A/N: Found flow-state in this one. Enjoy! :)
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Harley pushes through the glass double doors. He nervously fidgets with the zipper on his hoodie as he enters, not knowing entirely where he's supposed to go or what he's supposed to be doing. He's met with the smell of searing meat, roasting garlic, and something else he can't place.
"Hi, welcome in! How are we doing today?" A girl says effervescently, almost too cheerfully from the host stand.
"Hey, I'm doing okay! I'm just looking for the uh, the manager." Harley suddenly becomes self conscious about his body language and facial expressions.
Oh, for the love of god, I'm so awkward.
"Oh! Are you the new hire?" She smiles brightly.
Harley nods, flashing his best smile.
"Yeah, for sure! Follow me."
She walks him through the restaurant into the back where she raps on a closed door. At the end of the hallway are two silver doors leading into what looks to be the kitchen. Through the window he can see people working. There's a tall, heavier set guy cutting some vegetables on a table with such precision and speed that Harley's impressed. Somebody passes by and Harley's breath catches.
Oh my god it's Ross Jorgenson.
Memories of years of constant pestering and being afraid of simply walking around in the hallways of school come rushing back to him. It makes him glad that he was taken out of school. He silently prays that he won't have to work in that kitchen.
The intricate wooden door finally opens up and it's none other than Gary 'Gobber' Belchman, long time family friend, and about the closest thing Harley's father has to a best friend, although, it's been a while since Harley's even spoken with the boisterous man as the responsibilities of life have a tendency to take over.
Gobber positively beams as he stands up excitedly to shake the shocked boy's hand vigorously.
"Well, wouldja look at that. If it isn't wee Harley! I was so happy when I heard old Steve was gonna be the new owner."
"H-hey, Gobber. Yeah, it's pretty exciting, isn't it?" Harley laughs, grinning as best he can, trying to sound casual. "Long time no see, though, eh?"
"It certainly has been a while. And look at ye! You're so…" he gestures at Harley as a whole. "Well, you're older." He winks, shooting a smile before turning.
"Oh? Really? Thanks, Gobber. I'm so glad that I'm older."
"You know, we have a great team here. I know how bright ye are, so I'm sure you'll make a perfect fit. When yer father told me that he was going to be putting you in my custody, well, I damn near went and cheered from the rooftops."
Harley's a little put off by how much Gobber's gushing about him. Surely the very few interactions that he's had with the man couldn't have warranted such a response. Although, it's a little heart-warming.
This might not be so bad after all, especially not with Gobber around. Would've been a great detail to throw in there, dad.
Gobber leads Harley around the restaurant, introducing staff members and showing him the general layout of the building. It's not huge, but it's definitely not small. There's a balcony inside with seating up top, which is cool, and the outdoor seating is warm and inviting.
After finishing up the tour, Gobber leads Harley to the kitchen.
Oh no, here we go.
Gobber pushes through the double way silver doors with Harley close on his trail. A puzzled look finds its way to Gobber's face.
"Hey, where's Astrid?"
"She's late," Ross calls from down at the end of the most food equipment Harley's ever seen in one place.
Wait. Astrid? Surely he doesn't mean Astrid Hofferson, right? Because that would be a disaster. Ross Jorgenson is enough for one day. To be fair, Ross Jorgenson is enough for 2 years. Screw it, let's make it 7 years. At least, that's how many years he was in school with him.
"Wait a second," Ross starts, seeming to just notice who followed Gobber into the brightly lit kitchen. "Oh my god, is that Harley Haddock?" He laughs, but for the first time in Harley's life, it doesn't sound like it's coming from a malicious place.
Ross lumbers over to the two and offers his hand to Harley, who takes it, self conscious about how hard he was shaking it.
"Hey Ross, long time no see?"
"Hey man," he begins, still awkwardly shaking Harley's hand. "I want you to know that I remember our past and I want to make sure you know that I've changed. I regret all of it and I'm sorry I ever did it in the first place. Totally not cool."
"O-oh," Harley's ears turn red as the handshake keeps going on longer and longer. He had hoped to avoid this topic for, well, forever. "That's—well, thank you, Ross."
