Despite the contents of this chapter, and my alleged underaged actions, I do not condone underage drinking.
Be responsible, kids.
(I regret to inform you that there will be no Roadtrip Arc this update. Otherwise the chapter would have been, like, 21k words. No I'm not kidding. But don't worry, I'll be feeding yall GOOD in chapter 22)
Anyways.
Danny hated exactly two things about winter break: its brevity, and its centerpiece holiday (well, at least in the good old U.S. of A).
Considering he'd managed to survive Christmas with his parents, especially without Jazz, he figured he could bump that number down to one, and just try to make the best of what remained of his time off.
Unfortunately, he decided to do that by trying to recruit Val to his Totally Inconspicuous Cause And thus a third thing, that Danny didn't even realize he hated, arose: he could not just catch Valerie by her locker between classes.
And, okay. Technically that was his fault, not Winter Break's, but Danny would rather not delve into the specifics. He did technically have her phone number, but wouldn't it be weird to just text her "Hey can I steal your tracking equipment so I can go exploring the Ghost Zone for no particular reason? I Promise I'll bring it back!" after a year and a half of radio silence? Some friend he'd be. Not that asking her that at her locker would be any better, he supposed, but at least then he could make it look like a spur-of-the-moment kind of deal.
"Welcome to Nasty Burger, what can I get you?"
Not that what he was currently doing could be in any way considered spur-of-the-moment. But he supposed it was better than showing up on her doorstep. Besides, he was supposed to be meeting Sam and Tuck here, anyways. So what if he was a few minutes early for a change?
Danny's attention shot down from the menu with a stutter, finding the gaze of the obviously-overworked cashier in front of him. "O-oh, ah, actually, I was wondering if Valerie was working today…?"
If it was possible, the bags under the cashier's eyes deepened. Danny offered an awkward smile, "And…an order of fries?"
That seemed to make the worker less-irritated, though she didn't exactly answer his question as she typed on the register. After a few awkward moments of silence, Danny cleared his throat. "So…" he urged, handing her a five, "...is she here, or…"
The money seemed to be the bribe the cashier needed, because she opened the till with a jarring clang and called out, "Val! You got company!"
Danny's receipt appeared at the same time Valerie Gray did: a drive-thru headset plastered to her head, and a waitress' apron tied around her waist. It took all but two seconds before her expression twisted into something strange at the sight of him. Which, again. Fair.
Danny felt his smile twist into a grimace, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, Val…"
She blinked, swiveled back to the kitchen and then around again like she wasn't quite sure what to do. "What are you – I'm working, Danny!"
"I know, I know!" He admitted, stepping out of the queue, "I just – I need to talk to you, and I didn't want to just show up at your house, but now I'm kind of realizing that this isn't much…better…" He trailed off, mentally shooting himself in the foot.
He could feel Val staring at him, and he brought a hand up to rub at his chest at the confusion emanating from her. His core was picking up something else, too, but he was just a bit too skittish to try and identify it. He debated just turning tail, or sinking through the floorboards, but his core tapped him as if to remind him that, yeah, he was kind of on a time-sensitive mission, here.
With new resolve, he looked up from the floor, and was about to speak again, but found that Val had turned away.
"Hey, Chris, can we switch dinner breaks? I got something important going on here!" She called into the kitchen.
Who Danny assumed to be Chris agreed rather hesitantly, and Val promptly pulled her earpiece off, switching it out for what Danny presumed to be his fries. With nothing more than a raised eyebrow, she nodded her head towards the side door.
Breathing out a sigh of relief, Danny followed. "Thanks," He stuttered as they exited the building.
"No thanks needed," She replied, if a little stiffly. They settled down on the curb of the sidewalk, and she passed him his order.
"Oh, I don't really need it…" he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, "your coworker just seemed a little miffed, so…"
Val snorted at that, shaking her head, and the fact that she actually believed him was a relief he would never admit to, "Only you, Danny…" She chuckled, and he felt his face flush. He hid his cheeks in his hands, and looked away.
Okay, time to ask her to help him find Skulker's lair. Using her tracking equipment….which Fenton doesn't know about.
…Shit.
"So…" Val began, apparently off put by his silence, "what did you need me for?"
Danny couldn't help but notice the resignation in her voice, and he hated it. Mostly because that was his fault – he really only did come to her when he needed her, didn't he?
Not…that he needed her, his core protested, he could do this on his own. But it would be easier to have her tracking equipment. It would make it more efficient, he could…
He couldn't. Fenton didn't know about her hunting equipment. Val didn't deserve to be just another pawn. His core wasn't ready for this, he –
"Did you hear about Dash's New Years Eve Party?" He blurted, much to his own shock. Why was he thinking about that now?
Val's brow furrowed at that question, and she suddenly found interest in her shoes. There was something similar to betrayal in her voice as she muttered, "You know they don't talk to me anymore…"
"Oh, like they talk to me?" Danny snarked, and decided, screw it. This was a better angle than just casually mentioning that he knew she had ghost tracking equipment, "look, it's practically an open invitation, and my parents have, frankly, been driving me insane. I was wondering…if you'd like to go with me?"
Her eyes widened, but not in a good way, and he realized a split second later how that sounded, "As friends!" he blurted, "W-with Sam and Tuck and I. You know. A group…thing."
He couldn't read the way she deflated – whether it was relief, or…something else. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer, either way.
Val popped a fry in her mouth as she mulled, and Danny found himself twiddling his thumbs anxiously. Eventually she spoke, obviously looking for a sort of clarity that Danny was, admittedly, not the best at.
"...You want to go…with me…to Dash Baxter's New Years Eve party. As friends?" She ventured.
"A group thing," Danny emphasized.
"A group thing." Val confirmed, nodding to herself like she didn't quite believe it. Guilt blossomed in Danny's gut again as she checked her watch. "...that's tonight, isn't it?"
"Y-yeah," he admitted, and hoped it was true. He didn't exactly pay attention to Dash's blabbering in front of the theater that night, but he was sure there were a few fliers posted around town…
Danny pulled out his phone hastily, reading the time. He had just under five hours to find one of those. And also to convince Sam and Tucker to actually make this a group thing.
