A/N: So I've been shipping platonic stuff a lot recently, and this is no exception. It'll be a two-shot, just because one chapter of dorkiness wasn't enough for me.

Snotlout barely made it through the armoury door before the heavy hammer flew from his grip and collided with the extensive assortment of weapons piled against the high walls. He hadn't intended to throw it, but there it went, burying itself in the depths of Norse pride and joy and catalysing an ear-splitting avalanche of metal and wood. He jumped back and swore loudly as broadswords and maces spilled forward, and jumped and swore some more at the unmistakably human yell that came from within the downpour. A small, skinny boy clad in green and brown emerged seconds later, ducking and dodging with his arms over his head. He hurtled forward and knocked the wind right out of Snotlout, who staggered back with a surprised "Oof!" but managed to stay on his feet.

The last of several cascading daggers rattled to a stop. Hiccup picked himself up off the dusty floor and immediately expressed his outrage with an incredulous "Are you trying to kill me, Snotlout?"

"I – uh – didn't think anyone was here." It wasn't often that Snotlout found himself in a position of defensive spluttering, or so he liked to believe. He usually considered himself to be the one making other people splutter and enjoying the sight to the full. This turning of the tables did not please him.

Hiccup was eyeing him with an odd mixture of defiance and . . . what was it, exactly? The way his shoulders were caved in just slightly, the way his head was bent and he was looking up at Snotlout with his eyes half-shadowed . . . it was almost like he expected to be ridiculed and shamed and had already resigned himself to the idea.

It wasn't as though Snotlout could deny he had justification for it. Even now, a small part of him felt tempted to tell Hiccup he was so scrawny that no one could see him even if he hadn't been hidden amongst piles of weapons. A pretty clever jab, wasn't it?

He didn't administer it. Both of them stood there awkwardly, determined to have their entire attention consumed by every nearby object except each other. After a while Snotlout snuck a glance at the other boy, only to be met with Hiccup's gaze flicking towards him. In that quick moment he saw a glimmer of wry confusion shoot in his direction.

"So what are you doing, anyway?" he said, careful to sound like he couldn't care less.

The impression seemed to work on Hiccup, who looked less than flattered to be spoken to this way. "My dad's been complaining about the amount of broken or damaged things in here." He shrugged. "Thought I'd take some back to the forge and get them repaired before he snaps and burns the village to the ground."

"Right." Something squirmy and niggling that Snotlout couldn't quite place had begun to twist its way from inside him. "Your dad."

He muttered the last part somewhat involuntarily, and Hiccup frowned. "What about him?"

The problem was that Snotlout didn't know the answer to that himself. He had tramped in here in a highly irritated state, as he often did on nights like this, but conversing with Hiccup right now bothered him in a way he couldn't fathom. "Nothing much. He probably boasts about you to anyone who listens."

He saw the surprise in Hiccup's face, surprise that quickly narrowed into suspicion. "Uh . . . me? Why would he do that?"

Why? He was asking why? Snotlout laughed, uncertain of the game he was playing. It wasn't a particularly entertaining one. "Because you kind of saved Berk? You brought down a fat, ugly cannibal dragon with what looked like a nasty skin condition, remember?"

Hiccup laughed too then. "Okay, well, maybe I did. But I'm nothing without dragons, without Toothless. You know that."

"I don't know that. Toothless didn't just magically appear, demand to get along with you and stop a war. That was all you."

"But that doesn't mean my dad –"

"You're still saying that?" A sharp pain twanged in his arm as he made a sweeping gesture, and he retracted it hastily, hoping Hiccup wouldn't notice.

No such luck. Something like pity stirred in his expression, which induced in Snotlout a strong desire to slug him all the way to Asgard, where the gods could fawn over him all they liked, as long as Snotlout didn't have to witness it. He looked away, wishing Hiccup wasn't so smart and quick to understand, wishing those shrewd green eyes would stop being trained on him, seeing straight through him, judging him – seeing even those parts of him he took pains to bury under a flimsy layer of arrogance and disrespect.

But he supposed it wasn't because Hiccup was smart. He was, but oh mighty Ragnarök, he could be so clueless at times.