Doesn't really do much to tear down years of resentment, but it's a start. Harley can't really explain it, but something about this seems super forced.
"You see that, Gobber?" Ross boasts, breaking off the handshake and kissing his bicep. "That's character development right there, baby." He flashes another broad grin and goes back to cooking.
"Oookay, that was… interesting." Gobber says, blinking his eyes and shaking his head. "Anyway," he motions to the larger guy still at the prep table, who had been silently watching the whole, strange interaction with Ross. "This is Dalton, he's one of the prep cooks here. Guy really knows his ingredients too."
"Planning to go to culinary school sometime soon, too!" Dalton proclaims happily, approaching the messy-haired boy and shaking his hand. Harley's relieved that this handshake goes normally. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to brag, I've just been so excited."
"No, no, you're good. Dalton Ingerman, right? I think I remember you from school."
Dalton nods, a smile on his face.
"I'm Harley."
Suddenly there's a person behind Harley, standing impossibly close.
"Is it you?" the voice whispers. "Has the prodigal son finally returned to grace these lands with blessings and good tidings for years to come?"
Harley's chilled to the bone by the cryptic message whispered right in his ear. He turns and faces a lanky boy about his height with long, thick blond hair.
Gobber clears his throat. "And this is—"
"Thorston, Tuffnut, Tuffnut Thorston, Tuffnut Comma Thorston, Tman, Tdoggie, T—well honestly you could put a lot of words after T, but nothing that begins with T because that doesn't please my brain—Whichever you prefer."
Harley stares at him, mouth slightly open, and offers his hand for a handshake. The strange boy takes his hand and shakes it before going to kiss it as one would kiss a fair maiden's hand. Harley whips his hand back and Tuffnut laughs maniacally.
"I'm just kidding, H. Welcome to the family!"
Where am I? Is this real life?
"Well," Gobber begins as Tuff retreats to the dish pit. "That's almost everybody. There's one more person you'll be working with, but I suppose she's late for once."
"I've never seen Astrid late," Tuff yells over the loud din of the washing machine running, "I hope she's got a killer story. I love stories."
The kitchen agrees, but doesn't respond to the second bit.
Harley wants to ask if it's Astrid Hofferson, but decides against it as the moment's gone and asking now would make it seem awkward, like he cared or something. Wouldn't be too far from the truth though.
Harley's been working for about an hour or two now. He adjusts the apron he was given to wear as it keeps sliding out of place and getting caught above his waistline. Evidently, they just come in bulk and you get a new one every day. He had learned how to put things in the oil fryer and how to make a couple of salads, but they don't quite trust him yet to do anything that involved actual cooking, which is probably good as he would most likely end up messing it up anyway.
A flash of blonde followed by the pleasant scent of cucumber rushes past him as his attention is focused on the fryer. He glances over at Ross to gauge his reaction, but he seems too focused on the tickets to notice anything else. Harley suddenly feels invigorated enough to ask his previously deemed too-awkward-to-ask question.
"Hey," he turns to his right to face Ross. "Is it Astrid Hofferson that works here?"
Ross raises a single eyebrow, "Yeah, why?"
Oh god, this is going to be a nightmare.
"Hey, Snot?" Dalton calls from the prep table, "could you help me find the miso paste? I can't find it anywhere."
Snot?
"Uh, yeah," Ross walks away, leaving Harley with gears whirring in his head.
Truthfully, it's not like Harley has a ton of bad memories of Astrid. In fact, most of them are just him being infatuated with her. I mean, everybody has a crush growing up, right? He hopes that's totally normal.
There is one bad memory though and it involves her almost crushing him. Not that she was heavy or anything, but Harley was definitely on the scrawnier side when he was younger. On top of that, he was already labeled the weird kid at school, so when that happened it was quite literally game over for any hopes he had to have any amount of a social life. All in all, it wasn't the most traumatizing thing to happen at that time, but it definitely didn't help.
He's hit with some afterthought embarrassment when he remembers being slightly turned on by the fact that she was almost on top of him, even if she was telling him to go fuck himself.
Maybe that even helped, he jokes to himself.
