Archive of Our Own

After one last brushstroke, Jack stood back to admire his work. He was rather enjoying this contract Aster had managed to get with The Sandman’s Baby Furniture. It gave the two artists a stable job and he loved painting baby furniture. But, as much as he enjoyed his work, it was time for a break. He wiped the sweat of his forehead. He needed to get out of the stuffy, overly warm studio.

"I’m gonna go get a something to drink. Want a coffee?"

Aster grunted, but didn’t even look up from the small flowers he was painting. Jack shrugged and stood, wiping his paint-stained hands on his pants, adding more smears of colors to them. He didn’t bother cleaning up. The coffee shop was right across the streets and the barista was used to seeing him walk in like that. 

It was almost as warm outside as it was in the studio, so he crossed the street running without bothering to walk to the corner. He entered the blissfully cool interior of the coffee shop and stopped just inside and closed his eyes to appreciate it. He really needed to convince Aster to get them air conditioning for their studio. When he reopened his eyes, the barista, Hiccup, was looking at him with that little smirk Jack was so fond of as he handed the only other customer her coffee. Jack grinned and walked to the counter.

"Let me guess," the freckled brunette drawled, "A large frozen lemonade and a frosted cinnamon roll for you, and a medium black coffee and a carrot cake for your friend who can’t stop working long enough to cross the street and come here himself."

"You know me too well."

"That would be because you keep coming here and chatting with me," he said as he took his money. Jack didn’t need him to tell him how much. "I swear, I’m surprised I don’t know your phone number yet."

Hiccup left the counter to go prepare his order and Jack blinked. He wasn’t sure if the other man was complaining about how much useless information Jack had probably given him by now while trying, a little desperately, to make small talk with him, or if he was awkwardly asking for his phone number. Probably the former. Probably. But maybe…

He grabbed a napkin from the dispenser next to the register and nervously scribbled his number on it, dumped a small handful of change over it as a tip and slid it across the counter when Hiccup returned with the two drinks and a paper bag holding the pastries. Jack gave him a shaky smile that failed at looking natural.

"Thanks. Gotta go, now."

He left the coffee house all but running before Hiccup could see the number and call him out for being an idiot. His cheeks were still flushed from embarrassment when he rushed back into the studio. Aster finally looked up from his work and raised a bushy eyebrow and grinned when he noticed how flustered he was.

"So, did you finally asked him out?"

Hiccup wasn’t actually trying to establish more contact with Jack this one time. Well, okay, he was  planning  on doing that, just like he’d been  planning  on for a week, but while Hiccup liked to think he was strong-willed, faced with the perfectly symmetrical, really nice face of one taller painter, his strength usually failed him in the form of the (admittedly not unusual) appearance of sarcastic jabs.

He’d maybe thought that today was the day he could finally bring himself to ask Jack out. Or, you know, get that number he still hadn’t gotten, in spite of knowing what color Jack favored, circa preschool, high school, college, and then after. It probably wasn’t going to happen but it was always nice to hope, he always said.

So, yes, he didn’t think he’d be able to do it. But he didn’t think it’d be because Jack would go fleeing as if he just stole the cookie from the cookie jar. And then burned the kitchen and consecutively the house down to the ground.

"Uhm." His face pinched a little, looking at the figure that just disappeared into the studio across.

He didn’t look away from the studio, maybe hoping to make sense out of everything, and groping across the counter for the money to pocket it in his pants. He’d been about to, until he actually gathered the tip and felt the wrinkling of something that was decidedly not a bill.

He looked away, finally, and saw a napkin peaking from his fingers. It looked like it’d been written on, scribbled probably a better term, with the words punched hard, smiling a happy blue. No, not words. Numbers.

"Oh. Oh gods."

Gobber, the nosiest man Hiccup probably ever knew, suddenly appeared behind Hiccup and leaned in. “Oh, did the boy clue in in your hint?” he asked, sounding a lot more proud than Hiccup probably deserved, especially because—

"What," Hiccup said breathily, too lost to properly phrase the word into a question. "What hint."

Gobber’s proud expression twisted into one of disappointment. He sighed, perhaps a little to resignedly for Hiccup’s taste, and patted Hiccup’s shoulder. “Just when I thought I could show you off to your dad now,” Gobber mourned, much to Hiccup’s indignance.

And, which. What.

"Well, at least now you got his number," Gobber added. He turned away to go back to his office. "Don’t do anything that I won’t be doing!"

It was silent for but a moment.

"And by that I mean, ask him out! You’re both leaking pathetic all over my shop!"

It was a full day since Jack had last been to the coffee shop across the street. He hadn’t stopped yesterday after work for his usual turkey sandwich, even though Aster had tried to roughly push him in that direction, and he hadn’t stopped there this morning for his ice cappuccino and maple dip doughnut. He hadn’t received a call from the freckled barista, either.

That was stupid. You’re already bothering him all the time; what is he going to think of you now? He could only hope that Hiccup had just thrown the napkin in the garbage without noticing the number scrawled on it.

"Jack, mate, you haven’t taken a break yet today and you repainted that cat five times already. It looks fine; give it a rest."

Jack bit his lower lip and looked up from the little cats playing with balls of yarn he was painting on the side of a small wooden chest. He knew Aster suspected why he was avoiding the coffee shop, if not exactly what had happened.

"I, uh, just want to finish this one"

"You’re not finishing this one, you’re procrastinating on finishing this one because then you gotta take a break while it dries. What happened, Frosty, did you get bold and kissed the boy and he freaked out?"

"No! I just–"

The ringing of his phone interrupted him. He answered without looking, eager for the distraction from Aster’s prying. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, hum, Jack? It’s Hiccup."

Jack’s cheeks burned and he glared at Aster. The way he was smirking at him from across the room, he must know exactly who was calling.

"H-hi."

He should probably say something else, but he had no idea what and he didn’t want to start babbling.

"So, uh, I just—yes I’m talking to him, Gobber, you can stop hovering now—I just wanted to know how you were doing, you know, since I haven’t seen you since, uh, yesterday—and I know that’s not a long time but I usually would have seen you a few times by now and, you know, just thought I’d check to make sure you haven’t gotten hit by a car since you never cross at the intersection and I had your number anyway—so, uh, how are you doing?"

"I’m doing fine. It’s just… been busy, that’s all. I was about to come over."

"Oh. That’s good, since I’m, you know, on break right now and I was thinking, maybe, we could have a coffee together? Or a lemonade. Whatever you want, really. If you want to, I mean. I totally get it if you’re too busy to stay."

Jack’s grin couldn’t have been any wider.

"I’ll be there in, oh, one minute."

"Try not to get hit by a car."

"Wouldn’t want to die before I even get to your arms," Jack responded, and Hiccup smirked at thin air.

"No, that would just be poor manners," Hiccup chuckled. "Bye, Jack." He shut his phone and fiddled with it for a moment.

Gobber sighed from his right and he turned to glare at him. Gobber leaned in and said, “I’d give you a 7/10. Didn’t even mention it was a date but I heard a little flirting at the end. Good on you, you haven’t lost all hope yet.”

Hiccup flailed in response, almost hitting himself in the eye with the phone he forgot was still in his hand. He felt his cheeks burn, though it might have been at the mention of a date more than anything, and put his phone down. “Not a date!” he suddenly screamed.

Gobber raised a brow and tapped one hand—or, well, one stick (he’d felt it was an opportune time to wear it, very easy to whack Hiccup into talking to Jack) on the table that held Hiccup’s items.

"Well, yes! Maybe! Could be?" Hiccup’s face twisted. "Kind of. Not really? In a way?" He groaned, aggravated, and scrubbed his face with both hands. He dragged them down his face, pulling his cheeks to his chin rather unattractively. "I don’t even know if he likes me!"

Gobber raised his other brow.

"I don’t!" Hiccup answered. "I mean he—"

The door of the shop swung open ominously and Hiccup jumped. “I didn’t think he literally meant a minute!”

Gobber patted Hiccup’s shoulder in pseudo-understanding. “Kid’s gone for you. You’re both pathetic over each other and it’s messing with my croissants.”

"You don’t even make croissants!" Hiccup retaliated, a little hysterically. "Wait-no, not the point! How do I look-I like fine, right?" Hiccup felt a little woozy and seeing Jack’s figure was like a whiplash. He was not ready for a date!

Gobber, who could probably read his thoughts, or just his really expressive face, raised his brow again and sent a dry look.

"Still not a date!"

Jack checked the time when he burst into the coffee shop. One minute. He made it. Judging from Hiccup’s baffled expression, he hadn’t expected him to. He sent him a grin as he caught his breath. Paint dripped along his neck and his grin slipped when he realised how much of a mess he much look, all sweaty and covered in paint. Maybe he should have taken the time to at least clean his face. He had never really cared before, but he suddenly wanted to make a good impression.

