11.

The next morning comes hard and fast. The alarm starts beeping at the crack of dawn and Elsa is vaguely aware of a warm body peeling away from her. It's only once she hears Anna's feet hit the hardwood floor that she even realizes she's alive. This is her first full-fledged hangover, and she feels like a corpse. She groans into her pillow and hears a huff of sympathetic laughter behind her.

"It gets easier. Promise."

Elsa's not convinced. Anna has to help her get dressed and packed because she's too dizzy to stand on her own. An Advil and a bottle of Gatorade are thrust into her hands.

"You'll be fine," Anna murmurs, as she pulls a beanie on over Elsa's loose, wavy hair, but Elsa feels so far from fine she might as well be on Mars.

How do people do this every weekend? How does Anna go to class like this? How did her father spend his life like this?

Elsa shudders.

A mystery for the ages.

"If we're lucky, Mom'll just think you're tired." Anna pulls Elsa into the bathroom and shoves a toothbrush in her hand. "I'll tell her you didn't sleep well 'cause it's your first holiday away from home."

Elsa nods mutely and tries not to gag on the overpowering taste of spearmint as she scrubs out her sour, sticky mouth.

At 7:35 they're shivering out in the new snow, loading up the cars and locking up the house. Madison emerges with puffy eyes, clutching a pillow to her chest. Ben is wrapped up in his blanket. Lea and their cousin, Ryder, are still wearing slippers and pajama bottoms under puffy down coats. Elsa, herself, would rather be wearing a sleeping bag, but Anna drags her into the rumble seats in the back of the Land Rover, spreads a thin quilt over their legs, and lets Elsa doze off against her shoulder. It's a tight fit, but that only means they're curled up tighter together, and despite the odd contortion of her spine, the dull throbbing between her eyes, and the nausea, Elsa's extremely comfortable. Anna's scent is indescribably soothing, like warm linen fresh out of the dryer and oranges, like ginger and sandalwood

Traffic leaving the city is predictably horrendous. Mark follows behind them in the hatchback with Ben and the rest of the bags as they make their way across the river into Jersey City. Madison is sound asleep in the front passenger seat by the time they hit Newburgh. Lea and Ryder, slumped together in the middle seats under a pile of blankets and pillows, aren't far behind.

They drive north through the snow, and conversation is sparse. Elsa fades in and out as the music changes tracks. Kathy lays on the horn about an hour in and Elsa jumps, but Anna only laughs and pulls her head back down. If Anna's shoulder is numb by then she doesn't complain, just curls her hand around Elsa's thigh and keeps it there, a warm pressure radiating through the denim of Elsa's jeans. It puts her to sleep and keeps her asleep, an anchor to pull her mind back down each time it rises up. She loses a couple hours this way.

They arrive in Saratoga Springs at noon, a little town of 26,000 just north of Albany. Anna shakes her awake five miles out and gives her a few minutes to recover her cognitive faculties.

"Just act natural," she whispers, smiling, and Elsa groggily blinks away the sudden, overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss her lips.

Dazed and confused doesn't even begin to cover it.

Fortunately, she doesn't have time to dwell. The rest of the car is waking up and stretching out, conversations beginning to pick up for the first time all morning. Ten minutes later they're parked outside an old Victorian house unloading all the luggage, blankets, and pillows. The house apparently belongs to Anna's grandmother, though, as she's informed, it's been in the family for over a century. If it really is that old, it's in remarkably good shape. A long porch girds the first floor, wrapping around the corner at one end, and a small, square terrace looks out from the master bedroom on the second floor. The architecture is typical of its era, all steep, peaked roofs, and thick white trim. Slender, wooden columns support the covered porch. The siding, however, has been painted a sensible navy blue, and the bushes in the garden have been trimmed back, leaving clean and efficient landscaping.

Elsa is impressed by all of this, though, with the headache throbbing low across her brow, she probably doesn't look it. It'll easily be one of the largest homes she's ever visited, and the old world grandeur of the estate is discomfiting for a backwater, blue collar Pennsylvania girl. She peers around nervously in the entryway as Mrs. McIntosh ushers them in, fussing about the cold air flooding the first floor hallway.

"Come in! Come in! Hurry up, Benjamin, you'll let in the chill! Lea put your scarf there, darling, that's it's. Oh, Mark, how are you? Lovely to see you all again. Kathy, come here and hug your decrepit old mother."

"Decrepit? Mom, you're as spry as a 60 year old!"

"Very funny. Very funny. A joker just like your father. Ah! And who is this gorgeous young lady?" Two wrinkled old hands shove Anna and Ben aside, and Elsa finds herself frozen under the scrutiny of two watery, light blue eyes.

Mrs. McIntosh is a tiny woman, standing at 5'3" with thin, bird-like appendages and narrow shoulders that are just beginning to hunch from age. A pair of sturdy, but stylish tortoise shell glasses, filled with lenses as thick as magnifying glasses, rest on her delicately sloping nose, and her hair is thick and snow white, curving in just enough to tickle her jaw where it's been chopped short. She's wearing a string of pearls, a crisp, white blouse and a navy cardigan, and over it all, a green, pinstripe apron with a rather realistic turkey embroidered on the front.

Anna elbows Elsa, and she startles out of her trance, eyes darting instinctively to Anna, before sliding back to her expectant, if not somewhat intimidating grandmother.

"What's your name?" Mrs. McIntosh repeats, quirking a brow.

"Um. Elsa." She swallows nervously and holds out her hand.

The hand that accepts hers is cool and dry, the skin papery like the page of a book. "Elsa what?"

"Larsen?"

"Is that a question?"

"No?"

Mrs. McIntosh smiles sharply and brings her other hand up to clasp Elsa's hand between hers. "Nice to meet you, Elsa Larsen. Swedish, I presume?"

"Danish, on my Dad's side."

"I see. Well, I welcome you to my ancestral home," Mrs. McIntosh lifts an arm and waves it, in a grand, sweeping motion around the entryway, "where three generations of McIntoshes have lived and died."

"Thank you," Elsa says, politely. "You have a lovely home."

"I ought to with all the upkeep this rat trap requires."

"Um-"

"-Oh, and please, dear, just call me Nana. Mrs. McIntosh is such a long string of letters, don't you agree?" She gives Elsa's hand one last tremulous squeeze before turning a sharp glare on Anna. "And where have you been, missy? You skip off to college for one semester and I don't hear from you even once?"

