Disclaimer:
Frozen and all characters belong to Disney. No profit made, no infringement intended.

Notes:
Because CanITellUSmThin shared a prompt over on tumblr, and my brain immediately went into spin-cycle.

Enjoy.

Snowflake

In December – just a few hours short of the New Year - Anna is walking home through the snowfall. Not because she didn't enjoy the party, but because there's always some poor sod who has to work bright and early on the first of January, and this year (or the the next one, really) happens to be her turn.

She doesn't mind. The streets are peaceful because most people are too busy celebrating indoors to venture outside, and the only sound is the odd explosion of a firework going off in one direction or the other; always enough to make her turn in the appropriate direction to watch even as her feet continue to carry her towards home.

It's a beautiful night for solitude, and Anna grins as she turns her face into the icy breeze and feels her skin prickle from the cold. The snowflakes are catching in her eyelashes and hair and clothes, and she swallows a laugh and closes her eyes and just stops there for a moment, in the middle of bracing winds and a swirl of white.

She smiles in reflex when a large snowflake lands square on her lips, and then feels even her thoughts stutter in shock because when the snowflake melts, it becomes lips rather than water, warm breathing rather than cool wind, the faint brush of soft skin and silky hair against her face, and the distinct shelter from the cold, rushing air that only another body could provide.

When she opens her eyes, there is actually another body in front of her, and she's startled enough that she veers back and would have landed on her rump in the snow if two hands hadn't caught her by the elbows. Hands that belong to a young woman who could be winter personified; with pale hair and paler skin, rosy cheeks and lips, and eyes as clear and blue as the heart of a glacier, even if the look in them is unmistakably warm.

"Sorry," the woman tells her as she holds Anna steady, and grimaces a little. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Did you just kiss me?!" Anna blurts, and then feels her entire face heat up because the blonde in front of her laughs; not loud or cruel, but low and a little... embarrassed?

"No," is the answer, when it finally comes. "Not technically. I could argue that you kissed me, but since you couldn't really choose where I landed, the point is rather moot." She's saying all of this with a perfectly serious, almost pensive expression on her face, and it's more than just a little surreal to essentially hear a well-dressed, completely normal-looking person claim to be a snowflake. "I'd prefer to say that we kissed each other," she eventually decides, and smiles. "That sounds much nicer, don't you think?"

Anna isn't quite sure what to think.

xXxXx

In January – which is really just the very next morning – Anna has decided that the blonde woman from the night before was strange and obviously a little intrusive, but ultimately harmless. People don't just form out of thin air because you happen to kiss a snowflake, so it's much more likely that Anna was seen standing the way she was, and the woman decided to play a prank on her.

Going up to a complete stranger and kissing them full on the mouth is a little off, to say the least, but a peck on the lips is a lot easier to brush off than a grope, as Anna knows well. So she's put the whole thing out of her mind when she flips the sign on the door to Open, and by the time her first, fellow unfortunate soul walks in the door, she's making and serving his coffee (to go, of course) with a friendly smile on her face.

She's alone in the shop for the first two hours; manageable because so few people are up early enough to come in at this hour, even in the heart of the city. The stuttering flow of people keeps her busy enough to earn her wages, at least, and she gets to spend a few idle moments jotting down random notes for the assignments she has due at the start of the next semester.

At 8, blonde, smiling Joan is working alongside her, and another short lull has Anna falling deep enough into conversation with her that she completely misses the bell as the door opens, and only Joan draws her out of it.

"Good morning, Elsa!" she calls over Anna's shoulder, and grins. "Usual?"

"Thank you, Joan, that would be lovely," is the audibly smiling reply over the soft clicking of heeled shoes. "Good morning, Anna."

"Morning, Els-" Halfway through turning she just stops and has to grab at her head with one hand as the resounding pang of what feels mostly like a brain freeze suddenly hits her, and the sounds of Joan preparing Elsa's usual order fades into the background while Anna grimaces. When she looks up at the young woman standing on the other side of the counter, her thoughts come to full, grinding halt while she just stares for several heartbeats. It's the blonde from last night, whom Anna had certainly never seen before that, and yet, it's Elsa Arendelle, who has been a regular customer for at least the last year.

