Yay, we're getting to the part of every time travel fic that everyone's waiting for. The Questions Phase. But if you think I'm going for the low hanging fruit, you are sorely mistaken. (okay, I'm going for some of the low-hanging fruit. But not all of it!)
Summary: with the dragons' disguises taken care of, it is now time for their riders to get on the bandwagon. In other news, Danny has an encounter with a strange new ghost, and Tucker is tired of using Danny as a translator.
Anyways.
"Sam, you gotta stop picking black things."
Danny turned from the graphic tee in his hands to find Tucker attempting to tug yet another black shirt from Sam's grip.
A couple days had passed since the Vikings had taken board in the Manson Manor, and though they had surprisingly good house manners, something had become glaringly obvious since they'd pulled up to Sam's.
They did not blend in.
That's not to say that they were as out of place as their dragons would have been, but they still had an air about them that read 'They Did Not Belong'. Watching them wander around Manson Manor and its thousands of high-end trinkets was just another reminder to that.
Not for the first time did Danny thank the Ancients that Sam's grandma was prone to looking the other way. With her help, the dragon riders had gained the oh-so-significant title of "extra staff to help her in her old age". That seemed to satiate Mr. and Mrs. Manson for the time being.
At least, it would.
Look. Amity Park was weird, but it was ghosts weird, not time-traveling vikings weird. They could pass them off for cosplayers, maybe, but Amity wasn't a city well-known for its conventions. They would cause heads to turn when cabin fever eventually settled in.
So early that morning, it being the last day of their weekend, Danny, Sam, and Tucker had resolved to head to Amity Park Mall with the intent to grab some relatively inconspicuous outfits for the dragon riders to try on.
Sam ripped the black top out of Tucker's hand with enough force to prompt a shriek out of him. "Black is the most versatile color, Tucker. I'm not trying to convert anyone."
"The color pallet in our basket begs to differ." The techie deadpanned, and Danny snorted as he walked up to his best friends. Indeed, much of the clothing in their shopping cart consisted of dark purples, reds, and blacks.
"C'mon, you guys. We're not here to audition for homecoming court." He chastised.
Sam rolled her eyes, "I'm pretty sure you don't audition for that at all."
"...my point still stands," Danny presented the Dumpty Humpty T-shirt earnestly, prompting a disgusted groan out of Sam.
"What? You love Dumpty Humpty, Sam." The ghost boy protested, feeling rather offended at her reaction.
"I do, but not when their merch is this ugly," she brought a hand up to feel the hem, "Ugh, cheap, too."
"I didn't know we were being picky..."
"We're not being picky, you two are just reminding me why men aren't known for their fashion sense."
Tucker sent Danny an exasperated look that he was sure he mirrored. They both glanced down to their respective outfits.
"Rude." They deadpanned as Sam shoved the tee back onto the rack and began walking to the next one.
She picked up another clothing article – this one, at least, was an olive green – and Danny hopped up onto the cart rather childishly as Tucker pushed it after her. If his weight affected the techie's ability to steer, it wasn't by much. He spun around, still clutching the handles, as they came to a stop.
"What even would vikings like to wear?" Tucker wondered aloud, pulling out his PDA as he seemingly had given up on trying to pick out clothing that would be Sam Approved.
The goth muttered under her breath before tossing the olive-green hoodie into the basket without as much as looking at the price tag. It took a few more seconds of silence before Danny spoke, "I don't think she heard you."
Tucker shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, forcing Danny to the side as he leaned on the handles of the shopping cart. He typed on the keyboard for a few seconds, before grumbling.
Brows raised in interest, Danny leaned forwards to try and catch a glimpse of the screen. "Whatcha workin on?"
Tilting his PDA, Tucker revealed a slew of code on the screen. "Well, it's supposed to be an Old Norse translator, but I can't seem to iron out the kinks…" To prove his point, he typed out a sentence into the program and hit enter.
What the PDA spit out was a very botched version of the english greeting on screen, and Danny cringed.
Still. "You've already written a program in three days?" he exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise.
Shrugging, Tucker maneuvered back to the code, lowering his voice considerably as another shopper passed by the next aisle. "Using you as a buffer isn't really convenient, is it?"
Danny couldn't deny that. Three days of translating and he was already tired of it.
Still, he hated putting Tucker and Sam out for his mess, but it's not like he had the resources to do it without them.
He unclenched his jaw. "What do you think's making it wack out?" he asked nonchalantly
"Well, I'm not a linguist." The techie answered pretty quickly, and then he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Danny could recognize his concentrated face anywhere, so he turned back to Sam with a sympathetic hum.
This time, she seemed to have heard them. "Why don't you use the Fenton Phones?" She asked, throwing a simple (not-black) tank top into the basket. She, too, rested her elbows on the side of the cart, and Danny had to twist to look at her.
"What do you mean?"
Sam shrugged in that not-quite-caring way she tended to do, "I mean, if their main purpose is to filter out ghostly noise, then who's to say you can't, I dunno, reverse engineer it to do the opposite?"
" – and make portable dead language translators, Sam you're a genius!" Tucker exclaimed, jumping on the balls of his feet. The sudden volume caused a few other shoppers to look in their direction, Danny kept them in the corner of his vision until they turned away lest his paranoia get the best of him.
