Sooo… thanks for everything, as always. The first version of the previous chapter was kind of bad and full of plot holes, so I edited it. For those who haven't seen the update:

- Hans was camouflaging as a merchant to avoid being noticed when after important news and gossip.

- Merida and Astrid are in Bartolomé to meet Hiccup, Jack and the others, as planned, and to renew their food supplies.

Right, this bit is basically the closing chapter of the first part of this story. The Big Five & Co are on their way to meeting each other and will be together from the start of the next part. It serves as a short and simple section epilogue, since the first wave of 'big' action already took place, and gives some of our favourite characters a well-deserved break. Hope you like it, please tell me what you think!

Chapter 16, where fluff is plentiful (will explain the title) and mango tastes good.

CW: discussion of death, mild sexual content, [appearance of a reptile, purple prose, fluff]

"He was like… a father to you."

It was not a question, but a statement. Hiccup read the slightest hint of distress in the orphan's ice blue eyes at the mention of his 'father'. Having used up most of their constellite in the detour to the Huacan sanctuary and in the transport of four passengers, they had deployed the aeroglider's helium balloons to maintain it in flight, the turbines under either wing softly propelling the vessel forward. In order to remain hidden on their slow trajectory, they flew just beneath the cover of the canopy, amongst creepers thicker than their arms, branches curved and twisted like snakes, leaves of extraneous shapes sometimes as large as umbrellas, carrying droplets of crystal clear water, and occasional splashes of colour and scent from hanging fruit or growing blossoms. Faithful to his habits, Jack drifted from branch to branch, hung from liana to liana, helping the aircraft's balloons navigate amidst the dense canopy. Lying on his back on the glass ceiling of his plane, hands crossed behind his leg and valid leg folded up, Hiccup simply contemplated the Guardian's fluid agitation.

"North is… was everything to our people," answered Jack, thoughtfully sliding down the rope that connected the balloons to Toothless to sit down next to the inventor. "He was one of the first Guardians who were not a native of Southeastern Extremesia. He had settled in the quarry shortly before I found it. He played a major role in building the camp itself, the huts, the water collection and drain system… He was a technical man, a fierce fighter, a defender of children and a capable coordinator of men. He would have been a great leader, had he wanted to, but he was far too humble to desire so, and maybe it was precisely that humility that made him the ideal chief. However, North was too realistic, too real for our young tribe. They needed someone mysterious, almost mystical, who could embody their youthful hopes. So they chose me. I might have had the looks and demeanour to play the part, but when it came to the knowledge and experience, North was the one who taught me everything. He was much more than a father; he was a mentor, a collaborator and a friend."

"Jack… I'm sorry."

Awkwardly he sat up to wrap his arm against the teenager's shoulders, feeling the lean, tough muscles under the thin fabric of his shirt. Jack's irises were but icebergs in a sea of contained tears. Hiccup saw his own distorted reflection over their humid surface. If he had not criticised the way Jack had peacefully led his tribe for years, the youthful leader would never have tried to bargain with the Huacans, he would never have been misunderstood and North along with countless other Guardians would still be alive. He, Hiccup the misfit, had felt the urge for change in an engine that had been perfectly churning and working without him. He, Hiccup the useless, had spoken his mind without thinking about the consequences, and managed to break the very thing he was trying to build.

"It's all my fault, as usual."

"It's not," Jack said slowly, a low tremor in his voice. "You little Centralesian bourgeois and your faults. You are not all-powerful, you are not responsible for everything, you are not the centre of the world, come on. It's happened, that's all. After a series of confusions between different people who think differently, it's happened. The past is the past, and we must drift on with the wind."

Hiccup slightly nodded at the mention of the familiar Drifter proverb. He had always admired that free, forward-driven aspect of their culture.

"I… hey!"

The aviator almost slid off the glider's roof in surprise as Jack jumped from his side into the vacuum, diving through a myriad of small, sharp leaves. Immediately, a secure arm pinned him onto Toothless's carcass, and the Drifter was back on the vessel, right atop of him, a mischievous smile over his thin lips. His knees were on either sides of Hiccup's, diffusing a sensation of coolness through his lower body. He heaved himself over his left arm, his sculptural nose at mere inches from the aviator's, his fresh, forest-like scent invading his nostrils.

