#but also i was literally told to 'shut the fuck up' about a simple furry joke that i wasnt even the only one making

[the-kipsabian]

kinda high key need someone to convince me im not stupid or a burden tbh

[timeisacephalopod]

Dramatics

I got bored so I figured what the fuck, why not another of the Peter Q/Stephen/ Tony YouTube AU shorts.

When Peter reads the topic this week he laughs and Tony grins because yeah, he figured Peter would enjoy that. And this week they have special guest Wong to back up all their crazy ‘Stephen Did A Really Dramatic Thing’ stories. Stephen glares at him because he doesn’t have a facial expression in between pleased and pissed and that has led to a whole lot of audience questions that are mostly ‘how do you know when he’s actually mad’ and the answer is that Stephen is screaming. Usually not literally, but he’s got a penchant for complaining that Peter and Tony have discovered is a trait they both found secretly appealing. Tony because he can use Stephen’s inability to keep his opinions to himself as a way to drive off reporters and Peter because he thinks its funny to set Stephen on people like some kind of personal pit bull.

In his defense it actually is pretty hilarious to watch this happen.

“Well, what’s the topic?” he asks and Tony hands the slip of paper to Wong, who reads it and lets out a loud snort. They don’t say anything to Stephen because all three of them know that if they say anything Stephen will deny all dramatics, but if they keep him dangling he’ll do something dramatic. Then he can’t deny his tendency to put on one hell of a show one hundred percent of the time.

“This is going to be fun,” Wong says, grinning.

Stephen squints at him, “how the hell is anything supposed to be fun when I don’t know what we’re doing?” he asks and they all start laughing.

“Exhibit A in Stephen Is Dramatic,” Peter says. “Obviously none of us can have fun if you don’t know what we’re doing.”

Stephen sticks his nose in the air, “its not my fault its true. And I am not dramatic,” he says like he didn’t just decide that it’s impossible for Tony, Wong, and Peter to have fun without him.

“Yes you are Stephen, face it. You’re more dramatic than Tony and that’s difficult to do when the man has literally coordinated pyrotechnics to his entrances,” Wong points out.

“In my defense,” Tony says, “that was Stark Expo and it was an important event.” Also he’s always wanted to walk into pyrotechnics and that seemed like a good way to fulfill his childhood dreams. Wong doesn’t seem to think this serves as a useable defense if the look on his face is any indication. Well, its not Tony’s fault Wong is no fun.

Peter snorts, “its funny that I write movies because living with the two of you is basically like living one.”

Stephen takes much more offense to this than he does. “I am not like living in a movie, I am a doctor and to most people that’s boring,” he says.

“A doctor that does a lot of international conferences, has revolutionized the way people do surgery, and has made significant headway in research in various fields related to spinal surgery. That’s not really boring,” Tony points out. “Its me, but with people instead of technology.”

“Right down to the flashy personality, ridiculous cars, and arrogant attitude,” Wong agrees but Peter wrinkles his nose.

“Tony is fake arrogant, Stephen is arrogant arrogant,” he says.

Wong presses his hand to his heart, “that’s so beautiful and eloquent, I can see how you managed to get several writing jobs,” he says sarcastically. Peter flips him off but Wong remains unaffected.

“I am not arrogant arrogant,” Stephen says, “but I agree that Tony is mostly good at faking it. Give him a sad child and a kitten though and he’ll show his true colors.”

Honest to fucking god Wong pulls an actual ass cat out of the bag sitting at his feet and hands it to Tony, who takes the furry little bugger immediately. “Why aren’t we doing a video on Wong’s dramatics,” Stephen says, frowning at him.

“Because I never insisted anyone call my cape a cloak,” Wong says.

“Or decided to get my colleagues to quiz me on seventies music while doing surgery just to prove how smart and able to multitask I am,” Peter says.

“Or convinced a guy’s girlfriend to dump him just so he’ll stop driving up the price of the rare car you want and can’t even drive,” Tony adds, petting the cat’s head.

Stephen squints at him, “I know how to drive,” he says.

Tony snorts, “yeah, if you consider stomping on the gas petal and riding your breaks like you do my ass driving. Your cars are screaming at you Stephen, I know this because I’m the one servicing them. Please stop killing your break pads,” he says. And he has to go fast everywhere. Like sure, Tony loves speed, always has, but Stephen lives on it and has a bad habit of being a distracted driver.