You’re being an idiot. He sees you everyday. Several time. It’s a bit late for a good impression.

"Hey, Jack. That was fast. Why don’t you, uh sit down there while I get you your frozen lemonade and cinnamon bun, eh?" Hiccup gestured at booth on the side of the store, behind a low wall. The kind of place you would sit on a date. Was this a date? Jack didn’t dare ask.

"Shouldn’t I pay for it first?"

"Ah, no it’s fine. It’s on me."

"Wh–what? Are you sure?"

"Yeeeeah, it’s fine. You’re here all the time and always leaving me a good tip and all…"

"Oh, okay then."

He sat in the booth, shifting around nervously, pulling a napkin from the dispenser on the table and folding it into a butterfly to keep busy while he waited. He was placing the napkin butterfly down on the table when Hiccup came back with their drinks, Jack’s bun and an apple fritter for himself. He sat across from him and gave the paper butterfly a curious look.

"I knew you were an artist, but I didn’t know you did origami."

"I don’t. I just, uh, learned the butterfly thing in kindergarten and thought it was neat, so I kept doing it."

The corner of Hiccup’s mouth lifted in a genuine, 100% not sarcastic, smile. Jack’s own lips curled up. He wanted to see that smile on Hiccup’s face more often. Hiccup cleared his throat and Jack realised he had just been staring at the barista with a goofy smile for who knew how long. He felt his cheeks heat up.

"So… you said you guys were busy at the studio?" Hiccup asked.

"Yeah, we’ve been… painting stuff. You know."

"Right. Because that’s your job. You’re a painter."

Now the sarcasm was back. Jack narrowed his eyes to cover his embarrassment. 

"Right. I’m a painter. And what about you? I know you’re a student," he had even memorized Hiccup’s schedule to make sure to come here when the brunette was there, "but I don’t know what you’re actually studying."

"Robotics."

"Oh. Oh." Jack suddenly felt self-conscious, wiping away some paint stain on his arm with his butterfly napkin and raked his fingers through his hair. "So you’re a fancy scientist?"

"No. I’m a barista. And a student. And that’s what I’ll be for the next half of forever," Hiccup said with an exasperated sigh.

"Still, that’s so cool, I mean, robots!"

That crooked smile was back. “I think being a painter is pretty cool, too. Not everyone can make a living out of that.”

Jack looked down at his paint-stained butterfly. He bit his lip. This was probably an awful idea, but the words still came out.

"Would you like me to paint you?"

Hiccup froze, fingers twitching for a moment against the fritter he’d left hanging on his hand. He stared at the boy in front of him, fiddling with the paper butterfly in his hands and smearing the orange staining it.

For a brief moment, he imagined those same hands, smeared then with brown and green, stroking a brush against a canvas, looking at him with what he imagined to be an artist’s gaze, deep, flitting, but no less intense, his lips partly open and a tongue just barely poking out like the few times Hiccup caught him while waiting for his order, and his heart squeezed tight. He didn’t know where that image came from, so vividly real that he wished he himself were a true artist, so he could draw that picture, curve by curve, because suddenly Hiccup was filled with so much want.

But no, that wasn’t important, because, maybe like how Hiccup just felt, Jack wanted to paint him. Wanted to capture him, maybe, like how Hiccup just did, and Hiccup flushed at the idea.

No, that was stupid, where did that even come from? Jack’s face was probably an artist’s dream, all angular and perfect, with the most ridiculously expressive eyes and messy, but somehow perfect hair. Hiccup was just…Hiccup. With the crooked teeth and the big nose and the flippy fringe.

"Nah, no," Hiccup’s mouth twisted, adding, "you don’t want to paint this," and gesturing to his body. He can still feel the heat at the nape of his neck and he ducked his head down, smiling, maybe a little self-deprecating, at the butterfly, before flicking his eyes up to Jack’s face.

(A little ways away, Gobber had his phone pressed to his ear, “Hiccup’s pulling the ‘I’m pathetic, I’m not worth anyone’s time’ bullshit. I’m blaming you.”

The squack from the other side is loud enough to be heard even from a tiny distance.

"It’s working though," Gobber added, "The boy looks so gone, I’m gonna barf unicorns tonight. Hey, whipper’s a good name for one, right?"

Gobber may or may not had a life beforehand. That one was up in the air.)

"Of course I want to paint this! You’re–" he stopped himself from saying gorgeous. He wasn’t even sure this was a date and he was already asking him for something that might seem a bit too intimate. But Jack couldn’t deny that, from the first time he had seen the young barista, he had wanted to do this. He just had very unconventionally attractive features. "I’m enjoying painting kitten and flowers, but I’d really like to paint a bit more of this," he said, mimicking Hiccup’s motions.

"You just gestured to all of me."

Jack simply smiled. After a moment of hesitation, Hiccup smiled as well. He looked down at the table, his cheeks red. Jack leaned forward, expectant.

"So, is that a yes?"

"Alright. Yes. I’ll let you paint me."

"Great! So, how about tonight? After you’re done working? If you’re not busy, that is."

"Tonight? B–but, I wasn’t expecting that. I just have some old clothes to change in, nothing nice, and–and–" he hastily combed a hand through his hair.

"Stop that; your hair looks nice. You look nice. I don’t care what you’re wearing."

Hiccup paused his frantic combing and straighten his back, pulling himself back together, even though his cheeks stayed a bit red. He shoved the last bite of his apple fritter into his mouth and picked up their plates, standing up with them as he swallowed.

"Fine. Have it your way. If you come to get your sandwich tonight and you’re willing to stick around a bit, I’ll leave with you when my shift end. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my break is over." 

"Oh, uh, sure. I should go back to the studio anyway. Stuff to paint. I’ll see you tonight."

"Yeah, see you later."

Jack walked back to the door, but paused before walking out. He turned back to Hiccup, who was pulling his apron back on. “So, it’s a date?”

He ran out without waiting for an answer.

Hiccup stared again at the fleeing boy, heart freezing at the question Jack left open. When the other disappeared into the studio, he felt a sudden lurch, hoping that this wasn’t a premonition.

His hands twitched once, twice, before shooting to his pocket without him even noticing it until he’s got Jack’s number on screen.

”Hey,” he breathed, “Jack? It’s a date.” He stayed still, probably still in shock, and he hoped this wasn’t a premonition too, gods he didn’t want to go into shock every time he met with Jack, he might actually die.

A clang suddenly sounded from across him and he jumped as if he was snapped out of a trance. quickly bustling to bring the tableware to the kitchen. He felt a flush travel down his neck. “I mean, just so we’re clear. No good being confused, right?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, you want it to be a date, right? It’s totally okay if you don’t. I don’t mind. You’re probably just joking, I—” he coughed and dropped his head. “Sorry.” He felt his flush deepen.

"No!" Jack yelped.

"No?"

"I mean, no, you’re wrong."

"Oh." Hiccup felt his face drop, tugged on his work shirt, and bit his lip. "Oh, yeah, ok."

"Ok? Do you not—Oh, shit no! I didn’t mean it like that! I meant I’m not joking. I want it to be a date. You want it to be a date, right? This could be a date."

Hiccup felt what was the makings of a smile—a beam—tug at his lips and he dropped his head again, flushing in happiness. “Ok,” he murmured. “It’s a date.”

(“Spot, Trump, Berry Blue, Knatter,” Gobber listed. He patted his stomach. “I always wanted little Gobber tykes running in my home.”)

"Yeah." Jack’s own voice sounded as breathless as his. "It’s a date."

"Yeah," Hiccup fiddled with his collar, feeling like his smile can’t be erased now. Ever.

It was silent for a while, just two boys soaking in the moment.

There was a whack from the other side of the phone and a yelp. Jack cleared his throat. “Yeah, so, a date. Uhm, I guess the studio’s a good place? Or my house. Uhm.”

Hiccup flushed at the thought of being at Jack’s house. “It’s up to you, Jack.”

"No, uh, yeah, the studio’s the better idea, let’s go with the studio," Jack answered hastily, one word pushing the other, "Seven’s ok, right? Let’s meet at seven."

Hiccup barely opened his mouth before the dial tone interrupted him. He nodded anyway. “I’ll be there,” he answered helplessly to the dial tone.

He went back to where his bag still lay, Gobber pocketing his phone, a little ecstatic but mostly subdued, a little sad? But also happy. He looked at the general area where Gobber was, a little dazed. “I got a date,” he informed the wall.

He blinked and turned to face Gobber fully. “I got a date,” he smiled helplessly.

Gobber smacked Hiccup proudly. “You boy got a date! Admittedly, a little pathetically, or a lot, but it’s the thought that counts! Soon you’ll stop acting like a wee little pup,” he sighed wistfully, “that’ll be the day.”

