eyes, and helped her toward the door. "I'm not going to forgive him," she declared. "But I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of poisoning the rest of my life, or yours, for that matter."
"That's my girl," Elsa smiled.
"Elsa," the arm around her back tightened its hold. "I'm going to give you everything he didn't, okay?"
There was a familiar warmth in Elsa's chest, spreading throughout her body like wildfire, and she smiled. "Okay."
As she and her sister stepped back across the threshold of their father's study, Elsa threw one last glance, one that was neither resentful nor hateful, at her father's portrait, thanking him for the first time in her life. For all the things that he took from her, he had given her kind, caring, unpredictable Anna.
It didn't matter if he meant to or not, but he did.
She didn't bother to turn and close the door; it had remained sealed for too long already.
She wondered what she was doing.
Oh, that was right. She sighed. There was still a debt to repay.
"He's here," Gustav reported, Alistair trailing behind, a look of disapproval plain on his face as they made their way into Elsa's office. She was in her old office, cleaned and refurnished; she had refused to occupy the CEO's office, still bothered by her mother's overbearing presence in that room.
"Are you sure you want to meet with him?" Alistair usually never voiced personal opinions on Elsa's actions; he was paid to protect, not to judge, but he was also a long-time friend of her father, and he did allude to how much he cared about her when he agreed to participate in Anna's rescue. Elsa respected the man deeply, despite his traditional upbringing that was glaringly similar to her father's. Or maybe that was why. He was similar to her father, but he never expected anything of her, never judged. Admittedly, it wasn't his place, but it was refreshing nonetheless.
She wondered briefly what he would think of her feelings for her sister. Such a traditional man, he would no doubt look down upon the nature of her affection, just like the rest of society.
"Yes," she affirmed, voice unwavering. He had opposed her meeting with Hans as well, but this was more than just a meeting.
"Your father would have just left him to rot," the Russian man reminded her.
"I know," she said. And that's why.
Alistair merely nodded in response and stood vigilant beside her desk. Elsa reclined in her leather chair behind the desk, waiting for Gustav to go fetch her guest.
The door reopened, and her gaze met tired brown eyes, under matted brown hair. Prison life had not treated him well, Elsa observed, though she was unsure of whether to feel wrathful or contemptuous at the sight of him looking twenty years older than he was supposed to be. She settled for indifferent.
Mark wore a rumpled white collared shirt, and a rough stubble was visible on his chin, uncharacteristic of the habitually clean and organized appearance he maintained while he was still working for her. "You paid my bail," he said, voice drained and devoid of emotion.
"Yes," she responded, reciprocating the deadpan.
"Why?" Mark rasped.
Elsa twisted the cap of a ballpoint pen between her fingers, focusing on the repetitive motion so as to not reply with bitterness at his thankless question. "My sister informed me that the injuries she sustained would have been substantially worse if you hadn't helped her." Before he could respond, she added, "So, as much as I would hate to admit, I owe you a debt."
"I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt," he sighed in defeat, voice clogged with regret after eyeing her crutches resting against one side of the desk. "I just—I thought that the President would at least put her own daughter's life before the company's. After what she made me do to Henry Falk… I…"
"My lawyers have advised against me offering you this, but if you testify against Hans at his trial, I will clear you of all charges."
"What?" He echoed in disbelief.
"Also…" she waved Alistair and Gustav out of the room. They reluctantly obliged, shutting the door behind them. "I want to hear what she made you do. And what else she has done for the sake of this company."
"I'm not… allowed to speak of it…" he stammered, rubbing an arm nervously.
"You wish to put a stop to her. Then you will work with me."
His eyes lit up with surprise. "You mean—"
"I'm offering you your old job back," she clarified steadily. Then she smiled at him; it wasn't a disrespectful smirk, but not a completely friendly gesture at the same time. "You did do a good job, minus the obvious betrayal. Of course, you will have to earn my trust again, before I will give you more than menial tasks."
He gaped at her, and then shook his head, as if he thought he had been daydreaming.
"You are free to refuse my offer," she informed him slowly. "Although I am aware of the other reason you so readily abandoned my trust."
He gave her a look twisted with repentance and anguish. "My mother is in the hospital," he whispered, a fact that Elsa was already aware of. "I needed the money Hans offered me. I am truly sorry for my actions," he croaked, voice cracking near the end of the statement.
