[CO - HTTYD/] Firelight, chapter 4

Firelight, a DreamWorks' How to Train Your Dragon fusion fanfic by Raberba girl

Chapter 4 (rough draft)

A/N: Sorry for the delay; I've been sucked into a gigantic new fandom (Batman and his adorable, super-cool baby robins) and enjoying updates to my old ones (some new books came out this summer, and now there's Voltron season 3, aaahhh!), so I've been neglecting the Internet and writing (as well as real life priorities X'''D)...! But today I didn't have Internet access for six hours, so I figured I ought to seize the opportunity to write a new chapter.

o.o.o

"Mom?" I asked that night during dinner, "What do you know about the Wilders?"

I wasn't expecting the weird look she gave me - tense, nervous, a little defensive, as if I'd said something borderline insulting. "Why do you want to know?" she asked flatly.

I held up my hands. I hadn't intended to make her angry at me, I'd only wanted to get more information. "I was just curious, it's not a big deal. Never mind."

"Did you hear something about them?" she asked sharply. "Some rumor?"

She wasn't letting me escape. "No, no, no. I just...I go to school with them, and...."

She stared at me.

"I'm sorry. I was just curious...but not that curious. I don't care. Nice, normal kids, totally, everything's great." I cast around for something else reassuring to say, disgusted that I couldn't keep my voice under control. The panicked undercurrent was probably making things worse. "I'm probably going to go to bed soon," I tried.

Mom made a visible effort to calm herself. "No, no, it's all right, I...I just...." She drew in a deep breath, then smiled at me. It looked forced. "I know Alfred Wilder's family. They're good people. A little odd, but...." She seemed to struggle with herself. "What did you hear?"

It took me a while to figure out how much to tell her. "It's just...you know, it was raining this morning, and...uh...." There was an awkward pause. Finally, I decided to just go for it. "People say the Wilder kids are dangerous," I blurted in a rush, "but those are just rumors, right? People making up stories about a group that doesn't fit in?"

She was quiet for a long moment. "Do they not fit in?" she finally asked, sounding a little sad.

"...."

She sighed. "They're trying, Hiccup. They don't mean any harm."

"...Mom. Are they dangerous?"

She looked at me, then frowned and leaned a little closer to study my face more intently. "Hiccup, did they do or say anything to upset you?"

"Ummm...I mean, they...they did probably save my life, but afterward--"

"Saved your life?!"

I told her about the car. She looked horrified and lunged closer to me, nearly grabbing me but stopping herself just in time. "I'm all right, Mom, really! I told you, Max pulled me out of the way."

"Oh! Oh, goodness, I...." She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands.

"You can hug me, you know...." I didn't particularly need a hug, but I didn't mind getting one, and she looked like she really needed the reassurance.

Sure enough, she embraced me tightly, and sat there holding me for a long time. "I'm so glad you're safe," she whispered.

"Yeah. Me, too." Thankfully, she seemed distracted from whatever had bothered her so much about me asking about the Wilders.

The next day at school, I got more attention than usual for a few hours because of my near-accident and abduction, but people were already starting to turn to the next big topic of interest, which was the upcoming girls' choice dance. Fish mumbled about it all morning, constantly showing me the stats he was compiling about various girls and the probability he had of being asked out by each one of them.

I tried to be sympathetic and encouraging, but honestly, the topic couldn't keep my attention. I liked girls just fine, thought about them sometimes and definitely appreciated a nice body when I saw one, but the whole romance scene didn't quite feel real or relevant to me yet. I did want to get married someday, but I got the sense that I'd have to be a lot older and cooler before any girl worth dating would look twice at me. (Or, actually, any girl, period.) High school was probably the last place I'd ever find a girl who'd be interested in spending time with me. That was a little depressing, but I tried not to think about it too much, and until I figured out how to be more attractive to the opposite sex and less...me, I had other interests that called more strongly for my attention.

"I'm sure you'll find someone, Fish. I'll be your wingman if you want."

"Really?!"

"Don't get excited, though. This is not exactly my area of expertise."

"Hmm, I know it's girls' choice, but do you think anyone would really mind if I made the first move? You know, if they're taking a little too long, and, like, the deadline's coming up...?"

We were still, unfortunately, talking about it off and on by the time lunch rolled around. "Don't give up so soon, Hiccup!" Fish was saying as we brought our trays to an empty table. "We'll find you a date for sure, and even if not, you can still come solo."

"I'd feel kind of lame coming all by my--"

Chair legs scraped across the linoleum all around us; an army of trays thumped onto the tabletop alongside ours; the air was full of loud voices and gesturing limbs.

"...dare you to try it when Alfred's not looking, Fang--"

"There you are, Bell, dear; would you like me to--?"

"You have a feather caught in your hair, Max."

"Stormf-- Stormy, one of your not-treasures is coming off."

Fish and I sat frozen in shock as the Wilders settled around us like a flock of noisy birds. None of them were paying actual attention to us, except that Max casually flung an arm around my shoulders as he bickered with Fang. Mila was brushing at a twin's face like a fussy mother, breaking the guy's intense stare at Fish and me; he closed his eyes and leaned a little closer to her. The other twin was fiddling with a loose rhinestone on Stormy's arm, as Stormy herself picked a feather out of Max's hair and brushed a bit of reddish-brown crust away from the corner of his mouth. They were all so touchy, it suddenly made me wonder if the way they'd manhandled me the day before had just been normal interaction for them.

"What is happening," Fish whispered.

Mila smiled at him. "Hello. We will eat lunch with you today."

Fang grinned and picked a french fry off of Fish's tray, popping it in his mouth while maintaining eye contact. Fish whimpered a little, but said nothing. Fang frowned and reached for another fry until Stormy lightly smacked his hand. Then she looked straight at Fish and said coldly, "Defend your food."