Hiccup blinked again and his smile dropped. “Oh gods, I got a date,” he repeated and fled to his bag, digging hysterically. “I got a date and I don’t know how to look!”

Gobber sighed again, a note more weary, and yanked on Hiccup’s collar. “Kid already said you look fine.” He dragged Hiccup away, grabbing his bag and pushing it to the brunette’s chest. “Go. Away. You’re off now, I don’t want you in my shop.” He waved his stick to the door of the shop. “You’re leaking worse right now, you’re gonna scare all my customers.”

Hiccup stumbled to the street, bag gripped imply with his arms. “I got a date,” he whispered to the air, a little mortified, excited, triumphant, scared, blissful. “I got a date and I don’t know what I should do.”

Well. He had more than five hours to get the panic to wear off.

Jack fussed a bit more than usual to get the place cleaned up when they were done for the day. He had a date here, after all. A date. He still couldn’t quite believe it. 

"This place is as clean as it’s gonna get, mate. Now come on. You’re little friend across the street probably made your sandwich already and is getting all confused that you’re ten minutes later than usual."

Jack’s cheeks flushed, but he made a show of straightening his clothes and followed Aster out. “I’m going to get that sandwich, but I’m coming back here after. I’ll be staying late. Working on a painting.”

"Then why did ya clean up the whole place like that? It’ll just get dirty again."

"Just felt like cleaning up."

Aster snorted. “Heard something about a date.”

Jack’s cheeks reddened. “I, uh, maybe?”

"Whatever, kid. Just make sure you clean up whatever mess you make and that you lock the place when you’re done."

"Hey, it’s not the first time I stay late."

"No, but it’s the first time you got company."

"I’ll take care of it, don’t worry," he mumbled. He put one foot on the street, but Aster pulled him back. Jack gave him an annoyed glance. He wasn’t liking that smirk any. "What?"

"There’s lube in the desk’s drawer, if you need it."

"I–what–we won’t–wait. Why is there lube in the desk’s drawer?"

"I figured it was only a matter of time before you brought him back, so I went shopping."

Aster apparently found Jack’s bewildered look hilarious, because he almost fell over laughing. Jack huffed and gave him a good shove before turning away to stomp across the street with whatever dignity he had left. Aster grabbed his arm again and pulled him back on the sidewalk before he had taken a full step.

"What n–"

A car sped past them and Jack gulped.

"Look where you’re going. Would be a shame to get hit by a car before your date."

Jack nodded, a lot more subdued now, and looked carefully before trying to cross again. When the way was clear, he ran across and into the coffee shop. He was disappointed to see that it wasn’t Hiccup behind the counter, but a blonde girl he remembered from before he had learned the brunette’s schedule. Astrid, he thought her name was. He looked at the time. He still had half and hour before their date. He could only wait and hope the boy would show up. 

He collected his usual order of a turkey sandwich and milk chocolate, ignoring Astrid disgusted look at the combinaison, and settled in a spot where he had a good view of the door. Even if there was still quite a bit of time left, he couldn’t help but jump whenever it opened.

Hiccup forgot all about Jack and his turkey sandwich until five rolled in and he almost  went up and back to the shop, jacket already gripped tight in his hand. His other hand was nearly on the knob before he realized how desperate it’d look, going back just for Jack’s turkey sandwich, especially with the date happening tonight.

Besides, he didn’t think his nerves could handle seeing Jack right before their date. Exposure was the best therapy but he was pretty sure the panic he was able to subdue within the time Gobber kicked him out and now was going to rise up again at Jack’s face, riddled with paint that sometimes Hiccup kind of wanted do things with.

So he went back and sat on his couch and just sort of…mooned all over the itchy surface of it. He could just use Gobber kicking him out as an excuse for not seeing him.

Plus, there had been little episode of realizing that, shit, he was going on a date with Jack, where Jack was going to paint him. Alone, and sure it was in the studio, but. Alone.

And then the sudden random call with Stoick—that came out of nowhere—about remembering that he was worth something and that he loved him and that even if he really liked someone and that other person really liked him back and that they were leaking pathetic (and why did his dad sound like Gobber?), Hiccup deserved a guy who respected him and did not make him put it out on the first date even if there was protection and they were alone (with the bold and the italics and everything).

He was sure he was excused for not meeting Jack this one time.

Come 5:30, Hiccup felt half-calm and half-buzzed. He was debating on whether he should shower, just in case, or if it was too much. He was weighing on seeming a little obsessed over possibly smelling like coffee shop and sweat by the time he was entering the bathroom, towel in hand.

The sweater he chose was half-meant, a nice deep red that people have told him looked good on him, sleeves pulled enough that he can cover his thumbs if he so choose it, something he saw first thing he looked through his clothes. He was skeptical when he looked at the mirror, the shirt a little worn with its color slightly faded, obviously at least half a size bigger than needed. He bit his lip, fiddling with a still wet lock, and hoped that by the time he went to the studio, Jack wouldn’t be able to tell he was anxious enough to shower before. He went away to lie on his bed and mourn the loss of his manliness (which he did have, excuse you).

He’d repeatedly picked up his phone and put it down, not actually sure who he was planning on contacting, Jack, Astrid (even if she was on work, she could always pull a little ‘stop-Hiccup-from-growing-premature-white-hair’, Gobber would understand), Gobber himself, or his dad (which, no, he quickly discarded that option). Toothless was over at the corner judging him with his toxic-green eyes, having long given up dealing with him after noticing the familiar scent of helpless pining.

And then it was 6:15 and Hiccup all but fled his dorm, never mind that the coffee shop, and subsequently the studio, was barely a fifteen minute walk from his place. It was at 6:30 when Hiccup messaged Jack that he was near, fleeing to the coffee shop to get some liquid courage in the form of over-sweetened coffee.

He was mostly calm by 6:45, drink mostly swallowed in one go and already at the front of the studio. He bit his lip. He wasn’t sure if he should just enter, knock, or tell Jack that he was here.

He breathed in deep, shut his eyes, and quickly knocked on the door.

His eyes opened at the sound of a crash It was barely a minute before he was met with bright blue eyes, and it felt like the breath he took was punched out of him.

Jack was smiling, a thing sheen of sweat gathering around his neck, and faint, faint hints of paint peaking from his hair and around his arms. He realized then that he was staring at the width of Jack’s wrist, and he quickly looked up, hoping that wasn’t a blush that was gathering at his cheeks.

Hiccup cleared his throat, “aren’t you gonna let me in?” His lips lifted up to send a small smirk.

He’d barely asked the question before Jack was nodding enthusiastically. “Err, yeah, uhm, hey! Come in!”

The studio smelt like wood and paint, and the strong, stinging scent of thinner and alcohol. It wasn’t strong, not by a long shot, but between the coffee shop that smelt of pastries and caffeine, and his room that smelt of boy and cat, it was stark to Hiccup’s unused nose. He’d always thought Jack smelt like of painter entering the shop, fresh from a furniture he was working on, but this place had its scent engraved to its corner and walls, soaking into the wood and cement and making its permanent place.

Looking at Jack, with him at his element and whites and yellows and blues barely seen all over him, even without the paint and the brush, he seemed even more a painter now than he ever thought, even after that one time he’d gone into the shop half-covered in purple paint from head to toe, a brush forgotten in his hand.

Jack, with yellow sticking to a particularly small group of strands by the left of his head, shirt not littered with paint like usual but white peaking from underneath its collar, specks of blue in his nails, and the surrounding smell of woodpaint and sawdust around him, was an artist.

An artist who wanted to paint him.

Hiccup sucked in a breath.

Jack led Hiccup across the studio to an old couch Aster had found abandoned on a sidewalk. It was shoved in a corner of the spacious room next to a small round table with two chairs and a desk filled with some paperwork. Much to Jack’s despair, being an artist didn’t mean you got to avoid paperwork.

At least Aster took care of most of it, putting on his little round glasses and poring over bills and receipts and contracts and tax forms and whatever else is it that laid in the neat little piles and files. The desk had to be the only part of the studio that wasn’t a mess and it only had a few paint spots. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in an office. Just an ordinary desk. With a tube of lube in the drawer and a scrawled note. "Just in case. Make sure you use protection." 

Jack had been too curious not too check. He had still been staring at it in horror when Hiccup knocked on the door. He had slammed the drawer back shut with a curse. Now, Jack refused to even look at the offending drawer. He would die of embarrassment if Hiccup discovered what it hid. What would he think of him? Would he think he was some kind of pervert who had just used painting as an excuse to get him here alone. He tried to look natural. Else Hiccup would think he was hiding something. This was all Aster’s fault. 