"Well, I hope you're not under the illusion my forgiveness is unconditional." She did smirk this time, but she wasn't being arrogant. "You are going to earn it. I will work you into the ground, believe me."
He smiled at her, the contentment on his face contrasting comically with his disheveled appearance. "When do I start?"
"Today, after you clean yourself up. And your first task will be to find me a house."
"Can I loooooook yet?" Anna complained, a question that she had incessantly repeated the entire drive from the school to their current location.
Elsa tightened the blindfold around her sister's eyes, making sure that the cloth hadn't come loose during the car ride here. "Not yet," she chided joyfully, even though Anna couldn't see her gigantic smile at the exuberant air dancing around them. In fact, if Anna could see the huge grin she was sporting right now, she would probably be laughed at for it; it was so uncharacteristic of her to be grinning uncontrollably like an idiot. And yet, that was the only way she could aptly describe her current expression: grinning like an absolute idiot.
She fished a key out of her pocket, one hand on Anna's shoulder to steady herself and leaned over to open the door in front of them. Her grin grew ever wider (was that even possible?) as she looked into the room and lead her sister inside, hobbling in front.
They were met with the fresh smell of paint and wood, mixed with the warm aroma of something that resembled honey. Feet shuffled on cinnamon maple finish, as they took off their shoes and Elsa guided her sister into their new condo.
There was no furniture, no couches or televisions or coffee tables in the living room, just as she'd asked of Mark when he finalized the paperwork for her only a day after his reinstatement. She could see the marble counter separating the kitchen from the main area of the residence, and the short hallway that lead to the bedrooms not far beside it. One wall, the wall that faced the outside of the soaring condominium building was entirely made of glass, and the view it granted breathtakingly beautiful; one could see the beach below, and the mouth of the Burrard inlet as it extended into the vast Pacific expanse of ocean beyond.
"Well? Can I look yet?" Anna demanded again, bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet in anticipation. She, too, had noticed the smell of newly constructed dwelling.
There was a certain metaphor Elsa wanted to illustrate first. "Take about five steps forward and tell me what you feel." She was tempted to poke another counting joke at her sister, and decided against it as she leaned on a single crutch, letting her sister leave her side to perform the task.
"One… two… three… four… five…" Anna waved her arms in front of her as she stepped into the centre of the living room, trying to find some solid object to grasp on to. "There's nothing! Elsa!"
"You can look now," Elsa laughed, barely able to suppress her own excitement.
In one swift motion, Anna swiped away the offending black cloth, letting it drop to the ground beside her. Elsa held her breath as she watched as Anna's eyes were drawn to the curtain of light shining in through the wall of glass; the sun was streaming in directly from its position in the western sky, filling the room with warmth and exultation. Anna turned around, rapidly eyeing the marble counters of the kitchen behind her, the cinnamon floors that almost matched the copper of her hair, the snowy white walls, before eagerly meeting Elsa's.
"There's really nothing!" Anna exclaimed in surprise as she looked around again, feet sweeping across the warm maple of the wood flooring. "Elsa! Why is it empty?"
Elsa had managed to suppress her grin when Anna took the blindfold off, but she couldn't keep it contained any longer. She smiled widely at her sister, almost tempted to clamp a hand around her mouth to hide it, and answered, "It's not empty if you're here."
She could almost see the metaphor literally flying over her sister's dense strawberry-blond head when Anna incredulously shot back, "Are you calling me fat?"
She fought the urge to let out an exasperated sigh. Oh, well. It's not like she hadn't considered that Anna would completely miss her point. And there would be plenty more opportunities for her to show Anna how she felt, Elsa decided, more amused than disappointed by her sister's obliviousness. "I thought we could pick out the furniture together," she offered.
Any residual disappointment was thoroughly obliterated by the joy and elation that lit up her sister's eyes. "Really?!" Anna almost shrieked in her excitement.
Elsa nodded, still smiling. "Only if you like the place, though." The paperwork was more or less complete, but she wanted to leave the final decision to Anna.
"I… I love it!" The spirited redhead declared from her spot against the glass wall, staring down at the glistening waves of the ocean sweeping across the fine sand of the beach below.