(not that he would be opposed if they didn't show up…)
Restlessly, Val popped a few more fries in her mouth, giving them both an excuse to stew in silence. "I'm…not sure, Danny." She admitted, "I mean, I get off at five, and I already told my dad I'd celebrate New Years with him…"
Disappointment shrouded his core, but apparently he wasn't very good at hiding it. Val gave him a critical once-over, apparently confused by his mood. "Why do you even want me to come?"
Danny blinked rapidly, trying his best to cling onto that little bit of persuasion, "I…" The words he wanted to say were just a bit too jumbled, "I – like I said…I don't want us to fall apart."
I miss you.
That answer must have seemed as lame as he felt it was, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. Danny swallowed nervously. Great. You know, maybe it would have been easier to just approach the Red Huntress –
"What time do you wanna meet up?"
Val's gaze was a lot softer now, and Danny felt his shoulders slump at an alarming rate. He smiled again, and this time it didn't take effort. "How about eight?" He offered, suddenly holding back a chuckle, "We'll walk together."
"As a group." Val said again.
"As a group." Danny repeated, "meet you at your place?"
Val finally returned the smile, if a bit timidly, and nodded once, looking across the parking lot. "I'd like that." She confirmed.
"Good – Great!" Danny couldn't hold back the chuckle that time, getting to his feet. This was going pretty well as far as his track record tended to go. "We'll see you then!"
As Val stood to join him, Danny noticed that something over his shoulder had caught her attention. When he turned, he found Sam and Tucker making their way over to them. The former was looking at him like he was something sour, and he offered a nervous smile.
"I gotta get back to work," Val said, apparently having noticed Sam's hostility. She handed him his fries with haste, cautious smile disappearing in an instant, "I'll see you guys. At eight." She said one more time. And with that, she took her leave, forcing Danny to face the music.
Upon the third time knocking on Snotlout's door with no answer, Astrid decided that she would brave opening it anyway. She was met, by the grace of Odin, to a fully-clothed future in-law. But the way he shrieked would have entirely suggested otherwise.
He pulled the earbuds – the culprits of his not answering – from his ears with a scowl, "Hey, Hofferson, you ever heard of knocking?"
Deciding that chastising him wouldn't be worth the energy, Astrid pushed onto her question. "Can I borrow your axe?"
Snotlout blinked, entirely frozen from where she assumed he'd been pacing, before slapping his hands on his thighs in exasperation. "Seriously? You barge into my room to borrow my axe?"
"Yeah." She deadpanned. That did not help calm him down.
"Yeah?" Snotlout parroted, "yeah, wouldn't it have been totally great if I had been like, naked or something?"
"You weren't."
"But what if I was?"
Astrid sighed restlessly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look, can I borrow your axe or not?"
Snotlout stared at her for a few seconds…and then the fight left his eyes. Astrid couldn't help but observe that his objections ended a lot faster than usual. Not that what he said next wasn't an objection, but the way Snotlout said it was incredibly resigned. "Why can't you use your own axe?" he gestured out the door questioningly, as if Astrid's axe would fly out of her room and into his hands.
"Because I need two," Astrid tried not to clench her teeth as she spoke.
"Why?"
"Because unlike you, I've found a sparring partner." She snapped, voice taking on a bit of a bravado as she tilted her head to the ceiling, "It's a simple yes or no question."
With an entirely over dramatic sigh, Snotlout jabbed a thumb over to his closet. "If Sam breaks it, she's buying me a new one."
"That's hardly a punishment for her," Astrid snorted as she brushed past him, opening the closet and sorting through the array of clothing that Snotlout had collected in the last few months.
"Well then she'll buy me two axes." Snotlout doubled down.
"Great, one birthday present for each of the twins." Astrid snarked, locating the weapon and hoisting it over her shoulder.
"Ugh, don't remind me." Snotlout droned, and Astrid felt some relief that his attitude was no longer directed towards her, "hey, should we put 'happy 19th' or 'happy 1019th' on their cake this year?" he snarked.
Astrid glared at him. "As long as there's not 1019 candles, I don't care." She snapped.
"Hey, we're living in the future. Anything's possible," Snotlout waggled his eyebrows, much to her disgust.
Why Snotlout was even bothering with 21st-century traditions, she wouldn't know. So Astrid chose, once again, to ignore the many logical fallacies of one Snotlout Jorgensen. "We'll be back around six." She announced, and left him to his devices, starting her trek towards her and Sam's meeting place.
Was it wise to be waving weapons near the Red Huntress' day job – yet alone Casper High? Probably not, but Sam had progressed so far in their training that Astrid felt it was justified. Either way, it was certainly better than having either of the Mansons spot their daughter with a battle axe. Not even Grandma Manson's safety net could save the riders from the repercussions of that.
Still, it was probably best to keep them hidden until the coast was clear. After stashing the axes in a nearby bush, Astrid settled down on a bench to wait for Sam to exit the restaurant. She may be acting a bit reckless, but she was not stupid. That was a very important distinction. Or so Hiccup would say.
Even if without going inside, though, Astrid was worried she'd be recognized. Something about walking with Sam made her feel inconspicuous – the goth's fashion statements drew attention away from the shieldmaiden. Not enough for people to ignore two axes, per say, but certainly enough for Astrid's "wanted" posters to fall into the background.
Astrid frowned at the reminder, tugging her hood down.
Despite Sam's progress in her training, Astrid had a frustrating lack thereof regarding information about Phantom. The knowledge that Sam had known him prior to Amity becoming his haunt was curdling with every passing day, and she knew that frustration was seeping into her teaching.
It made her feel guilty – because Sam, despite her (however unintentional) stalemating, didn't deserve that. To Astrid's surprise, this…intelligence mission was actually turning into something more. Astrid could feel what Phantom had seen in Sam when he decided to befriend her, and to her…well, no-longer horror, it was working on her, too. Training had given Astrid the edge she'd been missing since they'd fallen through the portal that day, too, and to be quite frank, she didn't want to lose that outlet, either.
Stormfly chirped then, tugging at a strand of Astrid's hair, and she lifted her head. She spotted Sam rather easily as she exited the restaurant. Tucker was with her, of course, fiddling away with whatever his newest coding project was, but the goth wasn't paying him any mind. Her intention was focused, instead, on another boy. And from the way she was throwing her arms around, Astrid could gather she wasn't very happy.
