Anonymous asked: Au where Elsa is a sculptor and Anna is a painter and they scheduled the same model (Kristoff maybe?) for the same time. (Kristoff thought it'd be easy to pose for two artists at the same time and make twice as much money. Two birds, one stone.) Anna is a talker when it comes to painting but Elsa is quiet and prefers silence.

*rolls up sleeves, starts watching “Ghost”*



~

“Can you believe this guy? Look at those pecs!”

Elsa pursed her lips. It had been fifteen minutes, and she had turned the blob of clay into a taller blob of clay. Every time she began to make any progress, the redhead to her left opened her mouth again.

“I mean,” she went on as she dipped her brush into the black acrylic paint again, “I’d rather use this brush on our actual subject matter. Know what I’m sayin’?”

All she replied with was “SHH!” as she worked her fingers into the clay, more grasping than sculpting. This was supposed to be a routine assignment. How could this one troublesome “traditional artist” be this much of a frustration?

“Sor-reeee,” she breathed. A few minutes passed as they took in the sight of the burly blonde, starting to work on their respective artings.

Of course, the peace wasn’t eternal.

“Hey, um…”

Closing her eyes tightly, Elsa turned vaguely in the direction of the bothersome voice. “What?”

“Do you think this is starting to come together, or am I just wasting my time here? Like, don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy looking at a dude in a bananahammock, but if I have no talent, then what’s the point?”

Finally relenting, Elsa looked across the aisle, lips contorted into a snarl as she prepared to impale the other artist with a scathing retort. However, when her eyes caught what was on the canvas, she fell silent.

The first thing that was noticeable was the smooth, bold strokes that captured a strength and fluidity of movement that belied they were looking at a still subject. It was reminiscent of the sumi-e paintings she had studied with great detail before moving on to more tangible media. No colour had been added yet, but it was coming, and it would bring the painting to life in a big way.

However, though that was enough to rivet her to the work, it wasn’t what rendered her speechless. It was that the man in the painting, as opposed to the one in the room, had soft, round breasts.

“I…”

“That bad, huh?” the younger woman sighed. “Yeah… yeah, I’m kidding myself. Always have been. Oh well, it was… just a hobby.” Then she laid the paintbrush down and bent down to pick up the jar of turpentine she had brought, along with a rag. As she dumped the pungent liquid onto the cloth, she looked up at the painting. “Maybe I’ll go back to poetry…”

“WAIT!”

Suddenly, the room was dead silent. The other two students, the dark-skinned woman and the guy with the spinal condition, were blinking over at the disturbance, not sure what to make of it.

Elsa was standing over the redhead, both hands clasped on her wrists as the cloth hovered a few inches from the surface of her painting. Wet clay was sliding all over her forearms as she did so, and her chest was heaving from the sudden, unexpected exertion of jumping up from her wooden stool.

But she had succeeded. She had saved the painting from an untimely demise.

“Hey, wh…” Blinking over at the painting, she then looked back up into those flushed, porcelain features of the complete stranger. “What the hell’s your problem?”

“I…” Now Elsa was embarrassed. She hated to draw this much attention to herself, to have people staring at her openly. It grated on her very last nerve. “You were… about to make a huge mistake.”

“I was?”

Swallowing thickly, Elsa withdrew her hands from Anna’s forearms very slowly. They didn’t move toward the canvas again. “You were. Your painting… it has a lot of potential.”

That was the moment she knew she was in trouble. When she saw the freckled cheeks bunching and lighting up with pleasure, her entire body turning toward the awkward sculptor now. A small smudge was visible on the side of her face that had been pointing away previously, and it did nothing but enhance her allure in that moment.

“You really think so?”

“Anna, Elsa!” the man at the front hissed. “You guys remember I get paid by the hour, right?”

“Anna,” Elsa breathed - and she caught how it sounded at the same moment its owner did. One of her hands raised to her mouth to cover it delicately, and only smeared clay across it instead. “Oh, ew!”