“I’m not worse than Peter,” Stephen says and Tony lets out a laugh.

“Honey, that’s like me saying I’m not a bad surgeon because I’m more competent than a fucking gibbon. Peter drives like he fucks- absolutely crazy, entirely selfish, not really aware of what he’s doing, but somehow ends up at his destination in one piece with everyone else there with him even if you have no clue how you got there,” he says.

Wong bursts out laughing, doubling over. “That is probably the best description of sex I have ever heard,” he wheezes out while Stephen joins him in laughing. Peter looks offended though.

“Am I really that bad at sex?” he asks and Tony shrugs.

“As a sex style I don’t understand how its working for me but it does. As a driving style, I’d rather trust Jesus to take the wheel and I don’t even believe he exists.” That is, he’s sure, probably because of the bad luck he’s had with cars he isn’t driving but that’s not the point. A goddamn goat probably has more skill than Peter behind the wheel.

“He’s right,” Stephen wheezes, “that’s exactly how you drive and fuck. That’s so funny.”

“Okay you know what, this video should have been about dramatic Tony is,” Peter says.

“I don’t necessarily agree, but technically we’re supposed to be talking about Stephen’s dramatics,” Wong says, preforming wrangling duties like he belongs in these videos. Clearly he keeps up with them if he knows to play into the existing structure and running joke. Funny, because Stephen doesn’t think Wong watches them at all and he’s sure Wong lets him believe that for whatever reason. The man is a more subtle dramatic most of the time, but dramatic nonetheless.

“Right, yeah, lets talk not talk about my totally normal not bad sex habits,” Peter says. “Stephen once decided to learn magic and insisted everyone call him ‘Sorcerer Supreme’.”

Tony snorts and starts laughing because he forgot about that. Stephen’s magic phase was short lived, but he did manage to learn quite a lot so now its a useful party trick he uses to steal drunk people’s keys at parties. Tony thinks that’s for the best even if Stephen’s ability with sleight of hand is much better than simple key stealing tricks.

“I was good, I deserved credit,” Stephen says, nose in the air.

“You were good sure, but that good? Eh,” Tony says, shrugging.

Stephen gives him an annoyed look before he sits up and Tony swears to a god he doesn’t even believe in that Stephen pulls a fucking bowl of goldfish out of nowhere. “Those aren’t real fish,” he says, handing the cat off to Wong before reaching for the bowl. Stephen lets him take it until he sticks his hand in there and lets out a loud yelp as Stephen pulls the bowl back.

“You don’t grab fish, Tony!” he yells as Peter does the same thing Tony does and reacts the same way as Stephen pulls the bowl away from him too. “I just told Tony not to grab the fish!” Stephen tells him. “What is wrong with the pair of you?”

Wong hands the cat back to Tony and pulls the bowl from Stephen’s hands and looks into it. “Yeah, those are definitely real fish. Where were you hiding four fish, a bowl, and all the water? I know you didn’t have all that on you when you sat down,” he says.

Stephen sticks his nose in the air, “I am the Sorcerer Supreme,” he says in a haughty tone.

Peter stares at Stephen like he’s preformed a miracle but Tony knows there has to be some kind of explanation. But who the hell keeps a bunch of fish, a tank, the water, and the rocks at the bottom of the bowl on them at all times? And how did he assemble all that in less than seconds when Tony knows there was no fish bowl hiding under his clothing. He’s wearing normal clothes, there’s nowhere for him to hide the bowl. But he had to manage somehow.

“This is why we’re making an entire video about your dramatics,” Wong points out, preforming wrangling duties again.

“You know what,” Stephen says, “I resent that I’m the dramatic one when Peter has cost people literal millions of dollars all in an effort to fund his self insert characters that are really his way of trying to avoid actual therapy for his daddy issues. And then he cast his boyfriend as his fake father- I feel that this is more dramatic than the fish,” he says matter-of-factly. 

Tony and Peter let out twin noises of disgust because they’d only just gotten past that. “Can’t you shut the fuck up about that?” Tony asks, wrinkling his nose at Stephen.

“No, because its true. And mini Peter is fake child Peter that you mentored into manhood. How do you feel about mentoring your boyfriend’s self insert into manhood?” he asks, smiling because he damn well knows he’s just ensured that Peter and Tony won’t be able to look each other in the eye for the next month or better. Shooting the damn movie was bad enough even if Peter is actually a pretty good director though it helps that he knows Tony well.