Fish made a strangled sort of noise, but didn't do anything when Fang reached out yet again. I pulled Fish's tray away and held my arm protectively over it. "You've got two whole trays of your own," I pointed out.

The Wilders all went silent for a moment, staring at me in surprise, which unnerved me. Then Fang grinned again. "The weaker one defends for both?"

I gritted my teeth, but decided to ignore the insult. "There's more than enough here for everyone to eat. No one needs to steal anything."

The Wilders all looked at each other like this was a strange but intriguing foreign concept. Then Mila put one of her trays in the middle of the table and waited expectantly. Her siblings stared at it. Then Max announced, "That is Mila's food. Only Mila will touch it."

They all burst into laughter as if it had been a hilarious joke. Fish and I exchanged a mystified look.

"But," Fang complained, setting a fingertip to the table and tracing a sort of boundary around Mila's tray, "only words to mark it! Doesn't work."

"That is my tray," Mila said. The Wilders paused again, this time in a dissatisfied way. Then Mila picked up her tray and touched her tongue to the edge while she carefully rotated it, licking around its entire perimeter. She set it back down in the middle of the table. Her siblings all exclaimed in approval and then dug into their own meals as if the matter had been settled. "That is Mila's food," Stormy murmured.

"Mila's food," Fang agreed.

Fish and I gaped at each other in silent agreement. 'THESE PEOPLE ARE INSANE.'

Then I remembered what my mother had said, how the Wilders were trying and didn't mean any harm. Super-weird they undoubtedly were, but they hadn't done anything bad other than steal a french fry or two. "........Hey, so," I said, instantly capturing their attention (except for the twins, who ignored me), "have you guys met my friend? This is F--" I paused, glancing at him to see if he wanted me to introduce him by his real name or his nickname. He nodded slightly. "This is Fish."

The Wilders looked delighted. "Fish?! Your name is Fish?!"

Fish started to mumble nervously, "It's just a ni--"

"Fish is a good name! Very good, the best name you people have."

"Hiccup is a good name," Max said defensively.

"Yes," Mila said soothingly, petting him.

"Fish and Hiccup," Fang declared, pointing at us proudly. "Very smart. Better than all them over there." He swept his arm out toward the rest of the cafeteria, where a lot of people were staring and whispering about us. "You know what real names are. I am Hookfang! This is Stormfly, Meatlug, Toothless, and Barf/Belch." He pointed at each of his siblings in turn, combining the gesture and names of the twins as if they were one person instead of two.

"N-N-Nice to meet you," Fish said, exchanging another wild look with me.

Max (Toothless??) had been uncomfortably close to me the entire time, the side of his body frequently brushing mine even when he took his arm off my shoulders so he could eat. I tried to edge away once or twice, but he just absently scooted his chair close again, so I gave up. "So...what brings you guys to our table today?" I ventured.

"You are his special thing," one of the twins remarked offhand. "Troops stay together," said the other.

Fish and I glanced at each other yet again. I was alarmed, but this didn't seem to be the right time or place to protest. Just one agitated Wilder was scary enough; I didn't want six on my hands. "So," I said instead, "sorry, you two look really alike; it's...Bart? Barf, I mean.... That's you, right?" Bart was a guy's name, but Mila had confused me earlier by looking at him when she said 'Bell.'

"No," Mila corrected. "This one is Belch." She was indicating the guy. "Bell to camouflage. This here is Barf," she gestured at the girl twin, "Bart to camouflage."

The look I exchanged with Fish this time was resigned. "Welp...that's probably the least weird thing about you guys, so...." I didn't say it loudly, but I didn't whisper, either, and I was tense as I wondered whether they'd take offense or not.

None of them even glanced up from their food except for Stormy - or Stormfly, whatever - who frowned at me. "Weird thing? We are strange?"

"...........Yeah. You guys are all really, really weird."

This time they all paused, but they looked more glum than anything else. For some reason, Fish seemed compelled to make them feel better. "But don't worry, it's okay! You guys are all, um, nice! Hey, come to think of it...." He eyed the girls apprehensively for a minute, then took a breath and decided to plunge in. "I don't suppose any of you ladies would be interested in attending the dance, would you?"

None of them knew what we were talking about. After we'd explained it (the basic concept of school dances, not just the fact that Fish was asking them out), Stormy screwed up her face in disgust and returned to her food. Bart - the girl twin - ignored us entirely, and Fang laughed and offered to be Fish's date.

"Ummmmmmmmmm, well, umm, that's really nice of you, but, uh, it's, you know, girls' choice, so...!"

"I am female," Mila said warmly. "I choose you to 'dance,' with, One Who Eats Fish."

Fish stared at her. Then his face lit up, and he said shyly, "Really?"

"Oh, he is so cute!" she shrieked, pouncing on him to hug him tight. Fish yelped, but didn't seem entirely displeased.

Stormy sighed and looked at me. "You want a female, too?"

"No, I'm good," I said quickly. I would have agreed if she'd looked like she actually wanted to go, but I preferred to stay home than have a date who'd rather be anywhere else than dancing with me. "I'm probably not even going to go to the dance, anyway."

The bell rang soon after that. The last glance Fish and I exchanged was one of amazement that we'd survived a lunch period with the Wilders.

To be continued....

A/N: I will not be romantically shipping Meatlug & Fishlegs. (.......Probably.) Mila's attraction to him is purely platonic.

This chapter strayed a lot from the book, and geez.... I'd been at least partially enjoying my re-read of the book this fic is based on, but now that the romance is in full swing, everything I'd liked about the story is gone. DX Reading that book is getting hard to slog through now.