Standing up, Astrid left Stormfly to guard the axes. It wasn't like she thought Sam needed help, but something about the boy she was arguing with was…throwing her off. And Astrid Hofferson didn't have a tendency to ignore her alarm bells.
The argument began flittering through the Fenton Phones as Astrid neared the trio.
" – w many times do I have to say it to get it through your thick head? She doesn't trust you! And you can't trust her! I mean – how do you expect to find anything if you're constantly covering your tracks?" Sam was waving her arms wildly, unaware of pretty much anything but the boy at the other end of her rant.
It was Tucker, who seemed uncomfortable at best at the spat, who noticed Astrid first. His eyes widened, and he promptly nudged Sam. It stopped whatever she was about to say, which incredibly disappointed Astrid – not enough for her to pull her eyes away from the…weirdly familiar boy, though.
"Everything alright?" She ventured, very aware of the deer-in-headlights visage of the trio. She squinted at the newcomer. Where did she recognize this kid from?
Sam did not turn to look at her – her spine could have been stone from the way she stood, pulled into edges that could slice skin. "Everything's. Fine." She gritted, boring holes into the new kid's face.
Astrid found herself mirroring her expression as she studied him. "This guy bothering you two?"
"No!" Both the boy and Tucker exclaimed at the same time, and the latter shoved his way between Astrid and the newcomer, "Everything's good over here! We're just having a small clash in plans. In fact, I think it's time that we all go our separate ways…"
There was a deliberate, almost pleading tone there that caught Astrid's attention, but she found herself a bit too preoccupied to act on it. The icy gaze she was holding with the new boy was threatening to send shivers up her spine, and her eyes narrowed, trying to match its intensity. "Who are you, anyway?" She demanded, and he seemed to have the audacity to look offended.
"Daniel. Fenton." He replied after a few moment's hesitation, and now the familiarity in his features made sense. Astrid took a step back, giving him another once-over with the new clarity. Of course: he and Jazz had a lot of similar features.
Sam and Tuck let out some strange noises – as if the name itself was something like a secret – and Daniel Fenton sniffed at that, finally breaking the eye contact. "But yeah. I should be going." He sent a final, not-quite-glare towards Sam before he turned heel, shoving his hands in his pockets as he left.
"Oh come on – Dann..iel!" Tucker called, and he spared a very confusing glance with Sam as he trailed after the ghost hunter's kid.
Looking for some sort of answer, Astrid turned to Sam, who promptly rolled her eyes in disgust. "What was that about?"
"Nothing." Sam snapped, turning towards Astrid's Waiting Bench, "Let's just go."
Obviously, the shield maiden didn't believe that for a second. She trotted to catch up to her student with a stern eye, curiosity forming in her gut, "that didn't seem like nothing."
"Yeah, well. It's none of your business now, is it?" Sam snapped; Stormfly fluttered onto Astrid's shoulder as they neared, cocking her head to the side at the hostility in the air.
Frustration quickly began to replace the curiosity. Another roadblock – if Astrid couldn't find a way to break those soon, she'd get nowhere. Gods, she missed Heather. She just had a way with making people open up to her. What would she have done here?
Astrid side-glanced Sam to find her practically stomping next to her, and her brow softened. She risked pressing it further, "maybe it's not my business, but I don't think training like this is very smart."
"Isn't anger a good thing during combat?" Sam bristled.
"We're not in combat, Astrid reminded her, "And I've been on the wrong end of many vikings with anger issues. Trust me. You need to cool off."
The glare Sam sent her could melt ice, so once again she sweetened the pot, producing the axes from their hiding place, "...unless you wanna put these babies on standby…"
She was beginning to realize that it was give-and-take with Sam Manson. Almost like training a dragon, in that sense. And Astrid knew how to do that.
As expected, the gleam of deadly metal was too much to pass up on. Astrid watched as Sam sighed, and deflated just slightly. Satisfaction reigned victorious in her gut as the goth shifted her bag over her shoulder.
"It's…stupid." She muttered, and then promptly rephrased, "he's stupid!"
"Fenton?" Astrid ventured cautiously as they began their trek towards Casper High.
Sam hesitated very considerably before nodding. "He's just –" she began to start, and then the fight seemed to leave her.
"Stupid?" Astrid finished for her, but that didn't seem to sit right with Sam.
"Not stupid just…stubborn, I guess?" She sighed, rubbing a hand over her cheek. "I dunno. I shouldn't be talking about this."
"Why?" Astrid asked, "what, are you guys friends or something?"
Panic etched into Sam's features at that notion, and it genuinely baffled Astrid for a moment, "No!" The goth blurted, but apparently seemed to realize that was a pretty blatant lie, because again she relented, "I mean…we used to be?"
She didn't sound so sure about that, either, so Astrid took that with a grain of salt, narrowing her eyes. "What happened?"
"Nothing." Sam snapped, kicking a stray rock. "I mean I – I don't wanna talk about it, okay?"
More frustration. Astrid pushed it down with a purse of her lips, and figured that she should let the goth cool off a bit before pressing the issue. She presented Snotlout's axe to Sam with a facetious raise of her eyebrow.
The frustration in Sam's eyes dwindled as she looked at it, and it was replaced with just a bit of excitement. Her hands found the handle, but only gripped onto it when Astrid let go.
"Get a feeling for its weight," Astrid instructed, looking around at their surroundings, "no swinging. I don't want the cops called on us."
Sam froze with the axe wound up in the air, and then promptly let it drop to her shoulder. "...Good point."
Snorting, Astrid turned to the pathway ahead. Casper High was just around the next block. She figured another moment or two of silence would be the best solution before she dove back in. What would she say to Heather if she were this upset? More likely than not, Astrid would agree with her – they had very similar stances on most things. But Sam? Well… they both had an affinity for hand to hand combat, but that was about as much as Astrid could say in terms of their similarities.
Still, if it helped ease things out of her…
"So you used to be friends with Jazz Fenton's brother." She stated, trying her best to make it sound as innocent as possible, "Probably best it stays that way, huh? What with Phantom hanging around, and all…"
"I wouldn't say that." Sam, surprisingly, jumped to Daniel's defense, and it seemed that she actually took more offense to that statement than Astrid had anticipated. Damn.
