Summary: "Hiccup?" "Yes, Daddy?" "You didn't drink your milk." Young Hiccup shakes his head. "I hate milk." One-shot.

Yes, I'm back, and I'll be back to normal (hopefully) after this oneshot. So, basically, I was rereading Fullmetal Alchemist manga, and I was up to Vol. 4, where Winry notes that Ed hasn't drink his milk, and Ed replies, "I hate milk." Then, BOOM. This idea came through.

Disclaimer: I don't own HTTYD, only the words of this story. The idea was based off a scene in Fullmetal Alchemist. I'm not doing this for profit, just for entertainment and for the fun of it.

And my apologies to all those if I offended you with the 'milk' stuff.

Milk

A normal day on the Isle of Berk - the sun is shining with a handful of fluffy clouds in the sky, the Vikings are doing their everyday things, and no dragons attacking, thank the gods.

The Chief's hut is the largest of them all, and inside lives the Chief of Berk's Viking Tribe, Stoick the Vast, and his five-year-old son, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. But, since it's a mouthful, people prefer to call this young lad Hiccup instead.

It's noon, and most of the Vikings leave their everyday work to settle down for lunch. Stoick rubs his head, after treacherous hours of work. First marrying a couple, then settling two disputes, naming and welcoming a new baby to the Tribe, ignoring Mildew's 'complaints of the day', Stoick liked to call them, as well as extinguishing a fire caused by those cheeky little Thorston twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Apparently, their first word they ever learnt was the word Loki, and ever since, they've been devoting themselves to pranks and jokes ever since. One day, Stoick is going to throw them off the island.

His son, Hiccup, is in his room upstairs, and Stoick can hear him laughing and running around. Stoick climbs up and calls Hiccup for lunch. Dropping all his toys, Hiccup climbs down with his father to eat. He struggles to climb up the chair, making Stoick chuckle - too much strength for the poor boy! - then he finally succeeds. Stoick brings out the wooden plates and cups - a large mug for Stoick himself, and a Viking child-sized cup for his son. Then he brings out the yak and chicken meat, and they begin to eat.

They also begin a conversation, which is a daily habit for Hiccup and his father, to (hopefully) know each other more and bond.

"Daddy," Hiccup begins, "Snotlout threw a rock at me."

"Snotlout?" wonders Stoick, "that Viking whose family always win Thawfest? Yes, I know."

"An' I dun' lak Gubber axe fa me," Hiccup says, chicken meat stuffed in his mouth.

"Hiccup," Stoick says, "don't talk with food in your mouth. Swallow."

Hiccup does this, wipes the chicken crumbs and grease onto his sleeve (well, Hiccup still is a young boy), then says, "And I don't like Gobber's axe for me," Hiccup said.

"What? Really?" Every year, on his birthday, Stoick would request Gobber to make a child-sized weapon as a present. To start practising to become a young warrior of the Tribe. To start early. So far, he hasn't seen his son use any of them as weapons (Stoick noticed the baby-sized axe Hiccup had received as an infant be used as a paperweight). If Valka was still alive, she would've already killed Stoick for that.

"Can you get me another present that's not a big heavy axe for my birthday?" asks Hiccup. "Maybe like a stuffed toy, or-"

"Your mother made you a dragon toy before." Stoick remembers it quite clearly - a little stuffed toy of a dragon made by Hiccup's mother - Stoick's wife - for their son. Stoick remembered her being a great dragon supporter. That toy quite resembled a Deadly Nadder, Stoick had thought, but Hiccup seemed to hate it.

"I threw it out into the sea, remember?" said Hiccup. "When you took me out fishing with Mulch and Bucket." He shivered. "I don't like it. It's kinda scary. The sea can have it."

"Ah... yes." Stoick has no response to that.

The two finish their meals in silence, and Stoick washes the meal down with some beer. He doesn't dare drink too much, nor give Hiccup any. He's given Hiccup another drink, and Stoick expects him to finish it.