No, it was because he truly did understand. He had spent his whole life feeling the way Snotlout did now. He had accepted that reality for so long, had grown so accustomed to it that his newfound hero status intimidated him. At mealtimes, at dragon training, on strolls through the village, Snotlout still caught him making excuses to people who stopped to talk to him and slipping away, preferring his own company.

When all was said and done, maybe they weren't so unalike after all.

"Snotlout," Hiccup began, and then stopped, chewing his lip. "All right, I'm going to sound like an obnoxious brat, but I didn't ask for any of it to happen." Snotlout wondered why he even cared about sounding obnoxious, considering who he was talking to. "I just shot a Night Fury out of the sky through pure luck and everything kind of snowballed. It's not like I wanted to promote peace or defend the dragons or almost get burnt to a crisp in a firestorm. It's not like I wanted to go against what my father believed in –"

"But you did."

"Yeah, well –" Hiccup broke off and looked at Snotlout curiously. "You know, I've never really thought about it, but . . . you listen to your father, don't you?"

Every muscle in Snotlout's body was beginning to ache, and the question did nothing but rub salt in the wound. He was aware of being covered in dirt and sweat, of having leaves and twigs stuck in his hair. He set his jaw and stared at the floor for a minute. "Fine, I listen to him," he said at last. "What's your point? That I'm too dumb to do otherwise? Maybe I am. Maybe I don't know better, and that's why I'm forever trying to meet his impossible expectations and always falling short." His brain was reeling at the words tumbling from his mouth. Why was he saying all this? But if Hiccup had trusted him enough to confide in him, perhaps the least he could do was be honest in return. "I'm not you, okay? I don't have insane ideas to test behind his back. I've been brought up a Viking warrior and that's all I'll ever be. I'm not even good at it, not like Astrid, hitting the mark with her axe every time from fifty yards away." He took a deep breath and pushed it out again through his teeth. "There. Happy?"

Happy couldn't accurately describe Hiccup at this moment. If anything, mixed with wide-eyed amazement was an implacable obstinacy that animated his face, that made you forget how small he was, how gentle and modest. He said nothing for some time, opting to fix his gaze on a spot just beside Snotlout, obviously thinking hard. The stubborn glow in his eyes flared brighter with each passing second. Finally he said, "Do you think I wasn't like that? Because I was. I still am, really. I haven't stopped driving my dad up the wall and wishing I was more competent at being, you know, the offspring of Vikings."

Snotlout shuffled a bit where he stood, scuffing his boots in the dirt. "Really?"

"Really." He smiled, and Snotlout was reminded of why he had been the one to bring humans and dragons together, this boy with next to no assets on the battlefield but so much kindness in his heart, which had turned out to be the greatest asset of all. "And in a lot of ways you're better at it than I am. I'd break all the bones I have before I could knock someone out."

"Toothless would do it for you in half a second," said Snotlout, and Hiccup's face lit up with surprised gratitude.

The sky was pitch black outside, and the flames burning in the torches danced serenely. Snotlout half-turned toward the door, the draught cool against his flushed skin, and paused.

"You're not going to – uh – tell anyone, are you?" he asked a little reluctantly. "About what I said. It wasn't –" It wasn't true anyway, he'd wanted to say, but that would be an outright lie, and Hiccup knew it. "I mean – okay, maybe I shouldn't have said anything in the first place, but since I did – well – never mind."

Hiccup's eyes sparked with amusement as he grappled with his thoughts. Not in a way that suggested condescension, but it was still difficult to shake the feeling of being laughed at.

"I won't tell anyone," Hiccup assured him. "I swear. To the gods."

"All of them?" said Snotlout doubtfully.

"All of them."

Snotlout contemplated this for a moment, and then marched up to him and gave him a nice whack over the head for good measure. "Sorry I almost killed you."

"Well, after losing a leg, nothing really fazes you anymore," said Hiccup with a long-suffering air. He rubbed his head resentfully. "You sure have a strange way of apologising to people."

Snotlout flashed a broad grin at him and strode out the door. Just before he turned away, he caught Hiccup watching him with a look that plainly said, I guess the old Snotlout's back.