The shield maiden turned on her heel, walking backwards so that she could gauge her student's reaction. "I'm confused." She admitted, "are you friends with him or not?"
"We used to be." Sam stuck to her story, stride becoming just a bit more frantic.
"Are you sure?" Astrid asked, "Cuz I mean…from what I heard, it seemed like you were trying to give him some pretty sound advice. Ex-friends don't do that."
Sam seemed pretty vindicated at that, but she didn't voice it. She shifted the axe in her hands like it was suddenly the most entertaining thing in the world.
"Who's this girl he's hanging out with?" She decided to egg on, "I mean, if it were me that was looking for something, I'd at least choose someone trustworthy…"
"I know, right?!" Sam blurted, the scowl from earlier was back on her face, "I mean, Ancients, how does he expect her to just fork over her –" She paused, eyes widening, and turned to find something in Astrid's gaze. The shield maiden tried her best to make sure there was nothing to find.
"Her…dad's…alcohol stash." Sam finished, avoided eye contact, and then scoffed dramatically, "I mean – the only thing reliable about Valerie Gray is her ability to backstab him."
"...Alcohol stash?" Astrid emphasized that word with incredulity.
She watched carefully as Sam scoffed again, "they're going to this party…ah, Dash Baxter's – you met him outside the theater – New Years Eve party. And of course, they're gonna bribe their way in with alcohol…which, in case you forgot, is illegal here for people our age."
"I remember…" Astrid couldn't help but deflate, finding that there weren't many fallacies in that logic. Sure, it could still be a lie, but…maybe Sam was just uncomfortable with talking about…whatever falling out she and Daniel Fenton had.
(Daniel and Tucker seemed to be on better terms, though. Maybe she should talk with him when she got to the bottom of this whole Phantom thing)
…maybe her friendship with Phantom was the reason for their falling out?
Astrid shook her head, hoisting her axe up on her shoulder. Whatever. That was a note to jot down later – this little tangent had taught her more about breaking down Sam's walls than their last couple sessions had. "Well, if she does stab him in the back, that's on him. If he's not gonna help himself, then there's nothing you can do about it. He can't say you didn't warn him."
Again, Sam seemed very anxious at her words, and Astrid figured that statement was something that wasn't necessarily unsaid. She sighed empathetically, and found herself stalling so that she could loop an arm around the goth. Stormfly squawked in annoyance at her displacement, settling onto Astrid's head as she spoke, "I'm serious. Sometimes you just gotta let people learn on their own. Thor knows that's what I do with Snotlout." she rolled her eyes.
A small smile graced Sam's lips, and warmth blossomed in Astrid's gut. "Anyways," she changed the subject, "now that you have a healthy level of anger in you, let's talk Basic Axe Handling…"
Astrid and Sam found Tucker waiting on the steps to the manor after practice – not necessarily strange, but there was a look on his face that was. Sam opened her mouth to greet him, but Tucker beat her to it.
"You should know that I'm gonna go to the party." He stated, leaving very little room for persuasion. It seemed that Sam thought so, too, because she scoffed again, shoving her keys into the door.
"Why?" She droned, not all that surprised, "he dug this grave for himself –"
" – That's a cheap shot."
– "Oh, please, he'd appreciate it if he was here. That's about all he'd appreciate, though…" Sam grumbled under her breath.
"I'm just letting you know." Tucker resigned, stopping just inside the doorway.
"Thanks." Sam droned again, sounding entirely unenthusiastic as she walked down the hallway, "Have fun."
Astrid swiveled between the two with an inquisitive look. "You're going for…Daniel?" She clarified. Tucker blinked up at her, and again he looked like a deer in headlights, but Sam whirled around before he could answer for himself.
"Yeah, he is, because he's a better friend than I am apparently."
"Okay, Sam, you know that's not true." Tucker distressed, brushing past Astrid as Sam made for the stairs, "It's just –"
"It's just that for some reason he's deciding to go to her instead of us – and I know he's trying to change, okay, I'm just – I'm not good at this. You're the negotiator, and I'm just–" the goth stopped short, taking a deep breath, and glanced briefly at Astrid, making her feel awfully large in that hallway. "...I can't talk about this now. You're going to the party. Good for you. I'm gonna go take a shower."
She left, ignoring the noise of distress from Tucker as he watched her disappear behind the landing, and he turned with conflicted, jerky movements towards Astrid. He waved half-heartedly after Sam, letting his hands slap against his thighs. "She calls me the negotiator and yet…"
Astrid didn't know what to say to that, and after a few seconds of silence Tucker sighed again. "Could you tell her…if she changes her mind, we're meeting up at eight."
"I thought you guys weren't friends with Daniel anymore?" she asked.
"It's…complicated." Tucker replied, avoiding eye contact. And with that he left.
Complicated indeed.
As Tucker left – with a brief note that they would be meeting at eight if anyone wanted to join them – Astrid felt compelled to write down everything she knew about Sam and Tucker's relationship with Daniel Fenton. Which was, admittedly, very little, but whatever point of contention they had was obviously still alive. And the last thing she needed at that moment was another ghost hunter breathing down their necks.
Astrid ran a hand through her hair in frustration, staring at the runes on the page until her vision began to blur. She hated seeing Sam so worked up – even if it did give her an edge in training, her predicament with Daniel Fenton was also distracting her. And she couldn't have that. Not as Sam's teacher, and certainly not as – well, whatever this was that she was doing. Sleuthing, maybe? Regardless, trying to get information about Phantom out of the goth now would be even harder than it already was…unless she did something about it.
Not that Sam had a proficiency for taking interpersonal advice. And not that Astrid was very good about giving it, but she really had tried, back there at the Nasty Burger –
"Astrid!"
Her bedroom door burst open, hitting the wall with reckless abandon, and it made her jump out of her skin. Snapping her journal shut, she shoved it under the comforter as the twins bombarded her, trying desperately to unstitch her brow as they began rambling.
"So as you know, we've been planning our 1019th birthday extravaganza,"
" – because you only turn 1019 once, right?"
" – Exactly, but here's the thing, we've been kind of in a rut here. No boar pits, no cliffs to dive off of –"
" – not to mention Chicken (gods bless her souls) isn't here –"
" – there's just nothing for a good old-fashioned Thorston Celebration!"