Anna blushes crimson, and Elsa bites her lip. "Sorry, Nana. I got carried away."

"I'll say. Come here and give your old grandmother a hug!" She sweeps Anna into her arms with more strength than Elsa initially judged her capable of, then kisses her cheek. "Really," she says, sternly, "what will I do with you?"

Madison comes through the door with the last bit of luggage, Ryder on her heels, and Nana makes the rest of her rounds, hugging and squeezing and smiling. While she does this, Elsa finally notices that the air is savory and rich with spices, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and cardamom. It goes straight to her head. Her stomach growls plaintively.

Anna sidles up to her and leans in close as if they're about to confer about something politically sensitive. "How're you feeling?" she murmurs. "Are you hungry?"

Elsa has to think about it. "Maybe? I can't tell if I'm nauseous or hungry."

"That means you're definitely hungry. You'll feel better once you eat."

"If you say so."

"I'll ask Nana if she has any snacks around."

"Okay, thanks."

"Don't thank me. It's my fault you feel like crap."

"What? How is this your fault?"

"You don't have to be nice about it, okay? I know I made you upset."

"Anna-"

"-Later, Elce." Anna's eyes flash. "We'll talk about it later."

Elsa glances up as Nana laughs brightly at something Ryder has said, and briefly catches Madison's eye. Her gaze flicks away, and Elsa's stomach flips. Madison's watching them. Elsa works her bottom lip between her teeth. The attention is unusual. She'd probably be watching too if she were in Madison's shoes, but it's weird and jarring to think about anything they do as the target of outside scrutiny. Their relationship runs hot and cold. It's as intimate as it is distant. Their patterns are erratic and their conversations are full of unspoken understandings, secrets that neither of them dare acknowledge out loud. Elsa hardly understands it herself, hardly understands Anna. It's difficult to imagine what it must look like from the outside, how it must appear to Anna's observant younger sister.

A flash of panic chills her for a moment.

What if she already knows?

"Oh my god," Elsa mutters.

Anna frowns. "What?"

"Last night. Your sister. I-"

"-Are you kids hungry?" Nana's crisp voice carries over their muted conversation. "I can whip up some sandwiches for everybody if you'd like? I only just put the turkey in 20 minutes ago, so we won't be eating until six."

"That would be great, Mom." Kathy shoulders her bag and reaches over to brush Ryder's messy blonde hair out of his face. "I'll get everyone settled upstairs. Mark, do you mind helping her with lunch?"

Mark shrugs. "Sure."

"Thank you." Kathy turns around and immediately starts marshalling the troops. "Madison, Ben, let's go. You two are sharing a room with Ryder and Lea."

"But Mom-"

"-No buts. Ben, you can try to negotiate with Maddie for the twin bed or take the air mattress. It's up to you."

Madison smirks. "I ain't budgin'."

Ben groans. "Can't I just sleep on the couch? My feet hang off the end of the air mattress."

"Suit yourself, but Nana gets up at six. You won't get any sleep." Kathy turns to the younger kids. "Ryder, Lea, you two have the bunk beds."

"Does one of you wanna trade a bunk for the air mattress?"

Ryder perks up. "I'll do it if you let me play on your 3DS."

"Okay, but only two hours tops, and no Pokemon. Last time you saved over my game."

"Three hours or no deal."

Ben's face contorts, but at last he sighs and crosses his arms. "Fine."

Kathy smirks and gives a single nod. "Glad we could sort that out with some good old fashioned diplomacy. Alright, Ben, Ryder, grab the extra blankets and the sleeping bag and haul those up. Oh, and Ben, please help Ryder get the air mattress set up." She turns, fingers raised like an air traffic controller. "Maddie, Lea, grab the pillows and take those up as well, please. Let's try to clear this hallway before everyone else gets here."

"Where are Natalie and Gordon gonna sleep?"

"Either with their parents or with you guys. You can sort it out when they get here." Kathy pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and sighs as everyone starts tromping up the stairs with armfuls of bags and bedding. "Anna, I'm sorry, but we're gonna put you guys in the attic. You'll have to rough it on the futon. Elsa, I apologize in advance for the spiders."

"I sprayed for spiders this year!" Nana calls out from the kitchen. "It shouldn't be a problem!"

"Oh! Well, it looks like you're in luck."

Anna makes a face. "I'll believe it when I see it. Or, actually, when I don't see it."

"Sorry. Adam and Stephanie always take the second guest room, and Blake and Rosa are staying with the kids this year so they've got the den."

"It's fine, Mom. We'll survive."

"I packed some flannel sheets and an extra down comforter for you two in case it gets too cold."

"Nana bought a space heater last year, remember?"

Kathy makes a face. "It's supposed to dip into the low 20s tonight."

Anna turns to Elsa wearing a sharp little smile. "Looks like we're gonna be cuddle buddies tonight, Elce."

Elsa blinks, and Anna's smile falters as she seems to realize the extent of what she's implied. An awkward silence falls over them. Kathy's eyes jump back and forth, curiously.

"Can I...carry anything?" Elsa asks, to break the tension."

"Uh." Anna shakes herself out of her stupor and glances around.

"It looks like the boys already took everything up," Kathy says, turning to climb up the stairs. "It'll all be in the green room."

"The green room?" Elsa asks.

Anna shoulders her ridiculously heavy bag and grunts under the weight of it. "It used to be my Uncle Blake's room. Nana never repainted it. It's still like, this neon green color."

"Nice. Sounds bright."

"The walls basically glow." Anna starts up the stairs, old steps creaking under her feet, and Elsa follows with her own, considerably lighter bag. "Fortunately for us, the attic will be much gloomier."

Elsa shivers and hopes the futon is at least as big as a queen sized bed.

/-/-/-/-/

It's nearly 2:00 pm before she gets to take a shower.

More people are arriving every hour and the house is full to bursting with aunts, uncles, kids, and dogs. Elsa's even sure she saw a grey cat slinking around the corner in the upstairs hallway. Footsteps thump up and down the staircase like some chaotic rhythm. Pots and pans clang in the kitchen over the chatter of conversation and hum of the dishwasher. Anna's toddler cousin, Lucia, has been banging erratically on her Fisher Price piano for half an hour and the men in the living room keep cheering over a football game. The excitable golden doodle that showed up with the Doyles barks like mad whenever the doorbell rings, and everything in the whole house smells like turkey. It's loud and a little bit suffocating and a lot overwhelming. Elsa barely has the stamina to keep up with everyone's names as they parade past her.

