Hiccup slammed down on the brakes of his car. "What the hell was that?" he growled as the car in front of his, a yellow Nissan Leaf, stopped abruptly. He refrained himself from saying "spotto", and instead spammed the horn. But still, the car didn't move. "Gods dammit. If you have to stop, either pull over, or turn your effing hazard lights on," he murmured. Hiccup hit the horn again. A moment later, a teenage-looking girl stumbled out of the Leaf's driver's door, laughing her head off. He rolled down the window, and shouted, "Hey!" The girl looked across at him. "You been drinking?" She nodded tipsily. "Then don't drive!" Hiccup yelled. The girl simply stared. He sighed. This was going to be a long, long day.
Half an hour later, Hiccup was parking his car in the driveway. He climbed out, clutching his car keys and slightly less clumsily than the girl, and pressed down on the "lock" button. It wasn't that he was drunk. Hiccup wasn't a fan of alcohol in general. He was just exhausted. Very exhausted. "Shit," he muttered, realising that he'd put his keys in his briefcase, and he needed them to unlock the house. After about thirty seconds, he had found the keys and unlocked the front door. "Hey babe!" his fiancee Astrid called from the loungeroom. He presumed she was, yet again, binge-watching Stranger Things on Netflix. "How was work?" Hiccup dropped his briefcase at the door. "Well, work itself was okay... but then I got stuck in traffic on the way home. Some idiotic teen drink-driving. Took me ages to even get off Sillver Avenue." Astrid was clearly not listening. "Mileven is the best..." she breathed. "Sorry, what were you saying?"
"Eff off," Hiccup groaned. "Wow, that bad, huh?" Astrid asked play-sympathetically. Hiccup nodded. "I almost full-on crashed into her. Would not have been good for insurance... I'm so frigging pissed off!" he shouted, kicking the kitchen table which he stood next to. Astrid watched him, unmoving. She had even paused her Netflix programme. "Ya done?" she asked, unimpressed.
"About as much as your period," Hiccup shot back. Astrid dropped the remote and got up off the lounge. "I beg your pardon?" she said slowly. "Did you, Henry Haddock the Third- soon to be the late Henry Haddock the Third- just make a comment about my period?" Hiccup backed away, as his fiancee was slowly advancing on him. "No." Nothing. He had said nothing at all. Not a thing. God, he wished she wouldn't call him Henry. She knew he hated it. So he did the first thing that came to mind...
and so the war of the tickling began.
"Stop!" Astrid giggled. She began to retaliate, and lightly brushed Hiccup's neck with her fingers. He chuckled. She had hit his ticklish spot. But he was fighting back, and harder. He had figured out she was ticklish under her arms, and since Astrid had put on her anti-perspirant that day, he seemed to have no discomfort in running his fingers under there. She made a spider-like movement with her fingers, and he started laughing. It was uncertain who would win... But if there was one thing Astrid Hofferson knew, it was that she could beat her fiance at a tickling match.
Hiccup and Astrid sat curled up on the lounge later that night, watching movies and laughing their heads off at whatever crazy thing was happening in them. "So, hey. Pretty weird that I beat you earlier, huh?" Hiccup smirked. Astrid groaned. "Shut up."
"Oh, sure. I won't bother you again on your period," he said cheekily. "Ouch! Why would you do that?!" he exclaimed, less smug this time as Astrid punched him. Now it was Astrid's turn to smirk.
"Reasons."