"Open your mouth," Jack ordered with a playful grin.

Deciding that, after interrupting a ceremony with unorthodox methods and ruining his most expensive suit in the process, forgetting his gentlemanly manners for an instant would hardly make a difference, Hiccup obeyed. The Guardian knelt up, swiftly pulled out a small knife from the aviator's belt, sliced off the side of an orange orb that sat in his palm and tucked it in between the other man's rose lips.

Trying to push out of his mind that a barefoot outlaw – and a gorgeous one, at that – had just fed him by hand, Hiccup attempted to identify the fruit. It was sweet, a tad sour, fibrous and soft.

"Mango?" he said, wiping the juice that disgracefully ran down his chin with the back of his hand.

"Wait… have you never had mango?"

"I have… I like mango… it's just that we just have in pudding and in chutney…"

"You colonists are a strange bunch," commented Jack with a smirk.

The blue-eyed Drifter examined the half dozen of mangoes he had thrown into his satchel.

"Sandy and Tooth are going to be happy, when they come back from their morning hunt. We might actually have a proper meal."

Hunting, fishing and gathering were abilities all Guardians possessed. With their experience, her reflexes and speed and his quietness and patience, they made good hunting partners. Jack and Hiccup were confident that they would climb back from the ground with enough game for the day.

"Sorry to ask… but… are Tooth and Sandy…"

"Yeah, they have been for a while now. It was always obvious really, since Sandy joined us. I knew that it would work out between her and Sandy way better than between her and I."

"You and…"

"Close friend from early teenage years. It seemed like a fun thing to try it out at the time, you know, for the experience and the memories."

"Well, my female childhood friend and training partner was adopted by my father as his daughter upon her parents' passing, so she's been my sister all the years that could have been awkward. I… don't think she saw me as anything else but a punching ball, anyways…"

"Is she the one who radiomessaged you?"

The aviator nodded, as the fresh memories he attempted to avoid resurfaced. Astrid had informed him of the attack upon the Weselton Exposition, the day before she and Merida had left. The two warriors had made it safely to Bartolomé, where they had been welcomed by Hans Andersen, youngest sibling of the family that led the Company of the Southern Isles to which Berk Steel was allegiant. According to Hans, Stoick had reported his men and effort on countering the raid from the DunBroch soldiers, hence breaking the notions of an alliance between their clans. Even though he was safely leading the defence from his Rumblehorn steamboat, Hiccup could not help but be worried for his father, his friends and his clan. But as they were right there and then, lonely and nearly weaponless on a civilian glider nearly out of constellite, there was hardly much they could do to help out. The wisest option, as Astrid and Hans had suggested, was for them to join the Andersens' mansion in their cotton field west of Bartolomé, a landmark that was hard to miss from the sky. For the moment, as they slowly advanced through the rainforest towards the north, all they could do was wait and restlessly keep themselves busy.

"I mean, Astrid is my closest and most trusted friend. I know what she suggests is probably the best, and she's got one of the land's best archers watching her back."

"I realised you trusted her," Jack spoke distractedly. "I just thought you… never mind. At least your father has dropped his plans of attacking our camp, as I've heard from her message."

"Well, as I said to Sandy and to Tooth, I was meant to fly to the quarry to warn you, except that I found more dead bodies than live ones when I arrived."

"So you weren't mad at me anymore?"

A touch of bitterness vibrated in the Guardian's youthful voice.

"I was, but I could not leave a whole people to be exterminated or colonised. The Guardians deserve to live as who they are."

The aviator's mature and even tone as well as the calm in his forest green eyes disappointed the silver-haired teenager.

"Then why did you rescue me when Tooth told you about what happened?"

"Because I'm crazy," he sighed. "As my old friend Fishlegs would say, that's what I hate about me… what?"

The Drifter was painfully attempting to stifle a burst of crystalline laughter. All the tension and emotion accumulated during the events of the last few days poured out at the rather lame joke, turned pure and clear as ice. Tears contained for so long, like the currents wrekcing a dam, rolled down his alabaster-pale cheeks as spoke in between giggles:

"Fishlegs? You have… a friend… called… that's…"

"Yeah, we have weird names, told you."