“Here, let me- oh shit, this has turpentine on it,” Anna swore before the cloth quite made it to Elsa’s face. “I, um… here.” Raising the hem of her shirt - and granting the rest of the class a generous glimpse of her toned abdominals - Anna dabbed at the clay with it, evidently not minding the unholy mess she was leaving on her own clothing.

Or how close their bodies were now. Or how Elsa was just staring straight down into her eyes as that bare stomach grazed her belt buckle.

“There,” she breathed when Elsa’s lips were clean. “Good as… new.”

“Thank you.” Then she took the turpentine rag with her hands and wiped the clay clear. “Um… anyway, yes, I really do think so. And I’m sorry about before - you just were breaking my concentration, and I get a little… I don’t know.”

“You get bitchy?” When blonde eyebrows flew up, she laughed. “So do I when I’m studying, but… not when I’m painting. The world kind of floats away. And since that whole feeling is kind of hard to chase, I thought I’d finally give this a legit try, but then I didn’t like how the lines were turning out, so I started to-”

“You didn’t- didn’t LIKE how they were turning out? They’re perfect!” The blinks of mild surprise told her she was going overboard again, and she cleared her throat. “I mean… how long have you been painting like that? And, um… putting a unique ‘spin’ on your subjects?”

That seemed to confuse her for a few seconds. “Spin? Oh, you mean the boobs? Dunno. Just… gender is pretty fluid, it’s not set in stone. I like to mess with things here and there.”

It wasn’t exactly a lewd smile that Elsa returned, and it wasn’t exactly the nervous one she had been wearing a moment ago. Something in between sprang into being as she glanced between the painting again and its creator. “Apparently so. Well… I’ll, um, let you finish.”

And she did. The entire rest of their session with the artist, no one spoke. When it was over, they all began to clean up and pack their materials. The other two slipped out a bit earlier, and the model collected his earnings and left shortly afterward (though he stopped long enough to put on more clothes). The room seemed oddly empty, even though the setting sun gave it such a warm atmosphere.

“Hey.”

Elsa had been waiting. On pins and needles, even. “Yes?”

“Come here a second.” When she obliged, Anna pulled her next to the painting, then turned and raised her phone.

“What are y- hey!”

“Just smile.” After a few seconds, Elsa did, and the camera lens flashed. It froze on an image of both of them on either side of Anna’s finished painting, which was every bit as breathtaking as she had imagined it would be. “There. Painless, right?”

“Sure, but… what was the point of it?”

“Two points, actually. For one thing, I want a picture of this doodle if I’m gonna give it to you. So I can remember what I did right, according to some people.”

Heart speeding up, Elsa looked between her and the canvas. “Oh- oh no, that’s not necessary, I-”

“Second,” Anna barrelled ahead as she finally closed her case of brushes and paints. “I want to remember today as the day I met somebody who’s going to be a new major cast member in the wacky sitcom that is my life. Kind of a big deal, isn’t it?”

“But you don’t even know me. Or my last name, or anything. I’m nobody to you.”

“You’re a sculptor, right?” she teased as she glanced at the statue. It was a mess; Elsa hadn’t been able to concentrate, and somehow she had made what started out as a very traditional bust turn into a very eclectic modern art piece. “So mold us together. Figure it out.”

Another hard swallow. “You…” Sighing, she snatched the phone from Anna’s hand, closing Instagram.

“Wha- HEY, what are you doing? I was gonna post that!”

“Giving you my number, you persistent little ginger.” Then she returned it as she picked up the painting and headed for the door. “Man, am I going to have a hell of a time getting this back to my apartment without smearing the masterpiece.”

“You could always use my sealer spray,” Anna offered - a little too eagerly. “I mean, to protect the painting. Whatever.”

At that, Elsa turned back, hand already on the knob. “Really? And… what would we do while waiting for it to dry?”

Setting everything down where she had just picked it up, Anna walked over and plucked the canvas from Elsa’s pale hands, smile not at all guarded. “Oh, we can probably think of a couple things.”

~