While Anna is perfectly aware that cognitive dissonance is a thing, this is just a little out of scope, she thinks.

"Don't fight it," Elsa whispers to her, and leans on the counter a little while cutting her eyes briefly to Joan. "It's easier for everyone involved if I fit in during my time here, so there's been a... backstory created, so to speak."

"Your time here," Anna parrots dumbly.

"One year." That with a nod, and a slight smile. "Unless I choose otherwise."

"Right." Clearly, she's still dreaming. Anna hopes that she wakes up soon so she doesn't end up being late for work, and decides to just go with it. "Feel like a muffin this morning?"

"Sure." Elsa's smile is apologetic now. "Chocolate, please."

xXxXx

By February, Anna's convinced that the snowflake-kiss on New Year's Eve was the part that she dreamt – or possibly something that happened while she was drunk well beyond what she'd allowed herself – because Elsa is clearly as real anyone else, and a definite creature of habit if her daily appearances at the coffee shop are anything to go by. She even sits in the same seat whenever she has the time to linger; by the large window at the front of the shop, and facing the counter.

She hasn't said anything else about turning human from a simple brush of a snowflake against Anna's lips, and so Anna's lobbed that bit of strangeness in with the 'must have dreamt it' pile; the same place where she stores the odd, dual memories of Elsa having been there for ages, and Elsa never having been there until this year. Everyone else certainly seems to remember her, so the only reasonable explanation is a particularly vivid dream that somehow just refuses to loosen its grip on her.

That, and the fact that Elsa is quite happily playing along with that dream, or was, anyway, since they don't talk beyond the small exchanges that happen when Elsa comes in and Anna is the one working the counter. Anna guesses that maybe Elsa can tell that she's a little uncomfortable with the whole thing, because it's obvious that she wants to talk to Anna beyond that; that she stops herself after only the barest twitch of her facial muscles, and then inevitably takes her order, smiles a little, and leaves.

It's kind of painful to watch, honestly, especially since Elsa hasn't done a damn thing wrong other than having an admittedly odd sense of humor. Even when she doesn't take her coffee to go and lingers in the shop for a little while, she just sits at her table (and it is 'her table' now, in Anna's mind) and either reads, pecks away at her laptop, or rests her chin in one hand while the other traces long or short lines over a page in a sketch book.

Anna realizes that she's been watching the sunlight play in Elsa's bangs for at least a minute, and shakes herself out of it with a brief rush of heat to her cheeks that she thankfully seems to be the only one to notice. She wipes down the counter and eyes the table by the windows through her lashes, and then finally rolls her eyes at herself and picks up the tray of muffins before making her way around the counter.

Elsa's table is her third stop, just to keep from being too obvious.

"Muffin?" Anna asks with her smile firmly in place, and watches Elsa lift her eyes from the book in her hands. "On the house; it's a new recipe we're trying on people."

"Oh?" Those eyes really are the most incredible shade of blue, and they twinkle a little when Elsa smiles. "Well, I'm happy to play the part of the guinea pig anytime chocolate's involved."

Anna bites back the I'll keep that in mind that's already on the tip of her tongue, because that feels a little too much like flirting and she's really not suave enough to pull it off. "What do you do for a living?" she asks instead as she sets down a napkin, and then deposits a muffin on top of it.

Elsa at first looks a little startled that she asked, and then chuckles. "Apparently, I'm an architect."

"Apparently?" Anna repeats, and lifts a single eyebrow while Elsa uses the rim of her paper cup to hide a small smile.

"Apparently."

xXxXx

In March, Anna is striking up conversation every time she sees Elsa. It's never long (she sees her at the coffee shop and rarely has time for chatting because hey, she's working), but she always learns a little more about Elsa. It's information that she has to ask for, because Elsa never seems to give it without being asked, but when Anna asks, she answers freely and promptly.

So she knows a few things by now: That Elsa is three years older than her, that she works in an office that's several blocks away, but comes here for coffee because she has at least three sweet teeth and really likes the brownies and muffins that Anna's boss makes. She knows that Elsa moved here for her job, that she's climbing the corporate ladder at above-average speed, and that she has a degree in some flavor of architecture from the university in her hometown.