In the walk-in cooler, Fishlegs slaps Snotlout on the arm.
"Hey, Fishface!" Snotlout barks. "What was that for? I'm looking for the miso paste I promise."
"No, it's not that. Just don't talk to Harley about Astrid, okay?"
"What? Why?"
"She called me this morning, like, freaking out about it. So just leave it alone? Okay? Don't mention anything. Let them sort that out for themselves. I have full faith that we're all adults here."
"Why are you singling me out? What about Tuff?"
"I don't think Tuff remembers anything."
Snotlout opens his mouth to retort before taking a second to think and nodding his eventual agreement regarding Tuffnut's awful memory.
"Well, I apologized. Why can't Astrid apologize too?" Snotlout shakes his head in a scoff and goes to actually look for the miso paste. "It was right here, you meathead."
Fishlegs grabs the small bag and hucks it into the back of the cooler by the freezer door. "I didn't need that, I just needed you to come in here."
"Why didn't you just say, 'Hey, Snotlout, come into the walk-in so I can talk to you privately!'."
"Yeah, totally inconspicuous."
"Exactly!" Snotlout fervently agrees, totally unaware of the sarcasm practically dripping from Fishlegs' comment.
"Okay, well—"
The cooler door opens abruptly, interrupting the secret meeting.
It's Harley, an embarrassed look on his face.
"H-hey, sorry to bother, but I don't know how to make this thing," he almost mumbles, handing the ticket to Snotlout.
Snotlout inspects it before saying, "This is a grilled cheese."
Harley nods, "Yeah, sorry, I didn't know if there was like, a fancy way to make it or something."
"Nah, just cheese and bread. Don't worry, I'll show you the ropes, little buddy."
The two of them exit the cooler, followed closely by Fishlegs.
Astrid is at the flat-top, already having dropped the grilled cheese, conversing with Gobber. The stout man notices Harley approaching and nods toward him. Astrid smooths the front of her apron out and turns to face the incoming entourage of boys.
"Harley, right?" Astrid inquires, sticking a hand out.
"Yeah," Harley pauses awkwardly, accepting the handshake. "Uh, how are you?"
Astrid pulls her hand back after barely shaking his. "I'm good. Have you met everybody already?"
"Uh, yeah, I've been here for a couple hours now."
Astrid checks her watch and laughs, barely smiling. "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, by the way."
"No, no, it's cool! I mean, it's not, like, good, probably, that you were late, that is. It's probably good to be to work at time—on time. Get to work on time." Harley rambles, immediately wanting to facepalm, ears burning crimson.
"Yeah…" Astrid struggles to comprehend the words spoken to her in that particular order. "Anyway, did Snotlout teach you anything useful while I was gone?"
"Uh, S-snotlout? I don't think I met—"
"Don't worry," Ross, er, Snotlout brags gallantly. "I roughed him up real good. Told him about the guy that lost his leg in the deep fryer."
Astrid rolls her eyes. "That never happened. Did Fishlegs teach you anything useful?" She questions, gesturing at Dalton.
"Everybody was great. Is great. Everyone's good," Harley fake laughs. "Does everybody here have a crazy name?"
"Only the losers," Astrid responds, face unchanging. Harley can't tell if she's joking or not, but hopes for the best.
"Hey, sister," Tuffnut shouts from the dish pit. "Don't you call me a loser. That's quite uncouth of you."
Astrid's eyes once again greet the ceiling and she turns back to the flat-top to resume her work.
"Hey, Big H," Tuffnut beckons at Harley. "Come. Meet me in my domain."
Harley awkwardly shuffles over to the dish-pit.
"So, my friend, how are you with spicy food?"
"Uhh…"
"Oh, don't answer that, Tuff has a crazy initiation ritual for any new blood in the kitchen." Fishlegs calls from the prep table.
"I'm good with spicy food? I guess?" Harley shrugs.
Fishlegs facepalms.
"Then I have a request, no, dare I say, challenge for you."
Harley glances over at Astrid, who seems preoccupied with her work.
Aren't I here to work? Well, if Astrid isn't doing anything to stop it, it must be okay…
"Okay, what is your request," Harley laughs half-heartedly, becoming increasingly more nervous.