“This is why the video is centered on your dramatics, Stephen. Its not like the other two weaponize your parental relationships they way you do just because you like being the center of attention,” Wong says, going back to wrangling. Dude is good, Tony might keep him.

Peter frowns, “okay but how does this get him more attention?” he asks and Wong looks at him like he’s stupid.

“With you two alienated from each other you both pay attention to him more. He’s terrible really, he could have just asked for more attention like a normal person but instead he went through this convoluted plan to trap you both in your own web of daddy issues. Dramatic,” he points out.

Peter and Tony look at Stephen, who shrinks into his seat as his cheeks turn a little red. “Wong is lying,” he says with zero conviction.

*

Christine snorts, “he claimed he wasn’t dramatic? He should listen to the way he describes the other doctors at the hospital then. He once said that Glen was so old the Grim Reaper was reaching out and clutching his heart for safekeeping,” she says. “Then went on to point out he’s ‘lucky that he works in a hospital otherwise he would have surely turned to dust by now,’” she adds and they all know that last bit was Stephen’s phrasing. Christine isn’t that dramatic nor does she have a flair for flowery language like Stephen.

“That’s nothing- it turns out he’s been sabotaging mine and Tony’s relationship just to get more attention. He could have just asked,” Peter points out but no, Stephen can’t be a normal human.

“Oh yeah, he does that. Don’t let him get away with it, he’s like a kid. Give him an inch and he’ll take every mile he can squeeze out of you,” Christine says. “A good way to get him out of that habit is to do the opposite of what he wants. And he’s a fast learner.”

Tony and Peter exchange a look, knowing that they’re both keeping that in mind for later. Damn Stephen. “So,” Tony says, “did Wong give you a cat too? Because he’s given us three and Stephen hates them all as much as they love him.” Its like he’s catnip and he hates it. Tony doesn’t mind though, he’ll stand near Stephen and when he doesn’t pet them they go to him and he loves all the cats. Peter mostly doesn’t care about them until he trips on them in the kitchen.

Christine sighs, “yes, I have two. Where is he getting all these cats and why is he pawning them off on us? I had to go buy a cat tree yesterday so they’ll be entertained when I’m not home,” she says.

“Wong’s cat that he previously thought was a fat neutered male cat turned out to be a very pregnant female cat so he has some spare cats,” Stephen explains as he enters the room. The cats mill around his feet as he tries, and fails, to escape them. “Please rid me of these damn fang-y beasts,” he adds as he beelines to Tony.

Tony decides to put Christine’s words into practice and he calls the cats over but ignores Stephen. He watches as Stephen looks over to Peter, but he’s trying to get the attention of the third cat that’s just out of Tony’s reach. Then he looks at Christine, who decides to pick up one of the cats at Tony’s feet. “How come Wong gave you guys the cuter ones?” she asks. “One of mine looks like it has butt hole eyes and there’s nothing wrong with it, I took it to the vet to make sure,” she says.

Peter lets out a sharp laugh that scares off the kitten at his feet, “oh my god, come back kitty I didn’t mean to scare you!” Peter says, offering the cat a bad apology before he tries to call it back.

“I don’t know, maybe Wong decided you like the ugly ones. You had that pug in college,” he points out. And fuck was that thing ever a product of its entirely fucked up genetics. It looked in two different directions, the tongue hanging out of its mouth was nearly poking it in the eye, and Tony swears that one of its legs were shorter than the rest. That thing was a caution of science gone wrong but Stephen reports that Christine loved that ugly ass mutt.

“You leave Maribelle alone, she was a proper lady,” Christine tells him.

*

Peter and Tony are watching Rocket’s rough cut of Peter’s latest way of working out his daddy issues and Tony has to admit its good. A ton of shit still needs to be cut out, but its good. Mini Peter gives a great performance and Tony knows he’s acting, but it looks so natural that it doesn’t seem like he is. “You did an amazing job,” Peter says, wrapping an arm around his waist.

He smiles, “thank your directions, I don’t know how to act,” he says.

“That’s not true, you act all the time. Peter, cut that entire scene that’s basically just Tony laughing at Mini Peter’s jokes, its useless to the plot even if its cute. And that weird three minute scene where Tony is just standing there. Who’s bad style choice was that? I like the fishing scene but it should go too, its just Tony screaming at fish that I notice he does not try to grab,” Stephen says, giving him a look. Okay it was one time and forgive him for thinking it was nuts that Stephen had actual goddamn fish in a bowl he pulled out of literally nowhere. He’s gone through that video frame by frame and he still can’t figure out how he did it. The bowl wasn’t there and then it was. Like actual magic but Tony refuses to believe that.