"Hey, Elsa?" Anna calls, because the blonde's studying the new version of their menu and doesn't seem to register Anna's knuckles rapping against the counter. Of course, the morning rush also means that it is a little loud in here. "One white chocolate mocha; extra chocolate, hold the mocha?"

Elsa rolls her eyes and sets down the menu. "I'm not that bad."

"You totally are," Anna insists. She gets it, of course – it's chocolate – but it's entirely too much fun to tease Elsa about her sweet tooth. "Where are you from, anyway?"

Elsa takes the cup from her outstretched hand, and Anna might be imagining it, but it kind of seems like their fingers brush a little more than strictly necessary. "Somewhere very far away," she deadpans, and lets her lips twitch into a smirk when Anna rolls her eyes. "Apparently."

Anna gives her a look and shakes her head, because okay, so she answers freely, promptly, and not without the occasional measure of smart-assery. Apparently.

It'd be exhausting if it wasn't so damned cute.

xXxXx

By April, Anna is completely charmed. She's figured out that Elsa's workplace is literally a stone's throw from the university campus, and they've run into each other several times when their lunch breaks coincide and Anna ends up spending hers in the the park across the street.

Now? It's a thing. Not a daily thing, but a thing all the same, and Anna really doesn't know why they didn't start doing this ages ago. Elsa is sweet and funny and totally charming, and Anna knows what the swirling in her stomach means and why she always seems to get a little winded when Elsa smiles at her. She knows she's in trouble when Elsa picks a stray leaf from her hair with a chuckle and a shake of her head, because that tiny thing is enough to make her lungs forget how to work, and yet she can't really seem to bring herself to care.

"Green does go well with red," Elsa tells her, and twirls the leaf between her fingers with a crooked grin. "But I think this may be overdoing it."

Anna flushes and mutters something completely unintelligible, and then shoves a brownie from the shop at Elsa because she knew she was meeting her today and grabbed it almost without thinking.

"Oo." Elsa is grinning like a little kid, and Jesus, there should be a law against being this adorable. Or at least a warning label. "If you're trying to bribe me, it's working."

"Good to know," Anna returns with a half-smile, and shoves her hands into her pockets. "I'll make sure to always have a spare Death by Chocolate on hand in case you're there to witness me doing anything particularly stupid."

Elsa laughs, and Anna's heart is doing double and triple flips in her chest, because fuck.

xXxXx

In May, Anna kisses her, and that may well be the stupidest thing she's ever done.

It isn't that she planned to. Elsa is just... there and so unbelievably, almost unnaturally beautiful and they're both laughing at something and Anna can't even remember what it is. She just watches the breeze blow a stray lock of pale hair in front of Elsa's face, and it's the most logical thing in the world for her to reach out a hand and tuck it back behind Elsa's ear. And then... then they're already close in the shifting shade of a large tree and it feels like she's falling into the endless, summer blue of Elsa's eyes.

When Anna kisses her, everything just sort of stops. She can feel the motion of Elsa's eyes widening under the hand that still rests against the side of her face, and taste – faintly – the soft, startled breath that rushes past her own lips. All she can hear is the sound of her own, thundering heartbeat, and Elsa doesn't even move for what feels like an eternity, and then Anna's pulling back and cursing inwardly because Christ you don't just do that without some sort of warning and fuck she's clearly misread everything and way to go, Anna, you screwed up again.

But Elsa's fingers slip around the back of her neck before she can sit up fully, and Anna barely manages to make a soft sound of surprise before Elsa is kissing her; all soft lips and slow breaths, and a careful, tender touch that circles her cheekbone while Anna's fingers curl in the grass by Elsa's hip.

When Elsa's touch tightens and her lips part, she tastes of chocolate and mint, and maybe kissing her wasn't such a stupid thing to do after all.

xXxXx

It's halfway into June before they manage an actual date; mostly because end-of-year exams suck harder than they ever have and Anna's lucky to be able to keep her eyes open when they aren't trained on the pages of a given textbook. It's not even a date-date, much to Anna's chagrin; it's more of an unplanned invitation when Elsa stops by to drop off a cup of coffee (dark chocolate mocha; a habit she's picked up since the first time Anna texted her and begged the favor a few weeks ago).