The goth brushed her hair over her shoulder. "I know." She smiled, before immediately 180-ing into a pout. "I don't know how you'll be able to do that without the Fentons noticing, though…"
Danny shrugged, "They're gonna be gone for at least another couple days," he admitted, "and to be fair, Jazz's pair is almost as untouched as her hazmat suit."
"Don't you still have a pair from freshman year, too?" Tucker inquired, to which Sam hummed and nodded, eyes darting to the ceiling as she recalled.
"Is four enough, though?" Another shirt caught her eye and she swung her way around the cart, head tilting to the side to indicate that she was listening.
"One for each of us? I think so." Tucker answered, pushing the cart after her as she continued down the aisle.
"I guess one working ear is better than no working ears." Danny resolved with a shrug, "if Fenton ever meets them, that is." He picked at a strand of his hair in emphasis before letting it drop back to his forehead.
"Do you want Fenton to meet them?" Sam countered, having apparently decided against that particular clothing item.
"Honestly, it may end up being more hoops to jump through if I did," he said, "I mean, it's a lot easier just speaking to them as Phantom than it would be speaking through an Earphone as Fenton."
"Fair point." Sam shrugged before glancing over the clothing racks. "We need to head over to the pants section, then maybe shoes? I don't know. What were they wearing, again?"
Tucker thrummed his fingers on the backside of his PDA, "Snow boots. I don't think they're particularly out of place."
"You also think berets are still in style," Sam chuckled, and the techie promptly groaned, resting his forehead against his device with a small clank. He waited for a moment, only to be met with silence, and when he turned his head to glance at Danny there was an expecting look there. "Are you not gonna defend me from this bully?"
"...No comment," the ghost boy flashed a sly grin.
The final bill ended up being a number that made Danny's wallet hurt, but with one swipe of a silver card from Sam, they walked out into the main part of the mall without trouble.
"Sam, have I ever mentioned how much I love your parents," Tucker spoke dreamily as he stared at the seven bags they carried between the three of them.
The girl rolled her eyes, "Only every time we come here," she sighed exasperatedly before checking her watch. "You guys wanna stop for lunch?"
"If you're paying." Tucker spoke once again, and the fond smirk that Sam sent him told Danny that she expected nothing else.
As they sat down to eat their Nasty Burgers (with their bags taking up an entire booth), Sam groaned and kicked up her feet on the seat next to Danny. He didn't much care, but he couldn't help a small chuckle at the idea of her parents' reactions to that.
He caught Sam's gaze, and he knew that she was thinking much the same. She crossed her legs over each other like she was sealing the deal. "So, now that the easy part is over with," She accepted her veggie burger from Tucker, "the Infimap."
The burger definitely tasted better than the words that fell out of Danny's mouth next, "Ah, the nail in my overdue coffin."
Sam rolled her eyes, "I'm just saying, we're not going to be struck with a plan out of thin air."
"It has been a couple days, maybe someone's seen something?" Tucker shoved some fries into his mouth as he glanced around the cafeteria.
Danny shook his head almost immediately, the feeling of hopelessness began to creep back into his stomach once again, "We can't expect the person who stole it to just come strolling right into us, this thing can literally travel anywhere."
"True, but don't you find it strange that our visitors just so happened to stumble across a portal the same day that it disappeared?" Tucker asked, he leaned forwards to put his hands onto the table, "Say what you will about coincidences, but…"
"No, no, I agree with you." Sam said, "it's definitely too convenient, right?"
It was. Not that Danny planned to tell the dragon riders that. At least, not until he could confirm it. "Now I just have to find out if the thief was going to the viking age, or coming back from it."
Hopefully, it was the latter, because otherwise it would just be a long game of waiting.
Tucker must have had the same thought, because he suddenly perked up, "you know, if they're in this time, we could find a way to track their ecto signature."
"Assuming it's a ghost," Danny retorted with a snort. At the looks his friends sent him, he threw his hands up, "what? Frostbite said there was no ecto signature!"
"Which is why I still suspect Vlad," Sam gave a pointed look to the ghost boy as she fiddled with her straw. "Please tell me you're going to…let's say 'investigate' him?"
"You say that as if I don't have an ecto signature in human form." Danny's voice dropped to a whisper as he sent a look to the nearest table.
Sam shrugged rather indignantly, "Vlad has also had his powers for twenty years longer than you. Maybe half-ghosts have a way to suppress their ecto signatures?"
Danny locked his jaw, pushing down a sudden agitation in his chest. "...look, I'm not saying it's out of character for him–"
" – and we know you really want this truce to be working." Tucker interrupted, "but are you really gonna risk it?"
Mph. No, he wasn't. Their truce was really only due to a technicality, too. Vlad may be Amity Park's mayor, but Amity Park was Danny Phantom's haunt.
In theory, anyway.
Swallowing apprehensively, Danny muttered, "I guess I'll pay him a visit."
Sam and Tucker seemed to slump in relief, though his core didn't register any such emotion.
"I still think finding a way to track it is a good idea." Tucker shrugged, "Even if the thief doesn't have an ecto signature, the Infimap should – in theory."
Sam took a sip of soda, "Hmm. Good point. But I don't think Danny's parents have any ghost tracking devices anymore."
