Ruffnut did not sleep well. Her intention had been to avoid sleep entirely and instead spend the night fuming, crying, and sorrowing over how much her life sucked. She certainly deserved a night devoted to that. Ideally, Fishlegs would have not been able to get back in the house, would have died, with any luck, and she could have had the house to herself with all the self-pitying misery space it offered. But no, he had to break back inside and she had to refrain from shoving him back outside or running him through with a sword or any number of murderous options. So she had climbed up into the rafters and tried not to cry until the night had reached some unholy hour of darkness and she was too exhausted to be miserable and conscious. Fuming and sorrowing drained a lot of energy.
Fishlegs, damn him, had the nerve to fall asleep in the corner instead of outside in the blizzard where he could freeze to death or get eaten by a troll. Or a stupid giant candle. Whatever. The point was that he had left the whole bed available for her, the jerk. To get back at him, she had grabbed a few blankets and lied down near the fire pit. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and though sleep came quickly it did not come easily. She drifted off thinking how stupid Fishlegs was and how stupid she was. She was pretty sure nothing like this had ever happened with Astrid and Hiccup. Damn them.
She woke up what seemed only minutes later with a stiff neck and what had to be splinters in her back. Odin, why did Fishlegs have to had taken the corner first? It was his fault she couldn't have slept in the bed. She pushed the blankets away and Kisa, who had fallen asleep on her stomach. It was still dark. Maybe she should just give up and go sleep in the bed for the rest of the night.
Except it really didn't feel that early. She stumbled to her feet and stretched.
Fishlegs was still asleep in the corner. He hadn't even bothered with blankets. Idiot. So now he was the tough Viking and she was the unloveable little wench who needed blankets to keep warm. She hated him. Oh, she hated him. With a special type of hate that was all the more horrific because it was yet mixed with the same stupid other feelings. She wasn't meant to feel all of that. No one was.
This what she got for being forward. This was what she got for telling a guy just how she felt. A smashed heart. And she had seen it coming. Oh yeah. Even when she was thinking and hoping his dopey delay was the usual dopey and slow reaction she knew he did not love her. He had not even bothered to put it in words. He had shaken his head. Apparently she had not even deserved words except for a late-in-coming "But I like you!" like they were just good buddies with benefits.
Then again, it wasn't like being discreet had done much, either. She had hoped he would figure it out. She had been nice, she had been sweet, she had attempted to be some immaculate housekeeper until her mind was numb. She had at least figured the physical affection would have given off an inkling.
Ruff watched him and felt like crying all over again. What had he been thinking? That he could just marry some girl and leave it at that? She twisted her wedding ring. What would he do if she took it off and threw it at him? Too bad she liked it. For some bizarre reason, she still liked it. It was golden and pretty. Immediately those girly feelings were replaced by others. What else had he been thinking? That he could do better? He was Fishlegs! She still couldn't believe she had stooped to falling in love with him. What did that say about her?
Couldn't she just once in her life like a guy and have him like her back? And not the lame "I like you"?
She tore her eyes away from him and gulped back a sob. Maybe she should just kill him while he was still asleep and get it over with. He deserved it. He had come back in the house and had just ignored her. Hadn't tried to fix the problem or anything. Hadn't even offered one of his stupid "are you okay?" phrases. She stared at the weapons. Oh, why bother? She couldn't kill Fishlegs.
At least he had been honest with her. Gods, she wanted to stab a knife through her own head for thinking that.
She took a deep breath. Outside. She could go outside where it was crisp and clean and winter. She could get out of this house where she didn't have to think about that evening. She could get Tuffnut. She could get her dad. What other purpose did they serve other than bend to the will of her happiness?
The fur pile was as nice and neat as she had insisted it on being. She made sure it fell over when she grabbed a few furs to wrap around herself. Then she opened the door.
And was met with a solid wall of white.
Curses! No wonder it had looked so dark. That blizzard had dumped far more than she had expected. Probably still going. She stared up the smoke hole in the roof to see an almost perfectly circular tunnel through snow. Beyond it… glimmers of snowflakes just before the heat from the fire got them.
She ripped the furs off and threw them across the room. "We're snowed in!"
Fishlegs jerked his head up, eyes blinking in confusion. "What?"
The last person she wanted to speak to. She crossed her arms tightly and turned her back to him. "We're snowed in," she repeated in a mutter.
He gave a low whistle and stood up to investigate a window. "Good thing I came back inside last night."
No, that was not a good thing. "How about I throw you back out there?"
She could practically hear him hesitate.
