(A/N: A chapter in May! This has only been a month wait! Congrats for sticking with me for so long! As a reward: some Toothless/Hiccup interaction! Y'all are very welcome! Hope y'all enjoy it and I look forward to hearing from you! Whether you liked that chapter, didn't like the chapter, or want me to update quicker, drop me a review or a PM! :3)

"So out of all of the Jörmungadr members, you're better friends with Tuffnut than anyone else?!" Fishlegs' voice hitched, never leaving that 'my mom is asleep' volume, as I continued to talk to him about the events of the past week.

"Weirdly enough...yes. Apparently my acceptance of the trans community made him decide we were worthy of being friends. Ruffnut still hits on me, which is creepy, but other than that, she's pretty chill too." I rolled over on the bed I was now calling mine and sighed.

"What's with the sigh?"

"I dunno...," I whined. "I guess I'm just still sore about the whole 'you're just here to be Toothless' fuck-toy' thing..."

"Have you even seen Toothless since you chewed him out?" I could hear the gossip-lust dripping from his voice. I let out a sharp bark of laughter and rolled over onto my stomach.

"No. Camicazi says he's sulking or avoiding me or something. She says it's 'cause he's never been told 'no' on his birthday before. Ruffnut thinks it's because he wanted to bone me the day of his birthday but Tuffnut thinks he's just being a prick." I could feel the unspoken question buzz across the line so I filled him in. "Astrid doesn't divulge her feelings on such trivial matters—unquote—and Snotlout just called me a pussy and went back to practicing the runs in "Valkyrie" so yes, those were all the opinions I gathered."

"Speaking of Astrid: have you made a move yet? I need to know if you have so I can brag to Thuggory and Dogsbreath and Dagur that my best friend is dating Deadly Nadder." Ugh...like I needed Dogsbreath or Dagur knowing anything about my private life. Thuggory was...okay, I suppose. He didn't torment me, but he wasn't nice to me either. Kinda...ambivalent.

"It's none of their business whether or not I'm dating anyone, but no. I have not yet made a move. To be completely honest...Jack was right. She is married to her work and I don't think I had any chance with her to begin with!" My voice pitched up as I continued to vent my anxieties to my best friend.

He snorted, remarking, "So who are you picking as your new love-interest?! Ruffnut? Camacazi? Toothless?!"

"Fuck no! The hell is wrong with you?!" Seriously though?! What would possess you to believe that I would do that, after what he did to me?!" My hands were trembling as I stood up and paced my room to calm down. Me bringing it up was one thing, but he pointedly brought it up to irritate me and, best friend or not, that made it hard for me to talk to him.

"Whoa! Calm down there Hiccup! I was joking."

"Some kind of joke that was, huh!" I hissed in response. He swallowed and I could feel the tension over the line. It hurt for him to bring it up but it would hurt more to lose him as a friend. "Look," I sighed, "it wasn't funny, okay?"

"Yeah...sorry..." Fishlegs apologised.

There was a long stretch in which neither of us said a word while we collected our thoughts—or I did, anyways—but it was broken when I had a brilliant idea.

"You wanna come visit?" I asked, excited at the prospect of seeing Fishlegs again. This was the first time since we became friends in which I didn't see 'Legs on a daily basis, so I was missing him bad.

"How? You know my mom and you know how nice that place is! She'd beat me within an inch of my life! Plus how would I get in?!" He whisper-shouted through the phone line.

"If I can walk in on a three-way with three dicks, I think you can get in. Besides, with the exception of Astrid and Toothless, everyone in Jörmungadr has had at least one fan visit them. And...pleasure them." Fishlegs laughed and I smiled broadly. All was forgiven.

"So what's the deali-o? How's this gonna work?"

"Well just tell the bear that you're going to my house and I'll come pick you up from the Kill Ring and whammo-blammo! We'll have ourselves a sleepover at casa del Renson." I was walking in circles now, though more excited than before. There was a soft snort from the other side of the line when I said "whammo-blammo" but Fishlegs' breathing had evened out and was reaching that even, slow, sleepy rhythm. It was time for him to sleep...even if it was noon-ish. The bear and finals must've been keeping him up. Also today was Friday and a student holiday, so plus. "You get some rest 'Legs," I commanded gently.

He yawned. "Okaaaaay...talk to you later? We'll work out the details then..."

