Polyshipprompts made up a thing of Poly Ship Week, so here I am doing that!

It's five days, five one shots, each day with a theme but no set ship.

I'm not giving away who each days ship is, you'll just have to wait and see.

Today's theme is 'fluff', and the ship of the day was borne in an alpha readers group, largely.

Mala/Dagur/Snotlout.

-HTTYD-

Rolling her eyes at the two idiots sat nearby, Mala cooed softly at the baby currently suckling from her breast. Snotlout was being terribly unsubtle about watching, but Mala did like that he wasn't much for subterfuge.

"It kinda looks squishy."

"It's a baby. They all look squishy."

If she had a hand free, Mala would hit them both. Having two husbands was generally rather good, except when they tried to 'out-man' each other, each trying to be tougher than her other husband. Honestly, it was ridiculous.

She was clearly the head of the household. Not to mention Queen of the island. They may be her kings, but Mala's birthright overrode their marriage claim.

"This is your daughter."

"Oh, sorry babe. She looks squishy."

"I don't think that's what she meant Snot-man."

Despite babies commonly resembling their father at birth, there was nothing presently distinguishing her daughters features to dictate whether Berkian or Berserker sired her. Not that it should truly matter, as Mala had demanded agreements for from them both before they wed.

Finished nursing, Mala lifted the girl up and patted her back gently, much to the confusion of her fathers.

"Are you congratulating her?"

"No, Snotlout. I am winding her. Babies gulp down air when they suckle, and they can get very uncomfortable if it is not expelled."

Both of them frowned when a little milk was also spit back up, but Mala knew that could happen. It was why she'd not dressed fully since the birth an hour before. Now the babe was fed and the spit-up cleaned, Mala placed her down and began fastening her jacket back up.

"Hey, uh, what's her name? There hasn't been a Jorgensen daughter for like six generations."

"Hey! She might be a Berserker."

"Both of you, silent. Newborns do not appreciate loud noises."

Grumbling, they both closed their mouths.

"Thank you. I believe we already covered this debate about that not mattering."

After giving each other a suspicious look, they turned back to her and nodded. Mala lifted her daughter up again, smiling as the baby yawned and gurgled. It must be exhausting to be a brand new person.

"Right."

"Yeah."

"Good. And her name is Matilda."

Dagur's face furrowed in thought. It was amusing to her, the way his tattoos went with it.

"Is the Ma- thing a Defender thing?"

"Correct."

Content to simply watch Matilda, Mala eventually looked up and noticed the two were shifting, throwing glances at each other and then the baby. She waited, wondering which one would cave first. Her money was on Snotlout.

"So uh... can I hold it- I mean her?"

As the bet was with herself, Mala wasn't sure if she won or lost. Going with 'won', she gestured for him to come closer. Snotlout frowned at the girl for a second as she was handed over, seeming unsure of what to do with Matilda. He shifted her to one arm, face pure bewilderment as he reached to touch a rounded cheek.

Then she stretched out a pudgy little arm from her wrap, grabbing a hold of daddy's finger and Snotlout stared down at her with a sudden look of wonder, laughing like Mala had only seen him do with a baby dragon or while she was pregnant with Matilda. He'd lit up when she kicked, but never before in front of Dagur.

Unsurprisingly, Dagur noticed their lovers wet eyes.

"Are you crying?"

"Crying? Me? No way! I'm totally tough!"

Snotlout raised his hand and scrubbed hastily at his eyes, but those tears had been spotted. His voice was even a little thicker, as though he was fighting not to choke up with emotion.

"Not tougher than me! I'm not crying over a baby."

Snotlout scowled.

"I once saw you tearing up cus Shattermaster hurt his wing. You saying our daughter is less important than your dragon?"

Mala smiled inwardly; simply holding Matila had broken the macho facade of one. Now for the other.

"I... uh... no, of course not."

"That's what I thought."

Seeming torn between keeping her and proving a point, Snotlout held Matilda over to Dagur, who took her without hesitation. Even his 'tough' shell cracked faced with that little girl, and he beamed when she simply gurgled in his direction.

"Ah, I guess she is pretty cute."

Mala smiled, leaning to kiss Snotlout's jaw and rest an arm over his shoulders. He turned to her with similar awe as he'd had for their daughter, as though he was equally surprised by her.

"I rather like that you can be sensitive when it matters. Both of you. Despite the fact you are both idiots."

Both of them returned her smile, reminding her why she put up with them and their silly games. She adored the two men, enough to push convention to its edge and take them both as husbands. As the head of their tribe, Mala pushed the political aspect to nay-sayers - it made for a concrete treaty between not two but three tribes. Granted, Snotlout wasn't chief of Berk, but he was a high-ranking soldier. And Mala was not marrying him for that anyway.

That was just her excuse when those who didn't understand her loving two men. For refusing to choose. And seeing them now, reduced to playful arguing over who's turn it was to hold Matilda...

Mala knew she had made the right choice.

-HTTYD-

See you on tomorrows polyship!