rating: G | elsanna | 2,842 words | fluff/romance

ehh. gets kinda shitty at the end, but i wasn’t expecting to write this anyway, so there. I didn’t want to go the ‘barista/customer’ route. I wrote the first line and everything spiralled from there (and this time, Anna wasn’t behaving. She had no idea what she wanted to do). Enjoy!

~

“Equality now! Equality now! Vote for the legalisation of gay marriage and stop the non-secular law-making!”

Elsa stopped short, a block away from her favourite little café. She’d been hoping for a nice hot chocolate to warm her up—she’d had a late night at work (after which she had to walk home in the freezing snow), and then a 9am exam. All she wanted was to tuck herself up in a corner of Oaken’s with a mug of her favourite drink and the half-finished Amber Spyglass sitting in her bag.

Her plans came to a screeching halt at the sight of a lone girl, protesting outside the café.

She had red hair, and a galaxy of freckles. Straight teeth shone white from behind pretty pink lips, which rest beneath a button nose and fierce eyes—but not unkind. Empowered. Dedicated. Her face was flushed from the cold, and with a particularly brutal outburst, her voice cracked slightly.

Elsa may have given a tiny smile, but before she had a chance to even register that fact, it had fallen, the familiar dread replacing it.

The girl was in the way.

It wasn’t really the girl, nor the fact that she was wearing a sign and shouting something about equality and community and human rights, and just basically being in the way. It was the fact that said girl, with her bright red hair, was approaching each and every person who strayed within a ten-metre radius.

It was the fact that Elsa wouldn’t be able to enter the café, with its warmth and safety, without being accosted.

Hanging back, gloved hands coming to tug her scarf closer to her body. She swallowed once, then brushed her hands down the front of her shirt, loosening any snow and pressing down any wrinkles.

She had ironed the blouse that morning, appreciating the warmth as she put it on. The matching jacket suddenly wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping her warm. There was a familiar heat in her stomach, squeezing tight and making her feel ill. For a moment, her hands came to wrap around her middle, pressing deep.

Then, the red-headed girl paused. There were no people to yell at. The girl took a step back and turned around to get something. Now was Elsa’s chance.

She took a shuddering breath and marched forward. She could do this. She could make it.

~

Sucking in a deep breath, Anna’s hand came to rub at her throat. Yelling wasn’t easy, and coupled with the cold weather she predicted she’d have lost her voice by the next day (if not that night). She turned around for a moment, preparing to pack up so she could get some lunch (and Oaken knew her favourite type of sandwich), wondering if she’d remembered to pack her Butter Menthols, when the sound of heavy footsteps reached her ears.

Swiftly spinning on her heel, she put a smile on her face, already preparing to give whomever was approaching her a flyer and her practised speech on marriage equality and “love is love” and it “doesn’t hurt anyone, but refusing hurts thousands of people everyday”.

The grin slipped from her face at the hard frown set on the other person’s face.

It was a girl, with snow-blonde hair set in a single braid over her shoulder. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach, likely because of the cold, and she seemed to be about the most disinterested person Anna had ever come across. Still, she tried. No point in letting a potential ally pass by.

“Hi there!” she chirped. “I’m Anna, an-”

Without a word, and only a single spared glance, the other girl brushed past her. Her shoulder nudged Anna, pushing the red-head out of the way. A few seconds later, the door to the café behind her slammed shut. She’d chosen the café for two reasons: one, Oaken actually let her, and two, it was actually pretty popular.

And now that the other girl had walked in (rudely, Anna thought), she wasn’t entirely convinced that packing up and going to get her triple club sandwich with extra swiss and salami was a good idea.

Would that seem too stalkerish? Would the girl notice?

Anna’s stomach growled, and she pushed those thoughts away. She was hungry and she wasn’t going to let one upset person get in the way of her favourite food (after chocolate, that is).

Putting her things away, making sure not to bend the flyers, she took one last look at the street. A slight breeze had picked up, bringing storm-clouds with it and emptying the streets. Well, at least that nice old couple had taken a flyer and not thrown it out immediately. That was something.

Grabbing her stuff, she entered the warm café.

~

Elsa’s seat gave her a perfect view of the entire shop, as small as it was. The Christmas decorations, splayed tastefully along the edges and eaves, brought a cheeriness that the other cafés she had once visited lacked. With its wooden furniture and warm colours, Oaken’s was a perfectly relaxing place. The food and drink wasn’t the cheapest (it was no Starbucks), but that only seemed to bring a serenity that the more commercial places seemed to lack.

She could see, for instance, just behind the counter. Kristoff, one of the baristas, would keep carrots under there, to gnaw on whenever he had the urge. Oaken’s own little creations (certain sauces and pâtés) would sit there with innocuous (and sometimes troubling) labels: ‘special sauce 3.5’, 'dinocream’, and 'i forget’ among them.