"Right. Talk to ya later." Then I waited for him to hang up and hung up myself. Taking a deep breath I exhaled through my nose and threw my phone onto the bed, flopping down next to it. Fishlegs was a strangely high-maintenance friend. While he didn't outwardly show it, he was very sensitive and had separation anxiety when it came to his friends and loved ones. Even his cunt of a mother, despite all the abuse he received from her; if she left he would probably die—most likely at his own hand.

Still, I had to talk to him and reassure him we were cool every so often—not that it was that much of a hassle—so he would feel secure and not be afraid I was going to leave. I was his only friend outside of Horrorcow. Now he didn't even have Horrorcow—despite seeming nonplussed about it.

Speaking of...I rolled over to my phone and opened up the 'net browser, pulling up Facebook. I eventually found Horrorcow's profile and began to read his timeline. Even as far back as a few weeks ago, when he and 'Legs were still dating, there was nothing on his timeline about them as a couple. Nothing.

There was, however, a couple conversations between him and his ex-now-fianceé and several other girls. And about midway between the breakup and when they first started dating, there was a post that read:

Update on my queer-baiting experiment. It's not gay if you don't fuck, right? So the little faggot wants to have sex and I'm like "hell naw!" There's no way I'm doing anal! But he totally thinks we're an item AND he doesn't have a fb so he'll never know I'm not that into him! lol

I see red. I see blood red as I find his number. I see fiery red as I save it to my contacts and start a strongly-worded message to him. I see arterial red as I hit send and throw my phone back on my bed, exhausted. It's only noon... I grumbled to myself as I hauled my skinny ass out of the really comfortable bed and out the bedroom door.

My socked feet lead me down the main hallway and to the rec-room, running on auto-pilot as my brain tried to recharge from that horrendous display of temper. That, of course, lead me to run face-first into someone.

I backed up, rubbing my nose, and apologised loudly. "Wow, okay...sorry! I just wasn't looking where I was—" my words died in my mouth when I saw who it was.

Toothless

Toothless looked, for a better word, unkempt. Before, when he had been trying to woo me and make me his, his clothes had been steamed designer numbers—soft silk shirts in varying shades of dark green and straight-legged pants with penny loafers—and his long black hair had been pulled back in a short ponytail that hung between his shoulder blades. Now he was wearing a white V-neck that was stained with something that looked like alcohol, grey sweatpants, and his hair was disheveled and hanging all over, untamed by any sort of rubber band or brush. His usually vibrant green eyes were dull and had bags underneath them that could hold a gallon of milk each. When he saw me, he rubbed his eyes and weakly tried to flash a charming grin. His breath was rank.

"No problem," he said, running his hand back through his hair in an attempt to peacock. "I wasn't looking where I was going either." I was frozen as I tried to decide whether to hit him or just ignore him. But I also was thinking about the integrity of Jörmungadr as a whole, and how Astrid seemed a bit distressed that she hadn't seen Toothless practicing yet. What to do?...

He saw my lack of movement as an attempt to converse with me. "Look, Hiccup—"

"No, you look," I interrupted him, regaining my composure in time to prevent him from guilt-tripping me into forgiving him. "What you did was despicable and morally wrong. You had no right to manipulate me in that way, nor did you have any right to assume ownership of me as if I was an object to be won. But—" I continued, just as he was about to interject some excuse or other, "—there is no reason for me to constantly ignore you. We are band-mates and we need to be able to at least put on the appearance of tolerating each other. Therefore I am calling a truce. I'll stop avoiding you like the plague and you give up on the idea that I'll ever let you have your way. Deal?" I offered him my hand, waiting for a response.

He just stared at me for a minute; I guess he was stunned I even bothered to talk to him after the silent treatment I had given him. And the truce thing must've thrown him off a bit because I could see smoke coming out of his ears. After a few seconds of awkward silence, I looked down at my hand and offered it to him again.

"My hand's getting tired. Better shake on it now!"

That pushed him and he grabbed my hand with both his—less than perfectly manicured—hands and pumped my arm up and down enthusiastically. "Okay!" He grinned, suave as before I found out about his "birthday gift". "A truce. But don't think I won't just stop liking you."

"You like the idea of me." I retorted, pulling my sore hand out of his grasp and stepped around him, continuing my trek to the rec room. "You don't know me."

"So let me know you," he called after me.

"Take a bath, put on some decent clothes, practice your parts, and maybe I'll consider it," I tossed over my shoulder. Then I made it to the rec room, plopped down in a chair, and leaned back.

Assholes really take it out of me...