It really could be a whole lot more date-y than it is, but Elsa is there and Anna is caught up enough that she can not study for a few hours without her stomach turning into a ball of ice, and she's missed her something awful since she's taken the time off from the coffee shop and barely gets to see her at all these days.

"Stay?" she therefore asks after they've kissed softly at her own front door, and tries not to cringe at how Elsa's dressed as impeccably as she always is, while Anna's standing there in sweats and a tank top and bare feet. "We can at least watch a movie or something, and I promise to try to not fall asleep on you."

"How romantic," Elsa teases, and noses her gently before bringing their lips together for another light kiss. "Of course I'll stay."

Anna actually does end up falling asleep on her, and quite literally, too. But it's to the soft ghosting of a fond chuckle over her own ear, and the new familiarity of tender fingers tracing over her spine.

Waking up to the sight of Elsa sound asleep and curled against her just makes it all that much sweeter.

xXxXx

By the time they actually sleep together in the non-literal way, it's July. Not for a lack of interest on Anna's part, but because she's starting to wonder why Elsa never seems to make the first move, and if maybe Anna's pushing her into things without meaning to. So she deliberately doesn't make any advances of her own beyond kisses – and there are a lot of those now that school's out for the summer – and while kissing Elsa never gets old, there are times when she wonders if 'blue ovaries' is a thing.

If it isn't, it should be.

And Anna's honestly a little confused, because unless she's seriously misreading something, Elsa wants her as badly as she wants Elsa. It's in the steady tightening of her arms around Anna when their kisses linger and deepen; in her hitched breathing when Anna's fingers find some small, innocent sliver of skin; in the soft, encouraging sounds she makes in the back of her throat when Anna's lips or teeth close around her pulse point; in the low rasp of heavy breathing and two bodies pressed so closely together on Elsa's sofa that they may as well be one.

Elsa is wearing shorts and Anna is halfway convinced that she's actively trying to kill her, because not only do those shorts – and they're really well-named ones, because damn - fit as well as any of Elsa's clothes do, but the sheer amount of bare, smooth skin available essentially means that Anna has never been so turned on in her life. And she doesn't mean for it to happen, but they both shift at the same time and her thigh ends up pressing firmly against the apex of Elsa's legs, and it's a really good thing that Elsa doesn't have a coffee table because she bucks in response and the end result is that both of them end up in a heap on the floor.

There's a few seconds of stunned silence, and then they both just start laughing, because hell, why not?

"Sorry," Elsa chuckles as they wind down, and lifts herself up on her hands and knees above Anna. "That just really..."

"Worked," Anna finishes with a grin, and nudges the pale, wavy curtain of Elsa's hair to fall entirely over her left shoulder so the sunlight is sparkling in the tiny hairs on her face. "I could kinda tell."

"How astute of you." Those soft lips are curving in a smile as Elsa hovers over her, and Anna lifts herself up on one elbow until their mouths meet again; until she can slip her fingers under the hem of Elsa's t-shirt and feel her ribs expand with a sharp breath.

"Anna..." Her name is low groan, and Elsa is rocking forward almost pleadingly; her fingers curling audibly in the carpet as their bodies brush, and when their foreheads touch and Anna opens her eyes halfway, she can see the flush extending down Elsa's throat and disappearing below the cotton collar.

"Do you want this?" she murmurs, and shifts her touch until she can trace her thumb along the curve of a full breast in exchange for a sharp, forward jerk of Elsa's entire body.

"Yes," Elsa breathes into her mouth, and that's really all Anna needs to hear.

'Sleeping together' sounds a lot more... something than it actually ends up being. It sounds like it should happen in a bed, for one, rather than in the middle of Elsa's living room floor, or like at least one of them should be laying down, instead of Anna leaning back against the couch with Elsa straddling her lap. But that's how it works out and it's oddly perfect this way because it's definitely them, and Anna isn't stupid enough to have a single complaint about having this gorgeous, perfect vision up close and personal, no matter how it happens.