They ignore Stephen still, deciding to steep him in his own stupid manipulation tactics for a little while longer while he stands there looking like a tit on a log. “Okay fine, I’m sorry I messed with your relationship please pay attention to me,” he says finally. Tony and Peter must be thinking along the same line because they both snort and start laughing before Tony extends his arm to Stephen, not looking away from the screen.

Stephen happily plods over, throwing himself on the couch beside them before laying down with his head in Tony’s lap. Peter shifts so his arm is on Stephen’s shoulder and Tony pets his hair. “That’s what you get for being an ass,” Tony tells him. “Also I think the way this turned out is not very much like Peter’s usual dad self inserts. I think Rocket heard us crying,” he says.

Peter shakes his head. “Nah, he just knows how to find the best takes and sticks them together to make a somewhat cohesive storyline,” Peter says. “So I guess the best scenes deviated from my original script. Also Stephen that’s all good advice, I was thinking the same thing but honestly at this point I’m too involved to know what’s good and what’s bad.”

That, and Tony knows Rocket probably realized that right away that the cutesy scenes didn’t work but kept them in for Peter to come to the same conclusion. They’d been relevant in the script, but not so much once it’d been shot. Turns out he and Mini Peter have enough on screen chemistry to believably build a relationship without all the bonding scenes they had in there before. Well, there were only like four but still.

They sit and watch the rough cut for another good twenty minutes before Stephen speaks again. “Are you even acting?” he asks Tony. “Because this doesn’t look like you’re acting at all.”

“I am, yeah. Peter gave me good directions,” he says but Peter snorts.

“Good directing gets you a lot, but it doesn’t replace talent. You were an actor in another life,” he says.

“Technically he’s an actor in this one too,” Stephen points out. “But he should have made a career out of it. You’re better than most current actors. Certainly better than Nicolas Cage,” he says.

Tony sighs, “remember what I said about the gibbon? This is another gibbon.”

Peter snorts and starts laughing. “I’m keeping that.”

[toopliss-chewtoy]

Hard Coded Ch. 4

Been too long again, I hope people are still looking forward to these x”D This chapter pretty much marks the half-way point of the fic! Lots of fluff and good vibes to make up for the last chapter. Art by @lucidorange.  - J. [Read from the start] Size: 3968 words Warnings: Author chose not to show warnings - some apply! Also on AO3

Chapter 4

Hiccup didn’t like to admit it… but he was getting pretty nervous over nothing. Again. He checked his watch for the millionth time in then minutes. It was 11:45. Jack would be there in fifteen minutes. He paced his room. This was ridiciulous. They were just going to hang out together, probably at Jack’s place or something.

It wasn’t like he was going on a date or anything.

With a frustrated sigh, he sat down on his bed, only to get up again a second later to resume his restless pacing around the room.

11:47

Frig fragging frigglesticks. This was stupid. 

He checked himself again in the mirror. A dark green T-shirt, black skinny jeans, and simple sneakers were his choice of wardrobe today. Picking it had taken him only half an hour - something that only seemed to happen when he was doing something with Jack. It apparently put him into over-think-everything modus, and he was driving himself nuts.

He literally jumped when the doorbell rang and he almost beat Gobber to the door.

“Haymish, the lad’s back,” Gobber said with a scowl at Jack, who did his best to avoid Gobber’s stern stare. Hiccup doubted they’d ever get along after that little break-in stunt. Not that it mattered; Jack wasn’t here for Gobber’s luscious beard.

“Hi… Haymish,” he said with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Don’t you dare, snowflake.”

Jack raised his hands defensively and laughed. “All right, all right. Are you ready to go?”

“Do I uh… need to bring anything?”

“Good spirits and maybe an appetite?”

“Bring him back before curfew,” Gobber interjected. Hiccup blushed and told him to shut it, because he didn’t have a curfew. He also said not to wait on him for dinner and herded Jack out the door before the mustachioed man could embarrass him any further.

They got in Jacks’ old Mustang and took off. At first Hiccup expected them to just go to Jack’s place, but they soon deviated from that route.

“So… where are we going?”

