Title: How to Train Your Transformer
Rating: T
Pairing: Toothcup. POSSIBLE SLASH ALERT.
Summary: Hiccup didn't even know how to drive yet, but somehow he ended up with a giant alien robot car named Toothless. Totally AU. Coincides with the TF movie-verse.
A/N: Okay, I FUCKING HAD TO DO THIS. This plot bunny has been milling about in my brain for about a bazillion months now, and I finally decided to put it into action. By writing this, I have satisfied both my love for HTTYD and TF. Ohmahgahhh.
Oh yeah, and I won't be changing Hiccup's name to fit the AU of this fic. Yeah, so what, his name is weird and probably won't match a slight reality setting, but hey, my real name is Whisper, so weird names are the norm for me. True story bro.
Prologue.
"Is he a new recruit?"
There was a digitized sigh, followed by a garbled clicking sound. Both Autobots stared into the distance, optics trained on the fast approaching dust cloud heading in their direction.
"Unfortunately, I cannot tell. Whoever he is, he seems to have put up a fairly intricate firewall. I cannot access his data processors or try to breach via com link."
The leader of the Autobots let out a synthesized growl, the alloy plates of his facial armor creasing into a frown. He turned to the medic standing beside him, blue optics imploring. "Is he a Decepticon?"
For a split second, a piercing screech echoed across the vast expanse of desert, before the earth exploded in a cloud of dust and dirt at their feet. Fortunately, both bots had quickly maneuvered themselves away from the blast and retreated back to their comrades.
"Does that answer your question?" Ratchet questioned gruffly.
Optimus merely tilted his head and sighed. "Dispatch Lennox, tell him to alert the LAPD."
Chapter 1
"Haddock."
He kept on scribbling, oblivious to the repetition of his name. He pressed the tip of his lead pencil harshly against the fragile surface of his paper, doodling rapidly along the margins. His tongue lolled out in deliberation, and he would occasionally huff at the tufts of hair that billowed about his forehead, nearly gouging his pencil into the paper. It was impossible for him to give up the swift strokes and gentle, curving loops he created with his pencil, and sometimes when he would really lose himself, he'd forget everything around him.
"Haddock."
He could hear the call of his name, but it sounded like it was simply white noise, a mere background sound that he paid no consequence to. Just stop it, he thought crudely, applying more pressure to his pencil. Can't you see I'm enjoying myself?
"Hiccup Haddock!"
The lead snapped and Hiccup let out a grimace, his eyes narrowing as he glimpsed up at his Pre-Cal teacher who was busy shooting him a rather patronizing glare. Hiccup never liked staring at the man for too long a time—the teacher's hair was thinning and balding in most places, and his expression always seemed to sport a permanent scowl. Hiccup grimaced when he realized that the teacher had added extra emphasis on his already bizarre name. Was his dad high on something when he named him? He heard faint giggling come from the other end of the room and Hiccup rolled his eyes- they always did that whenever his name was called aloud. He hated it when people made fun of him for it.
The instructor, Mr. Navarro, gestured towards the wall clock situated above them, a cheeky raise to his brow.
"We still have five minutes left Haddock, we're not done yet," Mr. Navarro reprimanded, giving Hiccup one final glare before the teacher turned round and sat back at his desk. Hiccup puffed out his cheeks and exhaled his breath. He resisted the urge to continue sketching, but he then reasoned it would be pointless rebelling with only five minutes of class left, and so, he dropped his pencil with a dramatic flourish and folded his scrap paper, scooping both materials into the confines of his satchel.
While the teacher droned on about next class's objective, Hiccup idled himself by steadily drumming the pads of his fingers along the surface of his desk. Geez, if only that clock would hurry the hell up. What should he do after school anyway, he contemplated, habitually biting at his lower lip. There was always something new to explore in the City of Long Beach, no matter if he'd been living there for all his life. He hugged his satchel to him, letting his eyes linger on the steady tick of the clock. He could always catch the bus to the Pike and grab an ice cream at Cold Stone's, or possibly even head over to Cinemark and watch a movie…alone.