Hiccup’s green gaze roamed around the studio, lingering on the painted furniture, at least those that weren’t covered by protective white sheets. Jack wished that he had a different first impression of what he could do. These were all rainbows and bunnies, just simple shapes that young children could appreciate. 

He ran his hand through his hair, wincing at the dry paint he felt there. He hoped it wasn’t pink. It was hard to miss on his snow white hair and all the baby things around them were embarrassing enough. 

"So, uh, you can make yourself comfortable while I set up everything, alright?"

"Alright. Er… I’ve never actually done that, you know? What do I do? Do I just sit there? Do I pose?"

Jack chuckled a little. “Nah, don’t pose. You’ll just end up looking like a fool if you do,” he said as he gathered his supplies.”

One corner of Hiccup’s mouth quirked up, just enough to reveal slightly crooked teeth. Jack wanted to capture that natural, genuine expression on the canvas. He hurried up to get everything set up. A flopping sound made him look back at Hiccup, now lying on his side on the couch, his head propped up on his chin.

"Jack. Paint me like one of your French girls."

Jack gave a surprised snort, then dissolved into peals of laughter. He heard a light-hearted giggle coming from Hiccup and fell in love with that little sound. When he calmed down enough to start working, they both had large, silly grin stamped on their face. Hiccup sat back up into a more natural position, but the smile didn’t leave his lips. Jack picked up his brush. It was time to work. 

Hiccup, while adjusting, heaved a sigh of relief and felt the nerves release from his body, at least a little. He’d tried to force himself to calm down after what could have been another frenzy because no, not in front of Jack please. It had convinced Jack, at least.

It helped that seeing Jack nervous, after getting his head out of panic-mode, an obvious tension that grew when seeing what seemed to be the lounge area.

He sat back to rest fully on the cushioned back of the couch, and tried to roll his shoulders to complete relaxation, head titled a little down. His eyes flickered up to meet Jack’s, a tiny helpless smile on his lips, and fiddled with his hands minutely.

Gods, he hoped he didn’t look boring sitting like this, but the way Jack lifted his brush, looking more and more like the painter Hiccup never really saw him as by the moment, told him that he was at least fine. Well. That was good. He figured that any other position will probably just get him restless, him being still stuck, just a tad, on the fact that Jack seemed to genuinely want to paint him.

He bit his lip and felt the makings of a flush dust across his cheekbones.

He felt as every much of an awkward, helpless young man he really, really was, and wondered, not for the first time, what about him could have possibly attracted Jack enough to want to paint a picture of him.

Jack quickly filled the canvas with a large brush, blocking the main shapes, while Hiccup made himself comfortable on the couch. Once he was ready to start refining it, he brought his full attention to Hiccup, trying to truly capture the shape of his face, the slump of his bony shoulder, the way his knees were drawn inward even though his feet stayed far apart. 

"Tell me if you’re bored."

"I’m not."

Jack laughed. “We’ll see how long that last.”

He mixed his colors in a warm shade of brown and stroked it across the canvas to paint whimsical locks of hair, smiling as he added that little braid he was so enamoured with, poking out the side of his head. Too often since he had first seen the other young man, he had needed to stop himself from reaching across the counter and catching it between his fingers. 

"So, why robotics? You kinda struck me as a botanist, or something."

"A… botanist? Seriously? Why?

"I don’t know. Must be your eyes."

"Well, sorry for not color-coordinating my career to my eyes. I’m not a real artist like you."

He lovingly painted the crooked, smile—slightly overwhelmed despite the sarcasm—the rounded nose and those beautiful green eyes, currently staring back at him, somewhat lost, but undeniably happy, He could not stop the warm smile that stretched his own lips in answer.

"What do you mean, a real artist? Are you a fake artist?"

"Uh, hm, I mean, I kind of like to draw, sometimes."

"You draw? You’ll have to show me, one day."

"What? No. That would just be embarrassing for both of us. It’s not like I’m good at it or anything. Just basic stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like, uh, dragons."

"I’d love to see them." 

"No you–oh, nevermind."

He grabbed a tiny brush and added the the freckles one by one. He painted that small scar on his chin he had always wanted to ask about. He didn’t ignore little details like the small hole in the left sleeve of his oversized red shirt, or the way it was ragged in place at the hem. Red suited him, he decided. 

"So, you never answered me. Why robotics?"

"I guess I always liked to tinker with stuff. And I thought robots were cool as a kid, so I experimented with some spare parts and, uh, I guess I liked it enough to do that for a living?"

Jack grinned. “That sounds fun. You know what? I got good news.”

"What? You have a toaster you need me to repair?" he asked in a sarcastic tone and Jack had to wonder how often he got asked to fix things like that.

"No. I’m done. This painting is finished."

Hiccup made a noise of surprise. He didn’t think it was going to be quite that fast. He had to wonder how long Jack had been painting for it to be so natural for him. To be so used with the motions.

Then again…then again maybe he’d just quickly let time pass by, gotten distracted or relaxed that he didn’t notice it flitting. Looking at Jack, with his easy smile and eyes set on him, it didn’t seem like such a weird idea.

He stood up but hesitated even before a step. He was going to see a picture of himself, all laid out in canvas and acrylic (or another). Hiccup Haddock, robotics student, resident barista, and fishbone extraordinaire (because he was still so thin, even after growing into his knobs and joints), captured in his natural habitat, or as natural a habitat a studio couch could be. All flaws and quirks in paint.

Even more, Hiccup Haddock in the eyes of one Jack Frost.

He shook his head and shuffled closer to where Jack was, eyes determined. He took a breath, gathered his courage, leaned in, and—

And he exhaled, his breath gushing out in one swoop.

The Hiccup he was looking at was smiling at him, lips and eyes and all. He was no less awkward than what Hiccup figured he really was, but there was a certain looseness in his limbs that spoke of easy sureness. His face held a certain softness and Hiccup had to wonder when he started looking like that, when he started looking at Jack like that. There was the slight cageyness that came unconsciously in the way he sat, but it was taken in a way that made one want to bring comfort. The Hiccup he was looking at, all awkward and loose at the same time, wearing an obviously worn sweater, was beautiful, unconventional it may be.

He didn’t know how, how at all, Jack did it, but he was staring at a Hiccup he didn’t think he could be, someone a person might want to keep.

Hiccup felt every breath he took, and in a faraway sense, ever breath Jack took as well. His eyes flickered to Jack for but a second.

"This," he breathed. "Jack. This…wow."

Jack made a happy noise and Hiccup managed to force himself to look straight at Jack soon enough that he was able to watch a pleased flush rise up his cheeks, a delighted smile on his lips. “Thanks.”

They smiled at each other, Hiccup occasionally looking back at the painting, trying to get it in his mind that this was real, everything.

"Hey," he murmured, and then cleared his throat to speak in a louder voice. "Hey, Jack. You never told me how you became a painter." He tilted his head, a bare centimeter, and turned fully to the white-haired man, "You’d wrangled about my course, shared all sorts of useless information about yourself, but you’ve never told me once why you were a painter."

He stepped closer, looking the slightest up at Jack’s eyes. But Jack had barely managed to get a word out, not until—

Hiccup’s stomach growled.

Hiccup stepped back in shock, hands suddenly shooting up to cage his stomach. He remembered then, starkly, how even though he had coffee, his stomach shuddered at the thought of actual food before now. He cleared his throat and cursed silently at his stomach’s inopportune timing.

"Uhm. Actually." Hiccup flushed bright red. "Have you had dinner?"

He suddenly remembered, again, about the turkey sandwich. “Or…well, you probably have.”

"Oh, I’ve had that sandwich earlier, but it was hours ago already.”

He was pretty grateful for the distraction from Hiccup’s previous question. Though he supposed he would have to answer it anyway. It was the least he could do, after prying so much into Hiccup’s own career choice. But, as much as he loved his job and was really happy this was what he was doing with his life, how he had ended up here wasn’t the most glorious of story. 

"It’s really been that long, eh? I didn’t even see the time fly by. And to think I was just sitting around getting painted…"

Jack planted his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest in an exaggeratedly proud pose. “That’s because it was Jack Frost painting you. I make everything more fun.”

That crooked smile was back. “Then lets see how you make dinner fun, because I’m starving.”

"Alright, then. But, I gotta say, I haven’t really eaten anywhere around here other than the coffee shop, since it, you know, right across the street," and I wanted to see you, “and I don’t suppose you feel like eating there when you’re not working.

"Nope. But, lucky you, I know other places."

"Great! Lead the way, then!"

Hiccup bit his lip as if trying to contain his laughter. A light giggle escaped anyway. Jack found it adorable even though it seemed like Hiccup was laughing at him. Had he done something silly?

"Are you going to wipe that paint off your nose first, or do you want to be sure everyone know you’re a painter?"