Jack just grinned mischievously. “You’ll see!” Hiccup rolled his eyes, but at the same time his heart fluttered. That smile should be illegal. A weapon of mass seduction on that scale might actually be prohibited by the Geneva treaty.

Hiccup didn’t realize their destination until Jack parked the car and turned off the engine, looking at him expectantly. Sure, he’d seen the signs advertising ‘Knighthood’, a medieval themed fair, but he’d never dreamed that was where they were going. Even when Jack parked the car, he still didn’t quite dare give in to the hopeful excitement.

“Figured it out by now or should I spell it out?” Jack teased.

Hiccup just stared in disbelief. “Really?!”

“Yes? Unless I’ve grossly misread about 100 consecutive signs.”

“Awesome!”

Relief washed over Jack. He’d guessed Hiccup would love this, but he hadn’t quite been sure. Seeing Hiccup light up like that was the most gorgeous and honest confirmation Jack could have gotten.

Of course he wouldn’t tell the brunet this had been a gamble, and that he had a Plan B, C and D into place. Instead he just put on a smug smile.

“I knew you’d like it!”

“But ehm… I didn’t know you liked medieval stuff as well?” Hiccup said. He was still working under the assumption that this was definitely not a date, and thus it would make no sense to go to something only he was into.

“Are you kidding me? Knights with huge swords and, if the flyer is to be believed, Celtic music! What is there not to like?” Jack said as they got out.

A cheerful tune on a lute welcomed them as they walked across the gassland-turned-parking-lot, heading for the entrance. At a big wooden gate flanked by two watch-towers, two knights in full plate-armour were standing guard. Above the heavy-looking doors was a banner with “Welcome to Nighthood” on it. Hiccup almost started skipping. His enthusiasm was adorable and a bit contagious. Jack’s heart skipped right along with the other’s springy steps.

They spent the entire afternoon roaming the fair. Line after line of tents in all shapes and sizes filled the usually boring, empty fields. There was a grill, flooding the fair with the distinct smell of charcoal fire and seasoned chicken. There were also grilled chestnuts, baked ham, and sweet potatoes, just to name a few of the culinary highlights. All drinks were served in baked clay mugs to add to the atmosphere. You were supposed to return them after use, but Jack made one ‘disappear’ into his bag for Hiccup.

Of course there was no lack of entertainment either. Jugglers and acrobats moved through the crowd and the boys witnessed some good ol’ jousting. Not the obviously fake show-kind either. Nothing but full-force jousting, smashing lances to tinder against thick metal shields.

Jack was especially impressed by the live music - all on traditional and historically accurate instruments; or so someone told him. His knowledge on antique instruments was nonexistent, so he took the woman’s word for it. He was particularly impressed by the lute player. He’d never seen someone go daft on a lute before in what was a seriously bad-ass lute-solo. He’d clapped till his hands were sore.

All the while Hiccup was enjoying himself with an enthusiasm usually only rivaled by ten-year-olds on Christmas eve after having too much sugar. Jack used his phone to take tons of pictures of giddy teen, as well as some selfies with both of them.

And then there was the smithy.

“Jack… are you sure this is a good idea?”

The white-haired teen pressed his phone in Hiccup’s hands.

“Of course! It’ll be totally bad-ass!” He grabbed the absolutely massive sword with two hands. “You ready for the photo?”

Hiccup readied the camera and nodded. Jack made a valiant effort to lift the huge slab of metal, much to the amusement of the blacksmith that was standing next to him. He heaved and puffed and pulled, and managed to lift the sword just a few inches before his arms gave in and the thing hit the ground with a deafening ‘clang’.

“Maybe you’ll want to take a picture with this instead.” The blacksmith offered him a tiny little dagger. Hiccup roared with laughter and took another photo of a blushing and pouting Jack with the wee little knife before he could hand it back to the blacksmith.

“I’m so getting back at you for that.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you bit off more than you could chew!”

“Who makes a sword that big? I thought it was a light prop or something!”

“You should have seen your face when he gave the dagger!” Hiccup giggled. “Man those are great pictures.”

“I’m so gonna delete those.”

“Too late, I already send them to myself while I had your phone!”

“You devious little-”

Hiccup jumped out of reach and skipped ahead, laughing back at Jack over his shoulder.