"That's the funniest one I've heard so far!" he exclaimed, somewhat recovering from his chuckles.

Gently, Hiccup moved towards the Drifter to wipe his joyful tears from his face. The contact of the chill, flawless white skin against his thumb was surprisingly pleasant. At the back of his mind, the voices reminding him of how rude that was hardly seemed to affect him. His crafty fingers traced the angle of Jack's proportionate cheekbone, gently brushing the still wet eyelashes as delicate and brave as snowflakes amidst the equatorial forest…

The plane lurched beneath their feet. Immediately, the Drifter pounced onto the branches to liberate the balloon ropes trapped between the interwoven creepers. Quickly, he parted the dark, curved shapes…

"Jack, no!"

Too late. The large brown snake within his fist wrapped against his arm, causing him to stumble off his branch. He spread out his limbs in his fall, only to realise that his wings had been torn out during his capture. His yelp of surprise got a nearby bird to flutter off, in a blur of green and vermillion feathers. Hiccup shot out a constellite dart from his crossbow, exploding a liana such that the balloons entangled with it ended up beneath Jack. His fall cushioned by the helium envelope, the Drifter manage to land softly next to the aviator. Rapidly, Hiccup drew his plasma cutter and swung it before the snake's head, making it slither away in fear before the powerful constellite beam into the immensity of the canopy.

"Thanks," breathed the silver-haired youth, panting lightly.

He pulled on the balloons with agility, freeing Toothless from the entangled climbers. Softly the plane resumed its motion forwards. Jack dropped to a crouch next to Hiccup, who was adjusting his constellite-powered tool back into his prosthetic leg. The young aviator, from the corner of his eye, saw the hint of amusement in the Drifter's sky blue eyes, and a plan of revenge for the mango episode hatched in his mind.

With his metal leg, he gave the other man a gentle push, making him fluidly roll over against the glass ceiling.

"That's for scaring me," he teased with a naughty smile, recounting the careless times of his younger years.

"And that…"

He sprang at the Drifter lying in front of him, but he had no chance against someone as fast as Jack. He heavily landed against his plane's roof, the Guardian roughly turning him over, hands mischievously messing his auburn hair. Their hands grabbed each other's arms, their legs interlocked, thin white strands and earthy dark locks interwoven, their laughters fluttering playfully around each other like young quetzals just out of their nest. Hiccup struggled with both knees and elbows, but soon gave up against Jack's surprising strength that pinned him underneath. He squinted at the blinding ray of sunlight falling through the leaves onto his eyes, making Jack's divine silky hair shine like a pale rainbow halo. The aviator ducked his head slightly, ensuring that the light was briefly reflected by the glass roof into Jack's azure eyes. Briefly blinded, the Drifter chief let go of Hiccup's arms and sat up atop his thighs, both of them still chuckling heartily.

"I, Jack Frost, the Feathered Snake, Leader of the Guardians, have defeated you. Bow before my greatness," teased Jack, still giggling.

Hiccup heaved himself on one elbow, a hand above his dark brows to cover his emerald eyes from the sunlight.

"That reminds me," he answered with a smile, "I have a present for you, O Quetzalcoatl, Greatest of the Great."

Jack looked down at him, head slightly tilted, in genuine amusement.

"If you will let me go," precipitately added Hiccup as his legs slowly went numb under the barefoot man's weight.

The Guardian accepted, allowing the inventor to stand up and grab his satchel laying on Toothless's left wing, As icy blue eyes stared at him with intensity and curiosity, her fumbled inside his mess to produce an ear of golden corn.

"Thank you… wait, your family has as much gold and constellite as you can possibly wish for, and all you give me is corn?"

"I was thinking about what you told me on your stone quarry," Hiccup explained, sounding rather solemn. "There are enough kernels in there to grow a decent-sized field where you live. The corn is used to the habitat in this region, and can live on the rather humid and mineral-rich soil of the windless quarry. It could feed your people on top of the hunting and gathering you do, and the roots will stabilise the soil against erosion as well as filter any toxic impurities from the water."

Jack considered the informed arguments for an instant, before decisively snatching the maize away from the inventor's hand and playfully punching him in the shoulder with it.