Elsa's hair is mussed from the number of times Anna's tangled her fingers up in it today. There's a fine flush sweeping across her features like a sunrise, and her lips are red and swollen and only growing more so as she presses Anna bodily into the side of the couch and kisses her hard.

"Tell me what you want," Anna pants against the corner of her mouth, and doesn't understand why that makes Elsa give a sound that's halfway between tears and laughter.

"I want-" Elsa starts, and then the words seem to catch in her throat as she groans against the skin below Anna's ear. The tips of her fingers are tracing faint lines over Anna's entire, upper body, and when Anna shivers and sucks at the side of her throat, she gasps and tries again. "I want-" Another stop, and now there's the press of teeth against Anna's skin. Then Elsa straightens with a soft huff and – in one, smooth motion – yanks off her own shirt and tosses it away with an oddly defiant look on her face.

Then she promptly flinches, and grabs at the back of her own neck.

"Hey." Anna's a little surprised that she can make arousal give way to concern right now, because she honestly couldn't dream up a more alluring sight than a flushed, slightly sweaty Elsa in nothing more than a bra and those damned shorts. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," is the answer around a small, somewhat sheepish smile, and Elsa rubs at the back of her own neck until Anna nudges her hand out of the way and takes over. "Just... pulled something."

"Eager," Anna teases, and grins right until those teeth are closing around her earlobe.

"You have no idea." The words are all but growled against her skin – hot as Elsa's stuttering breaths – and Anna mostly thinks that Elsa couldn't be more wrong, but she's a little too preoccupied to actually voice that thought. "Please, Anna..." Elsa's voice becomes a low keen against Anna's ear when her fingers slip beneath the waistband of those shorts, and Anna can feel something in herself clench in response. "Please."

It doesn't quite seem real; being here in this moment with Elsa. Beautiful, successful, perfect Elsa, who could surely have anyone she wanted, and yet somehow chose Anna anyway. Who winds her hands tightly in Anna's hair and mewls against her mouth; who rocks breathlessly against Anna's fingers as they move inside of her like they belong there.

"Anna..." A mere whisper, a stuttering exhale against her cheek, and Anna tightens her hold but doesn't really need to when she curls her fingers and Elsa surges against her with a hoarse cry.

And Anna swears that she's melting from the inside out herself. She nips and sucks and bites at Elsa's collarbones and the top of her chest; tastes the faint, oddly fresh tang of Elsa's glistening skin on her own tongue while Elsa's nails bite at her shoulders and her rushing, breathless moans are muffled against the top of Anna's head. Tighter, deeper, until Elsa is shuddering in her arms and sobbing in relief against her mouth.

Anna keeps stroking her slowly, soothingly while she watches with an almost disbelieving little smile, and yeah, she's probably always going to be at least a little bit in awe of this woman. Especially if Elsa keeps looking at her the way she is now, with her lower lip caught between her teeth in a vain attempt to hold back a smile that's anything but innocent.

"My turn," she breathes against Anna's lips, and it's totally worth the few mild cases of carpet burn because Elsa touches her like she's never wanted anyone else.

xXxXx

August is warm in every conceivable way; from the weather to the inside of Anna's own chest. It doesn't even matter that school is starting back up soon and her final year promises to – predictably – top all the others in terms of how grueling it will be, and she knows that Elsa has a lot to do with that. Every single day, Elsa makes her fall even harder in the tiniest of ways, and Anna just can't stop smiling to the point where she has to cover her mouth with one hand to hide it, or rub at her cheeks because they actually end up kind of hurting from it.

Right now is a good example, because there's a hand reaching over Anna's shoulder from behind the park bench she's sitting on, and when she stops being startled from the motion, she blinks several times at what it offers and finally takes the single, red rose between faintly trembling fingers.

"You know," she comments a little breathlessly as she inhales the sweet fragrance and feels another body settle beside her. "I don't think I've ever seen one person give another person a rose, outside of maybe movies." There's an arm curling around her shoulders, and only then does Anna look up and to the side, and directly into warmly amused blue. "That is obnoxiously romantic."

