Chapter Text
Tuffnut Thorston was not a morning person.
Which was why it was so alarming when he slammed open the guesthouse kitchen door at precisely 7:06 AM, a tattered clipboard under one arm, hair exploding in every direction, and a grin that should have been illegal before coffee.
"GATHER ROUND, MARRIED PEASANTS!" Tuffnut yelled, his voice cracking like a rooster in puberty.
Ruffnut, still in Snotlout's hoodie and holding a mug of chamomile tea, lifted a single eyebrow. "Tuff, it's too early to be whatever this is."
"It's never too early for glory!" Tuffnut announced, slamming the clipboard on the kitchen counter.
Heather blinked, her Afghan Hound, Windshear, standing protectively by her legs, while Fishlegs sat beside her with Meatlug, his aggressively affectionate Shih Tzu, trying to climb into Windshear's personal bubble.
Dagur, arms folded, glanced at Mala, who adjusted her flowy silk robe over her tank top and leggings, amused.
"What's this about, Tuff?" Snotlout grumbled, running a hand through his bed-mussed hair.
Tuffnut took a deep breath and threw his arms open dramatically, "I am officially launching the first annual Post-Marriage Flirt-Off."
Silence.
Ruffnut spat out her tea.
Heather made a strangled noise that was half-laugh, half-scream.
Fishlegs nearly fell off his stool, Meatlug yipping excitedly and slamming into Windshear, who responded by pointedly ignoring her.
Dagur's eyes lit up, the chaotic older brother energy practically leaking from his skin. "I love this. Tell me more."
Mala sighed but smiled, her hand finding Dagur's. "We've been married a month longer than the rest of you. Does this mean we're the judges?"
Tuffnut lifted a finger, shaking it. "Wrong! I am the judge, the announcer, the scoreboard keeper, and the scandal score distributor. YOU are the contestants."
Heather's eyes narrowed. "What's the prize?"
Tuffnut wiggled his eyebrows. "Bragging rights. Eternal glory. The title of Scandal Kings and Queens of New Berk."
Dagur pumped a fist. "Finally, a competition worth winning."
Ruffnut crossed her arms, smirking. "You think you can beat me?"
"Uh, obviously."
Heather and Fishlegs exchanged a glance, Windshear and Meatlug continuing their comedic, silent drama in the corner.
"I don't know," Fishlegs said softly, "Hiccup and Astrid—"
"—are disqualified!" Tuffnut interrupted.
Everyone paused.
Dagur blinked. "Wait, why?"
"Because they would win, and we all know it." Tuffnut shuddered dramatically, tapping the clipboard with a pen. "They don't even try and it's like we're watching a softcore domestic romance movie live. I refuse to compete with that."
Heather snorted. "Yeah, that's fair."
Ruffnut grimaced, remembering last week when she accidentally walked in on Hiccup sitting on the counter in the main house, Astrid standing between his legs, hands in his hair while he kissed her temple, both of them laughing about some inside joke. It was so soft it had made her soul hurt.
"So, they're not competing?" Snotlout clarified.
"They don't even know this is happening," Tuffnut confirmed, scribbling on his scoreboard titled:
Post-Marriage Flirt-Off: Rankings
Dagur & Mala
Heather & Fishlegs
Snotlout & Ruffnut
(Hiccup & Astrid - ineligible, but with a small flame doodle beside their names)
"Now," Tuffnut said, "the game is simple: you go about your week, be scandalous, be affectionate, be the couple you think you are—"
Dagur leaned forward, smirking. "What counts as scandalous, Tuff?"
"Anything that makes the rest of us uncomfortable enough to consider therapy," Tuffnut deadpanned. "But no inter-couple flirting, and no crossing lines. This is about how naturally spicy your marriage is."
Heather rolled her eyes but smiled. Mala nodded, patting Dagur's hand.
"Are you sure about this, Tuff?" Fishlegs asked nervously. "I mean…isn't it a little weird?"
Tuffnut's eyes glinted. "We're married. We're adults. But someone has to be the spice police around here, and it's going to be me."
Outside the window, the main house glowed softly in the morning light, wildflowers waving in the breeze around the ivy-draped stone walls. Wisteria vines spilled purple blossoms across the porch. The sea beyond it glittered, and there, in the kitchen window, Astrid appeared, hair in a loose braid, flowy sundress swirling around her legs as she stood on tiptoes to kiss Hiccup's cheek while he leaned over the counter, flipping pancakes with a sleepy smile, wearing a simple linen tunic and a soft apron.
They were laughing about something, Astrid ruffling his hair, Hiccup leaning into the touch without hesitation, like they were sharing the same air.
The gang fell silent, watching the scene.
"See," Tuffnut whispered dramatically, "that is why they're banned."
Ruffnut clutched her chest. "Why is that so—"
"Soft?" Heather offered.
"Romantic?" Mala added.
"Dangerously powerful?" Dagur finished.
Snotlout wiped a single fake tear. "They're going to kill us."
Tuffnut slammed the clipboard down with finality. "No. They're disqualified. We will not speak of them during this competition, ever. Now, get ready. The Flirt-Off starts now."
Astrid was humming as she folded laundry in the living room, a record playing softly in the background, the gentle strum of a classical guitar drifting through the ivy-shadowed windows. The air smelled like wildflowers and the faintest hint of pancakes.
Toothless, their sleek black Bengal cat, lounged on the sun-warmed windowsill, tail flicking lazily as he watched Astrid move, while Stormfly, their seal-mink Bengal, perched on the back of the couch, purring in approval.
Hiccup arrived home from a quick council call at the town hall, still in his rolled-up linen sleeves, wind in his hair. The moment he stepped through the door, Astrid looked up, eyes brightening with that private glow that only ever appeared for him.
She beckoned him closer without a word.
He crossed the room, slipping his arms around her waist from behind, burying his face into the crook of her neck, exhaling softly as if the world outside didn't exist when she was there.
Astrid's hand reached up to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly, grounding him. Her other hand continued folding a shirt with practiced ease.
"I missed you," Hiccup murmured.
"I know," she whispered, a smile in her voice. "I missed you too."
The gang, having decided to "accidentally" drop off a basket of eggs, stood frozen at the open window, watching, completely unnoticed.
Hiccup pulled back enough to kiss her temple, then her jaw, before moving to fold laundry beside her, shoulder brushing hers, a soft domestic dance of movement in perfect sync.
Hiccup offered his hand and Astrid took it bowing and giggling as they began to sway. Gentle music slowly started playing in the background, their bodies flush against each other, eyes lost in each other.
Astrid hummed again, her voice melodic as she pressed her side against his, letting him lean into her, their heads touching.
Ruffnut made a strangled sound outside.
Heather slapped her hand over Ruffnut's mouth, eyes wide.
Snotlout's jaw was on the ground.
Dagur, eyes suspiciously soft, whispered to Mala, "Why are they like this?"
Mala just smiled, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Because they're happy."