Hiccup frowned.
He never really liked to remind himself of the fact that he had very little to no friends, not to say that he was completely helpless. He had friends, however he didn't confide in too many of them, and he could never really think up of the right thing to say when he was around them. To put it in the most generic of terms, Hiccup was rather socially inept. Instead of going out on dates or hanging out with a bunch of friends, Hiccup would spend his time either drawing indoors, exploring the city via bus, or tinkering away on the computer. He didn't quite mind the solitude sometimes, however there were a few occasions when he would feel exceptionally lonely.
The sound of the bell interrupted his thoughts, and with a smile and a generally content feeling towards the impending weekend, Hiccup scooped up his satchel and draped it around his shoulder. Tapping his desk farewell, Hiccup strode out the classroom door.
Hiccup pressed his head to the thrumming glass, vibrations shooting down his temples and tickling the back of his throat. His stomach was happy and full, credited to the double scoop of Twix infused Cake Batter ice cream, and he felt more than satisfied. He took solace in his bus ride home, and sighed contentedly as he leaned back against his seat, dragging his satchel along with him.
He cracked open an eye after a projected bus stop, eyeing the scraggly passenger that climbed aboard and fed his money to the machine. The man had ragged tufts of curly hair patched about his face, as if he had gotten in a fight with the blunt end of a razor, and he was sporting a faded black shirt that read Got Alien Robots? across the front in bold, white letters. The passenger walked down the aisle and took a seat next to a young man seated in front of Hiccup. A waft of putrid air hit Hiccup full in the nostrils and he resisted the urge to gag- the guy smelled like a dump truck.
Hiccup watched as the youth looked at the passenger's shirt with a critical gleam in his eyes, a flash of disbelief schooling across his facial features.
"You really believe that?" the young man questioned skeptically, turning his body towards the passenger seated next to him. The scraggly man in question huffed and lidded his eyes, and Hiccup couldn't help but subconsciously lean forward, curiosity peaked as to where their conversation might lead. Of course, he pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed through his mouth—he still couldn't stand the smell.
"Heck yeah!" the ragged man replied indignantly, waving a hand in the air. He pointed a stubby finger to his shirt. "Haven't you seen the videos?"
"The ones about Mission City right?" the other questioned, rolling his eyes. "That was all just a movie stunt—they were filming."
Hiccup watched the older man shake his head loftily at the youth's statement. "You got it all wrong there kiddo, that's what the God damn Government wants you to believe! It's a cover-up! There were even casualties reported!"
"Where the heck did you hear that?" the younger man asked decrepitly, furrowing his brow. Hiccup could tell the guy seemed to be a total and complete douchebag, the kind of douche with a super inflated ego, and he looked royally pissed, or possibly even annoyed beyond reason- Hiccup smiled at that.
"The Real Freaking Deal," the passenger bit out, folding his meaty arms over his chest. The shirt across his front stretched along his bloated belly, framing the bulge most unpleasantly, and Hiccup grimaced. The younger passenger merely rolled his eyes and let out a string of mumbled sentences, before he raised his hand to pull at the yellow pulley above him. A brief dinging sound resounded throughout the cabin of the bus, before the bus driver flipped her turn signals and pulled up at a nearby stop. As the youth shimmied past the man and promptly left the vehicle, Hiccup leaned back into his chair and stared out the window. As the bus departed, he thought back to the conversation he had just eavesdropped on and rapidly sorted the facts in his mind.
It had seemed so long ago, four years actually, since the fiasco at Mission City, depending on whether it was even an actual fiasco to begin with. Hiccup remembered sitting in class when his teacher nearly trampled over to the class TV set and turned it on, flipping the channels frantically until ABC news was broadcasted. He remembered seeing random clips of cars flying through the air and buildings being destroyed and demolished, until the principal's voiced boomed out on the PA system and told all the teachers to remain calm and wait for further notice.
