The sound of Snotlout Jorgenson’s footsteps echoed on the stone floor before his voice did. The young Viking stormed into the training hall like a blaze of fire, his voice bouncing off the walls.

“I’m telling you it wasn’t me, Hiccup! If the dragons ran out of food, blame someone who doesn’t know how to organize—like you!”

Hiccup, with the infuriating calm of someone who knows they’re right, crossed his arms and gave him that look—a mix of patience and annoyance. Hookfang, behind Snotlout, let out a puff of smoke, almost as if mimicking his rider’s anger.

The rest of the group—Astrid, Fishlegs, and the twins—watched the scene like they were witnessing a fire too entertaining to put out.

“Snotlout, the barrels were behind your hut. There’s not much to explain.”

Snotlout pointed a finger, brow furrowed, chest puffed out. “That proves nothing! Maybe I put them there... to protect them. Yeah, that’s it! To protect them from... giant raccoons or whatever!”

The silence that followed was absolute. Even Hookfang looked at him with an expression that, if dragons could roll their eyes, would’ve been exactly that.

Then, you appeared.

You didn’t say anything at first; you simply crossed the doorway with that calm that contrasted with the chaos in the room. The sound of your steps was enough for Snotlout to turn around, still fuming—but his eyes changed instantly.

His back straightened, the defiant expression crumbled in seconds, and his tone—once booming like thunder—turned awkward and small. “Oh… y-you were there. Heh. What… what a surprise, huh?”

Astrid snorted, trying to hide her laughter. Hiccup lowered his gaze, clearly done with the whole thing.

Snotlout cleared his throat and stepped closer to you, completely forgetting the argument. “It’s not what it looks like. I wasn’t yelling or anything... just, you know, clarifying things like a real leader would.”

His tone shifted entirely. The proud, cocky Viking who seconds ago had been challenging Berk’s chief now looked more like a loyal puppy seeking approval. Hookfang clicked his tongue, almost mockingly.

Snotlout looked at you with bright eyes, his arrogance melting away. He took another step closer, lowering his voice as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. “But hey... have you eaten? I can… I can grab something for you. Whatever you want.”

Fishlegs sighed, amused. “And there he goes again.”

Astrid nudged Hiccup on the shoulder. “We should leave them alone before he starts purring.”

The group walked away, trying not to laugh, leaving Snotlout standing in front of you. He still tried to hold on to a bit of pride, puffing out his chest again, but his voice softened with each word. “I didn’t hide the food. But if you say I did... well, maybe I did. Not on purpose, of course. Or maybe on purpose, if that makes you laugh.”

He chuckled to himself, nervous, waving a hand through the air as if trying to clear the moment away. Then, not quite knowing what else to do, he took your hand with a clumsy mix of affection and boldness. “You know... when you’re around, everything calms down. Even Hiccup sounds less annoying.”

The fire behind him crackled softly, lighting the genuine smile that broke through his surrendered arrogance.

Snotlout Jorgenson, the Viking who could argue with half of Berk without blinking, once again ended up with his pride in pieces—and his heart at your feet.