Jack scrunched up his nose and tried to see the paint. Sure enough, there was some green paint there where he must have scratched the tip of his nose with dirty fingers. Hiccup actually laughed out loud at the face he was making. 

"You’re right, I gotta scrub this first"

Without a warning, he leaned closer and rubbed his nose against Hiccup’s, smearing the green paint over it. Hiccup gaped at him when he straightened, crossing his eyes to stare at the green spot, a light flush on his cheeks. Jack burst out laughing at the sight.

Hiccup darted a look up at the shaking teen and his lips twitched at the sight. Looking at that singular spot of paint on Jack’s face, he noticed that it had now smeared a little to the right because of that almost eskimo kiss

Suddenly getting an idea, he smiled a wicked grin at the teen and grabbed his cheeks. He brought the other’s face closer than him and the hint of a rising flush had his smile widening.

Before Jack could gather his thoughts properly, he leaned forward and rubbed his nose all over the side of his face. Jack squacked, flailing under Hiccup’s tight grip, and when Hiccup was satisfied, he leaned back to look at the finished product and felt proud of his work.

There were thin, breaking lines of green paint all over the left of Jack’s face, from below his eyes to a bare inch from his jaw. There were barely a number of paint smears on Jack’s face, but Hiccup was satisfied that he’d gotten all paint off his nose now.

Just to be sure though, he took the hem of Jack’s shirt and scrubbed what could be the remaining green on his nose. Jack released an unintelligible yell.

He stepped back and released his hold on Jack’s face, a satisfied smile on his own. Jack looked half-lost and half-indignant, the red now prominent on his face and he had wonder how much of that flush was because of disgruntlement and how much was because of something else. He moved around Jack, chin up in the air, and said, “we were talking about finding a place to eat…?”

He heard Jack stumble to catch up on him and scream a belated, “hey!” He sent back a grin at Jack, now the littlest bit flustered just realizing what he did, and whatever Jack was going to say died in his throat.

He faced front again, feeling mighty pleased, and left the studio finally feeling relaxed and happy. He turned right and a couple of steps in, Jack was finally beside him.

"How do you feel about going to a diner?" he started, "I’m feeling a little milkshake right now."

He glanced at Jack from the corner of his eyes and chose not to bring up the first question he asked a while ago. He didn’t notice Jack tense at the mention until he had stepped back and the painter’s shoulder eased.

He figured it wasn’t the right time to bring it up, especially when things seem really easy right now, and filed that question in a folder titled, ‘to be seen next time.’

Jack raised a hand to the green streaks of paint on his cheek, a baffled smile on his face. He decided to leave them there. Let people stare. He didn’t care. He followed Hiccup out in the evening air, thankfully cooler than the days had been. A bit chilly, some might even say, but Jack didn’t even bother pulling a vest on over the paint-spattered shirt he had been wearing all day. It’s not like they were going to a fancy restaurant.

It was getting late and Jack knew they would have to end this first—or second, he wasn’t sure— date soon. They both worked tomorrow. Hiccup would have classes. He shouldn’t be keeping him up late. He had already put up with him wanting to paint him and all.

"Hey," he said softly as they walked to the diner. 

"What?"

"Thanks. For, uh, agreeing to come at the studio tonight and sit still forever so I could paint you. Let me treat you to that milkshake, okay?"

Hiccup raised a brow, lips quirking up, “just my milkshake, Frost? Are you trying to keep me from putting on weight?” He faked a look of aghast.

Jack smirked, seeing the jab for what it is, and replied, “no! Where did you get that idea? I—” He turned away, mockingly cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I can’t lie to you anymore. It’s true. I only want you for your hot bod.”

Hiccup gasps, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and then exaggerated his wounded look. “I knew it! I knew you only cared about my body! You only ever paid attention to my knobby knees and my slim waist!”

"It’s true! I’m sorry, my sexy sexy Hiccup, I tried to stay firm. I told myself I would only go after you if I liked you for who you are. But I couldn’t resist your hot braid!" He went closer and took both of Hiccup’s hands, subtly rubbing paint in them and looking at him with woeful eyes. "But someday, someone will love you for your sarcasm and weakness for chocolate."

Hiccup sent a grateful look at Jack. “Thank you, I know I’ll find my Prince Charming someday.”

Jack squeezed Hiccup’s hands and Hiccup couldn’t help but let a snort come up.

Just like that they were off, laughing and snorting unattractively, holding on to their stomachs, loud enough that a couple of looks were sent their way. It took a while before Jack calmed down, smiling shakily at Hiccup.

"And I hope," he snorted, "someday I can look at you and not immediately go to your wonderful, thin wrists. Someday I will be able to resist those hot juts of bone."

Hiccup lips were twitching, and he was hiccuping not ironically at all. “Someday, all our dreams will come true.”

Jack slung an arm around Hiccup’s shoulders and brought him closer. “Someday.”

It was silent after that, a happy one, and Hiccup manoeuvred Jack whenever he’d lead them both to a different trail. Hiccup breathed in the night air.

"No, hey," Jack suddenly started, and Hiccup turned to him. "You know I do find you hot, right? Jutting bones and knobby knees and all."

Hiccup flushed in surprise and ducked his head down to hide the red. He snorted, “why though?”

Jack slid his hands down to Hiccup’s waist and answered, “because somehow it all just fits right. Believe me, you’re a very appealing person, Hiccup. You saw, didn’t you? You’re,” beautiful, “a good-looking guy. Skinny frame and all.”

Hiccup vainly hoped that the chill air would soothe his blush and he mouth twisted up unsurely, eyes darting to Jack’s. “Uhm,” he coughed, “thanks. I guess.”

Jack, looking at Hiccup’s face, embarased and unsure but achingly genuine and framed with a dusting of red, felt the potent urge to just. Grab Hiccup’s face and kiss it. Press his face to Hiccup’s face. He unconsciously swayed closer, and when he noticed, he quickly pulled back and cleared his throat. “Anytime,” he finally answered.

Hiccup, who of course noticed Jack’s attempt, bit his lip. He wanted to finish what Jack tried to do and kiss him but he didn’t think he could do it without chickening out as well, so he cleared his throat, looked determinedly in front of them, and slid a hand over the one on his waist, filling the gaps between Jack’s fingers with his own and pressing resolutely.

Jack felt a flush crawl down his neck and didn’t dare look at the other. It didn’t really matter, a helpless smile, completely lovesick and unsurprisingly bright, grew on his face. He tugged Hiccup closer.

Just to be clear, Hiccup’s smile was no less gone nor happy than Jack’s own.

Jack wanted to burn Hiccup’s smile in his memory. Maybe, if he did, he could sketch that happily smiling face when he returned home. He was disappointed when Hiccup turned his face away to pull him around yet another corner and he lost sight of that smile. But something else caught his attention. That seemed like an awful lot of twists and turns to get to this nearby diner Hiccup had been talking about.

"Sorry if I sound childish, but… are we there yet?"

"Does taking a walk bother you?"

"No, but I’m starting to think we’re walking in circles." He narrowed his eyes when Hiccup’s cheeks flushed. "We are, aren’t we?"

"Just taking the scenic route."

Jack bursted laughing and pulled Hiccup closer. Their roundabout path brought them back to the street where both the studio and the coffee shop could be found, only a few blocks away, and this time Hiccup took him straight to the diner from here. It wasn’t far and they would have been here in a moment without the detour, but Jack didn’t mind. He rather enjoyed the walk.

Hiccup pulled him inside and they settled themselves in a booth in a remote corner of the diner. The place was mostly empty this late in the evening. A bored-looking lady with long, pale blond hair handed them menus.

"Thanks, Ruff," Hiccup said. She left with just a grunt of acknowledgement.

Jack opened his and stared at the delicious photos of food. His stomach growled even though he had already eaten.

"I think I want a pizza."

"An entire pizza? By yourself? Their ‘small’ sized ones are really not that small."

Jack lifted a hand to his chest and faked a wounded look.

"Are you trying to keep me from putting on weight, Haddock?"

"Wellll," Hiccup drawled, "I don’t know but I kinda see a little stomach peaking from your shirt. Just a little."

Jack leaned closer, sending a sarcastic smile, “oh, really? A little love handles showing, huh?”

Hiccup tilted his head to the right and the left, one hand making a so-so, “just a little.”

Jack lifted an eyebrow, somehow turning his look both dry and sardonic. “Just a little, of course.”

Hiccup nodded in confirmation. “Just a little,” he repeated, eyes already scanning the menu in exaggerated interest. Jack mirrored Hiccup’s nod, snorting too, as an added measure, and Hiccup sent him a quick grin.