"No," he said slowly. "You couldn't. Because of all the snow in the way."
"Shut up."
More hestitation, possible shutting up. "Are you still upset about last night?"
The most inane question in the universe. The sheer amount of promising retorts made her dizzy. But the only thing that came out her mouth was "Why would you even ask me that?"
"I… I thought that maybe you could sleep on it and feel better in the morning and—"
She whirled around, feeling fire behind her eyes. He jumped back. "Sleep on what? Feel better about what? I slept on the floor, too, you know! It sucked! And you expect me to just get over what you said?"
"Technically I didn't say anything." He fiddled with his fingers.
"That's right. You didn't. You shook your head. You're this big fat idiot who can't even be bothered to speak to me." She could feel tears again. Her first instinct was to blink them back, but maybe they could be used to her advantage here.
"I didn't know what to say!"
"Obviously!" she shrieked so loudly that Kisa ran under the bed.
He regained the step forward. "You sort of caught me offguard."
"That's because you were too dense to notice everything else I was doing." Ruff looked at the weapons again, but none seemed to suit the situation. She just wanted to punch him in the head with her own bare fists. But barely had she the thought when she just felt weak. He wasn't even worth it.
"It wasn't like I asked to marry you," he continued.
He really deserved to have his nose broken for that. But all she could do was sigh and slump to the floor against the wall. "I know."
He took a step closer to her. "Couldn't we just pretend like last night never happened? I mean, I thought things had been pretty good lately."
She was going to have to punch him. There was no way around it, not the way he was digging himself in deeper. "Um, yeah? Because I was actually feeling something for you! Of course things were good." She was in no mood to punch him. When was the last time she had not been in the mood to punch someone? It would have to be put on hold. She gritted her teeth and stared at her feet.
Fishlegs just stood there watching her for a painfully long time. Couldn't he go somewhere else? Why did he always have to be looking at her? She couldn't deal with him right now. But he watched her until her skin tingled and her gaze snapped around to him. "What?"
He still fiddled with his hands as he he spoke. "I'm sorry."
She sniffed and looked back at her feet.
"I just didn't want to lie to you.
She furiously wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and slunk deeper to the floor. "So it's true, then? You don't care anything about me?"
"Of course I care about you! I'd be happy to do anything for you. I like you. A lot."
"Please. You like everybody. You're never mean." One of the reasons she was now crazy about him.
He cleared his throat. "Apparently last night I was."
"No, you weren't mean." It was the hardest thing to admit. He hadn't done anything mean but break her heart. "You just ruined everything."
"I noticed."
Well, wasn't that just great? He noticed when he hurt her but nothing else. She sprung to her feet with a fresh burst of energy. "So what's wrong with me, then? Is there any particular reason you don't love me? I get that I'm not Astrid, but I think I'm pretty good!"
He once more looked terrified. "I like you more than Astrid! You're pretty!"
"So then what's Astrid? Dragon dung?"
"I don't understand…"
"Of course you don't." She dropped back to the floor and hugged her knees into her chest. She was not going to speak to him anymore. She just stared forward, wishing he would somehow magically vanish.
But he didn't. Eventually, she wasn't sure how much later, he moved from where he had stood, to check the door and windows and the snow situation.
In the latest drama she had forgotten abot the snow. Oh no. Her plan to convince male family members to kill her husband had been foiled. And now she was stuck in here with him.
"It's really deep out there," he commented.
She was not going to respond.
"It's up to the roof, it looks like."
What a genius.
"So I guess we might be in here awhile."
What an observation.
"A few days, at least. I'm sure I could dig a way out, but that's how long it might take."
A few days. With him. Her heart began to pound. There was no way he would survive the few days.
"Hey, do you remember last year when it did something like this and everyone was trapped for like almost two weeks and—"
"I don't want to hear about that!" she finally yelled. "Just… just figure out what you want to do and leave me out of it!"
She could hear him making his way over to the cooking area. "We should have enough food for a few days…"
"Even with how much you eat?"
"… even with everything you threw everywhere last night."
Ruffnut had forgotten about that. Yeah, her cakes she had wasted so much time on were now in chunks and crumbs all over the floor, ready for mice. If mice could get through the snow. The longer she looked at the mess the more it bugged her. It was a reminder. She stood up and went for her broom, her totally awesome broom she had spent a whole day carving so Fishlegs would be impressed. So much for that. "Don't worry, I'll clean that up."
Fishlegs looked like she had slapped him. "No, I can do that."
She picked up the broom and wondered if she could kill him with it. "Have you ever swept?"