She's too tired for this.

She feels like she's literally stewing in last night's sweat and grime before she finally builds up the courage to ask Kathy about the bathroom situation.

"A shower?" Kathy looks up from the biscuit dough she's kneading on the dark, stone countertop. "I don't see why not. Where's Anna?"

Elsa shrugs helplessly. "I'm not sure."

Truthfully, she lost track of Anna over an hour ago when Aunt Rosa showed up with three little girls. Something about helping them pick out their dresses for dinner? She hasn't seen Ben or Lea either. Ryder is still parked on the living room sofa with his head in Ben's Nintendo 3DS.

Kathy glances around the kitchen. "Here, I'll have Maddie-... Madison!" She shoves an aimless cousin aside (Alex?) and beckons to Madison, who is slouched against the wall in the breakfast nook, gossiping with another female cousin Elsa can't remember the name of. "Madison!"

Madison looks up, catches Elsa's eye, then pushes off the wall and makes her way through the bustling kitchen. "Yeah, Mom?"

"Will you show Elsa which bathroom to use? She wants to take a shower."

Madison glances at Elsa curiously. "Sure. Where's Anna?"

"She's gone AWOL," Kathy replies, dryly, and shoos them away.

Elsa shrinks under Madison's curious gaze for a minute. By now she remembers most of the conversation they had the night before, what she almost gave away. She has not one, but two dirty secrets to keep now. God, she's in over her head.

"You two never quite seem to be on the same page," Madison remarks, archly, then starts off towards the stairs. "C'mon. I'll show you."

"Thanks."

"I'd bet twenty bucks Anna went to the store with Uncle James to help him pick up the wine. He always buys her the booze she likes."

"Is it a secret?"

"What do you think?"

"Yes?"

Madison nods. They pass through into the foyer and Madison starts up the stairs. "Does she drink a lot at school?"

"Um… sometimes."

"So, basically, yes." Madison shakes her head. "God, she thinks she's so sneaky, but Mom and Dad are only ones who don't know that she never actually stopped."

Elsa follows her up, glancing around for anyone that might overhear them. "Stopped drinking?"

Madison throws her an odd glance over her shoulder. "Yeah."

"When did she start?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, but Mom caught her once senior year and made her swear it off. I think she just got better at hiding it." When they reach the second floor landing Madison pulls her in closer. "By the way, she's not in any trouble is she?"

Elsa blinks in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Like, you know. Trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Any kind of trouble. That's what I'm asking you." Madison rolls her eyes. "You were way less uptight when you were drunk."

Elsa blushes furiously. "Yeah, listen, about that. I was being a massive drama queen about everything last night. I'm not really a criminal, or...anything."

Madison laughs. "I know. It's okay." She stops in front of a plain white door at the end of the hall and pushes it open. "Here it is. This is the best shower in the house. The water won't randomly go hot and cold on you."

Elsa nods her appreciation. "I'm a big fan of that."

"I'll guard it for you while you go get some clean clothes."

"Thanks."

Madison shrugs. "It's the least I can do after last night. You were a mess."

"Yeah…" Elsa winces. "And if you could not tell anyone about that ever, I'd be eternally grateful."

Madison smirks. "You mean like Anna?"

"Um, well, not exactly. Anna already knows."

Madison's eyes narrow. "What's going on with you two?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've both been acting weird since you got here. Did you have a fight or something? You guys were all cuddled up on the ride here, but then she goes and ditches you the first chance she gets."

Elsa blanches. "It's-… Not exactly."

"Not exactly what?"

"It's nothing, I just-" Elsa waves her hands around a bit, searching for something convincing to say. "I don't like Hans. We disagreed about him, is all. He's just too…"

"Too much of a controlling douche?" Madison scoffs. "Yeah."

"Right." Elsa echoes, nodding. "Douche."

She must not sell her agreement very well, or maybe her conflicted emotions are showing on her face, because Madison gives her an odd look, then wrinkles her nose.

"Elsa, you don't like… You guys aren't like, fighting over him or anything, right?"

"Oh my god, no!"

Elsa figures she must look genuinely disgusted because Madison grins "Okay, just checking. Go get your clothes. I'll wait here."

"Okay," Elsa grimaces again for emphasis. "Thanks."

If only you knew, she thinks to herself, and climbs the attic stairs.

/-/-/-/-/

At 2:45 PM she flops down on the futon in the attic with damp hair and promptly falls asleep. The house is loud and full of people, and the dog is still barking in the yard, but she could probably pass out in a warzone. She's that tired.

She wakes up to the sound of someone rifling around through the bags. A shoe clatters against the floor heel first and Elsa groans, peeling her clammy eyelids back. The sun is beginning to set through the little, round window over the bed, and the peaked, wooden ceiling is awash in gold.

"Hey, sunshine!" Anna's smiling face appears directly overhead and Elsa blinks. "Get a nice little nap in?"

Elsa frowns. Anna's voice is too bright, too chipper. It's not quite right. They don't talk to each other like this unless…

Wait.

Elsa sits up and spots an unknown cousin lurking in the doorway. Elsa's face falls because, of course. Anna always gets like this when someone else is around.

"Who's that?" Elsa slurs, yawning.

The girl looks her over cooly. "Shannon."

"Oh." Elsa blinks a bit at her tepid response. "Hi. I'm Elsa."

"I know who you are." Shannon looks bored. "Anna's told me all about you."

Surprised, but mostly confused, Elsa turns to look at Anna, who is suddenly very busy pawing through her clothes. "Really?"

Shannon just smirks and peels herself off the doorframe. "Come on, Anna. Hurry up."

Anna holds up a bundle of wool socks triumphantly and glances over her shoulder. "I'm coming, just give me a sec. Oh, hey, Elsa!" Anna hooks her thumb toward the backyard. "Do you wanna build a snowman?"

"Oh, um," Elsa rubs her eyes, "not right now."

"Ah, okay. Maybe later, then."

Anna looks vaguely disappointed and Elsa feels a sharp pang in her chest. Did she say the wrong thing? Sure, she's tired, but maybe she should've just said yes? They've never really done this before. Their relationship has always been such a private, intimate thing, and this public Anna, Anna with her family all around her, is a complete enigma. They don't know how to be around each other except in secret, and it's starting to show. Their interactions are strained and awkward, like dance steps out of sync.