"Are—are you sure? It's really okay if you don't like it. I just thought it was a good location, I mean, Arendelle U is close by and the office is only about twenty minutes' drive away instead of the hour it took from the manor. And the neighbourhood is good here, too, and there's twenty-four-hour security, and I—" A finger came to press against her lips, promptly stopping her sentence, breath, and heart in one effortless gesture. She blinked rapidly, as if it would deter the fact that Anna had come to stand in front of her and their faces were so close that if she focused, she could number the freckles that peppered across her sister's face.
"I love it," Anna assured her, the warmth of her breath chasing away any doubts that Elsa had been entertaining.
Elsa wanted to kiss her. She didn't even have the brain capacity left to marvel at how strongly the urge to passionately crush their lips together was overtaking her. It would be so easy, too. If she just leaned in a little more, their lips would be touching and Elsa could show Anna exactly how complete Anna made her feel…
… but that wouldn't be right. Not now. She was going to be an adult about this, and not just surrender to her carnal urges, like before, without first being clear about her own feelings and fair to Anna about the state of their relationship. She imagined she would have to exercise a lot of restraint when it came to her feelings about her sister.
But she wanted to make sure they were going to approach this without the interference of fear, desperation, or misinterpreted love. She wanted them both to be one hundred and twenty percent sure about what they wanted.
One thing she was certain of was that she was done running away, though. Done. Done avoiding the issue, done hurting her sister.
So she smiled instead, despite her warming cheeks and gave Anna a quick peck on the nose. "Good," she breathed. "I'll have the movers bring our things over. In the meantime, would you like to go somewhere?"
Anna stared at her quizzically, undeterred by how quickly Elsa had drawn away. She was willing to wait for a response, Elsa realized. Well, she wouldn't let Anna wait for long.
"Where?" Anna asked her, eyes glowing with anticipation.
"Grocery shopping?" Elsa grinned. "I've never gone grocery shopping."
Anna was already rushing to the door. "Let's do it!" she sang.
Grocery shopping with Anna was definitely not a dull experience. Since Elsa was still crutch ridden, she had to relinquish all control of the shopping cart to her sister. Which only spurred the redhead's autonomy in deciding that they would be having chocolate and nothing but chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
"Anna!" Elsa chastised, as her sister threw another pack of Oreos and Hershey's chocolate bars into the cart already overflowing with sweets, "We are not going to live on chocolate and instant ramen! I refuse!"
The feisty girl grinned at her, throwing three packages of chocolate chip cookies into the cart, "Well, neither of us can cook, so I don't see any other option."
"We'll learn," Elsa grumbled, trying to return all the junk food back to the shelves. "You have to pick some fruits and vegetables as well."
"Fine, but you need to pick out at least one bag of chocolate for us to share," Anna stuck her tongue out at Elsa, and crossed her arms.
Elsa sighed. She should have expected her sister to want to clear out the entire aisle of junk food, but for some reason, the thought hadn't crossed her mind. Anna really hadn't changed that much, and Elsa smiled at the realization. She was mature and immature at the same time, and that only made her all the more adorable to Elsa. "Okay," she replied, eyes brushing the vast selection of sweets on the shelves. Hmm.
Finally, she picked out a bag of Hershey's Kisses, and tossed it into the cart. Let Anna make of that what she will. Elsa was going to have to be clear about her feelings, so that Anna would have the chance to really decide if this was what she wanted. "To share," Elsa grinned cheekily when she caught her sister eyeing her thoughtfully.
She was both surprised and not surprised when Anna nodded cheerfully and wheeled the cart out of the aisle and toward the produce section. Elsa followed her slowly, hobbling on her crutches, mildly amused by how out-of-place her bodyguards in their jet-black suits looked in a grocery store.
She caught sight of Anna heaving a large watermelon into the cart and chuckled to herself. Her laughter died off, though, when Anna hefted a second, and then a third, following the first one. "Anna!" She approached her sister. "We're not going to be able to finish all of those! Moderation! Just get one."
Anna pouted at her. "But I love watermelon."
Hnnnng. Why was Elsa so easily swayed by those puppy dog eyes? "Fine," she relented, feeling rather possessed. "But don't blame me if you're sick with a stomach ache because you gorged on it."
"That was only one time!" Anna retorted, indignant. "What else?"
Well, watermelon was good enough for fruit, right? Elsa shrugged, her own inexperience with nutrition and healthy living was not helping them at all; she and Ariel had had a chef when they were at Oxford. "Vegetables. Broccoli?"
