Felt like writing a quick one-shot about Stoick and Hiccup. So here you go!
Open My Eyes
There was a light pounding in his head as Stoick felt himself drifting back to the land of the conscious.
Many times had he been there without being able to wake fully. He'd hear familiar voices he could never quite place no matter how much he ached to know where they were coming from, could feel presences all around him, different kinds of sounds interrupted the long stretches of silence.
But never was he as close as he was now.
He felt like he could open his eyes, like he could move. If his throat wasn't so dry, perhaps he could even speak.
As the Chief became more aware and he no longer felt as heavy and immovable as before, he began to remember what had happened to bring him to such an unfortunate state and while he recovered, though those memories were vague at best.
He was certain Hiccup had been by his side at some point at least. He could recognize his son's voice from anywhere and he distinctly remembered a hand in his that was much smaller than his own. Though he had no idea what his son had said, those two glimpses in the black void of his memory were about the only things he could still think of.
No matter, there were more important things to worry about.
Though he was only still waking up, Stoick already worried about Berk, about Hiccup. He had no idea for how long he had been out, who knows what had become of his people.
He knew he could count on his son to keep the village from burning down, but still he worried. As Chief it was his job to do so.
Eventually he could will himself to open his heavy lids and the first thing he came to see was the wooden ceiling of his home. He was in his own bed, in his own house, bandaged nearly from head to toe.
The first thing he noticed other than where he was, was the sound of a deep and heavy kind of breathing.
He tried to move a hand to bring it up to his face, but in doing so seemed to hit something light enough to cause it to roll off the bed with the slightest touch and end up on the floor. It sounded like a pencil that dropped. But that wasn't the only thing his meaty fingers touched.
It felt like fabric, though not of the same kind his covers and bandages were made out of.
Finding just barely enough strength to move, Stoick the Vast bit back a groan as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. His body was still sore and tired, it was obvious to him that he still had some ways to go.
It was harder than he thought it'd be and it took a lot of energy out of him just to sit up before he could feel the cool wood of the decorated headboard behind him, but the sight he came to see was worth it in the end.
At his left side sat Hiccup on a stool with two heaps of papers in front of him on two other stools. He himself rested his head on crossed arms on his side of the bed. He was fast asleep. For once he wasn't wearing his pauldrons or his leather chest piece.
When he looked past Hiccup, Stoick could see the large black shape of Toothless, who was lying on the floor at the foot end of the bed, curled up with his tail around where Hiccup sat.
Both of them were asleep.
The Night Fury's deep breaths told him as much.
Turning his attention back to his son, the father couldn't keep the smile from presenting itself within his fiery red beard. He had almost expected Hiccup to be at the Edge with the other Dragon Riders, finishing the war he and Viggo had started almost a year ago. Yet here he was, dutifully sitting by his father's side and taking care of important documents in his Chief's stead.
Who knows how long he has been sitting here. Who knows how hard that boy as been working.
Without a doubt he barely got any sleep at all. Why else would Hiccup be falling asleep while doing his job? It wasn't like him to do so easily. Stoick had seen the boy pull all-nighter after all-nighter working on those inventions of his and still retain the energy to boast when it was finished.
To have him fall asleep in the middle of paperwork meant that his son was working himself ragged trying to take care of the village. And whatever battle he had fought to win this war, Stoick was certain Hiccup would not be here by his side now if there wasn't still something urgent left to take care of on the Edge, the Chief doubted the young man had barely taken the chance to sleep before throwing his all into his duties as Acting Chief.
Stoick felt a sense of pride well up inside, an occurence that became all the more frequent he noticed.
His smile never fading even despites his pounding head, Stoick had one large hand of his settle on his son's head in a way gentler than anyone would think him capable of. Careful not to rouse him, he had his fingers run through the auburn locks of his boy's hair.
Oh, how proud he was of him now and how foolish he felt for once doubting his son's potential. Though Hiccup still made mistakes, he was a born leader with a stubborn spirit that could only be matched by the powerful Night Fury he rode into battle again and again. Stoick couldn't possibly be any happier to be this bright young man's father.
"You're doing a great job, son. You always do." Stoick spoke even with his throat dry and thirst wailing, but for now he was content simply stroking his boy's hair and wondering how far he could still come.