In between more taunts and photos with knights, they talked about pretty much anything. Hiccup asked a bit more about Jack’s family, who refrained from asking the same questions to Hiccup, knowing that ‘family’ would be a slippery slope. Hiccup didn’t miss that fact, but he didn’t mind at all; he was more than happy to discuss the cheerful things in life, such as his blacksmith uncle back in Norway. That caught Jack’s attention all right, especially when he mentioned said uncle was specialized in medieval weaponry.

It didn’t feel like useless chatter for a second. The white-haired boy was really trying to gt to know him. All the nerves he’d felt earlier that morning had disappeared to the back of his mind, pushed out of the way by the marvelous atmosphere here.

If you’d told him two weeks ago that he’d be hanging out with the Jack Frost at Knighthood, he would have called you insane. And if you’d told him talking with Jack was this easy and natural, he would have sent you off to an asylum in an instant.Yet here he was, happier than ever.

“You know,” Jack said with his mouth half full with bread-on-a-stick. “I think we’ve walked around the full thing twice now.”

“Yeah. I doubt there are any acrobats we don’t have a photo of yet.”

“Or any page. Or knight. Or dragon.”

“That dragon was awesome though.”

“Fucking furry.”

“Shut up. I guess we should go home then?”

“We’ve literally seen it all twice, so home sounds good.”

“Or maybe you could try lifting that sword again?”

“Fuck you. You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

Hiccup laughed. “Nope. Never.”

A short walk later, Hiccup settled into the warm, leather chair of Jack’s orange pride. He sighed contently.

“Thanks,” he said. “I haven’t had this much fun since… since…” He stopped that train of thought right there and rephrased. “Since I don’t know. A long time anyway. So thank you.”

The suddenly very serious tone took Jack by surprise.

“You’re welcome,” he answered sincerely giving Hiccup a warm smile.

They were quiet for a little bit, both wondering what to say next. Jack tried to figure out what the other was thinking, while Hiccup didn’t really know what he was even feeling right now. But the moment passed, Hiccup buckled in, and Jack started the car.

They drove home to the tunes of the new CD Jack’d bought at the fair. The one with that awesome lute-player. Hell, there was a lute-version of Iron Maiden’s Phantom of the Opera! Needless to say, Jack was very pleased with his purchase and he hummed along to the ‘medieval metal’.

Hiccup was in a completely different world. He barely heard the music and just stared out of the window without seeing anything. He’d almost slipped up back there. He’d almost said ‘since I went with my mom’. That would have been a mood-killer for sure. And now mixed feelings were warring for his attention. On one hand, he still felt happy and elated, like he’d felt for most of the day. The fair had been great and he’d spend a wonderful day with Jack. But on the other hand he felt incredibly guilty. In some irrational way, it felt unfair towards his mother.And somehow his dad too.

Was that weird? It felt weird.

The result was an aura of doom and gloom and Jack did not deserve that. Especially not after a day like this. Hiccup got angry at himself for feeling so sad when he’d been so happy only moments ago, which then made him feel even more guilty, and beneath it all was a large dose of overall sadness, simply from missing his mom.

He casually looked ahead. Two bright headlights of an oncoming truck took him by surprise. He startled and a strong fear took hold of him, sending his entire body in a full-on state of panic. He screamed.

What if they crashed? Just like last time? It was a ridiculous thought, but that did little to calm his racing heart.

Please. Not again. Please, make it stop!

He closed his eyes and bit his lip, willing the tears to stay away. He didn’t want to break down again in front of Jack. He sucked in a ragged breath and tried to hold it, but if felt like he was suffocating.

I’m not some wreck Jack needs to take care of, goddamn it! Calm down!

He didn’t even notice they were no longer on the highway until Jack turned off the engine. Instead they were at on a parking lot at the edge of a forest. Hiccup looked to his left and saw two piercing, blue eyes staring at him. He tried to ask why they’d stopped, but his voice faltered. Those eyes that usually carried the hint of a smile were dead serious, even a bit sad. Hiccup felt as if they were looking right at his soul, straight through his sad excuse of a fake smile.

Despite Hiccup’s best efforts, he started to cry.

Without a word, Jack leaned forward across the middle console and pulled him into a hug. He put his arms around him as best he could in their awkward position, and Hiccup clung to Jack’s shirt, embarrassed to be crying again but unable to help it. Tears streamed down his face and his breathing came in irregular gasps. His whole body trembled, trying to stay upright in a violent torrent of emotions.

He tried to focus on Jack’s soothing voice, the hum in Jack’s chest when he talked. He felt his hand rubbing across his back in slow circles. It didn’t even matter what Jack said. As long as he was there, talking.