" – not that we're doing anything old fashioned here, though, if you catch my drift. No? Anyways –"
" – we've been trying to agree on a date cuz, you know, Snoggeltog was about as close as we got to counting years back home –"
" – but now with the good old Gregorian Calendar –"
" – that guy Greg, a genius, he is –"
" – we figured, hey, if the earth is celebrating a birthday, then obviously we can't let it do it alone!"
" – and, we just so happened to maybe remember something about a certain party that Phantom was invited to – "
" – Which definitely didn't happen when we were eavesdropping on that little spat Sam and Tucker had –"
" – so we figured double perfect! A party that we don't have to put effort into!"
Astrid waited just a few more seconds than necessary for the silence to settle, fully expecting the twins to burst out into another tangent. She blinked to compose herself. "...and you came to tell me this…why?"
Tuffnut snorted as if her question was completely unwarranted, "well obviously we can't bring Barf and Belch. And we're not going to leave them in Snotlout's hands."
Ruffnut promptly fell to her knees, presenting the ball python as if they were a ceremonial sword, "so please please please can you dragonsit them? Just for the night!"
Rolling her eyes, Astrid leaned back against the headrest of her bed, not-so-subtly resting her legs over the journal-shaped lump in the covers. "Ruff. Tuff. Need I remind you that we have bounties on our heads?"
Ruff slumped, head thunking against the mattress like Astrid's words had sucked all the life from her. Tuff's smile didn't diminish, but it did grow a bit more desperate. "So does Tucker, and he's going."
Is this what being a mom felt like? Astrid's gaze fell to Ruff, who was now giving her some damn impressive puppy dog eyes and still holding Barf and Belch out towards her dutifully.
It made something anxious twist in her chest, and Astrid averted her gaze with a heavy sigh, trying to dislodge it. She supposed she would be a bit of a hypocrite to stop them, considering her outings with Sam. They were right – to an extent. Crashing a party was relatively harmless as far as Thorston Plans tended to be.
But being in the same place as Tucker…who was going with the son of the people that wanted them arrested…
"Guys…" she began, trying to pull all the incredulity out of her tone as she could, "I'm sorry, I can't. It's just too…"
She trailed off, attention darting to her Fenton Phone, which rested on the nightstand next to a preening Stormfly. Her eyes widened.
…She had spoken to Daniel with that in. And he hadn't even blinked. It could have been an oversight on both their parts, true, but…
Astrid couldn't help but think back to the morning of their failed mission – when Jazz had arrived with Daniel in the car. They'd been arguing, and it was true that she could only speculate on what it was about…but Jazz had still brought him to the manor.
The manor where his supposed ex-friends were housing the people he was supposed to be hunting.
Was it possible that…he already knew about them? A dull panic rammed into Astrid's chest, and she found her hands itching for her notes again, but she resisted, crossing her arms over her chest.
…Jazz had mentioned that her brother did not sympathize with ghosts. But the riders were human. Thieves, perhaps, but human. Maybe…he was looking the other way because of that?
Maybe that was why Sam and Tucker fell out with him.
And just maybe, if Daniel Fenton was truly looking the other way about the Fenton Phones, then Astrid could speak with an actual ghost hunter, and then maybe she would get somewhere in her investigation.
"Uh…Astrid?"
Suddenly realizing that the twins were squinting at her, she uncrossed her arms hastily, sitting back up. "Sorry, guys. I can't dragonsit Barf and Belch because…I'm going to the party, too!"
"You are?" Ruff and Tuff responded, and Astrid pulled on a bravado.
"Yup. If you think I'm missing your birthday party, you're sorely mistaken. In fact, I think we could all use a pick-me-up!"
Astrid truly didn't think she'd ever seen the twins more suspicious than they were right then. They shared an entirely skeptical look, and she tried to ignore it by getting to her feet. "Who are you and what have you done with Astrid Hofferson?" Ruffnut asked, wrapping Barf and Belch around her neck.
She figured she could suffice that answer with an eye roll. It spurred Tuffnut into speaking, "Uh…what about the bounties?"
What about the bounties, indeed… Astrid hesitated for a moment, picking up the Fenton Phone. Even if Daniel Fenton was looking the other way…approaching him as she currently looked was still a bit too reckless…
"We'll figure something out." She settled on, trying to seal the deal with a light-hearted shrug.
Which is how she found herself, once again, outside Sam Manson's bedroom. Convincing the goth to attend the party was…perhaps a bit too easy, but Astrid was willing to look the other way on that. Just this once. Especially since it was Sam's costuming skills that she was banking on. What did catch Astrid off guard, however, was the way Sam suddenly blurted, "Can I dye your hair?"
"What?"
Sam shrugged bashfully, rummaging around in her vanity and pulling out a tube, "I bought this thinking it was purple, but it's actually more of a pink so, obviously I can't use it."
Astrid blinked, "...so you want to use it on…me?"
"Your hair is like the perfect shade. Plus I think it'll go with your eyes, you know?"
Now it wasn't like Astrid hadn't seen the strange hair colors the 21st century boasted, but… "That doesn't seem very inconspicuous." She admitted.
"That's kind of the point." Sam said, depositing the tube in Astrid's hands – not that she could have read the ingredients, anyway – "it's called peacocking. You dress so wildly that people associate you with your accessories, instead of your physical features." She hesitated, "It's…surprisingly effective."
Astrid raised an eyebrow, "You sound like you have experience with that."
Snorting, Sam took the bottle back from her, "Uh, obviously. Do you actually think my eyes are purple?"
Another, admittedly long, pause. Again, Astrid didn't know what to say to that, because quite frankly, purple eyes were not the weirdest thing she'd encountered in the last few months. In fact, they weren't even on the radar. "They're…not?"
A devious smile pulled at Sam's face and then, much to Astrid's horror, she dug her finger in her eye. After a few horrifying seconds, she plucked a purple ring from it, revealing a honey-brown iris beneath.
Squeezing her own eyes shut, Astrid held back a shiver. Because apparently she can handle many, many things, but that is not one of them. "Okay. Yeah, you can just…put that back, now." She demanded.
Another snort from Sam, and after a few moments Astrid felt it was safe to open her eyes again. "So, peacocking. Seems solid, but I don't want to have my whole head covered in pink, no offense."
"Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't either." Sam hummed, tilting her head to the side. She squinted in a way that made Astrid feel like a museum exhibit, "a few streaks should be just enough…"
The fact that Astrid could feel the bass in her chest long before they saw the party was enough of a sign that she would despise what was to come.
The group rounded the street corner – the land of suburbia that Dash Baxter lived in was not nearly as extravagant as Sam Manson's gated community, but it was unfair to compare any housing to the Manson Manor. That didn't mean Astrid liked it less. In fact, if she was honest with herself, this neighborhood was much more her style. The mere inclusion of grass and trees being the main catalyst for that.
But she digressed: Dash Baxter's Soon-to-be-Commandeered New Year's Eve Party.
Astrid knew that she would hate this already, but she wasn't a quitter. And besides, just the presence of music distracted Snotlout from his suspicious inspection of the pink that now framed her face.
With the help of some various accessories from Sam's closet (as well as some items from their usual outfits, a millennium and a few days ago) those of the group with bounties were sufficiently "peacocked". Though from the amount of shitfaced teens littering the Baxter's lawn, it seemed that Astrid's worries may not be as warranted as she suspected they might be. She hoped she could say the same of their dragons, who she gambled to leave at the manor unsupervised.
A very pathetic attempt of a security team was plastered at the front door. This was because the side gate leading to the backyard was also unlocked and also unguarded, and there was enough traffic going through it that literally no one thought it suspicious as they snuck through.
"Now this," Tuffnut threw his arms out to the side dramatically, "Is a perfect party to commandeer for our 1019th Birthday Extravaganza."
Sam's rather wary "what do you mean, 'commandeer'?" was overshadowed by Ruffnut's shriek of victory.
"Step one of Ruff n' Tuff's 1019th Birthday Party Extravaganza is complete! Now on to step two: Let's go get plastered!"
Sam, Astrid, and Snotlout watched the twins disappear into the crowd before sharing just slightly concerned looks.
"So…are they actually turning 19, or…" Sam trailed off.
"Close enough." Snotlout mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and following in their footsteps, "I'm gonna go find some mead – or whatever it is you guys serve here. You want anything, Hofferson?"
"No, thanks." Astrid replied, slightly drowning out Sam's 'what?'. She squinted at the crowd. "So, uh…where are Tucker, Daniel and this mystery girl?" she turned back to Sam inquisitively.
She got a confused squint in return as the goth sauntered to her side, crossing her arms over her chest. "Hell if I know. Why do you want to know?"
Astrid tactfully avoided eye contact, peering at their surroundings. "Well if this date of his is as untrustworthy as you say she is, maybe they did get caught taking alcohol."
There was a brief pause, in which she could practically hear Sam's eye roll. "Maybe it'll knock some sense into him."
"Mmm great," Astrid answered once she'd determined Jazz's younger brother was nowhere in sight. Someone, who was possibly naked, let out a battle cry and launched themselves into the definitely-not-heated pool. She sighed. "Just in time for us to lose some sense of our own."
Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Astrid knew why she wasn't drinking – she was on a mission. Between avoiding Dash Baxter and his cronies, and keeping an eye out for Daniel Fenton, she couldn't afford to drink. What she didn't know was why Sam wasn't drinking. If Astrid had any hunch, she figured the answer would probably be "it's too mainstream", but with the way Sam kept scouring the crowd, the more likely answer was that the goth was also looking for a certain Fenton Kid.
Which was another problem. Astrid needed to catch Daniel alone if she was going to get anywhere with her investigation, and she knew for a fact that, once Sam spotted him, she wouldn't let him out of her sight.
Which meant that Astrid would have to find him first, or distract Sam long enough to get a head start.
Her first instinct for that was to look for Snotlout, but her wild goose chase ended with him in the midst of some sort of drinking game. Astrid didn't understand the rules one bit, but from the sound of the crowd, he must have been winning, and winning considerably. It almost made her seethe with jealousy. Almost. She could normally go mug-for-mug with Snotlout back home, but unfortunately she now had to find a different distraction.
Thankfully Ruff and Tuff had, indeed, weaseled their way into the center of attention in the last few minutes, which wasn't necessarily hard for them, but with alcohol added to the mix it was practically inevitable. And what was even better, their makeshift dance battle seemed to have already captured Sam's attention.
With a composing breath, Astrid shook her shoulders out and sauntered back to Sam's side. "I'm gonna step out for a bit," she announced over the blaring music, "you mind making sure those two don't kill someone?"
Without shifting her gaze away from the escalation on the dance floor, Sam threw up a dismissive hand, "babysitter's club, amiright?"
Oh, she had no idea. "I apologize in advance," Astrid sighed. She figured, though, with Sam Manson's proficiency at babysitting the dead, this would be rather easy for her.
And so she began to prowl, weaving through gyrating bodies and spilled drinks and leering gazes until she found herself stepping onto the front porch. It seemed the bouncer had given up their job sometime in the last few minutes, so she settled herself against the railing with a sigh. The cold numbed the sound of the party just slightly, and she inhaled as much as she could in an attempt to distance herself from it even more.
Maybe just one drink, she began to muse. Just to loosen her up a bit.
But she sunk into her self-appointed post anyways, trained her gaze on the driveway, and waited.
Daniel Fenton appeared just as she began to consider going back inside, engrossed in a conversation with Tucker that all but confirmed that they were still friends. But that, surprisingly, was the least of Astrid's worries.
Stuck to Daniel Fenton's other side, was the Red Huntress. Or, to be more precise, the Red Huntress' civilian persona.
…Astrid decided she could use a drink. Or five.
With a duck to hide her face, she bolted back into the party, and beelined for the bar. Someone tried to protest as she grabbed the first bottle she could get her hands on – a glass something with a bottleneck top – but she vanished into the crowd before they could get another word out.
A wrench, one by the name of Red Huntress, has lodged herself in the cogs of Astrid's scheme, and thus she no longer has a reason to be sober. Everything burned as she brought the bottle to her lips, and she choked back a cough as she stumbled through the house. Seeking out Daniel Fenton was already a risky idea – tantalizing, but risky. But now, Daniel Fenton was not just Sam Manson's ex friend, or Jazz Fenton's estranged brother. He was the Red Huntress's…
Well, he was something to the Red Huntress. Something significant, regardless of whether trust was between them or not. Significant enough for them to go to a party together.