It also gave her a view of the shop floor. She knew by now that Mr Weselton always had first pick of his seat, and if you happened to be sitting in it, he would complain loudly and thoroughly (usually to no avail). Kristoff would misspell his name on the coffee, and it would make Elsa smile. Sitting in her corner, distanced from everyone and yet able to see all the goings-on made her feel safe.

Seeing the red-head protestor did not induce such feelings. Seeing the red-head protestor caused Elsa to grip her hot chocolate ever-tighter and force her eyes to her book.

Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me.

And Elsa knew it was probably slightly ridiculous because there was no reason for this girl to care about her at all, and yet she couldn’t brush off the feeling of eyes on her.

She took a sip of her chocolate, ignoring the tremble in her hands. She felt like she was going to be sick, her stomach rolling and recoiling simply because it could. There was lead in her chest that stuck to her heart and made it impossible to focus on anything but the heavy weight.

Elsa’s eyes could have burned through her book as her attention was distracted by the girl. They were the only two in the shop, and Kristoff wasn’t on counter.

The girl took it upon herself to begin dinging the service bell, rather loudly and far more exuberantly than any bell wanted to be rung (or so Elsa assumed).

Even the girl’s voice, when Kristoff finally appeared, was… well, the only word for it was exuberant. She gave an easy smile along with her order, and received an exasperated eye-roll in return. Elsa’s eyes roamed, taking in her body language, her aura.

Comparing it with her own.

This girl stood at ease, perpetually relaxed (or so it seemed). Her fingers tapped on her hips to a beat no one else could hear, and she grinned each time Kristoff did anything. They were deep in discussion about something, but when the girl looked her way, any cohesive thought vanished, blood rushing to her face and through her ears.

Elsa hadn’t even realised she had been staring.

Tearing her gaze away and planting it firmly on her book, she fought the blush that had risen to her face. Her mouth curled in a frown and she swallowed around the lump in her throat. She tried to read, she really did, but each time she began she found herself looking at the same lines over and over again, absorbing nothing from them.

What little concentration she had shattered as the chair across from her was pulled out and the red-head made herself comfortable.

“Hi, I’m Anna,” she began, grinning. “You kinda just pushed past me earlier and I just wanted to let you know that I don’t hold any grudges and it didn’t really hurt because I’m such a klutz and I’m used to it. Anyway, how can someone be advocating the freedom to love if I hold onto anger?”

Elsa didn’t say a word. Her hands were gripping the edge of her book, and she had no idea what to say. Her heart was in her throat, choking her and beating like a war-drum. She felt rather light-headed.

The girl—Anna—continued, oblivious to Elsa’s mounting panic, or just simply ignoring it. “I’m trying to push for the legalisation of gay marriage because, like, it’s more fair to people. There are those stupid shows on TV that make a mockery of weddings and I can’t even marry the person I love based on their gender? Isn’t that disgusting? I mean, not that I have anyone—or am thinking about marriage for me—but it just shows the injustices of our system.”

Anna shook her head. Her voice had gotten progressively louder and more emotive as she spoke, and all the while the only thing Elsa wanted was for her to leave her in peace.

Up close, if her eyes would remain not averted for more than two seconds, Elsa could see the girl in much finer detail. The freckles that suited her, resting atop milky skin; the shock of red hair that was plaited twice and framing her face, a soft fringe hanging above teal eyes. Anna had gesticulated a few times, showing Elsa how passionate she was about the subject of gay marriage.

Elsa wished she could be that uninhibited, truly.

The girl began another speech, but stopped short only a few words in. She frowned slightly, and Elsa sucked in a breath that she couldn’t hear over the thundering of her heart.

And then there was a sandwich on the table and a hand hovering in the space above it.

“I’m sorry,” Anna said. “I was rude. Hi, I’m Anna. Pleased to meet you.”

Elsa was torn. On one hand (hah!) she wanted to greet this girl. Apologise for pushing her and offer to buy her a drink to go with the ridiculous sandwich. But, she knew that if she tried to do that, the words would get muddled. They’d betray her, make a fool out of her.

… but then she locked eyes with the girl. It wasn’t that she felt safe there, looking (too many years; too much history, for it to be so simple); rather, it was the girl was still smiling, her eyes alight with trust, and a need for it to be returned—at least partially.

Elsa nodded and, gently, took the proffered hand, giving it a little shake. “I’m Elsa.”

She had seen this girl smile so much today, but nothing like the one she gave at the simple introduction. It was as though Elsa had given her a cake and told her it was Christmas.