Danny raised a sarcastic hand at that. It was, after all, his fault. His parents could never understand why any 'ghost tracking' equipment kept pointing to him, and hence they assumed that they just hadn't mastered the ability.
At some point (probably after Jazz had chucked their one and only Boo-merang into the Infinite Realms) they'd pushed that project to the side. At the time, Danny had thought of it as a good thing.
Now, not so much.
"…the Boo-merang." he repeated his thoughts out loud, and a small but amused huff left him. "That wouldn't be a bad idea."
Sam's eyes lit up, "now that sounds like a plan!" She sent a sly smile over to Tucker, "whaddya say, TF?"
Looking nothing short of exasperated, Tucker gripped his burger tightly. "And where might we – sorry, where might I – get the materials to build this thing?" he asked sarcastically.
"You don't have to," Danny countered hastily, suddenly feeling stupid about even suggesting such a thing. Tucker was already overbooked, "we'll figure something else out."
He felt his brows pull together as Sam rolled her eyes. "Oh come on Danny, you know what they say about digging your own grave." She wiggled her eyebrows at their resident technogeek as he shoved a handful of fries into his mouth.
Danny started to protest, but Tucker beat him to it, squinting at Sam facetiously. "Like you two could even function without me."
"So you'll do it?" Sam asked.
"Of course I will," Tucker rolled his eyes, "assuming you can find the blueprints," he turned with a pointed look towards Danny, who managed to almost meet his gaze.
"...only if you want me to." He cracked a very small smile.
He found himself wishing that he'd bit his tongue for some reason, the words were now sour on his tongue.
Resolved to get rid of the taste, Danny picked up his burger, only to have his core jump and a trail of ice-cold mist rake up his throat and out his mouth.
Practically trained to see it at this point, Sam and Tucker instantly reacted, reaching into their respective bags to find whatever ecto-weapons they'd snatched from Fentonworks over the years. Their gazes were plastered to the glass ceiling of the food court behind him, and Danny turned to look in that direction as well.
Sending his ghost sense out, he found a presence somewhere in that same direction, and it only took a glance to his friends for them to understand.
With a mournful glance to his burger, Danny turned to the nearest bathroom and ran, ignoring the way other mall-goers turned to stare at him.
Locking the stall door behind him, the ghost boy let the transformation rings wash over him, and then promptly did the same thing with his invisibility. He shot through the ceiling and out through the roof, climbing until he could see a large portion of the mall below him.
His ghost sense told him that the ghost hadn't moved, so he took it in stride and let it lead him towards a flat part of the roof – it overlooked the glass dome that the food court boasted.
"Hey," He spoke rather aggressively. When no one answered, Danny continued, "This is my haunt. You're not welcome here."
Especially not so close to this many people.
This new ecto signature didn't answer him, so Danny flared his aura. "I mean it, get out or I'll make you." His hand fell to his belt, where the Fenton Thermos rested.
Maybe he was being needlessly hostile, he realized after a second, what if this ghost needed help? It wouldn't be the first time someone fled to his haunt for sanctuary – his obsession was hardly a secret anymore. Neither was his status –
Danny's core sparked at the prospect, and the ghost boy tilted forwards as more mist left his mouth. "Do you need help?" He asked, his hand left the thermos.
He could feel eyes on him, so maybe it would ease whoever it was.
He landed on the rooftop soundlessly, turning warily as his core urged him closer still to the stairwell that poked out of the concrete.
"Seriously, the silence is kinda creepy. I don't want to fight you." Danny's gaze was on the padlocked door for a second before something caught his gaze.
Something slinking back behind the wall.
That made his gut churn. "Okay, time's up." He raised his voice, his pace quickened as he came up on the corner, "Whoever you are, you need to –"
Something blew past him, sending Danny stumbling backwards with the gust of something other-worldly phasing through him. With a startled gasp, the ghost boy pried the thermos off his belt and whirled around in the air.
…Except, then his core was finding nothing. Restlessly, Danny brought a hand up to his chest as he flew forwards, coming to a stop at the edge of the rooftop to look out at the parking lot below him.
He sent his ghost sense out. Maybe this ghost teleported, he tried to rationalize, but as his sense went further and further, and then reached its limit without so much as a blip on his radar, Danny found himself taking a skittish step backwards.
"Oookay, that's freaky." His breath wavered as he glanced behind him. He could still feel the remains of that ghost's gaze on the back of his neck. Danny brought up his hand to rub at it, as if he could scrub off what lingered there.
Ghosts didn't spy. They attacked, or retreated. He supposed this ghost just did a damn good job at the latter, but…
Danny shook off his nerves with a shiver. "As long as it doesn't cause any trouble…" He muttered to himself.
Not that ghosts were known for that.
He sank into his chair a few minutes later, sending a wary look to Sam and Tucker.
"We need to get started on that Boo-merang." He muttered.
Three hours later, that sentiment had earned a rather sour taste in Danny's mouth as he slammed shut yet another file in defeat.
"That's all of them," He groaned, leaning back in his stool. It tilted too far, and instead of making a fool of himself the ghost boy managed to make a somewhat less-embarrassing shriek as he tapped into his flight ability, leaving only the stool to clatter to the ground.