People around the world had questioned the delicate topic at the time and the media had buzzed like crazy. Personal eyewitness accounts and Youtube videos had then begun popping up on the Internet, further fueling the haze. Hiccup had to admit even he had been a part of the craze, and still to this day, no one knew if it had been a rather convincing movie stunt… or something else. After a week had passed, the US Government had issued a statement claiming that the events that had taken place in Mission City had been a movie stunt for an upcoming action film. The skeptics ate it up, eager to go about their lives as normally as they could, while the believers devised protests.
Hiccup had been thirteen at the time, and he really couldn't figure out who he had wanted to side with. He would've liked to believe the Government, he probably should have, however there had always been an instinctual nagging feeling at the pit of his gut about the whole ordeal. Two years following that day, there had been other eyewitness accounts in which several people reported sightings in various countries- and then there had been that broadcast. He had been sitting inside a Red Brick's Pizza watching TV when the channel had suddenly flickered, including every other TV set in the pizza shop. The thing, he remembered it clearly, had a pointed metal face with eyes the color of vermilion, and its teeth were serrated and jagged. He couldn't remember what it had exactly said, something about destroying cities and handing some kid over, but as soon as he got home he had turned on his own television and quickly flipped it to CNN. Whether it was an intricate satellite hacking or something beyond that, Hiccup didn't know. Even to this day, he had a difficult time siding with anyone. Sure, he had already done his fair share of research via Google about the subject, and had managed to sift through many eyewitness reports and countless viral videos, however, the US Government also had a more valid and compelling argument. No one would intentionally wreck an entire city right? Giant alien robots from outer space seemed like a highly unlikely case anyway, it wasn't credible—he didn't want to believe in it.
Hiccup shrugged the thoughts away when he saw his stop up ahead. Pulling at the yellow pulley above him, Hiccup swiftly got up from his seat and waited patiently for the bus to halt before exiting out the rear doors.
"Dad, I'm home."
Hiccup closed the door to the small apartment and unwrapped his satchel from his around his shoulders, haphazardly throwing it on the living room couch. He trudged across the carpet and stepped into the kitchen, the linoleum flooring slippery as his sock-clad feet traipsed over it. He wearily opened the fridge and poked his head inside, the chilled temperature cool against his face as his eyes blearily scanned the food contents. He finally decided upon a leftover plate of brownies and pulled the treats out, setting them aside on the countertop. He reached for a water bottle nestled towards the back of the fridge and pulled it out as well, setting it alongside the plate of brownies.
He turned around and dragged a nearby chair over towards the treats, deciding he'd rather eat at the counter instead of the kitchen table, and swiftly popped a brownie bit into his mouth.
"He's prolly' still at work," he grumbled, munching away. He sighed and fluttered his eyelids, leaning back into his chair as the sugary, chocolate sweetness coated his tongue. He basked in the silence for a few minutes, relishing the stillness, before a booming voice jerked his awake.
"'iccup, is tha' you m'boy?"
Hiccup nearly choked on the last bit of his brownie and quickly tried to swivel some juice to wash it down. He narrowed his eyes and scowled—why did his dad's voice have to be so…loud? It was like a freaking megaphone! Sometimes Hiccup didn't even need an alarm clock to wake him up in the morning—his dad's voice sufficed just fine. Hiccup steadied his breathing and got up from his chair, heading out the kitchen into the living room.
"Hey dad, taking a nap?" Hiccup called, throwing himself upon the length of the living room couch. He basked in the plush cushions and let himself sink into them, green optics immediately scanning the premise for the remote.
"Yah, long day at work," Stoick replied sluggishly. Despite the boom of his voice, the Scotsman's tone was muffled. Hiccup guessed his dad was either in the bathroom or lying down in his own room, either way, Stoick was evidently exhausted. His dad worked as a longshoreman for the Port of Los Angeles, loading and unloading various ships and freights, so it wasn't unusual for the burly man to come home drowsy and lethargic—the job required long hours, but reeled in excellent pay.
