"I really don't know what 'I love you' means. I think it means, 'Don't leave me here alone.'" - Neil Gaiman
"I have to show you this."
"Hiccup, no."
He was standing at Toothless' side, fingers working across the clasps and leather strands that allowed the saddle to connect to the wing flap.
"So even if you just have the boot of a heel, place it here -"
"Hiccup, I'm not learning how to fly Toothless right now."
He gives the smallest shake of his head, and continues the lecture,
"Then the stirrup will activate—"
"Hiccup, stop." Astrid reaches out and swats his hands off the equipment. Toothless, swivels at the sound of her raised voice, his body still panting from the exertion of the swift retreat.
"One minute I'm quietly whittling in front the fire, since, after all, you," she emphasizes, point her index finger against his chest, "were on guard duty, circling the island. Then you practically fall," another jab as the anger in her voice increases, "out of the sky and offer no explanation?"
He yanks his hands away, muttering, "There was a group of migrating Zippleback asleep along the nothern edge. Well," he breathes a humorless laugh, "The group was asleep. Woke up enough to give us a scare, huh, bud?" A little warmth emerges in his voice, and he abstentmindedly rubs Toothless' back leg. The dragon paws the earth and stretches, his breathing still shallow and quick.
"And I realized," He suddenly covers his face in both hands and rubs his whole face furiously, dropping his hands just as suddenly. Astrid can see the sheen of sweat left around his brow, the too-bright gleam of his green eyes in the moonlight.
"I realized if something happens to me, someone has to be able to fly Toothless. Which would be you. So I need you to know how." He moves to begin the lesson, "This brace—
In an instant her muscles are tense to hit him, her anger ballooning past reason, but as her warrior eyes take in his shadowed form, she sees his hands trembling as he points out the next piece and she realizes what she's seeing.
Panic.
Hiccup is panicking.
She focuses on letting the anger drain out and breathes in the cool night air, breathing the calmness to her center. She is a warrior, and she is a leader, and she knows what to do. She breathes out and says in her calmest voice, "Hiccup, can you hear me?"
His head jerks towards her, and it's the first time he actually looks at her, albeit baffled. "Of course I can hear you."
"Hiccup," she continues, "can you come into the firelight?"
He takes a step towards her slowly, dream-like, stops, and looks at Toothless, "But I have to show you—"
"Hiccup, I need to bandage your burns. Then we can talk about Toothless." And the small part of her, the 12 year-old girl whose rage used to run unchecked until burned out, that untamed part knows that they will talk about Toothless. But her twenty-four year-old self, battle-hardened-commander-self knows that panic can drive a man mind, and Thor help her, she will remain calm when he is not.
Still dazed, he looks at his arms and sees for the first time the already-blistering skin, the burnt remains of his sleeves. He takes a deep, ragged breath, another three steps, and sits.
Toothless, registering that some danger has passed, settles in the dirt, and his breathing finally deepen and slow. He stretches and then slumps to the ground, eyes closed in rest.
Astrid reaches into her nearby pack (thank Thor that Fishlegs insisted that burn cream and bandages be standard issue), and kneels beside Hiccup. "I'm going to rip the sleeves to expose the wound, " she informs him, and he nods mutely.
"I'm going to rinse the wound with -"
His eyes dart back to his dragon, and he cuts her off, "Is this going to take long? I want to explain how…."
She lets him ramble, then, as she tends to his wound. Listens to minute explanation of how the pieces interlock and what kind of metal is best to use. About how to soak the wood to bend it, about the best trader's prices for cloth, on and on. She listens until he runs out of things to say, and then she listens to the quiet till his breathing slows to match his sleeping dragon, and she listens until she's finished cleaning and wrapping his damaged arms.
She looks up and their eyes connect, his gaze steady and calm. And it's her turn to breathe a ragged sigh of relief.
"Hiccup."
"Astrid."
"We should get some sleep."
He nods mutely, his eyes expressing the thanks his words cannot.
"Tomorrow we'll talk?"
"Tomorrow we'll talk." She confirms.
He smiles, small and sad, but a smile nonetheless. They're going to be alright.