Sam snorted anyways, he sent her a glower. "Any luck over there?"
She held up her hands to reveal, unsurprisingly, nothing. Her hands fell to the table with a decisive thump as Tucker muttered a similar affirmative. "Seriously, Danny, why aren't your parents digital yet?"
Danny gave an exaggerated shrug, "I guess when you have over twenty years of research it's hard to transfer?"
"Your parents can punch a hole into an alternate dimension but digitizing files is the hard thing?" Tucker grumbled, shaking his head in disappointment.
"You know, I also played a pretty significant role in that," Danny deadpanned, holding up his hand to show the parts of the lichtenberg scar poking out below his sleeve, "probably the most significant, actually…"
"You realize that doesn't disprove my point, right?" Tucker sent him a pointed look as Sam moved to the Speeder, and Danny shrugged.
"Fair."
"Digital or not," Sam interjected, "it's weird that the Boo-merang blueprints aren't here." Her voice muffled as she entered the Speeder, Danny and Tucker quickly shared an apprehensive look at the remaining mess on the table.
"It's possible that my parents sold it…" Danny admitted as he began stacking some manila folders into his arms, the feeling of preemptive defeat began to blossom in his chest.
"To whom?" Tucker inquired as he, too, began shoving notes back into their own folders.
Shrugging, Danny sighed. "Honestly? I don't know…"
The two boys quickly packed away the stack of manila folders into their respective drawers, and by the time they were done Sam was stepping back out of the speeder. "Can't you just ask them?"
Danny sent her an aghast look, stumbling backwards as if the idea was a physical thing he could shy away from. "And have them think I've suddenly decided to take an interest in the family business? No, thank you."
The look Sam gave him had him stumbling for a rationalization, "C'mon, guys. You know my parents! I show any interest in anything ghost-related and suddenly they have a weekend trip booked to go hunting in, like, Ohio or something. I can't afford to do that with the dragon riders back at Sam's house."
Not to mention what new devices they'd bring that would cause more trouble for him than any ghost they hunted…
Sam seemed to admit to this with a glance to the two green things in her hands, "...Well, if we can't find the Boo-merang blueprints right now, we can at least get started on the Fenton Earphone modifications."
She held them out to Tucker, who took them with a sigh. "Oh, what fun we're gonna have these next few days," He spoke to the devices before gingerly placing them into his bag.
Looking to the stairs, Sam pulled out her phone. "Well, I think it's time we head back to our viking visitors, don't you guys think?"
Danny nodded, "Yeah, I guess."
"Let's just hope they haven't gotten into any trouble while we were gone," Tucker chuckled.
When they accepted Sam's invitation to stay at her folks' place, Hiccup had been a little worried. After all, this was, supposedly, a manor of impossible wealth. Sam didn't exactly fit the profile of a noblewoman, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Especially with Toothless.
Look, he was a well-mannered dragon, but curiosity was something that didn't always go hand in hand with that. There were undoubtedly going to be rules they'd have to follow, and, well…Vikings weren't exactly known for following those. Yet alone their dragons.
Not that he quite blamed Toothless – he was, after all, a dragon by nature. And an inquisitive one at that. And that was before he had opposable thumbs. Hiccup had fully prepared himself to have to teach a crash course on human manners before they'd settled in for the first night.
Thankfully, it was easier than expected. To be honest, most of Toothless' mannerisms seemed to just be…more humanized versions of the quirks he already had. He was a picky eater to anything that didn't involve fish, he was rather protective of Hiccup, and he liked keeping a flying schedule. Hiccup knew how to deal with those. (He, admittedly, also liked to keep a flying schedule, but alas Toothless' safety was worth much more than their morning flights, so he kept that particular opinion to himself)
As it turns out, Toothless wasn't the biggest problem. Instead, that honor was given to the very human friends he and Astrid had been chastising for the last two days. When Sam had said "what's mine is yours", they had apparently taken that literally.
Her absence from the manor that morning certainly didn't help, and it took a considerable amount of bribing to get everyone to stay in one room. Which Hiccup didn't quite understand, because it was quite the room, indeed.
It seemed to be for lounging. It was fair-sized with a lofty ceiling; large paintings and other trophies were hung in various places, and there was an arrangement of shelves holding both books and trinkets built into one wall. In front of it was a green-topped table that looked to be made for a game of some sort.
There was one large leather couch in the shape of an L accompanied by a much smaller loveseat and a few stools, which framed both a glass-topped table and an intricate fireplace – still unlit – which held what looked like another glowing picture frame above it. He had yet to see it emit light – Sam had seemed rather skittish about explaining that, but Hiccup had to wonder if it was due to, well, a lack of knowledge as opposed to an unwillingness to explain. (What could be so complicated about glass and metal, Hiccup had yet to figure out)
But, again, that was the least of their problems. It was getting the less-civilized members of their group to not break anything that proved to be a hassle.
"It's official," Astrid sighed, collapsing onto the couch next to Hiccup, who had Toothless sandwiched between his knees on the ground in front of him, "I'm never having kids."
Hiccup stopped his attempt at braiding Toothless' hair to look at the Twins, who were currently trying to wriggle their way out of a hog tie made of curtain tassels. "Not sure how our parents would feel about that," he laughed, sending Astrid an amused smirk.
