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There was nothing else better than that half-asleep state Hiccup was in every weekend morning. He wasn’t awake enough to get up and start his day, but he was awake enough to enjoy being huddled up in the covers, all warm and snuggly despite the still, cold air that lingered around the unheated bedroom. His fingers had pulled the blankets up to his chin last night and his back was in a state of bliss on that incredible memory foam mattress that Jack insisted was a great investment. Toothless was curled up at his feet, a little black ball of fluff snoozing away.
Ah yes, this was really the life. A lazy winter morning—no looming responsibilities or impending doom. Just Hiccup, the bed, Toothless, and—
Hiccup’s eyes flew open and he gritted his teeth at the sensation of ice being pressed against his bare side. “AAAH! Jack—your feet!” Hiccup yelped, squirming away from Jack.
“Hiccup, my feet are cold, and your body is warm—do the math,” Jack said a bit groggily, worming his feet under Hiccup’s shirt. “Deal with it.”
Hiccup hissed and rolled out of the bed, falling onto the floor with a loud thump, groaning at his unfortunate situation. “Why did we move in together?” he muttered at the ground.
“Because I’m wonderful and a lot of fun to be around and you want to keep me around forever,” Jack said, peering over the edge of the bed at Hiccup, who had rolled onto his back, giving Jack a stern glare.
“If I knew I’d have to be suffering your stupid frost feet every night I wouldn’t have accepted it at all,” Hiccup grumbled, reaching up to give Jack’s forehead a flick. He moaned, lifting himself up with his arms. “Well, now that we’re up, we might as well continue unpacking.”
Jack let out a childish groan, flipping onto his back and pulling the blankets over his head.
“Don’t be a baby—it’s your fault,” Hiccup reminded him with a smirk as a befuddled and miffed Toothless, who had been awoken ungraciously from his catnap, prodded Jack with a claw accusingly.
“Alright, alright, I’m up,” Jack mumbled, rubbing his eyes and batting Toothless away.
“That’s the spirit,” Hiccup said, pulling a sweater over his head.
It had been about a week since the couple moved into their new apartment together. Boxes littered the floors, some opened and some sealed shut. The two had discovered that they both had a horrible knack for procrastination, which they blatantly ignored by entering the honeymoon stage of moving together. This would’ve been nice if it wasn’t for the fact that, three nights ago, Hiccup had gotten up to get a glass of water only to fall face first into a pile of boxes (thankfully there was nothing sharp or pointy or particularly fragile, but you get the point).
Hiccup immediately got to the first box next to the couch (one of the twenty furniture pieces they actually unpacked), figuring that breakfast could wait. He never really ate breakfast anyway and he was perfectly fine. When Jack first found out about this, he immediately unpacked the kitchen utensils box and made them a stack of pancakes with a side of bacon and eggs.
Jack walked into the room, the comforters wrapped around him like a cape with Toothless lying defiantly on the tail, just as Hiccup was cutting the box open. Hiccup snorted. “You can’t unpack boxes like that.”
“That sounds like amateur talk,” Jack said as he waddled over to the kitchen counter.
“Are these yours?” Hiccup asked.
“Yeah,” Jack answered, leaning forward on his elbows and smirking. “Maybe now I can finally sleep without listening to your constant snoring.”
“I don’t snore!”
“Yeah, you do. You also talk in your sleep—it’s a little unsettling,” Jack added.
“Yeah, okay, but at least I don’t hog the bathroom for an hour every morning,” Hiccup retorted as Jack began opening the box of silverware.
Jack gave Hiccup a look of horror. “What? Are you suggesting that I not spend time on this perfection?” Jack asked, running a hand through his white bed-head dramatically. “Besides, at least I look great.”
“Yeah, it almost negates your cold feet thing,” Hiccup said sarcastically, tossing a few remote controls to the side (many of which he had no idea what they were for).
“Kind of like how your cute face makes up for the fact that you have to get up at five every morning?”
“No, more like how your weirdly charming idiocy makes up for your laziness,” Hiccup countered with a grin.
Jack froze and put down the plate he was carrying. A smirk rose on his lips and he pulled his blanket back up to his shoulders, displacing Toothless, who was trying to enjoy his meal. “Are you trying to start a fight, Haddock?”
“Try me,” Hiccup said, only to have his smile quickly disappear as he watched Jack walk around the counter towards him. “Wait, what are you doing?”
Jack shook his head, his arms raised. “You started it Hiccup—you’re gonna get it.”
“Wait, not now, Jack, you’ll break—“ Hiccup shrieked as Jack pounced onto him, enveloping him into a bear hug as they both collapsed onto the floor.
“I stand corrected,” Hiccup smiled, “your idiocy doesn’t make up for your laziness. At all.”
Jack pressed his forehead against Hiccup’s. “Oh, shut up Dragon-boy.”
And so, despite the quarreling and the little habits that would tick the other off, their lips met and the boxes lay forgotten for a long while. And when they finished unpacking for the day and lay in their bed, Hiccup snored and Jack pressed his cold feet on Hiccup’s back and neither of them minded nor complained. Sure, there were going to be days when Hiccup would demand Jack put on socks and Jack would counter that Hiccup should be gagged in his sleep, but for now…
They supposed this was alright.