Rating: K+

Setting: AU

Warnings: None

Notes: Anna's POV

Day Three: Secret Santa

I knew participating in Kristoff's stupid Secret Santa idea was…well, stupid. I swear it was rigged too. I mean, why else did I end up with the person who I have been enamored with since the seventh grade?

The girl I've been crushing on since middle school who I'm pretty sure doesn't even know I exist and we're seniors in high school now.

Sad, right?

Or pathetic; it's that too.

I mean, sure, I could have said something over all these years, but when the object of your affections is a living, breathing goddess on Earth and you're…well, you…what are you expected to do?

And okay, so maybe she knows I exist, but sometimes I wonder if I'm known as something other than "that one kid that always gets bullied" or "the girl in the polo shirts and high-waders"—which, they aren't high-waders!

You guessed it; I'm that weird kid with the weird friends who's always made fun of. Sure, I could dress differently—you know, drop the polos and khakis for something more "in"—but there's not much I can do about the glasses I wear. I tried contacts back in freshman year, and let me tell you, those were the most painful two weeks of my life. I think I'll stick to my glasses and the overused "four eyes."

But that right there is my one ray of hope. Despite the way I dress and my wallflower tendencies that get everyone else on my case, never once has she said anything.

Yes, "she." On top of everything, my high school crush is a girl. As if calling her a goddess didn't tip you off.

But anyway, her friends always make fun of me, but she stays quiet through it all. She even smiles at me sometimes, like apologetically after I've just suffered from another wedgie or whatever. One time, she was even the one that let me out of the locker I was shoved in and actually talked to me. Okay, so she really just whispered a simple one worded apology, but it was something.

I've always been optimistic; and that's quite impressive with my track record.

Perhaps that's why Kristoff made sure I would pick Elsa's name.

One second thought, what was she even doing in that hat? She's not part of our group of friends, that's for sure, and never once have I seen her talking to Kristoff or anyone else in the "Geek Posse."

Yeah, we're called the Geek Posse; original, right?

And I'm only in there because of the way I dress.

And I guess the fact that I'm a huge bookworm, avid writer, and love to draw my own comics works against me as well.

But, at least I'm not your conventional geek, right?

Hear that Elsa? I'm a new kind of geek!

Yeah, like that would help my case…

XxXxX

So it's the week before Christmas which means our Secret Santa party is only a couple days away.

And I still have no idea what to get Elsa.

You'd think crushing on her for the past six years would mean I know every little thing about her, but I've always prided myself on the fact that I don't obsess over my crush.

Well, at least not around anyone but Kristoff.

Seriously, poor guy has probably heard so much about Elsa, he must feel like her brother by now.

Wait…

Her brother!

You'd think with a 4.1 GPA, I would have thought of this sooner! And yes, my GPA is actually above a 4.0. I guess just add that with the list of reasons I'm made fun of.

Wow, looking at everything now, maybe I am that kid in your typical high school movie…

Anyway, at least I have something to go on regarding what to get Elsa.

And at least her brother is the sweetest guy you'd ever meet.

XxXxX

So Olaf was a big help; seriously, I love that little freshman. Not only was he nice by apologizing on his sister's friends' behalf, but he gave me the best idea.

Plus, he even shed some light on Elsa that even I was not aware of.

Although, I guess Elsa tries to keep it hidden for good reason, given the people she hangs out with.

But getting back on track, I'm actually excited for this silly Secret Santa get together tomorrow night. Maybe if Elsa likes her gift, I'll become inspired to reveal myself as her Santa and maybe, maybe land a date!

Yep, there's that optimist in me shining through once more. But, Christmas is a magical time, right? I could use a little magic.

Hear that, Santa?

XxXxX

"So, do you think Elsa's actually going to show?" I ask Kristoff for probably the seventh time within the hour.

The big blond just rolls his eyes at me.

"Yes, Anna," he huffs. "She actually came to me and said she wanted to come so I put her name in, and she texted me just this morning making sure of the time."