She snorted with a shake of her head before leaning forward to observe Hiccup's efforts. "You call that a braid?" Stormfly, who was on her shoulder, mimicked her sentence with a squawk.
Instead of answering, Hiccup plastered a hand dramatically on his chest. "What? It's not bad!" He laughed.
Toothless tilted his head backwards until he could glare suspiciously at his rider.
Shaking her head in mock disappointment, Astrid elbowed Hiccup and chuckled, "Move."
A second braid was added, though admittedly much faster, to Toothless' curls. He seemed to be ignoring it, but considering he hadn't walked away yet, Hiccup was inclined to think he secretly liked it.
Hiccup resisted the urge to sigh when Astrid promptly turned and fixed the perpetual braids that had taken root behind his right ear since their betrothal.
"Restless?" She asked.
The sigh couldn't be held back that time. Hiccup pressed his lips together. "Am I that obvious?"
Astrid tied the new braid with a shrug. "Well, I find it hard to believe you enjoy braiding over sketching. Or inventing." She waggled her eyebrows.
"Thank you, Astrid, for reminding me that I'm painfully lacking materials for both of those things." Hiccup droned.
She hummed noncommittally. Maybe a bit sympathetically. She held out an elbow as Stormfly scaled down her arm and hopped onto Toothless' shoulder, who simply turned with a half-lidded gaze at the sudden weight. "I don't blame you."
Hiccup averted his gaze, resisting the urge to thrum his fingers against his thigh.
Fishlegs took that very integral time to enter the room, and he let out a long sigh at the sight of the twins, who were now gnawing at each other's bindings like rats.
His gaze flitted over to the couch. "I don't even wanna know."
"Good, because I wasn't going to explain." Astrid snorted.
Snotlout yawned from where he was watching Ruff and Tuff from another couch. He popped a piece of fruit in his mouth (the fact that this place still had spring fruits this far into fall was incredible). "Shut up, you're ruining the show."
Hiccup's gaze caught sight of the journal in Fishlegs' hands, a silent question was sent his way with a raised eyebrow.
To answer, his friend held up his journal in one hand and Meatlug in the other in an equally silent question, eyes darting to Toothless, whose hair was now gaining a third braid courtesy of Astrid.
It took a few seconds of staring between his dragon and Fishlegs before Hiccup sighed. He supposed Toothless had adjusted for long enough. Nodding silently, he gestured to the couch, causing Fishlegs to smile as he took a seat.
"Hey, Bud?" The dragon whisperer asked, Toothless turned with a silent question – Stormfly was now perching on his knee and she also cocked her head to the side in curiosity.
They looked like they'd been waiting for the question Hiccup asked next, "You mind if we ask you some stuff for our research?" He really didn't know how to word that. He doubted dragons were sophisticated enough to have what would be deemed a 'culture', but he also didn't want to offend them in any way by saying that.
He watched as Toothless' gaze found the journal in Fishlegs' hand and nodded with little hesitation, and much in the way he tended to do when he was put on the spot, Hiccup's mind immediately blanked.
Thankfully, Fishlegs seemed to have made a list of things to ask. "I guess our first point would be to ask if you guys are able to understand human language?"
It wasn't until Toothless blinked rapidly that Hiccup realized that may be a bit of a loaded question. He watched as his dragon's brow furrowed in thought, glancing at Stormfly as if she had the answer he was looking for. Eventually he nodded, though his nose was wrinkled in an unsure way.
As Fishlegs hummed excitedly and began writing, Hiccup tried to get him to elaborate, "Do you understand everything?"
Toothless held up his hands in a gesture that suggested they understood just enough and Hiccup couldn't say he was very surprised. There were more than enough times when the night fury gave him particularly pointed looks (mostly when he was doing something considered reckless) for him to be blindsided by that fact.
To know that on those rare nights where he could do nothing but bury his face into Toothless' scales and scream, that his dragon actually understood Hiccup…it was actually more comforting than anything else.
An incredulous chuckle left him, a bit of satisfaction peppered the air as he turned to Astrid. "Viggo would be losing his mind right now if he saw this."
"And it's a good thing he's not," she countered, watching as Snotlout gave up on watching the twins to join the conversation.
He sat on the ground in front of Fishlegs as Hoofang poked his head out from the collar of his tunic, "So you're telling me this little muttonhead has actually been laughing at me?"
In his angry gesturing he slapped the nightmare in the head, who promptly nipped what part of his hand he could access. With a shriek, Snotlout shook Hookfang out of his tunic and sent him scattering over towards Toothless and Stormfly.
"Well, at least we know he thinks my jokes are funny," Astrid jabbed, and with another interesting mutter Fishlegs scribbled down another note.
'Capable of understanding jokes' was added to the journal, and the interview only devolved from there. So when Sam had returned (with Tucker and Phantom trailing), Hiccup took that as a sign to draw the conversation to a close.
The trio held up a few bags with some brightly colored insignias on them. They looked like they weighed about the same as a spoiled gronkle hatchling.
"We come bearing gifts," Phantom smiled as they plopped what Hiccup could now recognize as clothes onto the ground.
"And these are for?" Astrid said, picking up what looked like a tunic skeptically, sending the younger teens a similar look.