"You're welcome," Elsa chuckles, and Anna doesn't say anything else for a little while because she's too busy kissing this absolutely adorable dork who keeps making her vital organs do somersaults.

"God, I love you," she sighs against Elsa's lips, and flushes when she feels them move into a startled, but very happy grin.

"Are you talking to me, or to a higher power?" It's clear from the tone of Elsa's voice that she's teasing, but her eyes are unmistakably bright, and the fingers that stroke over Anna's jaw and bury themselves in her hair to cup the back of her head are shaking ever so slightly.

"To you, you dork," Anna laughs, and kisses her again. "I love you."

"I love you too," Elsa promises, and sounds like she might actually be crying a little. "So much."

xXxXx

In September, the chill in the air somehow makes it not only into Anna's apartment, but also into her relationship.

"Seriously," she giggles, and squirms a little in Elsa's arms as soft lips nip at her skin in a spot that Elsa damn well knows is ticklish. "You are way too cute for your own good. How are you even real?"

"You know how," Elsa hums against her shoulder, and nibbles at another ticklish spot until Anna's diaphragm is hurting from trying not to laugh. "You kissed a snowflake, and there I was."

"Yeah, yeah." Anna rolls her eyes and tugs lightly at the pale hair until they're kissing properly, because God, she's never going to get enough of this woman if she lives to be a thousand years old. "You're allowed to be serious every once in a while, you know."

"I am serious." Those long fingers are cradling her face, and going by the look in Elsa's eyes, that's the honest truth. "I mean... I wanted to land where I did, but you're so beautiful, Anna; so alive, and you always have been. I wanted to know you for so long and I just... took the chance that night."

"Elsa..." Anna sighs through a smile and cards her fingers through the soft, starlight colored hair. "You're sweet, but can we table the whole snowflake thing, please? It's a little goofy, y'know?"

"Goofy." Elsa's lips twitch faintly, but she nods and smiles, though it seems like a faint, barely noticeable shutter drops behind her eyes. "Of course, Anna. I'm sorry."

xXxXx

October isn't much better.

"I have to leave at the end of the year," Elsa tells her quietly, over a beautifully set table in a private corner of a small restaurant, and Anna's fork falls onto her plate with a clatter.

"What?" she blurts, and hastily wipes at the sauce that has spattered onto her thankfully dark top. "Why? Something to do with your job?"

"... sort of," is the hesitant answer, with Elsa's hands curling in her own lap and the fair head ducking a little.

"For how long?"

"Indefinitely."

Anna's chest is aching. "Where are you going?"

"Wherever the wind takes me, I suppose."

"Elsa-"

"I'm sorry, Anna." Elsa's hand covers hers, and squeezes it gently. "But that truly, honestly is all I know."

And Anna tries to not dwell on it; tries to keep the mood light even days later when she's tiptoeing up behind Elsa's desk after letting herself into her apartment. She settles her hands on the cotton-covered shoulders and leans forward enough to kiss one pale cheek, and feels it move under her lips when Elsa smiles in reaction. She smiles, too, and whispers 'Hey, Snowflake', because it's almost as cute as Elsa herself and she figures it'll show Elsa that she's not mad about the whole snowflake-thing.

But Elsa starts crying almost hysterically in the blink of an eye, and Anna spends the rest of the night comforting her, apologizing even through Elsa's adamant reassurances that she has nothing to be sorry for, and yet never manages to figure out why the nickname upset her so much.

xXxXx

In November, almost everything between them feels so painfully desperate that Anna's stomach just never stops aching. They don't spend a moment apart if they don't have to, and nights spent together in one apartment or the other has become the rule rather than the exception.

By all rights, they're living together in everything but name, and Anna would be over the moon if it wasn't for the deadline that looms closer and closer every time she opens her eyes to see Elsa watching her in the early morning light.

"You need to sleep more," Anna burrs one morning - only halfway awake – and snuggles deeper into her arms.

"No," Elsa murmurs, and holds her tighter while kissing the top of her head. "I can sleep next year."