"You have her number?!" I cry, smacking him on his arm. "How did you get her number?! And if she did text you, then why is she late?"

"I got her number because I asked unlike someone, and I don't know," he deadpans. "Maybe she's lost."

Sighing and fiddling with the cup of punch in my hands—which I swear Flynn spiked, gotta remember that—I walk out of the kitchen to wait by the front door.

She may not understand that she can just walk in to Kristoff's house and even if she does, she may not be entirely comfortable with just invading a near-stranger's home, so I should be there to welcome her.

That's chivalrous, right?

Or does that just further my geek complex? Is it more "cool" to leave her in the dark—literally, as Kristoff doesn't even have his porch light on; idiot—than to be considerate?

How backwards is our society if that is the case?

Oh crap, I see headlights and they're turning in to the driveway. It has to be Elsa as the rest of the gang's all here.

Shoot, did I just refer to Elsa as a part of our gang? Our gang the Geek Posse? Would she kill me for thinking that?

Oh my god, calm down Anna.

Plastering a grin on my face, I try not to watch creepily as she walks up the stairs of the porch.

I have the door open for her before she probably even decided whether to knock or ring the doorbell.

"Waiting for me?" she questions snidely, yet with an adorable grin that means no hostility.

I blush and look away.

"W-Well, you are late," I mumble before I realize I'm being a complete ass. I don't know why she's late, maybe her hamster died or something. "N-Not that it's a b-bad thing you're late! I mean, it's usually bad if you're late, but this is a Christmas p-party so you're really just f-fashionably late!"

Is it obvious that I'm in love with this girl?

Elsa just giggles so sweetly though that I think I'm slowly dying of diabetes.

"Where do I put this?" she asks, holding her present out before her.

And wow, that's a decent sized present. Whoever gets that is lucky.

"Uh…" I stammer before turning lamely and waving over my shoulder. "This way."

Despite my initial apprehension to this party, it actually doesn't look too bad. Elsa isn't making fun of any of my friends—not that she ever has before—and my friends don't seem uncomfortable by her presence.

But then comes present time, and I swear all the butterflies in the world just decided to inhabit my stomach at once.

"So," Rapunzel asks, "how are we going to do this?"

"Well," Kristoff starts, setting himself down in the circle we have going on his living room floor, "I was thinking everyone would find their present, we'd open them separately and then we have to guess who it's from. Then, whoever gave the present before has to go. Make sense?"

"You lead, dude," Flynn says. "You lost me after 'find your present.'"

I think there's a collective eye roll as Kristoff scoots to the pile of presents in the center of our circle to search for his.

His present ends up being a ridiculous pair of reindeer slippers and he picks the silent Sven as the giver. He's right—of course, 'cause Sven loves anything and everything reindeer—so Sven finds his present next.

Sven gets a jersey for the Arendelle University Crocuses—the college he was accepted to—and it takes him two tries to guess Kuzco as his Secret Santa.

This goes on for a while until we're down to two presents and the method we had going comes to a complete standstill.

I'm immediately privy to what's most likely going on here, and I try to glower at Kristoff from underneath a burning blush.

"You ass; you planned this," I grumble.

"I so did not," Kristoff retorts, smug smile on his face.

"Wait, I'm confused," Elsa says, "who's are those?"

She points to the offending remaining presents and I sigh as everyone looks away, making me the one who has to explain.

Son of a bitch, they were all in on it.

But then, if there's just two presents left, one is mine for Elsa and—since I haven't opened a present yet—the other is to me from…

I turn fifty shades of red at the realization.

"We're each other's Secret Santa's?" Elsa vocalizes.

Shit, she's figured it out too.

Chuckling nervously, I mumble, "It appears so."

Shrugging off my obvious discomfort, Elsa moves to grab the two presents before us before handing me the big box she had carried in with her.

Wait, that means that big gift was for me the entire time!

I'm immediately both excited and nervous at the same time. What if one her friends is in there and jumps out to pie me in the face?

But, that's ridiculous.