Anna made a face.
"Ugh, fine. Lettuce?"
Anna made a disgusted face.
"Really?" Elsa rolled her eyes. "Carrots?"
Anna looked horrified.
"Anna! You can't be so picky with your vegetables!"
"Only because I hate everything you're suggesting! Oh, I know! Let's get corn. And peas. None of that broccoli stuff, god. You know I hate that stuff, and you're suggesting it to spite me! Oh, potatoes! Let's get potatoes! Corn and potatoes!"
Elsa guessed she should be grateful that Anna had moved on from her fantasy that they could survive on just chocolate and cup noodles. "Oh, all right," she agreed grudgingly, and let her sister pick out the vegetables. "Milk and eggs, next," she announced, when Anna was finished packing a minimal amount of produce. She fought the urge to rake her hands through her hair when Anna made another face at the mention of milk. "God, fine, chocolate milk." Little sisters. Why was she so in love again? She couldn't begin to fathom.
Anna beamed at her, and she suddenly remembered why. Of course, she laughed at herself as she followed the sprightly redhead to the dairy section, how could she have forgotten? Because that smile was what she lived for.
"Juice! Don't forget juice! Juice is so much better than fruit," Anna asserted when they had successfully acquired said dairy products.
Grocery shopping with Anna was definitely not a dull experience.
Elsa couldn't remember the last time she had slept so well. Or when she last slept past six o'clock. No dreams, no nightmares, just pure, unadulterated rest. Well, at least, until she heard the twangs of an annoying ukulele playing from the kitchen, and the smell of something being fried in oil.
He-ey, he-e-e-e-ey, he-e-e-e-ey,
She groaned and turned over in bed, wondering why she had left her door opened last night. Oh, that's right, because going grocery shopping with her sister had been an unexpectedly draining experience, and as soon as Mark had called her to inform her that the condo was officially theirs and that their bedrooms (yes, two bedrooms) had been successfully set up with their things, she pulled her sister home, lest the redhead wreak more havoc in the ice cream aisle of the store.
Your lipstick stains, on the front lobe of my left side brains,
I knew I wouldn't forget you, and so I went and let you blow my mind.
Someone was humming out in the kitchen along with the melody, and Elsa grumbled irritably into her pillow. What was Anna doing up so early? Well, okay, it was past ten in the morning, but still. Anna rarely ever got up before noon when she didn't have school.
Your sweet moonbeam, the smell of you in every single dream I dream,
I knew when we collided, you're the one I have decided, who's one of my kind
Elsa resigned herself to the fact that she would not be getting any more sleep that morning, and pushed herself off the bed to collect her crutches and wash up in the bathroom that they shared, at the end of the hallway between the two bedrooms.
She was glad to let the running water drown out the chorus of the upbeat song that was too annoyingly happy for lazy Saturday mornings.
She decided not to bother braiding her hair, after she was done with washing up, and shuffled into the hallway to catch her sister singing along with the radio.
"Just in ti-i-i-ime, I'm so glad you have a one-track mind like me," sang a jubilant Anna, clothed in a t-shirt and shorts, covered by a pink apron that brought out the blue-green of her eyes, twin braids bobbing against her shoulders as she bounced on the spot with the beat of the song. "You gave my life direction, a game show love connection, we can't deny-I-I-I-I-I."
Anna was so captivating when she sang, her naturally melodic voice ringing delightfully against the luminous glass walls of the living room. Elsa smirked at her, "I do not have a one-track mind like you," she grumbled lightheartedly, watching her sister prod an egg hissing in hot oil, on the frying pan atop the stove.
Anna grinned back at her, looking livelier than ever, "I believe in you, like a virgin, you're Madonna, and I'm always gonna wanna blowww your miiiind~"
Did she say this song was too annoyingly happy? Well, Anna had effortlessly wiped her mind of all the irritation. Elsa chewed on her lip, staring at her sister. Did Anna even know how alluringly she wiggled her hips when she was singing? Now they were all Elsa could look at. Oh, god, and the lyrics. She didn't even want to let her thoughts wander there.
"Hey, soul sister, ain't that mister mister on the radio, stereo, the way you move ain't fair you know."
Elsa almost bristled at the lyrical tease. The way you move isn't fair!
"Hey, soul sister, I don't wanna miss a single thing you dooooooo~… tonight."
