Rating: G
Words: 724
Summary: Kristoff shaves his beard and his daughter is not a fan. Just a short lil drabble! (Once again ft. @gabiwnomagic and @ahtohallan-calling’s lil bub, Ingrid)
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Kristoff hit a sort of second puberty the year he and Anna married. They say it’s fairly common, and different for everyone. For Kristoff, it meant body hair. And lots of it.
He was usually able to grow a substantial beard during harvests, and would come back, his beard scratchy and full. Anna couldn’t get enough of it. He didn’t quite understand her obsession, but he would humor her—letting it fully grow out, giving her a day or so to fawn all over him before he would shave it off and return to normal.
(Not that he could really complain about the love of his life burying her face just under his neck or pressing kisses all over his jaw.)
But by the time he turned 25, his beard was nearly untamable. He didn’t need a week or two away from the castle for his facial hair to grow thick. His 5 o’clock shadows turned into 1 o’clock shadows, and it became more trouble than it was worth, so Kristoff finally gave in and decided to grow it out.
By the time their first daughter was born, he had been growing and maintaining his beard for nearly a full year. And Anna’s fixation with his beard seem to have been passed down.
When Ingrid was just a small baby, she would make little grabby hands at her papa’s face when he would hold her, willing him to lean down so she could have her way with the prickly hairs. She would giggle in glee, and if Anna was with them she would laugh at Kristoff’s face getting all squished together.
Ingrid got a little older, and nothing had changed. When Kristoff would give himself a weekly trim over the bathroom sink, Ingrid would inevitably waddle her way in, holding her arms up until Kristoff would notice the tiny figure next to his leg and hoist her up to sit on the counter. Every time, she would ask “Papa, can I pet it when you’re done?” And every time, Kristoff would let her gleefully rub her palms back and forth over his scratchy stubble.
One hot summer day, Kristoff and Anna had plans to take Ingrid out for a picnic. Anna was in a sleeveless casual dress, her hair up and off her neck. Kristoff wore a thin linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, but he was still far too hot for the events of the day. As a last minute decision, he went into the bathroom, took out his old knife that he used to use for shaving, and went to work.
By the time Kristoff met up with his wife and daughter, he was completely clean-shaven. Anna’s eyes went wide.
“Kristoff?!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you like this in years!” she rushed up to him and cupped his face.
Ingrid moved out from behind her mother and looked up to see what the fuss was all about. She screamed in horror.
“Inga? Are you okay?” Kristoff asked, concerned. He bent down a bit to meet her level, and she backed up, hiding behind Anna’s leg.
“You’re not papa! Mama, he’s an imposter.”
Anna laughed so hard she snorted. “Baby, no, that’s papa.”
“But the real papa is all fuzzy!” she cried out.
Anna knelt down to pick her up. “I know, I know, but it’s still papa. Just without the beard.”
Ingrid looked up at them, eyes full of concern. “Promise?”
“Promise,” Anna reassured, rubbing a loving hand across her back.
She looked deep in thought for a moment. “Papa?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Can’t you put it back on? You look bad like this.”
Anna couldn’t contain her giggles at Kristoff’s dumbstruck face. “Ingrid! That was mean!” She tried her hardest to sound stern, but she couldn’t stop laughing.
“But it’s true!”
“I’ll grow it back out soon, you little bug. Now stop being so dramatic,” he said to her, smiling and patting her off as Anna let her down.
Kristoff turned to Anna. “Guess you can always count on kids to be brutally honest, huh?”
Anna snorted. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you look very handsome.” Kristoff raised his brow and smirked as Anna cupped his face. “But she’s right. Grow it back,” she said matter-of-factly, kissing his nose.