However, Hiccup simply swallows the last of his chicken, pushes the plate forward, then starts to excuse himself.

"Hiccup." Stoick says, in a gentle, but firm voice.

Hiccup looks at his father with pure and innocent eyes and an innocent face. Stoick's not falling for the bluff. "Yes, Daddy?"

"You didn't drink your milk."

Young Hiccup shakes his head, giving angry looks at the wooden cup. "I hate milk."

"Hiccup," Stoick says, "Drink your milk."

"But I hate milk!"

"Drink it!"

"No!"

"Drink it!"

"No!"

"Drink it!" Stoick says desperately, and after an afterthought, he adds, "Please."

"Milk is evil! It should die! I won't drink MILK!"

Then, out of nowhere, suddenly, Hiccup suddenly dashes off out of the hut, and into the village, shouting, "I WON'T DRINK MILK!"

"AGH!" groans Stoick. Odin's beard, that kid is stubborn. Just like his mother. And also a bit like him, though Stoick won't admit it. Stoick sighs, then sprints out of the house, calling, "HICCUP! DRINK YOUR MILK!"

He passes different Vikings, but he can't find his son. Wait, had he searched there before? He looks to a friend, someone who'll help him find him.

Gobber.

"GOBBER!" Stoick yells.

The village blacksmith abruptly stops his work, and the sound of metal hitting metal with a CLANG ceases to nothing. He looks at the chief with a toothy grin. "'Lo there, Stoick, if you're askin', I've just finished fixing yer axe-"

"Not now, Gobber!" Stoick pants. "I've got a child to find!"

"Hiccup?" Gobber's grin turns even wider. "That child?" He laughs a hearty guffaw. "Oh, he's just over here-" Gobber pulls away some leather cloths, revealing a very irritated scrawny five-year-old, frowning right at Gobber, who simply says, "Oh... oops."

"Gobber, he isn't supposed to find me!" Hiccup quickly jumps up, running away, yelling, "I'M NOT DRINKING MILK!"

Stoick goes after his son, leaving the smith's workshop, leaving Gobber alone again, muttering some words that Stoick can't hear: "My my, Hiccup's prettys stubborn, is he, the lad? Ha ha, wonder where he gets all that hot-headedness from..." Then he goes back working, singing, "Well, I've got my axe and I've got my mace and I love my wife with the ugly face..."

Hiccup is mad.

He's tired, yes, he's definitely exhausted, but his anger takes over his emotions.

His father is too fast for him. He easily caught him as soon as he sprinted off from the workshop.

He's not entirely mad at his father, but he's more mad at the fact that he was caught, and now he's forced to drink milk.

"Now, Hiccup," says his father sternly, "milk is good for you. It makes you strong."

"Then I'll get my other strong manly stuff from something else!" Five-year-old Hiccup makes a large raspberry at the wooden cup with its opaque, white liquid. "Milk is yucky! Milk is evil! I HATE MILK!"

He knocks down the cup with all his might, and in the momentary confusion, Hiccup gets up and runs away.

"HICCUP!"

Bonus:

"Dinner!"

Stoick's voice boomed as he held two bowls of stew, one for each of them, and Hiccup licked his lips, but scowled as Stoick placed a wooden cup next to his bowl.

"Daddy, I told you I don't drink milk - oh." He stopped his scowl immediately as he saw water in the cup, that transparent, colourless liquid, which, according to Hiccup, was a million times better than milk. "Alright, I won't drink milk, but I'll drink water instead."

He eats the soup, then grins, and eats the meat inside it, and drinks some more of the liquid. "Mmm! It's so good!"

Stoick smiles warmly. "I know, right?" He wipes his mouth. "But today, I put in a special ingredient."

"What?" Hiccup finishes the rest of the soup and its contents. "What is it? Is it a secret?"

Stoick smirks, Hiccup unaware of this. He goes in closer to Hiccup, and whispers one word:

"Milk."