Significant enough that Astrid could no longer risk asking him for clues. She didn't know if he knew that she was the Red Huntress, as it seemed like that was something she tried to keep under wraps, but Astrid had to gather that most ghost hunters around here would have some form of organization.
She lifted the bottle to her lips again, and made her way back to Sam. The goth glanced at the bottle in her hands with a slightly raised eyebrow. "I see the Step-Out was a success." She quipped.
Astrid took yet another swig.
The alcohol had just begun to hit Astrid's system by the time Tucker found them. "Woah, nice hair!" He greeted them, gesturing to Astrid's bangs, "what spurred the costume change?"
It wasn't a malicious comment whatsoever, but Astrid was too busy scouring the area behind him to respond to his pleasantries. "Where are they?" She asked, unable to spot Daniel Fenton nor the Red Huntress in the crowd. The words came out slightly sharper than intended.
This time the strange look came from both Sam and Tucker, and it was enough for Astrid to take another swig.
"Uh…don't you think you're going a little heavy on the…" Sam squinted at the bottle Astrid was now swinging back and forth, "what is that, tequila?" She not-so-subtly questioned, causing Astrid to roll her eyes.
"I'm a viking." She said, and her tongue slurred just a few more syllables than usual, "the drinking age back home was like…eight."
That didn't satiate the goth the way Astrid hoped it would. Her eyes narrowed, "Yeah, but…did vikings even have hard liquor like this?"
Astrid paused at the question. Because, admittedly, no. Vikings, or at least Berk, had never had anything as strong as the 'tequila' she now held. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Astrid was sure the potency of her current drink was due to some Future Technology Rabbit Hole that Hiccup would spend a week falling down if he were here.
"Uh…" she began, and then blew a raspberry, "doesn't matter. Both'll get me drunk at the end of the night!"
Drunk enough to forget all of the dead-ends she'd been hitting…
Sam furrowed her eyebrows some more. "Well yeah but…you haven't really had any for a few months…"
"So it's a reunion!" Astrid barked, "It's the Twins' birthday! We're partying! Relax a little…" She then zeroed back in on Tucker, "so where's the Fenton Guy and his…'date'?"
"Um…" Tucker scratched the back of his head, swiveling to peer into the crowd, "they're around here somewhere…I was supposed to grab a couple drinks for them."
"You were?" Sam was more disappointed than anything else, "are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I'm not sure any of this is a good idea," Tucker disclosed, "but like Astrid said, it's a party…!" He made a pretty lazy excuse of party streamers with his fingers before slinking back into the crowd.
Sam scoffed at the now-empty space, turning with an incredulous eye towards Astrid. "I would complain, but I want to start off the new year right."
Astrid hummed in agreement. That was a good philosophy to have. She desperately needed some philosophy right about now.
Wordlessly, she held the bottle out to Sam, who didn't look all that enthused, but took it anyway. "Is this vegan…?" She muttered to herself, and somehow managed to read the tiny text on the label in the dim lighting.
Whatever the ingredients were must have appealed to her, because she hummed and, with a small nod, brought the bottle to her lips.
The taste itself must…not have appealed to her, because she ripped the bottle away from her mouth with a cough, shaking her head. "Oh, what? That's – so gross." She spat, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.
Astrid burst into laughter, the warmth flooding her system making her feel light on her feet, "Is this the first time you've had alcohol?" She questioned, and then doubled over at the look Sam gave her.
"My parents have let me taste wine before, but…" She trailed off at whatever she saw on Astrid's face (her cheeks were, admittedly, beginning to ache), and she glared, "Okay. Now you're just adding insult to injury."
"Most people tend to not sip on liquor." Astrid giggled, "You gotta…" She squinted as she tried to recall the terminology.
"Gunshot it?" Sam finished her sentence for her. Astrid nodded, causing the goth to roll her eyes, "yeah, I figure that now."
Throwing her hands in the air, Astrid tilted her head to the side. The once-incessant thumping of the speakers was now beginning to dance with the fuzziness in her head, and she felt a significant amount of weight leave her shoulders. "Round two!" She demanded of Sam, "You know what to do, now!"
"For the record, this is totally a crime." Sam muttered, " 'Supplying a Minor with Alcohol' or something…"
"Your government still thinks I'm a minor, too." Astrid reminded her, and began swaying to the music. She was starting to understand why Snotlout liked it so much: it was shaking the thoughts from her brain.
Sam paused, the bottle just inches from her lips, as she stared into the crowd. "Fair point." She shrugged, and then took another shot at the tequila.
Astrid found herself back in the back yard by the time the countdown to midnight started, which effectively drew the arm wrestling tournament she'd been dominating to a close. Would she be able to place any of the faces she'd beaten come morning? Probably not. Was she going to wear this victory like a medal for months? Absolutely.
It was refreshing, not having conspiracies twist in her head – being able to focus on the here and now was so much simpler. And it helped that, somehow, she'd managed to avoid both Daniel Fenton and the Red Huntress. Or whatever her civilian name was.
Astrid stretched, rubbing her Wrestling Wrist as people began to file inside – no doubt getting another drink to raise when the clock finally struck midnight. Astrid and Sam, with their entirely stolen bottle of tequila, elected to stay in the progressively-thinning back yard.
"How long'until midnight?" Astrid slurred, peering over Sam's shoulder as she checked her watch.
"Exactly three minutes right…now." Sam chuckled, cracking her knuckles as she leaned against the fence. It was such a cosmopolitan fence. They didn't have fences like this at home. "How much longer you wanna stay after this?"
"That is going to depend on how hard it will be to wrangle up the Twins." Astrid rolled her eyes, tilting her head to look up at the sky. She expected the stars to be, at least, a bit more visible now that they weren't in the heart of Amity, but to her disappointment there wasn't that much of a difference.
Still, she managed to zero in on the North Sar, and imagined Hiccup somewhere along its path.
