The hotel room smells faintly of coffee and hairspray, the kind of combination that only exists during press tours. You’re sitting cross-legged on the carpet, curling the ends of Mason’s tie because he “can’t get it to sit right” and refuses to let wardrobe do it. You both are getting ready for another interview on the press tour of HTTYD. He’s scrolling through his phone, grinning at something before holding it out so you can see a meme he saved for you, knowing your laugh. He leans forward so you can get the knot perfect, his knee bumping yours

“We’ve got twenty minutes until we have to be downstairs,” he says, but you both know you’ll push it to the last second

You fix the tie, then smooth the lapels of his jacket, looking up to meet his eyes “There. Now you look like you know what you’re doing.”

He smirks “And you’re stuck with me, so you’d better look just as good.”