Jack placed his chin on his knuckles, putting down the menu and sliding it to the side as he told the brunette, “well, I mean, I don’t know, Hic. I always thought a little added composition is better than a subtracted one.” He stretched his free hand and poked Hiccup in his slightly protruding ribs.

“You’re only jealous of my figure, Frost,” he quipped. “But don’t worry, sometimes dreams do come true. Better yet, sometimes miracles do happen.”

Jack didn’t have the time to do more than open his mouth before he was interrupted with, “you all got your orders, right?”

Hiccup waved his menu and answered, “no, Ruffnut. I’m still choosing.”

“Please,” Ruffnut scoffed, “as if it’s not like all the other times you browse through the whole menu repeatedly before you decide to go with what you took the time before. And the time before that.”

Hiccup sputtered but Ruffnut merely recitated, “tuna burger with cream soup. Bottled water because nothing else screams manly quite like contained, purified water,” drily, as if only repeating something she hears a lot.

(Hiccup would like to just say that he said it only once, and not even to Ruff but to Astrid, who he sometimes drags along after their shift, because Astrid mockingly repeated, ‘cream soup and tuna burger’, when Hiccup tried to defend his manly pride.)

“I will have you know,” Hiccup punctuated, affronted, “that I am going to have mlikshake instead of water.”

“Great,” Ruffnut droned. She turned to Jack and raised her eyebrows in silent question.

“Hawaiian pizza,” Jack answered promptly, and then turned to Hiccup with a grin. Hiccup groaned in his head, knowing Jack was planning on doing something, probably mock him. “And one of those manly bottled water, thanks.”

Ruffnut gave him a look of clear approval and Hiccup groaned for real this time. Ruffnut rolled her eyes in amusement and walked away with only Jack’s order written down, amusing it was to the white-haired man.

Jack leaned again towards Hiccup.

“Nope,” Hiccup interrupted. “Don’t say anything. You just never know, okay? What if something suddenly seems really appealing?”

Jack snorted again. “Don’t worry, I find it cute.” He smiled wider when Hiccup made a noise of aggravation. “Seriously though,” he continued, “a tuna burger? Tuna?”

“There is nothing wrong with tuna,” Hiccup replied primly. “And there is nothing wrong with burgers made with tuna.”

“Not at all,” Jack agreed mockingly.

Hiccup humphed. “I’m just getting in touch with my viking roots.”

Jack chortled. “Really, Hic? Vikings?”

“I’ll have you know,” Hiccup finally leaned as well, “I am of actual viking heritage. Can’t you see it in the raw power my body holds?”

Jack leaned closer. “You’re right, how could I have ever doubted you?”

Hiccup leaned in answer. “Why, truly?”

A plate suddenly was placed forcefully between them. “Please don’t kiss during my shift. I don’t want to have to clean my own puke.”

Jack and Hiccup jumped, simultaneously blushing at the suggestion the tall girl just made. Jack cleared his throat and brought his food and drink closer to himself.

He’s gone through his first slice, inhaling it more than actually eating it, before his attention was brought to Hiccup’s burger. His tuna burger.

He glanced at the dinner Hiccup held in his hands. It didn’t really look all that different from a regular burger, if not as richly brown as a meat one (in Jack’s opinion). He pursed his lips.

Hiccup took note of the scrutiny in Jack’s eyes and he raised an eyebrow. “You want to try, maybe?” He took another bite. “Stop looking disgusted. It’s perfectly normal food, Jack. It’s not poison.” He paused. “Or a travesty to all burgers.”

Jack cried in outrage, “I’m not that extreme, excuse me!” He looked all over the burger again. “Okay, hit me up,” he finally acquiesced, as if making a big sacrifice.

Hiccup smirked mockingly but brought his food closer to Jack snd the other quickly bit on it.

Hiccup waited patiently, watching Jack chew slowly as he ate a few spoonfuls of his soup.

“Okay, it’s not bad,” Jack offered after a few minutes.

Hiccup tilte his head in sarcasm but accepted it upon seeing the vague interest entering in Jack’s face as his…date continued to stare at his burger. He hummed and took two slices of Jack’s pizza indifferently. Jack didn’t notice until Hiccup finished taking off the pineapples of his first slice.

“Hey!” Jack belatedly reacted. He turned his eyes to the pineapples. “Hey! How much of a man are you if you can’t even handle your fruits.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Handling fruits is completely different from eating a pizza with fruity fruits,” he drily answered. “How manly is it to have pineapples in your pizza?” he added.

“The manliest!” Jack supplied. And then drank at most half of Hiccup’s soup.

Somehow it just continued like that, sharing their food more than eating it. Hiccup was sure he ate more of Jack’s pizza than Jack actually did.

When less than a fourth of Jack’s pizza was left, Hiccup’s own not much manier, Hiccup murmured, “you don’t have to thank me, by the way,” eyes on his nearly finished burger.

“Huh?”

Hiccup looked up, smiling shakily, “you don’t have to thank me. For agreeing. I wanted to come. Probably as much as you. I’ve wanted this in a while. Not necessarily the ‘painting me’ thing. Just. You. I wanted you in a while.”

Jack flushed and smiled almost embarassedly, “Me too. You. For a while. I wanted you for a while too.”

Hiccup’s smiled widened.

“Ugh, never mind! Don’t come back together during my shift! I can feel the puke coming.”

Hiccup rubbed his stomach and eyed the last piece of his tuna burger, sitting there innocently in his plate amidst the discarded pieces of pineapple. Jack snorted. That would teach him to eat most of Jack’s pizza. Hiccup pushed the plate toward him with a raised eyebrow as he picked up his last slice of pizza.

"Want the last piece, since you’re still hungry? I’d feel bad about wasting good tuna burger."

"But not about wasting good pineapples?"

Jack grabbed  the plate and emptied it on his remaining slice of pizza. He rolled it into a pizza-tuna-burger-burrito with extra pineapples. Hiccup gaped at him. Jack winked and shoved half of his new culinary creation in his mouth. 

"That’s disgusting."

"Is good," he said, his mouth still full. He chewed and swallowed before continuing. "It’s all going in the same place anyway." He shoved the other half of the rolled pizza into his mouth.

"That’s… still disgusting."

Jack shrugged and waved at the waitress. She reluctantly came, looking back and forth between the two of them as if expecting them to kiss any moment. Jack hastily swallowed and grinned at her.

"Check, please."

Hiccup was dozing off with his head against the wall, still rubbing his stomach by the time Ruffnut came back. He took the slip of paper from her. She gave him a sullen glare.

"You better tip well. I had to endure the two of you making googly eyes at each others."

He smiled charmingly and she stalked off. Jack decided he liked this place. He pulled out his wallet and started to count money. Hiccup rubbed his eyes, yawning.

"Are we leaving?"

"Yeah. You look like you need to sleep. And I need to go back to the studio and clean up the place."

"I feel so full I just want to curl up in bed and sleep forever."

"Then let’s get you there."

They headed out once Jack was done paying. Jack breathed in the cool night air and smiled. But when he turned to Hiccup, the other man was shuffling around in place.

"I need to, uh, head that way. So… I guess that’s goodbye?"

"Let me at least walk you home."

"Wh-what? you don’t need to."

"You don’t want me to? I swear I’m not a creepy stalker."

"And that’s exactly what a creepy stalker would say. But, I mean, that’s out of your way and I don’t want to waste your time if you need to go back to the studio…"

"Let’s say I’m taking the scenic route back, alright?" 

Hiccup’s lips quirked up in that crooked smile and Jack grinned. “Alright. Fine. You can be all romantic and walk me home.”

Jack gave him an exaggerated bow and took his arm. Hiccup snorted and pulled him along. The night was quiet and Jack looked up to the sky. It was a habit he had never lost even after moving out of the small town he grew up in.

"I miss the stars."

Hiccup looked up at him, then at the sky. He sighed.

"I miss them to. The sky was beautiful in the village where I was born. But at least we still have the moon, right?"

Jack smiled and moved a little closer to Hiccup. “You’re right. It’s so romantic, walking together like that under the light of the full moon.”

Hiccup snorted and playfully pushed him away. “That was so cheezy.” 

Jack laughed and reached over to ruffle Hiccup’s hair. He batted his hand away. Jack answered this by wrapping an arm around Hiccup’s waist and pulling him close.

"Come on, I’m trying to enjoy this romantic walk of ours before we get there and you leave me standing outside alone."

"Don’t make it sound so bad. I’m gonna see you tomorrow, like I see you everyday."

"Still, I’ll make sure to look properly forlorn when you close the door."

"Please don’t."

"Fine." 

They were nearing the university campus, now. Jack supposed that Hiccup lived on the campus itself. They were almost there. An idea flitted through his head, but he pushed it away. They stopped in front of a large building. Most of the windows were dark. Hiccup pulled away from Jack, but didn’t immediately start for the door. He looked down and shuffled his feet. Jack bit his lip.