Even as the days go by, however, there are no signs of Elsa's departure cropping up. No plane tickets, no suitcases, no moving boxes, and it's enough that Anna starts to hope that maybe – just maybe – she isn't leaving after all.

"I wish I wasn't," Elsa sighs when she asks one night, and buries her nose in Anna's hair while taking a deep breath. "But I am. I have to."

"You haven't gotten any plane tickets," Anna points out, and rests her head on Elsa's chest; just where she can best hear the beat of her heart.

"I don't know exactly where I'm going, yet," is the annoyingly sensible response.

"You haven't packed anything," she then tries.

"I won't need to," Elsa tells her, and Anna breathes out a shaky sigh and closes her eyes as long fingers comb tenderly through her hair.

"Don't you want to stay?" she finally asks, and rises onto her elbows so she can look at Elsa; even if she's half-hidden in the low light.

"Oh, Anna..." Elsa sighs, and her eyes flutter shut for a long, aching moment. "More than anything. But I don't have a choice."

"Why not?"

Elsa gives a sad, almost apologetic little smile, and brushes the backs of her fingers over Anna's cheek. "No one's given me one."

xXxXx

In December, Elsa is almost hysterical, and it only gets worse as the month progresses. Anna tries to keep up a smiling front – they're both hurting enough as it is and falling into it won't help anything – but it's hard to look at Elsa and know that she'll be gone in a few short weeks, and that neither of them have any clue when they'll see each other again.

On New Year's Eve, they have a party to go to that some of Anna's friends are hosting, and they end up being several hours late because Elsa just can't seem to stop touching her. It's tender and frantic all at once; born when Anna's stepping out of the shower, or when Elsa helps zip up her dress, or when Anna bends to slip into her shoes, and both of them fix themselves up several times over the course of the evening before they finally make it out of the door.

"You're insatiable," Anna teases.

"Can you blame me?" Elsa returns, and neither of them dwell on the fact that the words ring a little hollow, or that their smiles don't quite reach their eyes.

They've just made it to the front yard of the address they need to reach when the wind picks up, and Anna's tugged to a halt when Elsa stops halfway up the walk.

"I don't think I'll make the party after all," Elsa says, and watches the snow start to fall with a tremulous smile. "I'm sorry, Anna, but they won't be expecting me anyway."

"What are you talking about?" Anna frowns, and twines their fingers a little tighter when Elsa's hold loosens. "Kristoff invited you months ago; he's definitely going to notice that you're not there."

"No, he won't." There's a wan chuckle, and Elsa shakes a few white flakes off of the end of her glove. "No one's going to remember me. I'll fade out as seamlessly as I faded in." She smiles faintly and holds up her free hand, where her glove is now covered in snowflakes. "It's not unlike melting."

And Anna doesn't get it until there's a gust of wind and Elsa's glove is snowflakes; whipped away from her hand and upwards into the air above them.

"Elsa, no!" Anna grabs onto her shoulders with both hands and digs her fingers into the soft wool as if that might stop the fabric from literally fluttering away into the air. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did tell you," Elsa reminds her, and her voice holds not an ounce of blame or anger; just an aching sadness as her fingers slip tenderly over Anna's face. "You didn't listen."

"Don't," Anna pleads, and doesn't even care that her voice is breaking. "Don't go. Don't leave me."

"I don't have a choice," Elsa whispers, and kisses her; long and hard and deep as if she's trying to drink Anna in, and she tastes as fresh as she ever has; cool and sharp like new snow. "I chose you from the beginning, Anna, I swear it. I will always choose you, but the choice isn't mine to make."

"Why not?!" She's yelling now; panicked and frightened because Elsa is dispersing into a shower of snowflakes in front of her eyes and Anna can't make it stop.

"What do you want, Anna?" Those beautiful eyes are rimmed in red and shining with tears, and Elsa's skin is cold under her touch; icy and fluttering, and the ends of her hair that move in the breeze are disappearing and floating into the air in a scattering of ice crystals. "More than anything, what do you want right now?"

"I want you," Anna chokes even as soft skin becomes snow under her fingers and she has to strain her legs to reach as Elsa is pulled upwards by some invisible force. "I want you to stay, Elsa. I love you."