Eventually, the brunet started to calm down again. He took a few deep breaths in time with Jack, and then disentangled himself to wipe at his tears.

“Sorry… about that,” he mumbled, his gaze fixed on his lap.

“You missed her.” It wasn’t a question. Jack had stated it very matter of fact-like. The other nodded, still avoiding eye contact.

“Hold on.” Jack got out of the car, fetched something from the trunk, and opened the passenger door. He held out his hand and nodded with his head to the forest. He had a guitar-case strapped to his back.

“Come on. We’ll go for a walk.”

“I… I’m fine now.” The moment Hiccup said it, he knew that wasn’t quite the truth. And so did Jack.

“I insist. Trust me.”

Hiccup took his hand, and jack helped him get out. He intertwined their fingers and headed into the forest. No words were exchanged. Just a reassuring squeeze and the calm of the forest.

They didn’t have to walk far to reach a clearing. In the center were two big logs and a ring of stones, creating the perfect spot for a campfire. There was even a basket with wood, covered by plastic. In no-time, Jack had a fire going; he’d obviously known this was here. He then rummaged in the guitar-case and presented Hiccup with a bag of marshmallows.

Slightly incredulous, Hiccup accepted the plastic bag. He scoured the ground for two thin sticks and put the marshmallows on the, then handed one back to Jack.

They sat, watching the fire and roasting their fluffy blobs of sugary goodness, while the sun sneaked steadily towards the horizon. The clouds were painted orange and pink, while marshmallows slowly turned brown.

“Why?” Hiccup asked.

“Because I wasn’t going to continue driving while you were…”  Jack interrupted himself, not quite sure how to finish that sentence. “You screamed at an oncoming truck. You never told me the details of your accident, but I could guess. You were having a great time today, but on the way back, you were thinking of something else entirely.”

“Sorry…”

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” Jack tried to look the other teen in the eyes. “Listen. You don’t need to apologize for anything. Really.”

Hiccup was starting to tear up again and Jack put an arm around him.

“If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I could have taken you somewhere else. I could have taken you here. This was my plan B if you didn’t like Knighthood.”

“Your plan B isn’t even in the same ballpark as plan A. No offense.” Hiccup swallowed hard and put his head on Jack’s shoulder. “I… it…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Jack said softly. They lapsed into silence, eating their first round of roasted marshmallows as they were done. The sticks were reloaded, and the roast-process started all over again.

“You know…” Jack started. “…after my sister, I was terrified of ice-skating. And I hated lakes. I wouldn’t go anywhere near them, especially not the one where she fell in.”

Hiccup felt Jack shift besides him.

“Next winter, I didn’t touch my ice-skates once. There was a 50/50 chance I’d burst into tears when someone even mentioned ice. Every time I’d just think of how it was my fault again, and I would miss her. My newfound fear of lakes must have driven my parents nuts, but they didn’t say anything at first. Then they gently tried to help me get over it, and that only made it worse. I threatened to drive the family apart at a time we needed each other more than ever.” He fell silent for a moment and Hiccup put his arm around his waist, still keeping his head on his shoulder.

“Then came my uncle, Aster. He took me for a ride on his motorcycle; I can’t even remember where he said we were going. But before I knew it,I was at a lake. Not the same one where, you know… A different one. The entire thing was frozen over and there were coloured lights and flags and a hot-chocolate stand with countless children swarming about. The whole shebam. There was even a place to rent ice-skates. It was such a nice spot… but you can imagine that didn’t quite register with me. I was only thinking about Olivia.

“I was terrified. Frozen in place. How on earth could I go and have fun while my sister… couldn’t? It was unfair. It felt like cheating. And my uncle, he just knelt in front of me and hugged me tight. It was cold and I was crying and it sorta hurt my cheeks and he just held me. And then he said something I’ll never forget. He said: ‘Olivia would want you to go skating.’ For an instant I was furious, because how could he say that? But at the same time, I knew he was right. She’d always been so fond of the ice, how could I give up on skating because of her? She’d be so mad.”  Jack laughed. “Imagine that little frown. She’d call me an idiot brother.

“So I put on the skates and started skating again. And you know what? It was actually fun. We had hot chocolate and we took the scenic route home with his bike. He treated me to dinner and didn’t stop the positive attention till I was smiling again.