"So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"Goodnight, then."

Jack took a deep breath and made up his mind. He gave Hiccup a smile that he hoped could at least pass for confident. Hiccup raised an eyebrow. Before he could think better of it, he moved in for a quick goodbye kiss.

Or at least that’s what he was aiming for. He ended up bumping his nose against Hiccup’s and he barely managed to brush their lips together. He panicked and stepped back before he could try again.

"Night," he squeaked.

He turned around and ran before Hiccup could recover from his shock enough to laugh at him.

It was only when Jack’s back could no longer be seen that Hiccup groped around for the doorknob, still facing the area where Jack ran to. He turned to enter the building and mechanically went up the stairs to head to his room.

It was once his door shut when he finally let his lips quirk up, head tilted and gaze far away. He felt like he should touch his lips, just to make sure everything was real, but he was enough of a middle schooler already and instead kneaded Toothless’ fur, not entirely aware how he was suddenly by his smuggled cat.

He flopped down to the ground, Toothless pushing against his hands and yowling. He nuzzled the top of Toothless’ head, heart doing gods know what, and already he was typing Jack a message.

That was a horrible first kiss. You owe me at least ten good ones.

Toothless rubbed his nose against Hiccup’s jaw and Hiccup turned back to his cat, “you hungry, bud?”

Again, Toothless nudged at the end of his smile, helpless as it was, and made a scoffing sound. He quickly went to his bowl and sat by it, tail swishing elegantly.

The brunette rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah, I’m pathetic,” snatching the bag of kibble.

Toothless was quick to pounce on the food as soon as Hiccup started pouring it and Hiccup couldn’t help but laugh. He leaned down to pet Toothless one last time, the cat curling his tail around his leg briefly, before he changed his clothes. “Night, bud.”

He hesitated briefly before taking out his phone again.

Goodnight, Jack.

Jack firmly believed that dreams should be happier than reality. Otherwise what was the point? In his dreams, his first kiss with Hiccup should have been magical, like in any good romance story. But his dreams failed to meet his expectations.

Instead, he had confused dreams of trying to kiss Hiccup, but something bad always happened. First, he banged their noses together so hard that they broke. He tried again, lost his balance and accidentally grabbed Hiccup’s butt while trying not to fall. Then he realized he wasn’t wearing pant. Finally, the ground opened under his feet to mercifully swallow him before he could embarrass himself further and he fell down to hell, where the Devil forced him to wear a tutu and play poker.

"Frosty, wake up."

"I need the Ace of Spade, or he’ll make me do a pirouette."

He blinked awake when a large hand shook his shoulder and Jack threw his arm over his eyes to shield them from the light.

"Get up, mate, or I’ll make you do a pirouette.”

"Aster? What are you doing here?"

"You fell asleep at the studio, you idiot."

That was true enough. Jack realized he had slept on the couch in the studio, where he laid down after cleaning up yesterday. He rubbed his eyes and stumbled to his feet.

"Right. I knew that."

"Rough night?" Aster asked with a teasing smile. Jack frowned.

"I painted. We went out to a diner. I walked him home and came back here. That’s it."

"Nothing more?"

"What, did you seriously think we were gonna do things?"

"Not that, but come on, kid, did you at least hold hands or something?"

Jack flushed at the memory of their disastrous first kiss. That wasn’t something he was too keen on sharing with the overly-nosy artist.

"What’s it to you, anyway?"

"I’m just curious. I’m wondering how’s it going with this boy that you’re so passionate about."

Aster went to the easel with the painting Jack had left to dry yesterday. Jack heartbeat increased when he remembered it. He needed to see it again. Tentatively, he joined Aster.

His breath caught in his throat when he laid his eyes on the painting again. It was everything he remembered and more. Jack could be critical of his own work, and he was rarely as confident as he acted, but he had to admit this one was beautiful. He didn’t think he had it in him to put so much emotion into a painting of a young man sitting on a couch. But this was Hiccup, so was it really surprising? Aster was right; he was really passionate about the freckled barista. 

"I kissed him," he admitted.

"How did it go?"

"Terribly."

Aster snorted and ruffled his hair. Jack shook his head and went to the sink to splash some water on his face and try to wake up a bit more. He took out his cell phone to see if he had any new massage from Hiccup since yesterday’s “Goodnight”. After a moment of hesitation, he sent a text of his own.

"Good morning~"

On days when Toothless felt impish or helpful (for all that the cat and owner were seemingly connected in a spiritual level—his cousin having been known to refer to them as soulmates—there were still moments when Hiccup looked at his best bud’s eyes and felt like the cat may be plotting something secretly from him), he went to lie on Hiccup’s face in the morning to stuff his mouth and nose with cat fur. It was an effective counterpart of an alarm clock and Hiccup usually retaliated by throwing the feline to the ground and giving him food  after  his morning ritual (he’s vindictive like that).

"Goddammit, Toothless," Hiccup grumbled, spitting away the hair and scrubbing the excess away from his face. The walk to the bathroom was less a walk and more a stumble and he sort of leaned to the wall as the shower turned on. The cold water served to wake him up well enough and he chuckled at the yowls Toothless kept making as he pulled on a thick, gray long-sleeved shirt and a yellow t-shirt.

The rest of the preparation before his morning class was no more eventful and Toothless headbutted his ankle in farewell.

"Later, bud," he replied, letting the cat lick his knuckles one last time before he left his room with a tight shut.

He didn’t get the text until he’s nearly at the uni and twenty minutes before his first class.For a moment, the good morning~ confused him enough that he stopped a second to stare at his screen, and then last night caught up to him—finally—and then he wanted to bury his face in his hands and believe that willing the blush away was enough for it to actually go away. The being kicked out of the shop, the mild freaking out after, the painting, the diner, the—thing (Hiccup was unwillling to call it their first kiss, it was barely one, it was a—a ‘their lips barely touched’, a ‘his lips smacked mine’, a ‘their lips bounced on each other’, and their first kiss will be a kiss and not a hit-for-like-half-a-second).

It was this train of thought that nearly made Hiccup want to mention that not-a-kiss, but he figured that it was hardly the time to maybe tease Jack about it after a night of Jack running away like he was on fire. Instead his thumb typed rapidly and mindlessly.

Good morning, snowfla

He bit his lip and stared at the letters.His finger hovered over the k and he looked up. He shut his eyes tight and breathed.

Good morning~ Try to keep yourself alive. I know it’s hard but do it for me?

He hit send with barely a thought and he bit on his lip harder. He scrolled the conversation up and down, maybe hoping that doing it enough would cause his text to disappear without a trace. He did it for at least a few minutes, and he might have continued until five, ten, but someone hit his shoulder and he turned to hurry out an apology. It suddenly came to him that he just stopped, in the middle of the sidewalk, and he hastily pocketed his phone and hurried to the university. Ah fuck it, what was done was done.

Jack was halfway across the street to get himself breakfast at the coffee shop when his phone alerted him of the incoming text. He had to stop himself from stopping right there to check what Hiccup had answered. Because it had to be Hiccup, right? Who else would text him this morning? Aster, to tell him to look both ways before crossing?

He flipped his phone open once he was safely off the street. It was indeed Hiccup, and with a rather fitting message to try to stay alive. He snickered. He typed a few words in reply as he got into the line inside the coffee shop, hesitated, deleted them, tried again, bit his lip, let his finger hover over the touchscreen…

"Well? What are you gonna take?"

Jack startled and looked up at the rather annoyed blonde. He sheepishly put his phone away and gave Astrid a smile.

"Breakfast."

"Tell me more," she said with an eye roll.

"Hm… an apple juice and a chocolate croissant."

He took out his phone again once he was settled at a table and quickly wrote a reply. "I’m trying, but it’s hard when you just HAD to text me while I’m crossing a busy street." He sent it before he could reconsider. He didn’t want Hiccup to wonder why he wasn’t replying. But he regretted it the moment he pressed “send”. That was a stupid reply. It sounded like he didn’t want Hiccup to text him. He should have added a smiley. He should have written something else entirely.

He stared mournfully at the phone until he received Hiccup’s reply. "Oh, sorry. Next time I’ll make sure to text you to ask if it’s safe to text you."

He shook his head with a smile and he stood to return to the studio. This time he sent his own reply with a lot less hesitation. "Hic! I almost got crushed by a falling piano while stopping to read this!"

They kept sending text messages through the day, Jack smearing more than a little paint over his phone as he texted during work. They ended up agreeing to meet up at the coffee shop when Hiccup’s classes ended so they could have a quick lunch together before his shift started. Jack kept looking between his phone and the clock impatiently, grinning whenever Hiccup sent a reply.