Elsa withdrew her hand first, but Anna didn’t seem disappointed. Instead, she picked up her sandwich and took a generous bite. A piece of spinach stuck to her cheek, and her obliviousness confused Elsa. She didn’t… mind?

Her swallow was audible, and as soon as her mouth was free, Anna began to talk again. Perhaps she had been waiting for Elsa to continue the conversation, who knew? She seemed determined not to let the silence reign, a concept so foreign to Elsa. It was… refreshing, in a way.

Snapping her book shut, she put it in her bag. Anna was still talking, though the words seemed unimportant. The only important thing, to Elsa, was the fact that someone was actually… talking to her.

Her heart drifted back down to its proper place in her chest, slowing its beating until it was a more bearable tempo.

And that was when she realised Anna was waiting for her to do something.

“Pardon?” she asked, eyes wide. The red-head let out a laugh that sounded so genuine it hurt—and not how laughs usually hurt, the ones that were directed at her. This one was more pleasant.

“I asked if you were an ally? Like, it’s great having allies but I don’t need to convince you to vote for gay marriage 'coz you already do. I hope. Well, that’s what being an ally is about, huh?” She smiled again, that aching smile, and though Elsa’s heart began to speed up, this was not the uncomfortable dread that had filled her days for so long. This was warmer, softer; an encouraging beat, telling her to push on and emboldening her. After all, she knew everything she could. And though yes, she was still nervous (anxious, worried, terrified beyond belief), the sensation gave her strength.

“I… believe in your stance,” she began softly, voice quivering the barest touch and unused to interacting with anyong not Kristoff, Oaken, or her mother.

She couldn’t help but notice that Anna’s face fell a fraction, as though disappointed.

No. Nuh-uh. Absolutely not.

But… what if…?

Elsa swallowed thickly. It was all becoming too much. Slotting her book into her bag, she stood up suddenly. “I apologise for running into you and I thank you for your company,” she said, nodding. “Goodbye, Anna.”

She could feel the red-head’s eyes on her as she moved to the register, ringing the bell for Kristoff to come and tally up the single hot chocolate she had ordered—and not finished.

She paused at the door just as she was about to walk through it. “Good luck, Anna,” she said.

It could have been the crisp air that lightened her heart, but Elsa had a feeling it was the soft “Thank you,” she head from behind, coming from her table.

~

Anna didn’t really feel like finishing her sandwich. One bite in (after apparently missing her mouth, too, according to the vegetable on her cheek), she felt… not full as such, but she certainly didn’t have an appetite. Maybe she just wasn’t channelling her inner Sandwich today.

It absolutely did not have anything to do with the way the blonde had snubbed her. Again.

Getting to her feet, she realised that she should probably head back to work—after all, flyers wouldn’t hand themselves out. Sighing, she rang the bell on the counter (this time not feeling the need to make a little tune out of it).

“Hey, Anna,” he greeted. “Again. What’s up? Don’t like the sandwich? Did you have a bad day with people and decided you weren’t hungry? Ugh, people should care more about these issues.”

“It wasn’t that,” she said. “Just… not feeling it today. What’s this sandwich come to, anyway?” She tried to grin and yet was unable to get the slightly terrified look on the blonde girl’s face—Elsa, Elsa—from her mind. She hadn’t even been flirting and she managed to scare the girl away.

Her mind was brought back to the present when Kristoff answered, well, wrong.

“Nothing.”

Anna furrowed her eyebrows. “No, I bought a sandwich,” she said. “Bought it.” He shrugged with a grin.

“Yeah, but it’s been paid for.”

Anna was unable to muster anything more than an, “Oh,” confusion mixed with something happy flooding her system. “Okay.”

She turned to leave, not sure how to feel about this except that was happy and confused, when Kristoff’s voice stopped her.

“She left you something, too,” he said. The speed in which Anna returned to the counter was remarkable, and she could tell he was biting back a smile.

It was her book. She glanced at Kristoff, an eyebrow raised, and opened the front cover. A small slip of paper rest neatly inside, covered in curly writing that was as elegant as the woman who wrote it. Perhaps 'composed’ would be a better word, but Anna already liked to think of the woman as elegant. She seemed so, with her braided hair and crease-free clothes—colour-coordinated and matching, no less! Far better than her jeans, shirt, and hoodie combo.

Intrigued, she began to read.

I am interested in hearing more about this topic, it said. Perhaps the two of us should go to dinner one night to discuss it? –Elsa Arendelle.

Below the message was a phone number that Anna had memorised within the first few readings.

“You know what, Kris?” she said eventually, “I’ve changed my mind. This has been the most successful campaign yet.”

And with that, she bid him goodbye. He didn’t seem to mind her distractedness; he simply gave her a pat on the back and a “Good luck, Feistypants.”

She skipped all the way home, a giddy smile on her face.