From which tree's blossom
It comes, I do not know
This fragrance

FIshlegs was wondering how he had managed to get into this situation. They were gathered on one of the firetowers, as they often were when the weather was nice. They huddled together against the dark, easch roasting their dinner in the fire. This was all fine, perfectly normal way to spend an evening in Berk.

What worried Fishlegs was the seating arrangements.

Somehow he had gotten wedged up against Ruffnut. Thery were uncomfortably close. One wrong move could send either of them flying. Okay, maybe that's slightly exaggerrated, but Fishlegs definitely felt like he was about to fall off the bench. There was just too much near contact between them for his taste.

She did smell good, though. He noticed this the third time she turned her head and smacked him in the shoulder with one of her braids. He had no idea what it was he was smelling, he'd never become that familiar with the blossoming plants around the island. They were very pretty, but useless unless you wanted to dye something.

For one wild moment he almost asked her what it was. That would surely get him a black eye. He knew better than to question Ruff's toughness by implying she was girly in some way.

His mind took hold of this thought and began to entertain all sorts of unpleasant scenarios. Ruffnut holding him down and pulling out his nosehairs, being chased by a Zippleback almost as scary as the girl egging it on, getting shoved into the fire in front of them. So vivid were these ideas in his mind that Fishlegs was only vaguely aware of what his mouth was doing.

He saw Ruff turn to him, an eyebrow raised questioningly at him. His mouth kept moving, even though his brain was trying to force itself to stop. She was giving him a bored look.

"W-What's that smell?"

"What?" She looked confused. Confused and pretty good smelling. He wasn't sure how someone could look like they smelled good, but she did. She was still staring at him.

"That, uh smell..."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened in sudden realization and she grinned. "Sorry, I got it." She turned to smack Tuffnut on the back of the head. Scowling at her in confusion, he swore and turned back to the fire .

Fishlegs was still squeezed against Ruffnut. He focused on the cod he was roasting, and kept his lips pressed together as firmly as he could.

I've never really been a big shipper for these two, but they are fun to write.