"Okay, I was lying, it's more of a challenge, really."
Tuffnut reaches down and opens the small fridge built into the table that Harley was leaning against and withdraws a small bottle with a skull on it. He procures a spoon from the nearby silverware holder and pours out a small, but healthy dollop of a dark, thick, liquid into the utensil.
Oh my god, he's going to feed me poison.
"Eat, my young one, for if you survive you shall be blessed with the strength of ten thousand Tuffnuts. And that's a lot," Tuffnut speaks cryptically, offering Harley the hot sauce laden spoon. Fishlegs and Snotlout have gathered around to watch the show, slightly devious smiles etched upon their faces.
"How hot is this really?" Harley asks tentatively, but is only met with resounding goads to just eat it.
Harley shrugs. Screw it. If it'll impress them then why not.
The new blood quickly smears the hot sauce dab on his tongue and swallows as fast as possible.
His throat immediately bursts into fire and he can no longer feel his tongue. The tips of his ears start to tingle and a dry cough escapes his mouth.
"Oh my god!" Harley manages to cough out. "What is in that?"
The small group of boys burst into roaring laughter.
"Carolina reaper, my guy," Tuffnut says smugly, handing him a glass of water.
Harley takes it and starts downing it, hoping to satiate whatever demon was trying to char up his insides at this moment. It's so hot that all the accursed boy can do is sit there with his hands on the prep table, occasionally dabbing his nose with a paper towel.
"Holy shit." Harley rasps.
"Be careful around your eyes," Fishlegs advises.
"Water just makes it worse," Snotlout adds, grinning.
Harley begins to hiccup uncontrollably, and after a few minutes it gets to a point where he can't get any words out consistently.
"Hey, new guy!" Astrid calls from the line. "Do you think you could help me out with this?"
"Yeah," Hiccup. "For sure." Hiccup.
Harley stumbles to the line and does as Astrid instructed.
"Man, are you okay?" Snotlout chortles, ambling down the line to the sauté station. "I've never seen anybody react like that. I thought you said you were good with spicy stuff."
"I'm," Hiccup. "Usually pretty," Hiccup. "Okay with it!" Harley laughs before hiccuping again.
"Yeah, okay Hiccup," Tuffnut taunts. "You'll be fine, don't worry."
With the french fries cooking and a salad made, Harley retreats to nurse his blessed ice water in hopes to quench the monster still fanning embers on his tongue.
Another hour passes and the inferno that was living in Harley's mouth has subsided. He's been working alongside Astrid and so far he hasn't made too many grave mistakes. Every once in a while he would mess something up that required minor correction, but nothing that seemed to make her upset.
He can't peg her emotions towards him though. Sometimes, when she speaks, it's like he's the last person on earth that she wants to talk to, and other times it's like maybe she's slightly pleased to have somebody there besides Snotlout.
"You know," Astrid begins after some time of silence. "That name is going to stick with you forever." She doesn't smile. It's said like it's just a fact and not friendly banter.
"What?" Harley pauses to glance at her before going back to mixing salad greens.
"The nickname Tuffnut gave you," she almost laughs, slapping down another piece of meat on the flat-top. "That's your name now."
"Oh, God. Hiccup?"
"Hey, it's not as bad as Snotlout. Do you know what Snotlout means?"
"It's not as bad as Harley, either," Hiccup jokes, flashing a quick smile.
Astrid actually laughs this time before catching herself and stifling it.
"So, look, Harley," the blonde begins warily, not quite knowing what she's trying to say. "I just wanted…" She pauses. "I just wanted to know why you wanted to work here. The food industry isn't really all that glamorous."
"Oh, well actually my Dad wanted me to work here."
"Oh, really? That's so cool." Astrid feigns unknowingness.
"Mhm," Hiccup responds, too engrossed in his salad making to really formulate any sort of conversation.
Astrid shrugs it off and goes back to work.
The rest of the shift goes without any notable events. It's not an insanely busy night, so there's not too much practice for Hiccup. He does learn, however, that he desperately needs to work on his knife skills if he's ever going to make it. Or at least make it without cutting himself on top of taking 2 hours to cut an onion.
