[Written for the super special awesome thing we’re not talking about yet.]

(918): You’re not talking any sense into me. You’re cheering me on to disaster.

(405): … is that not half the reason I’m your best friend in the first place?



Anna usually didn’t ask her friends to talk her out of her grand ideas. She had gotten used to dancing along the line between glory and disaster, and her regrets were way fewer than everyone else expected from her. Maybe she didn’t always know what she was doing, but she knew what she wanted and she went for it, full speed ahead.

This was a special matter.

Which figured, since Elsa was involved, and the word special had probably been invented with her in mind.

Elsa made everything complicated. Just, like, a tad.

With Elsa, up was right and left was down, and Anna never really knew which way to jump to keep things okay between them. Common sense–which Kristoff claimed to have a lot of–said that there should be no jumping, only sedate hops. Or walking.

Never mind that there was really no way to address Elsa in halves, because she had a bit of a grip on Anna’s whole heart–leaping on a plane to surprise her sister for her birthday could and probably would go horribly wrong, and everyone who usually tried to encourage her cautious side had abandoned her.

And that was how Anna found herself standing in front of the door to Elsa’s apartment. Unannounced. With cake.

If she had any sense at all, it would have been freezing and awful, and the prospect of actually knocking on the door would be making it more awful (okay, maybe there was something to that), but no. Her heart kept skipping beats, and there was a silly, hopeful scrap of warmth in her chest that made her frost-laden eyebrows feel very far away.

So taking a deep breath that nearly froze her throat closed, Anna knocked on the door.

“Elsa! Do you want to build a snowman?”