"Well," Phantom shared a look with Sam and Tucker, "You don't want to be stuck in here indefinitely, do you?"
No, no Hiccup did not. He was already getting a little stir-crazy, especially since they were grounded for the time being. There was also this aching feeling in his stomach (maybe it was hope that he was desperately clinging to) that the future would feel a lot less scary if he was just able to experience it. The kids did their best to answer the questions they had, but at the end of the day they were just sixteen.
Phantom began rambling about which clothes were for who, but Hiccup admittedly wasn't really listening. He turned to the same bag that Astrid was sorting through to pull out another article of clothing. This one was a sleeveless white tunic – and not viking-white, which was really more of a gray, but bright white, like Phantom's hair.
Hiccup and Astrid shared a pointed look out of the corners of their eyes. The material was thin and flowing. They didn't know what this was supposed to protect them against, though Amity did seem to have much fairer weather than the archipelago, so perhaps they didn't need such things like woolen items.
" – Besides, Tucker here says he needs one of you so that he can work on his translator-thing."
Sam said something then, her posture reading like she'd just remembered something. She scampered out of the room a moment later with barely a glance from Tucker.
"Translator-thing." Hiccup repeated. Such an elegant name.
Phantom shrugged like he had no other option for them, "I'd rather not play the part for the rest of your visit," he admitted, and an echoing chuckle bounced around the room.
"I guess that's not unreasonable," Astrid shrugged, but her head was still tilted slightly away from the ghost boy as she eyed him in suspicion, "But what do you need us for?"
They paused as Phantom repeated the question in English for Tucker to answer. "Mostly just grammatical stuff. Apparently what us future folk have of Norse isn't very…solid." His tone quieted in uncertainty, almost-flinching.
Again, Astrid and Hiccup shared a look. "Well, us Vikings aren't known for our literature." Hiccup shrugged it off as Fishlegs stuffed his journal into his tunic. Meatlug squeaked and sniffed at it.
He then paused.
"Wait, why doesn't the future know Norse?"
Phantom's eyebrows shot to his hairline, like he'd never even considered the question. "Oh, well…"
He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's been a thousand years. Languages change, you know?"
Pursing his lips, Hiccup suddenly regretted asking that question.
"Then how do you know it?" Fishlegs asked abruptly, flipping back a few pages in his journal.
Another bout of bashfulness manifested in a green blush from Phantom. "Uh…ghosts…dead languages…they go hand in hand, you know?"
That same cold feeling was back in Hiccup's stomach as a reminder. He looked down at the bag of clothing.
"So…no one speaks it anymore?" He said, and Phantom must not have liked the somberness, because he leaped into what could have been considered a compromise.
"Well, there are still a bunch of similar languages, you know? Like, Icelandic, and Swedish, I think? Those are derived from Old Norse!"
"Really?" Fishlegs asked, "It broke off into two languages?"
"Probably more than that," Phantom admitted, "I'm not exactly a history buff…"
"More than two languages," Fishlegs sounded like the definition of skeptical, "That's a lot of people…"
"It is a lot of people," the ghost agreed, and then promptly pulled that same glowing thing from his pocket. He was silent for a moment, face scrunched in concentration as he tapped on it, and then his face lit up again, "oh, wow, five languages apparently. So what would that be, 20 million people?"
Snotlout promptly choked on his snack. "20 what?"
"Did you say million? People?" Fishlegs parroted, eyes widening, and Phantom suddenly looked a little confused.
"Y-yeah…?" He confirmed, like that was a totally normal thing to confirm.
"20 million people." Fishlegs continued like that would somehow make it seem less staggering. "Right now? Alive?"
Phantom seemed like he wasn't expecting that reaction. He faltered, glancing down at the glowing thing, then back up at the riders. "I dunno, I estimated. Europe's like…I dunno, a billion people, rounding up. So…"
"Billion. With a B." Fishlegs once again asked.
"You know what? Just –" Phantom once again went back to the strange little answer box, "Okay, Europe makes up about 10 percent of the world's population at roughly 700 million people, making people who speak Nordic-derived languages…19 million. Wow, I was close!" He smiled ecstatically.
He was met with stares.
Phantom's expression quickly dropped. "I feel like I may have opened a can of worms."
"Where are you getting those numbers from?" Hiccup asked, whatever item he'd been holding in his hands forgotten.
Shrugging, Phantom's free hand wavered around his temple, "I dunno, math's always come easy to me. Just didn't know the exact populations, but –"
"No, I mean where did you –" Hiccup gestured at Phantom, "get that information?"
He hardly doubted that the ghost just so happened to have a tablet discussing the world population on his person.
"...oh." Phantom glanced down at his toy. He glanced back up. "Right." He hoisted it into the air. "It's called the internet? It's –"
He paused, quickly cupping a hand over his mouth. "Wait…I don't even know what the internet is…" He muttered immediately afterwards like it was an earth-shattering thing.
"Enter net." Fishlegs repeated, sounding very much at the end of his rope. He had long ago stopped writing notes.
"I swear I'm not lying," Phantom stressed, twirling the small tablet thing in his hand, "it's like… okay, It's like if every single library, museum, and mall in the world was crammed into one book. That…okay that makes no sense, but you know what I'm trying to say, right?"
