Chapter Text
Snotlout was facedown on the counter almost drowning in his own drool.
His mom could force him to watch the front of the store while she was out, but she couldn’t force him to do it awake.
The bell above the door rang. The new customer didn’t wake Snotlout. Hookfang biting his hand definitely did. Snotlout jumped awake, screaming in the face of the startled customer who jumped back with his hands up as if to protect himself.
“Hookfang!”
Hookfang boredly returned to sunbathing in his spot on the countertop.
“Sorry, are you- are you closed?” The customer was a large soft guy with light hair, a high voice and stupid clothes. Snotlout couldn’t tell if he was being judgmental about his work ethic or honestly confused- either way he’d ignore him.
“Welcome to our shop, best bouquets in town, how can I help you or whatever,” Snotlout said, wiping the spit off his chin. Despite his mother’s best efforts to teach him ‘customer service’ and ‘basic manners,’ his hatred of customer interaction knew no bounds.
The shop was already filled wall to wall with his arrangements. There were flowers, greens, succulents, and ivies everywhere, his plants should speak for themselves. If your work couldn’t impress the customer for you, what good were you?
The stranger didn’t seem to mind. His eyes darted to Hookfang. “Is that an iguana in your shop?”
“What that is is an ungrateful mongrel. Say hi, Hookfang.”
Hookfang hissed.
The customer moved a few inches forward to get a better look, mumbling to himself.
“Adolescent male... well fed... beautiful coloring…”
“Uh, can I help you? He’s not for sale.”
“Oh- sorry. I was sent over to get something for the guys across the street. You have an order for their mom?”
“What guys?”
“Ruff and Tuff? They said you knew them.”
“Oh! Right.”
Snotlout got to work, picking up some wilting daisies and carnations and pulverizing them until the petals were falling off. He set them aside and picked up the bag of grass trimmings he had tucked away and started dumping them into a fish bowl.
“Why’d they send you over?” Snotlout knew all the twins’ friends already and didn’t think a stranger would listen to anything they asked. He started looking for that old branch he found in the parking lot.
The customer stared as he worked.
“It’s my first week,” he began, “They’re still putting me through the punches. Making me do grunt work.”
“First day at what?” Snotlout put the stick in the bowl and picked up a few dead bugs from the window sill, dumping them in too.
“At their shop.”
“As a janitor, right?”
“No. I just finished my apprenticeship at my uncle’s place across state so I’m a full time artist there now and what did their mother DO to you!?”
Snotlout spit in the bowl then passed it to his new neighbor.
“Nothing, this is how she likes it.”
The new guy made a face but took it and reluctantly handed him the twins’ card.
“You’re a tattoo artist?” he said, raising an eyebrow, “Aren’t tattoo artists supposed to be tough and intimidating? Or at least have tattoos?” This guy was big, but too soft to be scary and dressed like a nerd. He had an ill-fitting jacket, pants and shoes that reminded him of Hiccup’s middle school years, and a messenger bag with pins like ‘Don’t anger the DM’ and ‘Dragon Xing’.
“Oh, I definitely have tattoos.”
He pulled his shirt collar down just enough so that Snotlout could see ink but not enough that he could tell what it was.
“Can I ask you a question…” He squinted at Snotlout’s nametag. “...Snotlout? Is that your real name?”
“You work with guys named Ruffnut and Tuffnut,” he pointed out.
“Those aren’t nicknames?”
Snotlout smirked. “You’ll never know.”
The new guy accepted this, presumably choosing to move on with his life. He bent down by a sleeping Hookfang and took out a notepad.
“Can I draw him?”
“Knock yourself out, buddy.”
He started sketching. He studied him as he drew. His eyes would flick back and forth between Hookfang and his sketchpad, pencil always moving, tongue sticking out when he made notes in the margin. Snotlout watched him for several minutes as he took in every detail and put it to paper. The guy occasionally mumbled to himself but was otherwise quiet, obviously deep in concentration.
The sun shining through the front windows made the freckles on his cheeks and nose stand out. His skin was so pale it didn’t look like this guy spent any time outdoors. Aside from his weight and number of limbs, he reminded him more of Hiccup than of the twins.
The guy put his notebook away.
“Done drawing my lizard like one of your French girls?”
“Yeah, thanks,” he said as he picked up his sad excuse for a floral arrangement, “I better get back. Nice to meet you. And very nice to meet you,” he said to Hookfang.