“How he talked of Olivia - with a touch of sadness but mostly with joy and a smile on his face - opened my eyes. Remembering her brought him joy instead of sadness. I learned how to be happy that day, despite the painful loss.”

“Is that why you brought the marshmallows and took me to the fair? To turn it into a positive experience?” Jack couldn’t have planned this like that, right?

“Ehm… no. I just thought you’d really like the fair. I didn’t realize what that might trigger until we were on our way home. I’m very glad I brought marshmallows though.”

“So am I. Did you ever return to that lake?” hiccup was already cursing himself for even asking, but Jack didn’t even tense. He simply answered.

“Not for another year. I skated around on it once, in honour of her. Never skated there since, but I still visit now and again.” He considered for a moment, and then added: “I make it sound easy. It wasn’t. I stood at the edge, skates in hand, for over an hour. But she deserved one more lap. When I was skating… I don’t know. It sounds stupid, but I like to imagine she was there with me, laughing.”  He gave hiccup a wry smile and hugged him tighter.

“It never goes away, does it.”

“No.” Jack could have added some cliches like ‘you learn to live with it’, but he hated those lines. He’d heard enough of those to deeply dislike them.

He stared at the sticks in their hands. “Hiccup?”

“Hmm?”

“Our marshmallows have fallen off.”

Together they stared into the flames. They were already impossible to spot. Completely burnt down. It wasn’t even that funny, but still they laughed as if it was the most hilarious joke ever; it was just so out of line with the rest of their evening. Hiccup felt remarkably better now, and they both wanted to move to more light-hearted marshmallow-level topics. They started by putting new ones on their sticks, this time keeping a close eye on them so they wouldn’t fall victim to the flames again.

Hiccup hesitated when Jack pulled over in front of his house. Blushing, he bent over the middle console to hug the other teen. Jack was happy to oblige and hugged back, rubbing the other’s back.

“Thank you for showing me it’s okay to be happy.”

Then he was off, waving briefly when he got to the front door, right before he disappeared inside.

Next Monday was art-class again. The last time Jack would be modeling, in fact. Not that Hiccup was in any kind of hurry; his painting was practically finished. He leisurely dotted the I’s and crossed the t’s, and he was already done putting his brushes away when the bell rang. The rest had been a bit slower and were just beginning to clean up.

Jack came over right away to look at the brunet’s painting.

“That. Is. Awesome,” he said. “You’re so good!”

“And it’s yours, if you still want it of course.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I want it, how could I not want it?!”

Hiccup laughed. “All right, but it still needs to dry. Won’t be ready for transport for another hour or two, three.”

“You’re the best!” Jack hugged him tight and, as he was taller and stronger, managed to lift Hiccup off the ground a bit. Hiccup’s face instantly did a convincing imitation of a red buoy.

Jack grinned and almost kissed him on the cheek, but he was pretty sure Hiccup would literally die of shame if he did that. Besides, he hadn’t really made it clear that he like liked him. Seeing how clueless this boy was, he’d probably have to spell it out loud and clear before he would catch on…

“If we have to wait for it to dry anyway, how about we go for coffee or something? You’re done now, right?”

Hiccup was about to say ‘sure’ when his brain screamed the word DATE at him, and he blushed even harder. He couldn’t look Jack in the eyes anymore, who was starting to wonder if he’d done something wrong.

Hiccup mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?”

“You mean li-” The rest was lost to Jack.

“Still can’t hear you.”

“I said, ‘like a d-date?’” Hiccup was staring at his hands very intently now, feeling like a total idiot for saying it like that. Immediately he came up with 1000 better ways to phrase this uncertainty and sound totally smooth when doing so. But he’d already ruined his chance by sounding as smooth as crunchy peanut butter.

Jack was joining the blush-fest, however. He barely held back the ‘yeah duh, doofus!’ that popped in his head. Instead he was a little bit kinder.

“I’d like that?” It wasn’t supposed to be a question, but that’s how it sounded anyway.

“Really?”

Jack gave in to the impulse and kissed the freckled forehead. “Yes, really.”

This initiated an ‘awwwwww’ from the teacher, who was still there, sitting behind her desk. Jack looked at her surprised, while Hiccup had a distinctly ‘caught’ look. The colourful woman giggled.

“Go on,” she urged, happily gesturing. “I’ll wrap this up when it’s dry, you can pick it up tomorrow. You just look so cute together, and-” They both fled before she could make it any more awkward.