Elsa walked over to the refrigerator, determined to distract herself by getting out a glass, and then the chocolate milk that they bought last night, letting it dribble in, turning her back to Anna.
The way you can cut a rug
Watching you is the only drug I need
So gangster, I'm so thug
You're the only one I'm dreaming of
Arms encircled her waist, and a chin rested on her shoulder. "I want to hear you sing the next part," Anna whispered into Elsa's ear, breath pleasantly tickling the fine platinum strands of her neckline.
You see, I can be myself now finally,
Not fair. The line in reality should have struck a chord in her, but Elsa's thoughts were so thoroughly arrested by the sensation of Anna's front pressed flush against her back that the milk overflowed in her glass and spilled out onto the countertop. She started and reached for a paper towel to wipe up her spill, grateful for the distraction.
In fact there's nothing I can't be—
She was in the middle of mulling over the truth of those words when she accidentally hit a button on the radio when she reached over it, cutting off the music. "Dammit! Oops," she muttered under her breath. "Sorry," she mumbled at her sister, who had turned her attention back to the frying pan.
"Don't worry about it," Anna replied lightheartedly.
Upon cleaning up her mess, she pivoted on her good foot to see Anna holding out a plate of fried eggs for her. She smiled, touched by the notion that Anna had gotten up early to make breakfast for her. "You could've just boiled them," she said, heart aching for her sister when she thought of her own first attempt at cracking an egg and frying it in a pan. It had been at Oxford, and she was making dinner for herself when the chef had suddenly called in sick. Needless to say, she hadn't been very successful.
"I wanted to try," Anna returned her smile, handing her a fork.
She graciously accepted the offered utensil and took a bite of egg. And was suddenly overcome with the desire to spit it out and take a drink of water. It was too salty, and if that were the only thing wrong with it Elsa would have just swallowed it. Crunch! Her teeth hit something hard and she realized it was probably a piece of eggshell.
"How is it?" Anna looked at her expectantly.
Elsa remembered the unpleasant mini explosions of oil that had sprung out of the pan on her first attempt, leaving small burns on her forearms, and there was no doubt in her mind that Anna had suffered the same for her. She forced herself to smile again, despite the disagreeable taste in her mouth. She swallowed. "It's delicious. Thank you."
Anna's smile grew wider and her eyes sparkled at the praise. "Really?! Let me try it!" She extended an arm to reacquire the plate.
"No!" Elsa held it away from her. "I want it all."
"Oh, come on; just a bite."
Elsa did her best to keep the plate away from Anna, but alas, her mobility was restricted and the redhead quickly managed to reclaim the food. Elsa panicked, and tried again to retrieve the plate, but Anna hopped away from her, getting out a fork, and took a bite.
Elsa grimaced as Anna's expression changed to one of disgust and she promptly spat out her mouthful into the sink. "Blegh! Ew! I must have put in too much salt!" she cried sheepishly, as she realized Elsa's lie. She looked at Elsa apologetically, "Sorry! Sorry! I shouldn't have given you this. At least, I should have tried it first."
Elsa shook her head, and limped forward, fingers against the countertops for support, "I think it's fine." She motioned for Anna to hand her the plate.
Anna stared at her incredulously, "No! I can't let you eat this! It's disgusting!" She moved toward the garbage can with the intention of throwing away the offending meal.
"I want it, Anna! Give me it!" Elsa insisted, grabbing onto the other end of the circular plate, trying to tug it out of Anna's grasp.
"No! I'm throwing it out! It's gross!" A pull in the opposite direction.
"I said, I want it! Give it! If you don't want it, I do!" Elsa argued, yanking at the ceramic.
Suddenly, Anna froze and stared at her as if she had sprouted an antenna at the top of her head, eyes wide and full of wonder. Elsa blinked in surprise and looked down, self-conscious under Anna's searching glance.
"You love me!" Anna exclaimed, mouth open. "You really, really love me!"
Elsa met her gaze. "I do," she said. She had decided she was going to be clear. Crystal clear. The voice that had constantly reminded her that they were sisters had been mercilessly smothered by the weight of her feelings, back in the study.
Anna deliberated, and then asked, "Which kind?"
A smile spread across Elsa's lips, and she allowed her eyes to fill with the kind of warmth that was spreading from her heart when she half-sang, "I want the world to see you be… with me."