Elsa's smile is there, but it's bitter and brittle, and her eyes dim even before they close and the tears on her cheeks flutter away on the wind. "I love you too, Anna."

And then she's gone.

The world doesn't quite fit anymore, Anna thinks, with her hands dropping uselessly to her sides as she stares up at the cloudy sky through blurry eyes. It's off somehow, without Elsa there to be a part of it, and it's horrible to think that if Elsa really has been telling the truth all along, then Anna is the only one who will know what's missing. To everyone else, Elsa was never there, and somehow that just makes the pain in Anna's chest sharpen until it almost chokes her.

A single snowflake lands on the back of her hand, and Anna spends several seconds staring at it through her tears, with the only accompanying sounds being her own hiccuping breathing and the dull thumping of the party in the background. Carefully, then, without dislodging the glittering crystal, she brings her hand to her lips before its faint load can melt, and presses her lips to it while her eyes slip shut.

It doesn't work, of course, and the year-old memory just makes her stomach tighten until she's slumping to her knees and pressing her fists against it in an attempt to dampen the pain, and she's vaguely aware of now crying so hard that she isn't making a single sound.

"I'm sorry," she gasps into the night air, somehow. "I'm sorry I didn't listen. I'm sorry I didn't know how to give you a choice." The snowflakes are settling on her face as she cranes her head back; dampening her skin further. "Just- please be happy, Elsa. More than anything, I want you to be happy."

The rush of wind makes her eyes fly open in alarm, though all she can see is a thick curtain of swirling white that blocks out everything around her. She's halfway standing in a mild panic – instinctively aware that if there's a blizzard, she has to get back indoors – but before she can even lift her other knee off of the ground, she's knocked onto her back in the snow and there are fingers gripping her face tightly and a warm body blanketing her own, and she's staring dumbly up into bright, almost iridescent blue.

"I'm happiest with you," Elsa breathes around a smile so wide it has to hurt.

"What the fu-" That's as far as Anna's sputtering gets before Elsa ducks her head, and then everything is lips and tongue and teeth and there are several extremely pleasant seconds where Anna forgets what the hell she was even trying to say in the first place. She's entirely too busy with the fact that Elsa is here and real and in her arms; that the yielding warmth pressing her into the snow is actually there again and God, she may have just managed to figure it out after all.

"If you disappear on me again, I swear I'll hunt you down," she puffs against Elsa's mouth when they break for air, and feels the soft, watery laugh before she hears it.

"I won't." Elsa gives her another soft kiss before sighing. "I'd already chosen to stay, Anna," she promises. "But it wasn't until you wished for my happiness that I had the power to make that choice."

"And the choice had to be yours," Anna murmurs, and tucks a few locks of pale hair back while several pieces click into place. "I could've saved us both a lot of trouble by opening my mouth sooner, huh?"

"You opened it in time; that's the important part," Elsa smiles, and they spend another handful of long, pleasurable moments kissing; in the middle of a snow drift and in full winterwear over fancy clothes, and not really giving a hoot either way.

"For my next choice," Elsa breathes against her neck. "I want to take you home into a warm bed." A sharp nip has Anna's grip tightening and her hips jerking unevenly. "And keep you there for the foreseeable future."

"T-" Anna's lungs empty themselves in a rush of mist when Elsa presses more firmly against her. "- to sleep?"

"No." Elsa gives her a hard, deep kiss that has Anna's fingers curling into the back of her jacket, and then grins as she breaks away and they both rise a little unsteadily. "Think you'll be able to handle me being around long term?" she teases as they abandon the house without ever entering, and retrace their steps down the abandoned street.

For an answer, Anna pushes her bodily up against the nearest available wall, and chuckles when the blue-rimmed pupils dilate visibly. "Oh, I think I've got a pretty good 'handle' on you," she purrs, and traces the curve of Elsa's hips though the fabric of her clothing. "Snowflake."

Just a few months ago, that name had Elsa visibly upset, and Anna remembers that. Something, however, tells her that things are different now.

And she must be right, because Elsa simply tangles her fingers in her hair and smiles as she pulls her in.