He startled when the phone buzzed again almost right after he sent his latest text. He hadn’t expected Hiccup to answer so fast. And it certainly wasn’t the answer he was expecting.

"You’re obsessed, mate."

He stared at it in shock. Had he gone too far? Did Hiccup think he was pathetic and lovesick? It took him a moment to process what he was seeing and realize that this latest text didn’t come from Hiccup. He turned to glare at Aster.

"I’m just socializing. You always say I need to do that more."

Aster rolled his eyes. Jack ignored him until it was time to go for his date—and he supposed he could call it a date. He washed his hands and considered fixing his messy hair, but he figured that if Hiccup noticed he had tried to make himself pretty for a simple quick lunch at Gobber’s coffee shop, he would probably laugh at him.

"So," Aster said, putting his paintbrush down and joining him by the door before he left, "when do I get to meet him?"

"What are you talking about?” Jack asked in confusion “He works across the street. You’ve seen him before."

"I mean when are you formally introducing us over dinner? I’ll take out my flower-printed tablecloth and cook a fancy meal and all."

Jack blinked. He should probably say something snarky in answer, but he found Aster’s occasional attempt to play the parental figure rather touching. Even when he was mostly mocking him.

"We’ll see about that. Gotta go now."

Once out of the studio, he looked at the coffee shop and wondered if Hiccup was there already. He had his answer moments later when he spotted the brunette walking along the sidewalk. He grinned. Taking a quick look on both side to ensure it wasn’t too dangerous, he dashed across the street and jumped on the sidewalk on the other side right in front of Hiccup. He didn’t stop. He bounded up the two stairs to the entrance, grabbed the door and opened it with an exaggerated bow.

"After you."

Hiccup rolled his eyes with an exasperated smile, but he did enter the coffee shop. Jack followed him in. They stood a little awkwardly together, just past the door, neither of them really sure what to say.

"So, uh," Jack tried, "how was your day of learning fancy science stuff?"

"It was good," Hiccup answered. "Look, why don’t you go get a table while I get our food? I’ll pay. Employee discount, you know?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I’ll be with you in a moment."

"Alright…"

Jack picked the same table as yesterday and he nervously played with the salt and pepper while he waited. As eager as he had been of seeing Hiccup again, something had been bothering him all day. He would have to answer Hiccup’s question about why he chose to become an artist sooner or later. It might as well be now, before they invested too much in a relationship that the robotics student might not be willing to continue pursuing after.

"Jack? Are you alright?"

Jack startled and forced a smile on his lips as Hiccup came back with their food and placed his in from of him.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he answered. He grabbed his cinnamon bun and took a bite to buy himself some time. Hiccup tapped his fingers on the sides of his coffee cup. Jack swallowed. "Uh… can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Have you always wanted to be a… robot-dude?"

"A robotic engineer," Hiccup corrected. He looked down into his coffee cup and his cheeks flushed. "And no, it’s not what I wanted to do when I was a kid."

"Really? So what did you want to do?"

Now it was Hiccup’s turn to take a bite of his food to put off answering. Jack leaned forward, his own anxiety momentarily forgotten in favor of wondering what Hiccup could have possibly wanted to do that embarrassed him like that. The barista looked up at him briefly through his short eyelashes before returning his attention to his plate.

"Promise you won’t laugh, okay?"

"I promise," he vehemently answered.

"I wanted to be a professional wrestler."

"A–a wrestler?"

Jack gaped. This wasn’t what he had expected at all. An image entered his mind; Hiccup in the ring, wearing a leotard and raising some big muscled dude over his head, glistening with sweat. Jack’s cheeks flushed. He shifted in his seat. Hiccup must have mistaken what he was thinking—which was probably just as well—because he let out a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Ridiculous, I know."

"N–no! Just a bit surprising. I think it’s kinda cool, actually. It’s an interesting job."

"Yeah, well, I sucked at it. But it’s okay. I’m happy doing what I do now. Even the being a barista part. You get to meet interesting people." Hiccup threw him a flirty little smile. Jack’s own lips stretched into a grin and his cheeks flushed. He looked down and tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. Hiccup drummed his fingers on the table and bit his lips. "What about you? Always wanted to become an artist?"

"Uh, no. I used to want to become an astronaut, but then I learned that it was a lot of maths and probably wouldn’t involve walking on the moon." He gave Hiccup a bashful smile. "I never thought of becoming an artist. I liked art in school, but I didn’t really think that could be a job. I thought it was something they just let us do so we would put up with being there at all."

Hiccup smiled a little. He set his food down and placed his chin in his hands to listen to his story. Jack worried at his lip.

"So what did you want to do? Once you decided that being an astronaut wasn’t for you, I mean."

"Nothing. I didn’t know. I… wasn’t exactly doing well in school. I had a hard time sitting still and listening to someone talk all day. I needed to move, to actually do something. And at some point they removed the art classes, because they thought we didn’t spend enough time sitting still and listening."

"And that’s a terrible idea."

"It was, and my school wasn’t the only one. Anyway, my grades got worst after that and I hated school even more." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "I was failing badly and my mom was struggling to provide for me and my sister so I kind of… quit."

"You didn’t finish high school?"

Jack couldn’t meet Hiccup’s startled eyes. He stared firmly at the table.

"Not then. I got a job and gathered enough cash to move here, so my mom could use the money she had saved for my studies to send my sister to a nice school. She was doing great, so it seemed a waste to spend it on me."

"I…" Hiccup struggled for something to say, but he closed his mouth again and waited for him to continue. Jack smiled. At least at this point the story started getting better.

"I wasn’t the only one who suffered from the art classes being taken out. Aster was my last art teacher and he lost his job because of that."

"Aster? He was a teacher? I mean… I haven’t spoken to him much, but he seems kind of…"

"Gruff? He is. But he really loves kids and he can be a big softy. Anyway, I ran into him when I was coming back from a long day of flipping burgers and he was in the middle of moving into his new studio. Well, his old studio, but it was new at the time. It had been years, but I guess I’m easy to recognize."

"It’s the eyebrows. Very striking."

Jack chuckled and raked his fingers through his much more recognizable white hair.

"Right. Well, since I had nothing better to do, I helped him. Once we brought everything inside, we settled down to chat with a bottle of beer that I wasn’t actually old enough to legally drink and he asked how was school going. I think he took it personally when I admitted I gave up. He started to rant about how kids needed things like art if they were to learn and stuff."

"I guess it was a bit of a sore point, eh?"

"Yeah. There’s was a lot of cursing. Then he unpacked his watercolors and decided I was going to do some art. Right there and then. Even though I was pretty drunk by now."

"Just how much did he let you drink?" Hiccup asked with a suspicious stare.

"One beer? Don’t laugh, okay, it was my first one!"

Hiccup raised a hand to his lips and coughed into it. His shoulders shook slightly with silent laughter.

"I’m not laughing. So, is that how it started? With you drunkenly doing a watercolor painting in Aster’s studio?"

"Kind of. Aster decided to give me art lessons. As I said, he took my failure in school pretty personally. He eventually convinced me to go back and at least finish high school. I had to quit my job and crash on his couch for a while to avoid failing again. I started helping out around the studio to make up for it. I guess I never really left."

"But you like what you’re doing?"

"I love it."

"That’s what matters. Jack? Look at me, will you?" Jack raised his head to look into Hiccup’s earnest green eyes. "It doesn’t matter how you got there. You’re doing what you love, and that more than a lot of people."

Jack looked back down, but he couldn’t keep the silly smile off his lips.

"Yeah. I don’t regret it. But…"

"But?"

"But, well, I…" he fidgeted with his paint-streaked shirt and still refused to raise his eyes from the tabletop, "I barely managed to finish high school and I’m just a lowly artist and you…"

"Wait, you’re worried that you’re not good enough for me?”

Jack looked up at the pure incredulity in Hiccup’s voice. The robotics student gaped at him from across the table.

"Uh, kinda?"

"Jack, I don’t care about that! And never mind that. I love what you do. Your paintings. They’re beautiful and I’m not even the slightest bit ashamed to say that I’m dating an artist."

It was Jack’s turn to gape at Hiccup’s fierce tone. The brunette’s face was set in a determined scowl, as if daring him to challenge his words. Jack felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It was a good thing he was sitting, because he wasn’t sure he could stand right now.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Even if I ruined our first kiss?"

"What are you talking about? We didn’t have a first kiss yet. You just kinda bumped your lips on mine that one time, but that doesn’t count."

"Oh. Then maybe we should, uh…" Jack trailed off and leaned forward a little.

"Yes?" Hiccup asked, leaning toward him as well.

"Maybe we should fix that."

"Yes."

Their lips brushed together in what they both decided was their actual first kiss.