"Sure, why not?" Fishlegs promptly closed his journal, unequivocally sounding not okay. "Magic ghosts, magic encyclopedias, time travel…what else is new?"
What wasn't new? Hiccup couldn't help but think, turning back to the clothing in his hands.
Sam re-entered then, holding a pair of something in her hands. She gave them to Tucker, who thanked her and put them into the satchel strapped to his back.
"Alright, so…any grammar volunteers?" Phantom asked
The twins, who had been untied sometime before the other teens got home, immediately threw up their hands, much to Hiccup's horror, so he quickly butted in, "Fishlegs, you care to join me?"
His friend still had a thousand-yard stare, "Sure. Why not."
"Oh, so you're leaving me to babysit." Astrid groaned, sending her drill-sergeant gaze to Ruff and Tuff, who promptly fell back to the couch. To answer, Hiccup quickly gestured at the sudden quietness.
"Toothless'll help you, won't you, Bud?"
The look his dragon sent him was almost comical. He seemed very offended that Hiccup would even think of leaving the manor without him. "It's only going to be for a few hours, okay?" He spoke, turning to Phantom, "Right?"
The ghost side glanced at Tucker before giving a not-so-confident shrug, "Sure?"
That still didn't seem to satisfy Toothless, who was now on his feet. He, predictably, stumbled, and Astrid grabbed ahold of his tunic to keep him upright. It wasn't that Hiccup felt much better about leaving his dragon, but…it was just safer.
He knew Toothless didn't much care for his own safety, so instead he said, "we're still grounded, Bud."
He also hated to deflate his dragon's excitement, but that statement did seem to be a sobering thought to him. Hiccup felt his brow pinch together as Toothless glanced to his hands sorrowfully. He walked forward to set his hands on his shoulders, "I promise we'll go on a long flight as soon as we get out of here." He reassured, "but right now I need you here. Okay?"
It was times like this where he was reminded just how much of a double-edged sword the Royal Amulet was.
But Toothless nodded eventually, and Hiccup returned it in relief. He turned to find Astrid holding up some more clothing.
"Here, you should like these," her head tilted to the side with a slight smile as he took them from her.
He looked at the articles only briefly. They were very similar colors to what he was currently wearing. "I'll take your word for it." He managed a chuckle, turning to find Fishlegs to have picked out some pieces of clothing in the last few seconds. So with a somewhat sorrowful look to his two favorite people, Hiccup began making his way back to the room he had been occupying.
Sam wasn't kidding when she said her parents had a lot of rooms. Apparently they hosted a lot of get-togethers with very ritzy peers, so they'd gone all out with the guest arrangements. There was an entire floor just for them, with just enough rooms for the dragon riders to double up in.
Hiccup's room was just past Fishlegs, Tuffnut, and Snotlout's, and before Astrid and Ruffnut's room. (Not that he'd admit it, but he was a bit inclined to wonder if he and Astrid would have shared a room had they not needed an extra bed for Toothless.)
Hiccup and Astrid still weren't all that touchy-feely around the rest of the dragon riders, yet alone near-strangers. So it seemed, perhaps, a bit more…cosmopolitan to split the roommates up by sex.
Which is also, at the very least, how Hiccup would describe the bedrooms. Not that vikings had high standards – hell, if the gang was traveling they'd be damn thankful to have a roof over their heads. But Sam's parents weren't doing a very good job at convincing Hiccup that they weren't royalty of some kind.
It wasn't to the same standard that Sam's room held – that is, with a "lived-in" feeling. Still, it was much like the lounge room: intricate art lined the walls, covered in frames that either were gold, or were a very good mock of it. Dressers of dark oak lined the cream walls and royal blue curtains hung from the large, arched windows that looked out to other houses that were just as lavish. The flooring was a polished type of wood with an intricate blue-and-crimson carpet covering a large portion.
There were two beds, which were undoubtedly the most comfortable thing Hiccup had ever slept in, and an en-suite bathroom attached, which somehow had hot water due to irrigation systems in the walls.
There was a desk situated between the windows, which had another futuristic metal-and-glass thing on it that Hiccup was still a bit too skittish to touch, and what he'd learned was a ceiling fan rested in the center of, well, the ceiling, providing light and circulation when the windows weren't opened.
The other rooms had very similar compositions, though they had varying color schemes. In Hiccup's personal opinion, there were way too many stain-prone colors, but then again it's not like Sam's parents were expecting time-traveling vikings to be living in them, either.
Not that Hiccup hadn't tried to explain that to them, but apparently they weren't the most…open-minded of people. Sam had said that they were off on a business trip and would be gone for the foreseeable future. Hiccup could understand that – Stoick often left for weeks at a time, too. Another thing that he also, horribly, understood once upon a time was the held-back joy in Sam's eyes as she explained her parents' absence.
She apparently had a grandmother, who was the entire reason they were allowed to stay in the first place, so Hiccup supposed he couldn't judge the Manson's too much.
He snuck a glance in the mirror once he was dressed. What he'd ended up in was the red tunic from before and long, slightly-baggy pants that were similar to Tuckers in both color and design. Hiccup also repurposed his belt and boot and figured he'd leave the rest of his stuff in the empty closet.
