Rating: T, for general viking-ness
Pairing: Ruffnut Thorston/Snotlout Jorgenson
Disclaimer: How To Train Your Dragon is all Dreamworks, ya'll
Summary: Even in the middle of a bloody battle, Snotlout can't keep his eyes off of her.
Notes: They're probably a bit older in this particular story, either late teens or early adulthood. IDK, whenever vikings are old enough to slay their enemies.
She was very distracting, to say the least.
One time, they were in the middle of a battle – Snotlout knew the Hairy Hooligans would emerge victorious, as the tribe they were at war with was hardly a match for the Hooligan's firepower (literally, their dragons set fire to anything thrown at them). However, as much as the dragons helped, there were always times where the Hooligans had to fall back on the old ways, where their only weapons were a strong shield and a good ol' blade.
Snotlout buried his longsword to the hilt in an enemy viking's gut, warm blood washing over his hand. He was running on pure adrenaline, not even finding the time to retrieve his weapon from his fallen opponent – he simply unsheathed his spare sword, let out a battle cry, tackling down another enemy Berserker. Battle raged on around him, Hooligan set against Berserker, the harsh sound of metal clashing against metal filling the air. The snow was stained with blood, fallen vikings scattered across the battlefield. Snotlout plowed through the enemy like the warrior he was, letting out his familiar cheer,
"Snotlout, Snotlout, oi – oi –oi!"
And then he spotted her. She was a couple of yards away, hard to miss with her braids swinging wildly around as she spun crazily, her double-ended spear in one hand and a large mace in the other. Blood was flowing freely from her broken nose, staining her skin and teeth, but she paid no mind. She fought the Beserkers back to back with her brother, and Snotlout could easily hear both of them letting off their psychotic cackle as they took down enemies with effortless teamwork. Only she could look so good while ruthlessly slitting the throat of Dagur the Deranged.
By chance, her head cocked slightly to the side and their eyes met across the battlefield, her blood-stained smile widening at the sight of him.
Ruffnut never looked more beautiful.
Suddenly, she frowned and opened her mouth wide, as if she was calling out to him – probably to warn him of the Berserker sneaking up behind him and knocking him out cold.
"You're an idiot," Ruffnut quipped, gently pressing a cold, damp cloth against Snotlout's bruised head. The battle was long over, the Berserkers having retreated and the Hooligans tending to their wounded in the Great Hall of Berk. Casualties were few, and once their injuries were patched up, the Hairy Hooligans would surely celebrate into the night. Snotlout lay across one of the benches, his head resting in Ruffnut's lap. She glared down at him, "What the Hel were you doing, staring at me in a middle of a freaking battle?"
"How's your nose?" Snotlout asked, his speech deliberately slow and slightly slurred from the pain radiating from his head injury. Ruffnut touched the bandage over the bridge of her broken nose,
"Fine. Tuff set it back into place on the way back." She raised an eyebrow, "You didn't answer my question, Snotface."
He grinned up at her in a daze, "You were distracting me, Ruff."
She stared down at him, her glare softening just slightly, before rolling her eyes and scoffing, "Shut the Hel up, moron. A decent viking doesn't get distracted in battle," And, as an afterthought, she added, "Even if it's by someone as pretty as me."
Rufflout is so totally my OTP, hopefully I did them justice. Also, sorry for sort of killing off Dagur in the midst of this, I kind of just needed a name of a random Berserker. Anyway, thanks for reading! Hopefully, I'll write something longer in the future - this was mostly done to shake off some writer's block.