"Okay, you rest up, you big man you," Hiccup laughed, wrapping his fingers around the remote. With a push of a button, the TV flickered to life.
"I'm gonna' go t'sleep son," Stoick drawled, his voice tapering away. "I'll be gone in tha' mornin', make sure ta' make yerself somethin' t'eat."
Hiccup rolled his eyes—hid dad never failed to mention the amount of food he took in. By all means, Hiccup loved eating, as anyone should, and sometimes he would catch himself practically inhaling his meals, however, despite how much he ate, he never gained any of the projected weight. Blame it on his fast metabolism, but Hiccup still stayed gangly and skinny no matter what he ingested, much to the chagrin of his father. Stoick Haddock, also known as Stoick the Vast by many of his friends, was a large, brawny man with a thick auburn beard (his manly pride and joy), the exact opposite of Hiccup who was lofty, gawky, and freckled. Sometimes Hiccup had a hard time believing that he was even Stoick's offspring.
'I mean come on, he's like a beast!' he thought crudely. 'And I'm like a talking fishbone.'
He let his incriminating thoughts simmer away and started to flip through the channels. When he found nothing of interest, he flipped it to channel 7 and waited through the commercials for the news to broadcast. His interest peaked when a breaking news report suddenly flashed across the screen.
"Probably another car chase in L.A. or something," he muttered, a smile lazily scrawling across his lips. Just then, an anchorwoman appeared on screen, a stack of papers brandished in her hands as she began to talk.
"There seems to be a breaking news report from Bakersfield, CA," the woman went on, blue eyes trained ahead of her. "ABC reporters are on stand-bye, and in a moment, we'll have reporter Alice Cooper relay you with the details."
There was silence for a brief second, before the screen split in half and a second transmission fizzled in on the right side of the screen. Another woman, a reporter, stood erect as she clasped her microphone to her chest, waiting for the opportune moment to begin her report.
"Alright, we have Alice Cooper live," the anchorwoman said on the adjacent screen. "Hello Alice, please tell us any details you may have about this recent piece of news."
"Thank you Elizabeth," Alice greeted. "This is Alice Cooper, stationed near Mettler, California just 25 miles south of Bakersfield, where apparently an explosion erupted in an orange field situated along the 99. Witnesses, mostly commuters along the freeway, reported seeing a blast of blue light erupt from one of the fields. Kern County police officials are saying that the blast was big enough to scatter debris about the highway, most of it damaging people's cars. No casualties are reported."
"So was this an explosion Alice?" Elizabeth questioned. "I know there are plenty of oil rigs and power plants situated near that area, is the explosion related to any of those facilities?"
Hiccup watched as Alice paused for a moment, her hand coming up to adjust her earpiece. "Negative on that Elizabeth. Kern County officials aren't giving further comment on the blast and can neither confirm nor deny the explosion resulted from a power malfunction. We'll be on stand-by to report any other information that comes in."
"Alright, thank you Alice," Elizabeth concluded. The split screen dissolved and Elizabeth resumed full control of the screen. "We'll get back with Alice in just a few moments, in the meanwhile, we'll switch to Allen Dean of Sky Cam. Allen, do you have any visuals of the blast?"
And the rest of the news continued along in that fashion, until Hiccup's gaze was practically glued to the television screen. He didn't know how long he sat there on that couch, his form hunched forward as a multitude of images and reports flashed across the screen like a filmstrip. A shot from Sky Cam came into view and Hiccup gasped. The image revealed a steaming, charred crater at least 60 feet in diameter. The crater appeared hollow inside, as if something had gouged into the earth and ripped chunks of dirt and soil from the land. More pictures streamed in of dented cars and cracked windshields, and Hiccup sat through all of it in a sort of daze.
Oh, he wasn't going to sleep well tonight.
A/N: hahhahahaah. Geez, that took some research. Maybe not. Anyway, review please!