Shannon's eyes track between them. "'Kay, well, I'm heading downstairs. Don't take forever or we'll start without you."

"I know, I know."

Anna goes over to close the door once Shannon leaves and Elsa is struck by two things right away. One, the house is relatively quiet, and two, she's really cold.

"Shit," she mutters. "It's freezing."

"That's because you're not wearing a shirt," Anna comments, back to pawing through her stuff.

Elsa glances down at her torso, covered in nothing but a pale blue bra and half of the shirt that's still clutched in her left hand. She sits up and rolls off the futon, popping at least ten stiff vertebrae in her spine as she does so. Anna glances furtively in her direction, but otherwise continues to keep her back strategically turned away.

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah." Elsa cracks her neck. "As well as anyone could on that thing."

Anna chuckles. "I got us a foam pad at the store. It should help."

Elsa's bare fleet collect a bit of dust as she moves around the cramped little attic toward her bag. "Is that where you went all afternoon?"

"It wasn't all afternoon."

"It sure felt like it. Your family is huge." Elsa sidles up behind Anna, knelt over her bag on the exposed wooden floor. "Also, you never told me you were leaving."

"Sorry, I-" Anna's words fail her as she finally looks up, wide eyes freezing on Elsa's pale chest. "Oh."

Elsa swallows thickly. Oh, indeed.

"Blue really is your color."

"Thanks."

"...Is that a new bra?"

"No, but nice try."

Anna's eyes slide away. "You're doing this on purpose."

"What? Being shirtless?"

Anna glances at the door, shoulders tensing. "There are literally a dozen people down there who could burst into this room at any moment."

Elsa licks her lips. "So?"

"So," Anna sucks in a deep breath, "this would look really suspicious."

"We're just changing." Elsa shrugs, belying the obvious tension in the air.

"Together?"

"Yeah. It's not like it's weird. We're roommates."

"True…"

Elsa reaches past Anna to pluck a sweatshirt from her bag. "What time is it?"

Anna's teal eyes follow her movements hungrily. "Four-ish."

"We eat at six?"

"Um… Yeah."

Elsa brushes up lightly against Anna's shoulder as she makes to pull back, but Anna's expression darkens unexpectedly, like a cloud passing over the sun. The air between them thickens in an instant. Their eyes meet. Their lips part, and Elsa knows. She can feel it crackling along her skin. Anna's hand shoots out to palm Elsa's breast, and she gasps in surprise. She's never been touched like this before. It's the most exposed she's felt since their torrid first encounter, but her instinctual attempt to withdraw is futile. Tenacious fingers slip under the fabric cup, fumbling over her left nipple, and she pitches forward, bracing herself on Anna's shoulder.

"Whoa."

Sparks shoot outward into Elsa's chest, rattling her ribcage. She exhales, raggedly, shuddering as Anna strokes with deft fingertips, pinching the bud into a stiff point before withdrawing and moving onto the other.

"Your skin's so soft," Anna whispers, entranced.

Elsa's grip on Anna's shoulder tightens like a vise. She has half a mind to pull back, but Anna's fingers continue to swirl, pinch, and tug until everything else fades to the back, her fatigue, her uncertainty, her lingering headache. She isn't thinking about her principles. She isn't thinking about Hans. She isn't thinking about the house full of strange people below or the relative fluidity of their relationship. Her entire universe exists on the pad of Anna's index finger as it circles her swollen areola. Her body throbs and her thoughts turn to static and just like that, she's helpless.

She's wide open.

She's wide open and everything is rushing in, filling her up, pressing against her bones and organs, expanding until the pressure is nearly painful. She'll burst if she stays like this. She'll burst like this.

"Anna."

Her plea lights a fire.

Anna grabs her shoulders, shoves her flat on her back against the cold, rough floorboards, and tears off Elsa's bra like it's made of dental floss. Her fingernails carve red trails into Elsa's skin, until it smarts, until her chest heaves. The pain mingles with the sparks like a molotov cocktail, lit and ready to throw. Like this, it's struggle just to breathe, but Anna's teal eyes rake over her, and Elsa feels like a work of art. She arches and moans as Anna kneads her greedily, two hands warm and soft on her breasts, a stark, and thrilling, contrast to the frigid, hard boards digging into her back. Her head lolls to the side and she breathes out against the floor, lips parted, lashes fluttering. It's too much. It's not enough. She needs more, and, of course, Anna knows it. She straddles Elsa's hips with ease, pinning Elsa's wrists above her head as she bends over her torso, silky tendrils of red hair tickling her bare skin. Hot lips slip along the outer ring of cartilage around her ear, and Elsa writhes.

A silky whisper slithers down Elsa's spine and curls around her toes. "You seem pretty eager for someone who just wants to be friends."

Elsa gasps like the helpless captive she is.

Fuck their labels. She wants to come.

Her answer is a low, keening whine, lips pressed tight together, thighs clenched to apply a bit of pressure to the throb building between her legs. Anna kisses her jaw, then bites her earlobe, and Elsa cries out into a curtain of red hair, sweet and enveloping, nearly cloying to her raw senses.

The pressure leaves her wrists, and a strong hand clamps over her mouth. "Shhh. You have to be quiet. Can you do it?"

Elsa nods, just a stiff, uncoordinated jerk of her chin, but she can't keep her promise. She groans against Anna's hand as a hot tongue swirls around her left nipple. Her fingers scrabble against Anna's back. Electricity crackles along her nerve endings like live wires, and her body shudders to relieve the sting. She has a matter of seconds to adjust to this new stimulation before Anna sucks the stiff, pulsing bud into her scorching mouth, and Elsa nearly loses her mind. Black dots appear at the edges of her vision. Her fingers tug, ruthlessly, at Anna's wild hair. Her back arches and bends away from Anna's merciless, rhythmic sucking, but Anna only follows her mark. She lavishes attention on Elsa's body like she's starved for it, and only when Elsa's legs are violently shaking does she switch sides, licking across the gulf in Elsa's chest like a hungry wolf. She flicks with her tongue, and swirls, and laps. She licks from the underside of Elsa's breasts and moans as she crests each pointed peak, before consuming her prize again.

Elsa is…

Elsa is crying against Anna's hand. Elsa is out of her goddamn mind.

Anna releases Elsa's nipple with a wet pop, and exhales roughly against her chest. Elsa's body convulses.