Hookfang turned on his side then went back to sleep.
Blondie was out the door.
Snotlout watched as he crossed the street, disappearing into the tattoo parlor.
He was still staring at the parlor door when his mom finally came home and let him get back to making arrangements in the privacy of the back room with the TV running.
___
When Fishlegs got back to Henrik’s, the twins were messing around suspiciously in the back corner. When they heard him come in they whipped around, covering some papers on the table and going suddenly silent.
“What was that?”
“Nothing to worry about,” said Tuffnut.
“Need to know basis,” said Ruff, “You got our order?”
The twins nodded in approval as he cautiously held up the bowl.
“Perfect, put it over there.”
“I coulda sworn the guy at the florist’s was messing with me,” Fishlegs said, setting it down by the window.
Ruffnut sighed in exasperation.
“Snotlout’s the only one who understands Thorston aesthetic sensibilities,” her brother agreed.
Fishlegs walked to his chair in the corner across from where the twins were in Tuffnut’s and put his bag down before he started tidying up. It was slow and Henrik was gone, but he didn’t want to slack off on his first week.
...Not so much that he wouldn’t text on the job.
Heather:3:56 How’s work today?
Me:4:13 Not busy.
He sent her a picture of the disaster from the floral shop.
Heather:4:34 What is that??
Me:4:35 Twins actually paid for it.
Heather:4:35 You’re kidding
Me:4:40 It’s for their mom. Kind of sweet but I don’t get it.
Heather:5:01 Are we sure they’re not related to Dagur
Fishlegs laughed and buried his phone back in his pocket so he could answer the store’s old rotary phone.
He liked working here.
This place was a hipster’s dream. Exposed brick, wooden floors, framed samples of designs hanging all over the walls, and some obscure Norwegian band playing through a radio Tuffnut got at a swap meet that was so ancient it had no right to be working. It wasn’t much different than his uncle’s place, but the one thing Fishlegs really appreciated was that when he was done he could go right up stairs and turn in for the night.
Heck, if one of the twins was willing to cover his walk-ins he could just leave no problem and still be there if he needed to come back in. Not only did the twins’ uncle own the parlor on the bottom floor of the building, he lived on the top third floor and let the twins have the whole second floor to themselves (Fishlegs was fairly sure that was more for Henrik’s own sanity than for either of his niblings).
When Fishlegs got hired, the Thorstons offered to let him rent a room on the twins’ floor out of mutual convenience and they didn’t even care about Meatlug coming along. That was always Fishlegs’ biggest concern.
Heather:10:30 The more I learn about the twins the more I’m scared we’re related too
Me:10:30 Don’t worry, you look nothing alike
Heather:10:31 Neither do me and Dagur
Me:10:31 Well eruuvohqo2
Meatlug jumped on him the second he came through the door, licking his face like she hadn’t seen him in days.
“Hi, my beautiful girl! Daddy’s happy to see you too!”
The chubby bulldog jumped all over him, only stopping to roll on her back for belly rubs. The twins stepped past them, used to this display after just 4 days of living together.
Fishlegs grabbed her leash and took her for a walk. The local area was… nice enough, but he wasn’t about to run around back alleys in a new town in the middle of the night so he stuck to the well lit sidewalks around the block. Poor Meatlug was always cooped up upstairs. He tried to walk her as much as possible.
They took their time sniffing around and she pulled him across the road to investigate the flower shop even though they’d taken in their plants for the night. Fishlegs casually wondered about the guy bringing his iguana to work. There was no way he could ever get away with keeping Meatlug in the shop.
He forgot about his phone until they got back.
Heather:10:41 ??
Me:11:00 Sorry. Meatlug jumped me.
Heather:11:01 Are you still free Saturday?
Me:11:02 Yeah, I’ll pick you up for lunch on my break.
Heather:11:03 I’ll text you the address
One quick shower and microwave dinner later, Fishlegs was ready for bed. He flopped down on his bed with his sketchpad. He looked over what he’d drawn earlier that day, focusing especially on the lizard. He’d have to get another look at him. Other designs and sketches of various animals filled his book. Fishlegs was comparing the sketch of Hookfang to a dragon design he started a while ago and it gave him some ideas. He turned to a new page and started to get his ideas out while they were fresh, probably getting pencil marks all over his clean hands. He worked at it until he fell asleep still holding his book.