Maybe dad was right. Maybe this is a good thing.
He can't completely ignore the fact that he would much rather be at home, but here he feels like he's doing something. Sure, he has his academic prowess, but what is that worth if it's not fulfilling? Something about arranging the plates in aesthetically pleasing ways gives him so much satisfaction.
Eventually close draws near and Hiccup has a fantastic time learning how to filter the fryer oil without burning himself, which he did manage to do twice. Astrid just laughed at him and called it an 'occupational hazard.' If the burns were actually severe then maybe he'd be mad.
It's 9:30 PM and the five of them are out sitting on a curb in the parking lot. Snotlout and Tuffnut are sharing a vape pen while Fishlegs is invested in his phone. Hiccup's eyes are starward, taking in the night sky. Astrid's sitting there watching them all.
"Hey, Hiccup," Tuffnut begins through a cloud of vape. "Nice first day, man."
"Yeah," Snotlout chimes in. "I loved the almost choking to death on hot sauce part."
"Oh," Hiccup jumps, being brought back down to Earth. "Thanks. It's a lot more fun than I imagined, honestly."
Astrid scoffs. "It'll be a lot less fun in about two days, I promise you that."
"Oh is that a promise?" Hiccup jests.
"One hundred percent." Astrid half smiles.
"What, are you gonna trip me or something? Maybe pour water on me again?" Hiccup says sarcastically, laughing a little.
Astrid's eyes go toward the ground and her breath catches. A minute of awkward silence passes, nobody daring to say anything as they can sense the mood has shifted. Astrid gets up and stuffs her blue water bottle into her work bag. Tuffnut and Snotlout decide it's time to head out as well, standing up.
Astrid bids farewell to everyone, but pauses at Hiccup and refuses to make eye contact.
"Goodnight, Harley. I'll see you tomorrow."
With that, she turns and leaves, flanked by Snotlout and Tuffnut.
Only Fishlegs and Hiccup remain. Fishlegs awkwardly whistles to himself, still pretending to be engrossed in his phone.
"What am I doing?" Hiccup says dryly, staring straight ahead.
"I was going to ask you the same thing," Fishlegs responds.
"What am I doing?" Hiccup repeats to add emphasis, standing up and pacing in a circle."
"Don't get me wrong, that was awful, but relax. We're all adults here, right?"
"I was just trying to make a joke and," Hiccup makes a swishing sound with his mouth, "That just comes out."
Fishlegs is quiet, fake scrolling through an article on his phone.
"I don't know if bringing that up, in that way, in this audience, was a good plan."
"It wasn't the plan! I don't know, I was just talking. It's been a long time since I've had—"
"Friends?"
Hiccup shoots Fishlegs a look.
"Company."
Fishlegs gives him an apologetic look.
"Well that's embarrassing." Hiccup continues. "I thought that would've died a long time ago. She knows I'm not the same person as I was back then, right?"
"That's what I tried to tell her!"
A realization hits Hiccup. "Wait, you knew? Did all of you know before I came here?"
Fishlegs shrugs, "I mean, yeah, it was kind of a thing in our friend group."
Hiccup just shakes his head. "It's fine, it's my fault anyway."
"No, she's just being difficult. It's kind of her thing, you'll see. That was years ago. It'll be fine!" He gets up and slings his backpack on. "I have to head out now, but you have my number now so feel free to text me." The larger boy smiles, hoping to comfort Hiccup after his social faux pas.
"Yeah, alright," Hiccup forces a grim smile. "Take care, Fish, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow."
Fishlegs takes his leave, leaving Hiccup alone in the near empty parking lot. With everyone gone, Hiccup has a chance to physically facepalm.
Why? Why did I say that?
He turns his attention back to the stars. They're taunting him, almost. Taunting him with their freedom and their indifference.
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A/N: Okay, I tried to flesh out Hiccup's character a little bit here and hopefully get to explaining why he acts the way he does in this AU. I have a ton of notes written and I can't wait to get to actually getting them on paper. It's going to be so fun. Thanks for being along for the ride so far, and I see many more chapters in the future. :)
Please let me know what you think!