"You're so vocal today," Anna kisses her sternum.

Elsa mumbles against Anna's hand until Anna releases her hold. She sucks in a breath. "Jeez... I can't help it." Elsa's eyelids flutter, and she rolls her hips to accentuate her point. "You attacked me."

"You surrendered."

Elsa snorts and lets her head fall back against the floorboards. "It was a pretty swift assault. I doubt anyone could resist that."

Anna smiles and kisses her temple, lips wandering down across her cheek, finishing with a punctual peck beneath her eye. "Are you calling me irresistible?"

Elsa's fingers glide through red curls. "Difficult to resist, maybe."

"Same thing." Anna's lips flutter south along her jaw. "I had no idea your boobs were so sensitive."

Elsa shivers. "More than yours?"

"Definitely. Do you think you could come just from this?"

Elsa glances up and meets Anna's eyes, curious and dark, flicking back and forth across her face.

"I have no idea," Elsa murmurs, flushing, and Anna's gaze flickers.

Her eyes drop to Elsa's lips, and her lashes flutter, and Elsa realizes half a second too late what's about to happen. Everything about this encounter has been more intimate than the others, less perfunctory, less mechanical, but, somehow, every bit as reckless.

She really should've predicted this. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

Her first kiss.

Light explodes behind her eyes, and finally, after all this time, Elsa understands the analogies about fireworks. Anna's mouth isn't hesitant, but it's soft. Painfully soft. Elsa bends up instinctively into the kiss and Anna sighs out through her nose, hands clutching at Elsa's face, hair falling in crimson waves around them. The moment is still and warm, and the pressure between them increases gradually, until Elsa can taste Anna on her tongue, until every cell in her body is singing. It doesn't matter that she's never done this before. She follows her instincts, follows Anna's lead, chasing Anna's lips when she tries to pull away. It's surprisingly simple. She can do this. She can be good at this, too. Her heart pounds and her fingers throb. She couldn't pull herself back even if she wanted to, even she wanted to pretend she had some semblance of control. It's all happening too fast to process, too fast to think.

Anna flicks her tongue and Elsa unravels. Teeth scrape her bottom lip and Elsa gasps into Anna's mouth. The energy between them begins to shift, slowly at first, picking up speed like a ball rolling downhill. Elsa moves and Anna moves with her. Their hands fumble and grasp. The weight of Anna pressed fully along Elsa's torso quickly becomes completely overwhelming. Elsa's hips to undulate of their own accord, to compensate, to vent some of the fire building in her chest. Anna's tongue probes between her lips, and she parts them without question, hands sliding down to the small of Anna's back, where the hem of Anna's shirt waits to be lifted up and stripped away, bringing them skin to skin for the first time. Elsa shivers with the thrill of it, something she never realized she wanted so badly until now, with Anna's saliva drying on her chest, Anna's tongue in her mouth, their kisses now decidedly sloppy. She hooks her fingers into the fabric and lifts, pulling, inch by inch, until Anna's back is bare up to her shoulder blades. Elsa wraps her arms around Anna's waist, pulls their bodies tight together, and Anna groans.

Finally. Skin on Skin.

It's so fucking good, the friction, the heat. Elsa needs more. Her fingers fumble over Anna's bra strap, searching for the clasp just as Anna's teeth close over her bottom lip.

She jolts against Anna's lips. "Ah!"

Anna breaks away to breathe, but her thighs have started to grind with Elsa's hips, eyes screwed shut, jaw slack. Sweat beads along her hairline. She braces her palm against Elsa's sternum and rides her slowly, focus fixed with laser-like intensity on the rhythm she's grinding out against Elsa's abdomen.

Elsa's starting to get floorburn on her back, and oh…

That's what Amy Winehouse was talking about.

"Shit," Anna whispers, breathless and tense, "shit, I'm gonna make myself come like this."

"So do it," Elsa urges, breathlessly. "Make yourself come."

Anna huffs a shaky laugh. "Wouldn't that be too easy?"

"I like watching."

"Perve."

"Only with you."

Anna blinks, and her eyes shimmer unexpectedly. She swoops down and hovers centimeters above Elsa's swollen lips, hot breath tickling Elsa's skin, Elsa's wild hair. They kiss slowly, and it's so painfully measured, so excruciatingly controlled, Elsa is gasping as Anna breaks away, eyes glassy in the fading light, dipping back down to tip their flushed foreheads together.

Elsa shivers. "Was it something I said?"

Anna pecks her lips, then lingers, mouth moving against Elsa's slowly, languorously, as she whispers, "I'd rather feel you in me," and takes Elsa's tongue into her mouth.

Elsa's eyes roll back into her head.

The electricity that shoots through her limbs is nearly painful. She groans, but she's aware of only Anna's lascivious sucking, and nothing else. Her fingernails dig into the small of Anna's back, eliciting a powerful thrust, an instinctive trembling. Her core pulses with one great throb, and suddenly she can feel it, the hot rush of fluid between her legs.

She breaks away, gasping. "Shit!"

Anna reaches down and grips her, over her sodden underwear. "Oh my god, babe. Maybe we better do you first."

Elsa bites her lip until it stings, moaning through her teeth as Anna lifts herself up slightly and slips her hand under the elastic waistband. Her hips jump. Her mouth falls open. Anna delves in with all her fingers at once, slipping, sliding, swirling.

"Oh god!" Elsa's fingers wind into Anna's hair. "Oh god, oh god!"

She's already alarmingly close. She feels like she's falling off the edge already. She has no actual idea what her body's doing, how it's moving. Anna's the maestro, breathing hard, forehead flush with Elsa's sternum as she strokes, swiftly, drawing Elsa's hips up with each deft swipe of her fingers.

So close.

So close, so close, so close.

Jesus christ she's losing it. Her hands are pulling Anna's hair so hard it absolutely has to hurt, and it's not enough. It's not nearly enough.

"Oh, my god, Elsa." Anna moans against her chest.

She bites into Elsa's skin and sucks until Elsa curses aloud, then angles her wrist, and swirls two fingers over Elsa's entrance.

"Ah!" Elsa's nails claw down Anna's naked back.

"I know, baby. I know." Anna kisses her chest. "I'm gonna put you out of your misery."

