Legally Auburn (HTTYD)

Part 8

But he had been in his room for maybe only ten minutes when there was a knock on the door. Setting his soup down with an unenthusiastic sigh, he levered himself up and dragged himself to the door, past Toothless who was fastidiously licking his little paws and cleaning his face and whiskers. Grateful that the little black cat wasn't cleaning anywhere more personal, he opened it and came face to face with Finley.

He started and stared into the round face of the husky man. Close to, Fishlegs was looking self-conscious, his expensive clothes not hiding a person who was a little awkward about his large body and rather short legs. His eyes were actually a kindly green and his blonde hair was cut in an unflattering pudding bowl style. He shuffled his feet.

"Hiccup, could we...maybe, talk?" he asked.

For a moment, Hiccup considered slamming the door in his face, feeling sore and betrayed by Heather. It was clear from the fragments he had gleaned that Finlay and Heather had been seeing each other since April...while she was still nominally going out with Hiccup. Emphasis on nominally, he thought bitterly. But his innate manners and curiosity made him stand back and invite the other man into his room.

The first thing that he saw was Toothless, sitting pointedly in the exact centre of the floor, one back leg sticking vertically up in the air while the little cat unashamedly licked his ass very very carefully. There was a loud slap as Hiccup face-palmed.

"Toothless," he groaned.

"Cat man, eh?" Fishlegs commented, regaining his composure quicker than Hiccup would have credited him. "My aunt has two Burmese and they do the exact same thing-always in the exact middle of the front yard..." Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

"Yeah-sorry about that," he apologised. "I think he saves it for when I have guests...or when my parents did. He also specialises in rubbing against people who are cat-allergic or who are wearing white clothing for maximum effect..."

Finlay chuckled and gestured to his cream slacks.

"Should I be worried?" he asked and Hiccup eyed the pants.

"Possibly," he warned as Toothless uncurled and looked up, then walked towards Finlay. He rubbed determinedly against one leg, leaving a smear of black fur and then he hissed and turned, walking off in a huff, his tail flicking irritably. Then Hiccup frowned.

"I guess he smelled Meatlug," the husky man suggested. Hiccup raised a quizzical eyebrow. "My Maine Coon," Finlay explained. "She's so sweet and loves other cats."

"Um...Toothless thinks the correct number of cats on the planet is approximately one-him," Hiccup explained. "Please take a seat..." But as Finlay settled in the small bucket chair Hiccup desperately tried to stop him. "Not that one...oh, too late..." he mumbled. Finlay frowned.

"Why...?" he asked.

"Furball," Hiccup said in an embarrassed voice. "I think you just sat on it." Finlay's expression got strained as he calculated the effects of a vomited hairball on his cream slacks.

"I really wore the wrong pants for this," he sighed and then he looked up at Hiccup, who perched on the edge of the desk. "And I wanted to ask what was going on between you and Heather?"

Hiccup grimaced and tried not to blurt out the first thing that came to his mind -"YOU!"-and frame a measured answer.

"Heather was my girlfriend since Junior Year and I was going to ask her to marry me," Hiccup said tightly. "She dumped me instead because I wasn't going to Harvard Law. Because I wasn't good enough for her." He took a deep breath. "Turns out she was already going out with you at the time, Finlay."

The husky guy grimaced.

"Please-call me Fishlegs," he said. "Only my father and my Great Aunt Hildegaard call me Finlay!" Hiccup stared at him. He desperately wanted to dislike Finlay-or Fishlegs-but there was something genuine and decent about him and he found himself unable to employ his full sarcasm.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, you see, she's 97 and has never seen the point in nicknames...I mean she calls my Father Froggat which actually is his real name though everyone calls him Ribbet because that's the sound a frog makes but she never got that and..." Fishlegs rambled.

"No-why Fishlegs?" Hiccup asked, curious despite himself. He shrugged.

"Look, I know my legs are stupidly short," he explained. "I mean, when I was born, my Mom was told by the doctor that they looked about as useful as fish legs and it kind of stuck..." Then he looked at Hiccup.

"Okay...that sort of makes sense," Hiccup conceded.

"Why Hiccup?" Fishlegs asked. Rubbing the back of his neck, Hiccup gave a false laugh.

"Um...why not?" he asked in a slightly manic voice. "I mean, great traditional name, very typical...there must be hundreds of Hiccups out there, right?"

"Nope," Fishlegs pointed out.

"Well, my Dad is insanely proud of his Viking heritage and when I was born very small and early, I was like the runt of the litter which is always called a hiccup...so my Dad in his wisdom called me Hiccup. My Mom was mad...she hit him with the bassinet and banished him to the shed for two weeks...but it stuck." And then he shrugged. "Didn't help I remained small for years until I grew this way..." He gestured upwards and then gestured to his middle. "This way, not so much..." Fishlegs chuckled.

"I think I've got both of us covered in that department," he offered and they both laughed. The rest of the night was actually spent in good company and Hiccup felt that Fishlegs just wasn't a bad guy. In fact, the only thing wrong with him seemed to be that he was going out with Heather...but when the husky guy headed back to his own room, Hiccup realised perhaps, they could be friends after all.