"That's for teaching me a good lesson," he groaned, echoing Hiccup's words.

"And this is for teaching me a good lesson," Jack finished in a whisper into the young pilot's ear.

Before he had time to react, Hiccup felt the Drifter's fresh lips onto his. Completely caught off guard, he reclined into Jack's solid arms, gently wrapped against his shoulders. He felt his eyelids slide close and his own mouth responding the white-haired teenager's. Tingles of pure excitement ran down his spine, as his heart pounded deafeningly within his chest, a delightful dizziness running through all of his nerves and veins.

"Breathe," Jack reminded him with a wink, his silver eyelashes brushing over Hiccup's freckled cheek, as light as a feather.

And he kissed him again. It was surprisingly simple, neither good nor bad, neither right nor wrong, just fun and natural, as if it were meant to happen. The inventor's tongue curiously moved against the other man's, exploring the surface of his palate, running over his perfectly aligned teeth on his perfectly shaped jaw. His fingers locked into the mane of silver locks, as dazzlingly fresh and thin as the snowflakes over the Old World, ran against the arch of the nape of his neck, statuesque and juvenile, caressed his shoulders, frail but strong, youthful but burdened, playful but protective. His fingers firmly rested there, anchored to the sole envelope of the reality he believed in, a reality so intense that in the instant it eclipsed everything else. Around them, the scents, sounds and sights of the primitive rainforest luxuriously vanished into invisibility, as the slightest of winds slowly pushed them through the canopy.

The wind took them home, gently like an old friend, to their new home.

The wind guided them, bravely like a warrior, along fate's paths living within them.

The wind flew along with them, faithful like a tame dragon, trusting and trusted.

The wind parted the leaves, allowing the sun's mirthful teardrops to fall upon them in their raw, beautiful energy.

And the wind opened the doors that were closed, as powerful and strange as love itself, shutting them out far away from the mighty, intricate social clockwork engines that had shaped their past and hurling them into a future of possibilities.

And thus ends the first part of this fic, Misfits (or something, I suck at titles). Thank you for everyone who's been reading, following and reviewing thus far!

Fun fact: The mango, before I forget, is a nod to the wonderful Cassandra Clare, author of The Mortal Instruments. The chapter title references a [legend]: Quetzalcoatl and Tlaloc played a ball game against each other, where a ball kicked with knees and elbows through elevated hoops (the most likely inspiration for quidditch) symbolises the travel of the sun through the sky. Upon Quetzalcoatl's victory over Tlaloc, the latter offered him a prize befitting the greatest of gods: corn. As Quetzalcoatl would have preferred jade and feathers, Tlatloc explains that corn is more precious in its ability to feed people. [/legend] Regarding Hiccup's considerations about maize, they are kind of true; I checked the Wikipedia maize page ;) even though it might not be the ideal plant for the filtering/erosion-preventing part due to relatively shallow roots… I chose it since it is the primary base of the Aztec diet (there might be more on this later on).

Author's mistake of the day: Not in the story itself, but it the A/N I mentioned film Hiccup being right-handed. This is true only for sword-handling. He writes and draws with the left hand (when nobody's around at least – I'm pretty sure he kicks his pen up and down the desk with the right hand). I googled it and found the insightful analysis that even though he is left-handed, he does things with the right hand to look more viking-like and socially acceptable, like handling weapons (or trying to) etc. You can see him holding his knife to kill the Night Fury with his right hand, failing to and then cutting the ropes with his left hand… might be a construct from too imaginative people on the Internet, but still pretty interesting. Various sources, look up "Hiccup handedness" to see what I'm talking about.

Announcement: Phew. Please R&R, F&F, constructively comment. I have ever so slightly less clear plans for what is going to happen next, even though I know how the story is going to end and who lives through it (mostly). I need to figure out how everyone interacts with others when they are all together, and also where the different plots go in more detail. I will try to update regularly, until then I would be extremely grateful for any feedback on the first part. Please suggest corrections for mistakes and blatant omissions also, I would quite like to fix anything that went wrong in the existing chapters. Cover art, character designs etc. also welcome. I might also kick-start one of the too many writing ideas I have in my head, so watch this space! Until then, please review, lots of love xxx