And she does. Oh, god, she does. Elsa nearly bites her own tongue off when Anna finally slides two fingers deep inside, twisting and curling to hit places that have her seeing spots. A firm hand clamps down over her mouth, and, vaguely, she's aware of Anna shushing her, but it's all so far away from the pressure building in her abdomen. Anna slides out and Elsa whines, only to shudder when Anna re-enters her with three, pumping in and out slowly this time, picking up speed as Elsa's hips jump to meet each stroke. Anna uses her own hips for leverage, thrusting harder, thrusting deeper, panting from the effort, and it's incredible. Elsa is flying.

Her underwear is halfway down her legs.

Her eyes are halfway in her head.

Her spine is halfway off the floor.

The amount of energy in her body is uncontainable. Anna pumps in hard, one last time, and it's like pulling the pin on a grenade. Elsa's explosion is a silent bomb, a silent scream, arching up and over, tipping onto her side in a sweaty, shuddering heap, with teal eyes and red hair and slick, freckled skin pressed fast against her chest. She's crying. She's gasping.

She's ruined.

She's...not entirely conscious.

Elsa closes her eyes and lets the current take her.

Anna is whispering into her shoulder, pressing kisses into the side of her neck, but she's barely present for it. She's on another plane. It's impossible to say how long she floats.

The aches and pains gradually make themselves known. Chaffed skin throbs lightly along her back, and she wonders, for a moment, licking her chapped lips, whether sex is supposed to be like this, this powerful, this good. Because if this is what everyone loses their minds over, then, god, it all makes so much sense.

Her vision swims as she blinks up at the dark ceiling, coming down slowly, returning to Earth. Anna's brought her here before, but it's different this time. It's more than an orgasm. It's-

A faint buzzing sound filters into her awareness. A phone.

Anna's hand scrabbles around on the floor until she finds it, and holds the screen up to her face. Her eyes widen so fast it's almost comical.

"Uh oh." Anna untangles herself and sits up. "Shit." She pushes her fingers through her unruly red hair.

Elsa's voice is hoarse, cracking on the last syllable as she asks, "what's wrong?"

"Did we really just...?" Anna pauses for a moment, gears turning in her head. "Shit, I've gotta- I was supposed to..." She glances at Elsa, sweaty and panicked. "I've gotta go."

Elsa pushes herself up, naked, sticky, and bewildered. "Wait, what's wrong?"

Anna's eyes widen. "We didn't even lock the door. And these floorboards are thin! What the hell was I thinking?"

"I...don't know if there was much thinking involved." Elsa takes her wrist, but Anna brushes her off. "C'mon, Anna, we've hooked up in the library like, three times. This isn't even the riskiest thing we've done."

"This isn't a bunch of strangers in the library, Elsa, it's my family!"

"So we lock the door."

"I can't-" Anna shakes her head. "I was supposed to meet Shannon downstairs like twenty minutes ago."

"It's already been this long, let me do you first." Elsa hates how desperate she sounds. "It'll only take a couple minutes."

Anna just keeps shaking her head, eyes sliding toward, but never quite meeting Elsa's. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

Anna bites her lip, and Elsa feels the recoil from that tiny movement like a slap to the face. The aches and pains in her body resurge with renewed vengeance. Her eyes sting.

"Don't go."

"Elsa..."

"Please?" Elsa reaches for her arm, but Anna's already pulling away, eyes wild as she staggers to her feet, cheeks flushed, hair askew.

"I'll see you at dinner," she says, casting about for a jacket and some gloves before she turns and flees the room.

The door slams behind her.

Elsa's hands tremble as she lies back against the cold floor.

/-/-/-/-/

Emotional damage control looks a lot like hell freezing over, an icy cap on the the maelstrom of black feelings in her heart.

Elsa glares down at the hickies on her chest. Her anger is bitter and cold. It's not like she ever dared to hope anything good would come of all this, but the disappointment stings just the same. She was warned, and she didn't listen.

There was a time, maybe, when she could've gotten out unscathed, but that window closed fast. Now, despite everything, she still wants. She wants desperately. She'd take Anna again in a heartbeat. She'd choke down all her anger and her hurt with a smile on her face to buy 20 more minutes together. It's a lost cause. There's no escaping the flood. She's already in over her head, and she's not a particularly strong swimmer.

Elsa sighs raggedly. This, she guesses, is what it feels like to be an addict.

She experiences a stark moment of sympathy for her wretchedly meth-addicted father, and, suddenly, is terrified of the lengths to which she might go for a repeat of what just happened on the attic floor. Rock bottom used to be the barrel of a smoking gun, but now that she can clearly go lower, what does that really mean anymore?

Elsa sits up and lets her head tip back, eyes closed, mouth ajar. The room is so cold she's shivering, and it cuts through the despair like a knife, giving her something to hold on to. It's enough. She can pull herself up with just this much. She's fought back with even less before.

Once she's gotten to her feet and found her clothes, she opens her phone and squints down at the screen. No new calls. Three new text messages. Nothing from her mom. Elsa ignores her texts and taps out a quick line to Jenny.

you were right. we should talk.

The phone gets chucked back into her bag and forgotten.

/-/-/-/-/

It's obvious enough when dinner's ready. A fever pitch of noise swells up from the ground floor as everyone crowds into the dining room, and Elsa finally works up the courage to head downstairs.

She's covered in goosebumps, and everything hurts, but she's armored herself in a large, red flannel and braided her hair. It's about as ready as she'll ever be to face Anna's family with a post-orgasm buzz, an emotional hangover, and an incriminating soreness between her legs. On the bright side, at least Hans won't be there to further complicate things. She and Anna had once hooked up in the library bathroom only to come back and find him waiting at the table with Anna's books. It was the kind of uncomfortable Elsa couldn't scrub off in the shower.

Lord knows she tried.

It's warmer on the main level, almost stuffy, with the savory aroma of turkey and spices percolating in the air. The dining room is crowded with family members chatting and jostling over seating arrangements, and Elsa's able to slip into the fray virtually unnoticed. The dog is barking again, and there's a second one now, a little white Bichon mix bounding after the youngest cousins as they dart between chairs in their fancy holiday outfits. The adults are dressed in various sorts of attire ranging from the posh stylings of the Upper East side to the functional garb of the perpetually hiking people of Maine. Not to be outdone, Nana McIntosh floats through the room in a sleeveless, boat-neck cocktail dress, lavender pashmina, and pearls. The only items missing from her look, Elsa thinks, are a long-stemmed cigarette holder, and a martini. She looks like a 60s socialite.