So what is it?

"You go first, Anna," Elsa says, smiling softly—and dare I say shyly?!—at me.

"O-Okay," I mumble.

Knowing all eyes are on the two of us, I tear the wrapping paper off to reveal a box with a lid on it. Glancing up and meeting Elsa's eyes, she smiles again and mouths "open it."

Gulping and not know what to expect, I take the lid off the box…

…and immediately gasp.

"Elsa, you didn't!" I cry.

"What is it, Anna?" Merida asks.

I swear there are tears in my eyes as I heave the gift from its box and hold it above my head in joy, very equal to the opening of The Lion King.

"It's a vintage typewriter!" I squeal in joy.

"All I see is an old looking suitcase," Flynn grumbles.

Glaring daggers at him, I set the "suitcase" on the floor and open it to reveal the true masterpiece inside.

It's immaculately polished despite the somewhat ratty case it's in and there's even a roll of paper already drawn into it. It's so beautiful it looks like it belongs in a museum.

I look to Elsa who looks equally as happy as me, surely proud how well her gift was received.

Still, three questions come to mind.

"Where did you find this?" I ask.

She shrugs as if it just appeared before her a week ago.

"A pawn store in my grandparent's hometown had it," she explains.

"How much did it cost?" is my next question, because I know how expensive these things are.

She just smiles once more and shakes her head.

"Don't worry about it, Anna," she tells me. "It was worth it."

My heart flips at that and I match her smile before it flickers away and I look back to the object before me.

She catches on and frowns concernedly as well, scooting closer to me.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Why?" I ask in a whisper.

"Why what?"

"Why did you buy this for me?"

Now she's looking nervous and afraid, and I want to tell her I love it and I love her and it's really all rainbows and sunshine, but it's not.

It's not every day you buy a 1910 vintage typewriter for a girl you barely know. Especially when it definitely cost upwards of $800.

Elsa blushes and bites her lip before looking away.

"Read what's on the paper," she mumbles.

I quirk an eyebrow at her as I didn't recall seeing anything upon opening it, but I must have just glanced over it.

Elsa won't look at me as I pull the typewriter into my lap and squint down at the bit of paper which flips up from the typewriter.

I know you exist, it reads, I've noticed you since the seventh grade but have just been too shy to say anything. I know I have the tendency to hang out with the wrong crowd and for that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never stuck up for you over the years even though my heart ached for me to every day. I want to do better in the future, if you'll let me.

Gulping, and with an impressive blush lighting my cheeks, I read the final sentence that stands on its own.

I really like you, Anna.

I look up at Elsa with my jaw on the floor, I'm sure. She flashes a small smile before she's looking back at the floor, surely embarrassed and maybe a bit exposed and scared.

Scared she did all this for me only to have me not return any of her affections.

But she's wrong.

Completely wrong.

"Open yours now," I tell her confidently, trying not to lead her on to my reaction to her confession—aside from the blush I know she noticed, that is.

By this time, all our friends are just watching this unfold before them, completely floored; even Kristoff who, when I glance his way as Elsa cautiously pulls her gift from me into her own lap, looks like he just looked Medusa in the eyes with how still he's sitting.

Giving me one last look of which I respond to with a nod and smile, Elsa takes the wrapping paper off and her face lights up like I've never seen before.

"Anna!" she cries, and I instantly grow ten degrees hotter with how she says my name. "How did you know?"

"That you're a huge science fiction geek?" I comment to which she glowers at me playfully. Smirking, I shrug and reply, "Let's just say I owe your brother a favor."

She smiles so her teeth her showing as she brings up the complete series of Fringe, her favorite TV show.

"T-Turn it over," I explain.

Glancing at me curiously, she turns the box set over to see the post-it I put there before wrapping.

Will you go out with me? is what it says.

Elsa's smile is soft, full of joy, and genuine as she leans over and kisses my cheek.

"Definitely," she whispers.

If anyone knows why I made Elsa's favorite TV show Fringe, let me know. ;)