"Hey!" Snotlout's slightly-askew voice made both girls snap their heads away from the sky. He stumbled just a bit too close to the (verifiably unheated) pool as he jabbed a finger over his shoulder, "is there a reason I've had, like, three girls as me to kiss them at midnight? I mean, not that I'm unkissable, but everyone here's a bit too young for me…"
Sam and Astrid broke into giggling fits at his dilemma, which did not lighten his mood one bit.
"Ugh, yeah. It'sa tradition, or something. Kiss someone at midnight…too mainstream for me…" Sam snorted, and then held out the tequila, "you want some?"
"Are you trying to make me puke?" Snotlout said, but grabbed the bottle anyway. He fell against the fence with enough force that Astrid was surprised it didn't break. She then snorted at the idea of it breaking.
"Oh, this is disgusting." Snotlout complained, grimacing as he pulled back from the bottle.
"Well then give it back." Astrid retorted, and attempted to reclaim the tequila, but he held it out of reach.
"No!"
Sam chuckled ruthlessly at the bickering. "You guys are… such bad influences."
"We try." Snotlout muttered, squinting at the sky.
A beat of silence drifted between the three.
"...how long now?" Astrid asked.
Sam looked at her watch. "Two…wait, shit, no, one minute an' fifteen seconds…fourteen…thir-teen…twe–"
"Okay we get it." Snotlout deadpanned, and his tone made Astrid snort.
"Y-you know what I don' get?" Sam slurred, on the verge of chuckling. She turned and pointed at Astrid, "What does 'Close enough' mean?"
"...what?" Astrid stared blankly at her.
With an egregious groan, Sam tilted her head towards the sky, tapping Astrid's forehead with a manicured nail, "Y-you know….you said that we were…closenough to Ruff'n'Tuff's birthday. What does that mean?"
It took a few seconds for Astrid to remember what she was talking about, "Oh, from when we first got here?" She closed her eyes, licking her lips, "I dunno. it means we're in the ballpark. it's not like snow falls on the same day every year."
That gave Sam even more pause. She swayed on her feet so much that it apparently warranted Snotlout steadying her, "Wait, w-what d'you mean?"
Astrid was beginning to think all the tequila was messing with her translator. Was that possible? She clumsily fumbled with it, giving Sam a stare that she hoped looked disappointed. "Vikings don't do a lot of math."
Another significant beat of silence.
And then, a lightbulb seemed to go off in Sam's head, because she gasped so dramatically that it startled both Snotlout and Astrid. "Oh…my gods." She muttered, cupping both sides of her face in a very convincing imitation of horror, "you guys count your years in winters…."
Astrid and Snotlout shared a very drunk, very amused look with one another. "That is what a year is, Sam." Astrid jokingly chastised.
Sam took a step back, as if in awe. "Oh my gods."
"What?"
"Oh my gods," Sam had a weird juxtaposition of horror and amusement in her slurred words "You guys c-can read the stars…train dragons… and you guys are fuckin' flat-earthers!" The last part came out as a very loud shriek.
Astrid squinted at the younger teen, trying desperately to wake her brain up for a few seconds. "I don't see your point." she admitted.
Sam took a couple hunched-over seconds to catch her breath, and when she finally craned her neck to look at the vikings, she looked on the verge of hysterical laughter. "Astrid, seasons're just a side effect of what a year is. It's not – Oh Ancients, I can't breathe." She barked with laughter.
Oh, now Astrid knew where this was going. A childish dread sank in Astrid's gut, which Snotlout certainly shared considering the look they gave one another, "Oh….Thor. Please…you're about to drop another 'holier than thou' futuristic trivia tid-tidbit, aren't you?"
Astrid had to thoroughly ignore Snotlout's snickering pun of "tits-bit", forcing her eyes wide open as she studied the no-longer-giggling goth.
The look on Sam's face was not a foreign one – Astrid had been able to pinpoint it many times since their arrival in the future, and it always accompanied some "earth-shattering revelation". And to be fair, a few months ago, they were. Television, for one. Incredibly off-putting. The moon-landing: also vaguely horrifying. Bacteria, GMO's, Nuclear Bombs, oh, and fucking uh…soy milk. Disgusting. Astrid hadn't tried it yet, and she had no intention of ever trying it, thank you very much. How do you even get milk out of beans?
"Earth's round."
"What?" The words pulled Astrid from her bean-milked thoughts, and she found Sam staring with incredibly round, incredibly serious eyes at her.
"Earth's round." She said again, and then formed a sphere-shaped object with her hands. "Like- like boobies. But just-just one."
"Tits-bit." Snotlout breathed again. This time, with more awe.
Astrid blinked, and it felt like it was in slow motion. "The earth…is a boob?"
"One big boob…" Sam agreed. And then, somehow, her eyes got wider, and she took a step back as if she was having an epiphany. "That's why we call her Mother Earth…"
Astrid stared at the goth as she gazed into the sky, feeling like her brain was being rearranged.
"...I think I need'ta sit down." She eventually whispered. And then allowed the fence to guide her to the snow-powdered grass.
"Me, too…" Sam said, and then Snotlout followed.
There were another couple beats of silence – or, well, not silence, because even though the population of the backyard had thinned, the main body of the party was still pretty audible outside the house. As it tended to do, the noise nullified Astrid's thoughts, gradually pushing her latest conversation into the back of her mind, and it wasn't long before she found herself tapping her foot to the beat, pretending to know the song by horribly humming along with it.
Sam giggled at her horrible rendition, which only egged her on. She could go all night like this, she thought. She wasn't even upset anymore.
And then Daniel Fenton and the Red Huntress slunk out through the back door.
Peacocking is a supposedly real thing from Criminal Minds. Yes this is my source. I need Astrid with sexy pink hair.
Sam is 16. She would have NO idea whether alcohol is vegan OR kosher. She's hilarious. (Tequila my beloved) I promise I'm not an alcoholic btw.
titsbit conversation is an echo of a conversation I have actually had while drunk.
And in other words, I have 40k words done of a NEW wip that I will probably never post. Because I am nothing if not a nightmare to myself.
(Don't worry. I also have two more chapters of this fic written since the last time I've updated. again, that's like. roughly 25k words so. don't be too mad pretty please)
"By the power of minecraft and stardew valley, I pronounce you Non-binary. Go. Raise hell." - user "idiosinkraises" on tiktok
Until next time, my Lovelies 3
~ Local Dragon Haunt