"Elsa, dear!" She holds out her hand as she floats past and tugs Elsa into a tight, side-armed hug. "I'm so glad you could join us! Do try some of the stuffing, would you? It's a family recipe!"

"O-of course!"

"Good, good!"

She sails on past to the next guest and Elsa cradles the spark of warmth in her chest. So far Nana has done a better job making her feel welcome than her own granddaughter.

Everything reaches a fever pitch when Anna's father, Mark, enters the room carrying the turkey on a silver tray. Elsa's eyes widen. It's the largest cooked turkey she's ever seen, and even if the rest of the room is less awed than she is by the size of it, they do seem to hold a particular reverence for the event. The crowd begins to clear as people find their seats, and that's when Elsa finally spots Anna in all the chaos, slipping out of the kitchen behind her mom with a silver tea kettle full of gravy clutched between two oven mitts. She catches Elsa's eye for only a fleeting moment, before strategically taking the last chair in the corner at the end, as far away from Elsa as possible.

Elsa arches a critical brow.

Apparently, her roommate isn't above being transparently ridiculous.

Irked, Elsa takes one of the open seats at the opposite end of the table with Anna's uncles, and ends up sandwiched in the middle of an argument about the Jets and the Bills, specifically whether or not Rex Ryan "deserves to be punted off the top of Niagara Falls". No sooner has she grasped that they're talking about a head coach when a light clinking sound lilts up from the opposite end of the long table.

"Everyone, your attention please!" The room falls silent as all eyes turn to look at Nana, standing regally with a glass of wine in hand at the head of the table. "Before we eat, I would like, first of all, to express how grateful I am for Mark's continuing good health." She nods at Anna's father, whose expression is serious, if not a bit sheepish. "Just last week the doctors confirmed that his cancer is still in remission, and if that's not a holiday miracle, I don't know what is!"

A round of applause goes up from the table as the family responds with a chorus of cheers and affirmations, complete with smiles and a few well aimed claps on the back. Mark and Kathy accept them graciously. Elsa's eyes slide to Anna, despite herself, but all she finds is a flawless smile.

It looks a little too flawless.

"I was also informed not too long ago that my incorrigible son, Devon," Nana gives a bemused little shake of her head, "has finally asked John to marry him, so congratulations to you both! May you spend many happy years growing old and fat together!"

A chorus of "here here!" and "it's about time!" rise up from the table between laughs. Two men in the middle of the table beam at their audience and share a brief kiss. Elsa's stomach flips a bit. Despite her own hazy sexuality, she's a small town girl. Her experience with other homosexuals has been extremely limited.

"And last, but not least, a big thank you to all of you for making the trip up here this year. I cannot express to you how fortunate I feel to have such a beautiful family gathered here around me." Nana waves an arm out over their upturned faces, then lifts her glass, eyes sparkling in the soft light. "I love you all dearly, god bless this food, etcetera, etcetera. Now, I'm hungry! Let's eat!"

A delighted cheer goes up from the table as conversations pick up again and silverware clatters against plates. Elsa dutifully passes the dishes as they come around, sweet potatoes, stuffing, rolls, mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, turkey, and cranberry sauce. She's hungry despite her nerves and her suspiciously acidic stomach. Her hungover, post-coital, nutrient-depleted body is craving food. She takes a bite of the stuffing first and blinks at her plate, astonished.

It's unbelievably good. She might be ruined for all other stuffing.

"I say he'd make a good commentator," one uncle continues, as if they hadn't be interrupted, "let ESPN hire him or something, but he's a terrible head coach, that's for sure. Him and his brother both. They squandered a perfectly good defense this year!"

"Now you know why the Jets were so quick to be rid of him."

"Yeah, well, Todd Bowles isn't looking to be such a hot replacement anymore, but we'll see how that one plays out."

"If we could just dump Fitz already and draft a decent quarterback-"

"-What, like Sanchez? Or Geno?"

The table around Elsa bursts into laughter, startling her into quirking a polite smile. She's only half listening anyway. Between focusing on her food and stealing furtive glances at Anna, her attention is fairly divided.

"Not a football fan?" asks a voice in her ear.

Elsa turns to find one of Anna's uncles smiling over at her expectantly. He's a doughy man with a trimmed beard and reddish brown hair that's been combed straight back over his scalp. His broad shoulders prevent his blue oxford shirt from fitting quite right. His bulky, muscular arms are nearly bulging out of the sleeves.

"Oh, I sort of am," Elsa curls her fingers into the hem of her shirt, "but I only really know about the Steelers."

"Ah." He nods. "You from Pennsylvania?"

"Yeah. A little town outside Pittsburgh."

"Nice. I used to live in Collingswood, just east of Philly."

"I'm...vaguely familiar with the area. It's James, right?" she asks, politely, and he nods with a smile.

"Yep." His voice is mild and honey sweet. "Elsa?"

She reminds herself to smile. "Yes, you remembered."

"Of course, I did. You're the only new face around here, after all."

"Oh, yeah." She blushes a bit, and James watches her rather intently. She hurries on. "Um, so, I was curious about something, actually."

"Sure!" He smiles again.

"Mark, Anna's dad, he was sick?"

"Yeah." James reaches for a roll, tears it in half, and drags it through the lake of gravy on his plate. "About four years ago now. They diagnosed him with stage four lung cancer. Gave him two months to live."

Elsa's eyes widen reflexively. "Oh, wow."

"Yeah. Bad right?" He shoves the roll in his mouth. "But, obviously, things worked out." James smiles as he chews, and Elsa returns it robotically.

Her gaze darts back to Anna.

Four years ago Anna would have been a freshman in high school, which means while Elsa was getting the snot beaten out of her with a belt, Anna was probably watching her father go through chemo.

Two months…

Elsa knows what it's like to lose a parent, even a terrible, abusive one. She wouldn't wish it on anyone. The practiced smile on Anna's face. The theatrical cheerfulness. The fleeting darkness behind her eyes.

It's all starting to add up.

Anna is still smiling while everyone else eats. There's an itch in the back of Elsa's mind, a quiet instinct telling her to keep tugging at the thread, to pull until the mysteries unravel, but James is trying to talk to her about school, and she can't think about it anymore right now.

She digs into her mashed potatoes and focuses on small talk.

/-/-/-/-/

She doesn't slip away until after dinner when everyone separates into groups to digest their meals. The kids run down to the basement to play old games on the Nintendo, and the teenagers slink outside to gossip in private on the porch. The adults huddle in the living room around the fire and the TV. Elsa decides not to stay when she sees what's playing.

The Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special.

She's only seen it once, last year, huddled up on the old couch under a blanket in the dark while her mother worked the late shift. It all seemed like false cheer then. She's not sure how to feel now that she knows the truth, that real people can be this happy, that families can be good, that the holidays aren't always tragedies.

"Where're you going, dear?" Nana's lilting voice freezes her as she drifts through the foyer.

She's posted up in a reading chair in the darkened front room, with stocking-clad feet propped on a small, leather ottoman and her pashmina wrapped around her dress. Across from her, curled into the corners of an old, mohair couch, Kathy, and Julie, another aunt Elsa's barely met, blink up at her owlishly from under a heavy Pendleton blanket. An open bottle of red wine and three half drained glasses rest between them all on the carved, walnut coffee table.

"I was going to head upstairs." Elsa fidgets with the cuffs of her sleeves, then succumbs to the urge to cross her arms defensively over her chest. "I thought I should call my Mom."

Nana's eyes twinkle in the shadows as she nods. "I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

Elsa knows the expression on her face says otherwise, and Nana picks up on it right away. She leans over to switch on the brass reading lamp beside her chair.

"You don't seem to think so," she observes, as a soft, yellow light casts its dim glow over the room. "Or am I mistaken?"

Elsa hugs herself tighter. "She might be busy."

"Hasn't she contacted you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Hm. Well, I should think she'd like to hear from you regardless. All mothers seem to share that in common."

Elsa nods, and turns to trudge up the stairs, but Kathy's voice calls her back. "Elsa, where is Anna?"

Elsa's fairly certain she saw her on the porch with the rest of the teenagers, but she's feeling spiteful. "I don't know."

Kathy's answering look of irritation makes the pettiness worth it. She glances across the couch at Julie. "Looks like I'll be speaking with my eldest this evening."

Julie rolls her eyes in commiseration and reaches for her glass of wine. Elsa offers a quiet goodnight and climbs the stairs.

The sound of the attic door finally shutting behind her draws a sigh of relief from her lips. The house is filled with sounds, still, but all of them are muffled and far away. Elsa collapses onto the futon and closes her eyes. Exhaustion wells up and envelops her.

It takes great effort to reach for her phone.

1 new message from Jenny. No messages from her mother.

Elsa shuts off her phone and stuffs it into the bottom of her bag. Jenny can wait. Frankly, they can all wait. It's been a very long 24 hours and she could use a minute to collect her thoughts.

She doesn't get one.

Footsteps pound on the stairs outside, and, moments later, Anna is slipping into the dark room, closing and locking the door behind her.

Nobody says anything at first. Anna stands awkwardly at the other end of the room with her head bowed, hair falling over her face to obscure her expression. Elsa rolls her eyes and lies back, letting her gaze wander up to the ceiling. A single beam of moonlight illuminates the rafters overhead.

"Why did you lock the door?" Elsa asks, acerbically, when she can't bear the silence any longer. "Were you thinking we'd finish what we started earlier? Because let me tell you, I am not in the mood."

Anna shifts on her feet. "No. I just…thought we could use some privacy."

"What will your family think if the door's locked?"

"…I deserve that."

Elsa's chin trembles. "You made me feel like shit earlier."

"I'm sorry." Anna's heels echo against the floor. The zipper of her down coat creaks as it comes undone. "I just panicked."

"I don't get you. We've literally fucked in public."

The futon dips at one end as Anna sits by Elsa's feet, reaching out to curl a cold hand over Elsa's ankle. Elsa wants to kick her off. She doesn't.

"It's not that," Anna mumbles, staring at her knees. "I mean, it is, kinda, but it's also…that you…" She sighs. "That thing we did today. It was really…"

"Intense?"

Anna nods, once. "Yeah, intense."

"It was different," Elsa muses. "It almost made me think…"

"…What?"

Elsa sits up, then, and Anna turns to look at her. Her teal eyes are hard to read in the dark. Pale fingers creep up to tuck her red hair behind her ear.

"You know that's the first time we've kissed."

Anna swallows thickly. "Oh, I know."

"…What would you do if I kissed you right now?" Elsa watches closely as Anna wets her lips. "Would you bolt again?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to find out?"

A tremor runs through Anna's frame from head to toe and she jerks her face away, hand tightening on Elsa's ankle. "Yes."

"Then kiss me."

Anna swallows hard. "Elsa-."

"-Kiss me."

Anna turns, silver moonlight catching the barest hint of the torment on her face. "Why? What are you trying to prove?"

Elsa's ankle slides from Anna's grip as she moves to sit beside her on the edge of the futon. Their thighs are pressed flush from knee to hip. Their shoulders jostle one another when Elsa goes to lean in.

"That you're just as scared as I am."

Elsa closes the gap in an instant. Their mouths fit together clumsily without Elsa's vision to guide her, but Anna's lips open to her. Insistent hands find the back of her head and tug at her hair. Elsa bites down into Anna's bottom lip, seized by a sudden aggressive impulse. Her answer is a groan that rattles her bones and lingers in her toes. Anna's body leans heavily against hers.

"You must be frustrated still."

"Yes," Anna sighs against her lips. "It was all I could think about during dinner."

Elsa's pulse quickens. "Take off your coat." Anna's coat crinkles as it lands on the floor. "And your shoes."

"What about the rest?"

"Leave it." Elsa reaches up to grab Anna by the hair, wrenching her down into another impatient kiss. "I want to undress you myself."

Anna whines in the back of her throat. "Oh, god."

"Boots," Elsa repeats, and Anna tears them off her feet, flinging them to the floor with only the barest restraint.

When she pops back up her hands are on Elsa's shoulders in an instant, pushing her down onto the mattress. She kisses Elsa with force, hungry and demanding. Elsa's hands grasp her hips, forcing up the hem of her sweater.

"My shirt," Elsa whispers, and Anna's hands fly to her buttons, undoing them with alarming expediency before flinging the shirt open. Warm lips instantly attach themselves to her chest. "Anna…ah! If you…if you distract me again I won't be able to do you."

Anna's thighs bracket her hips. "Mm…we have time for both."

"What if someone comes looking for us?"

"I don't fucking care," Anna says, and kisses her swiftly to silence her retort.

Elsa is all too happy to be silenced.

/-/-/-/-/