Hiccup shook his head fondly as he spied the many pockets on the trousers. Of course Astrid would pick something where weapons would be easily hidden, and if he was honest with himself he was going to take advantage of that.
Inferno managed to fit into one of the lower pockets quite easily, the weight of it almost made up for the lack of such on his shoulders. Hiccup still found himself shrugging like his pauldrons would suddenly fall back into place, and his arms still felt rather bare without the wrist guards. But he supposed the purpose of these clothes was to blend in, not be battle-ready.
After making sure his prosthetic was secure, Hiccup made his way back to the others.
He met a decidedly less distressed Fishlegs in the hallway, who was wearing a sage-colored tunic in the same style as Toothless' and a light blue pair of pants. Hiccup could see the small form of Meatlug wriggling around in the pocket of the shirt, and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips at the sight.
Fishlegs had also ditched his helmet, he was raking his hands through his hair at the reminder.
"Thanks for doing this," Hiccup said, crossing his arms over his chest. His friend looked like he wanted to complain, but he sighed heavily instead.
"Well…better me than the Twins…"
Hiccup huffed in agreement, looking up in time to see Tucker peek his head back out into the hallway. He blinked at the costume change, but then held up two thumbs enthusiastically. Hiccup smiled bashfully.
A warning to behave wasn't necessary with Astrid staying behind, so instead a simple goodbye sufficed. Unlike the other three times Hiccup had witnessed Amity, this time they were actually walking through it. It was a much different experience, not being behind a window or being hastily shuffled through a front lawn.
It was still noisy, much noisier than even a marketplace, but it was almost…familiar.
The people they passed…well, they were people. Which was kind of a mundane observation, but the fact that it was something familiar was almost invaluable. If Hiccup squinted, he could almost see the Hairy Hooligans in these strangely-dressed strangers.
Tucker tried his best to communicate. Phantom had explained rather skittishly that he wouldn't be able to stroll through the streets with them. Apparently he was invisible somewhere, trailing them, but for the time being the language barrier was firmly in place.
They made their way through many streets, taking a somewhat awkward path. Hiccup had to wonder why they didn't cross the roads wherever, but he wasn't exactly in a place to be heard, so he stuck his head down and followed Tucker through his weird path of white stripes and blinking lights.
Eventually, they came to a modest street and were led to a house with a cheery arrangement of plants. Tucker cracked open the door, called into the house, and paused. There was no answer, and he apparently took that as a good thing, because he quickly ushered Hiccup and Fishlegs inside.
"Well, this is certainly more cozy than the other two." Hiccup smiled at the sight of almost-normal things littering the small entryway. There were still no weapons on the walls, but then again that was really only considered home-y to the Barbaric Archipelago. Instead, it was a modest home with a few paintings of Tucker's family and some more plants on the walls.
Tucker smiled like he understood before pointing towards the staircase. He led the two dragon riders to a door with a bunch of add-ons – notes and sketches, a sign, something that reminded Hiccup of the walls in the back of Gobber's forge.
Tucker's room was decked out in inventions that also reminded Hiccup of the forge, though again there was a lot more futuristic tech, including a desk with not one, but three glass-and-metal things resting atop it. Bits and pieces of what looked like nuts and bolts and string were littering almost every surface, and shelves that held colorful, intricate sculpture-things decorated the walls.
Phantom was also strewn on the bed, laying on his stomach and feet kicking in the air like he owned the place. "What took you guys so long?" He asked with a smile that said he knew exactly why it took them so long.
Tucker didn't bat an eye at this, however, and instead threw his satchel at the ghost, prompting a shriek out of him.
Hiccup closed the door behind him and Fishlegs as the ghost floated off the bed, quite literally sticking his hand through the satchel before pulling out the pair of black things that Sam had given Tucker earlier. He said something that made the other boy laugh as he handed them over.
"She spray painted them," Phantom thankfully translated with a roll of his eyes. Out of one of his pockets, he pulled out another pair – this one bright green. Hiccup recognized those from their first meeting.
"These are going to be translator-things?" He asked, taking a tentative step forward as Tucker sat down in a chair and pulled open a desk drawer.
Phantom shrugged, presenting the small earpieces. Hiccup hesitated before picking one up.
"Hopefully," he said, though his tone, thankfully, made it sound more like an inevitability than a possibility.
Oh, gee, I wonder if we'll be seeing any more of this suspicious ghost figure that definitely wasn't foreshadowed in the summary for this fic... /s
But, you know, at least the plot is finally picking up at *scrunches script close to my face* 70,000 words? Jesus Christ.
I've been told it's a VERY bold move for the Dragon Riders to only know Phantom and know next to nothing about Fenton, but you know what? I like going against the status quo. It's the only feasible way to make this fic work.
Yeah so anyway. Samantha Manson's love language is 100% Gift Giving and Acts of Service. I will die by this. When I say eat the rich, I am not including her. Or her Gma. Gma Manson is a GOAT.
Also Danny is a math whiz. Fight me. He deserves one (1) good subject in school.
I know that Danny technically comes back with the Boo-merang at the end of TUE, but we're gonna ignore that tidbit for plot reasons.
"A girl without her dick is like an angel without her wings." user "brandonthemememaster" on tiktok
until next time, my lovelies :)
~Local Dragon Haunt