"Of course I have." He paused. "Have you?"
She had been doing it for awhile, if he cared to notice. She glared at him. "Yeah, I have. I have a mom that made me do girly chores growing up. It's not like sweeping takes brains or anything."
"Which means you can let me do it!" The next thing Ruff knew he was right by her trying to take the broom from her. "It's okay, I don't mind. It's my fault there's a mess anyway."
He had that right, but she snarled and jerked the broom away from him. "No!"
His huge hands grabbed the broom handle. "It's fine. I'll do it. Just do something else and hate me and I'll clean up."
"Don't you dare tell me what to do!"
"Ruff, give me the broom!"
Since when had he become so demanding? She stuck her tongue out at him and held the broom firm.
But he was still holding on. A good ten inches of handle snapped away.
Fishlegs frowned as it dropped from his hand to the floor. "Oops."
He had broken her broom. The big oaf had broken her broom. Never mind that there was still a perfectly acceptable remainder of length as well as the actual sweepy part. The broom was still useful. But it was the principle of the thing. "You broke my broom!"
"I'm sorry!"
"You had better be sorry." She swung the broom against his head, wondering how much it would hurt him.
It just seemed to annoy him. "Knock it off!" He grabbed the broom and yanked it from her hands. "I'll sweep!"
She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. "With the broken broom? Good luck."
"It's still good."
"Whatever. Knock yourself out." Ruffnut collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Fishlegs honestly was sweeping. Okay, so maybe men could handle that kind of chore. She glanced at him for a moment. So cute. Too bad she was furious with him.
"So do you like winter?" he asked suddenly.
She sighed. "What kind of question is that? You're asking me that?"
"I couldn't think of anything else."
She rolled over to her stomach and stared down at the blanket. "Why are you even talking to me? I don't want to talk."
"I'm talking to you because—"
"I just said I don't want to talk! Just do your non-manly sweeping."
There was a pause. "But you asked—"
Oh, for crying out loud, he didn't get it at all. Why did there have to be a snowstorm? What sick prank of Ullr was this? She didn't want to be trapped in here with Fishlegs. Her heart had been torn to pieces and the idiot who had done it was ten feet away.
Except she sort of wanted to respond. It was adorable he was asking stupid questions, and she loved the idea of answering them. She wasn't sure why, but it was a good idea. But he did not deserve a response from her. No way. She clenched her mouth shut and breathed in the blanket and listened to the sound of sweeping.
"Yes." It had to have been at least fifteen minutes later and long after the sweeping was over that the word escaped Ruff's mouth.
"Huh?" Fishlegs' voice sounded from across the room.
Stupid yes. It had been spoken against her will and had confused Fishlegs. She pushed herself up to her knees, careful not to look in his direction, and sighed. "Yes, I like winter."
"Ruff, I asked that like forever ago." Yes, he definitely sounded confused.
"I know. But yes, I like winter. It's fun and I can throw ice balls at people whitewash them and it's pretty." The words were dry, and she sounded just as miserable as she felt. Not like she liked winter at all.
"Oh." A pause. "Why do you want to whitewash people? It's kind of mean."
She shrugged. "Yeah, but it's fun and it's not like anyone actually gets hurt. At least I don't think they do."
"Once you and Tuffnut got ice up Hiccup's nose doing that," he said thoughtfully. "I think it was ten years ago, give or take. That probably hurt. It could have frozen his brain."
"Eh." She shrugged again. "Hiccup survived."
"He got a bloody nose."
Who hadn't gotten a bloody nose once in a while? "How do you know all of this?"
"Because it was after you whitewashed me."
"Oh." It was hard to keep track of all these events. "Did you get a bloody nose?"
"No, I was fine."
Silence.
Now the silence was awkward. "Do you like winter?"
"It's okay. I never really think about it."
She turned to look at him. He was placing his books back onto the shelf. "If you don't think about it, why did you ask it?"
He paused again in the middle of picking up a book. "Well, we're sort of snowed in right now, so it seemed like an appropriate question."
She narrowed her eyes and frowned. "We're snowed in for who knows how long and you ask if I like winter? That's like a dragon burning down the village and you asking if I like my meat well-done."
Fishlegs put the book away. "That's not a very good simile."
"A what?"
"Never mind."
Kind of a random place to end the scene, but it's a long scene. Updates should be quicker, depending on how Backroads' gets to editing/posting, because the fic is pretty much done. And in time, too, because it is officially 10 DAYS TO WRITING PARTNER CRAZY FRIEND'S WEDDING!