During the festivities of the ending of Thawfest, Hiccup was about to slip away when Snotlout caught up to him, holding a mug of mead.

"Here," he said, handing the cup to Hiccup, who instantly set it down: Hiccup had learned last year on a completely innocent dare that he and alcohol did not mix.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Snotlout's boasting to start up once again. "Well? What do you want?"

"I kind of wanted to talk to you," Snotlout told him, and they edged outside, away from the partying and the lights and the drinks.

Hiccup, grateful to be away from the chatter and the heat, turned to him. "Well? What have you got to say?"

Snotlout thought for a second, brow furrowed. "Thank you."

"Wha…huh?"

"Thank you…for throwing the race."

Hiccup gave a convincingly confused look. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said finally, turning back to the Great Hall, and going nearer. "I didn't throw the race. You saw how crazy I was to win…I-I wouldn't have thrown that race for anything." And here Hiccup dropped his eyes to his single boot and prosthetic, for he heard the ring of truth in his words and knew that just a few days ago, he would have been speaking the truth.

"True," Snotlout mused. "But I know you did."

Hiccup started getting frustrated; why did Snotlout have to choose now to get a load of brain cells? "Snotlout— He began, determined to angrily chastise him, but Snotlout interrupted.

"You and Toothless were faster, and I know it," he said quietly. "But thank you anyway, Hiccup. I know I was a jerk."

Hiccup gave a defeated sort of shrug. "I didn't want you to have go through what I did every year."

Then he added, "Don't tell anyone."

"Why not?" There was true confusion in Snotlout's eyes and voice. Of course he wasn't going to breathe a word of this conversation to anyone, except perhaps Astrid, who he suspected knew of it.

"Because," Hiccup said, "far easier, and better for them, to assume I am a loser. And that no matter how much I wanted to, I simply could not best you. It's easier to deal with than people knowing I threw the race."

"But don't you want people to know? That you could've? Even if…even if you didn't?"

Hiccup shook his head. "I don't like the idea."

They lapsed into silence.

"OK," Snotlout agreed. "I won't tell anyone."

Hiccup breathed a little sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Snotlout started forward, then he turned and said, "What do you mean, you didn't want me to go through what you did every year?"

Hiccup shrugged. "My father was disappointed in me, always. He never expected much of me after the first few years, but now he does. He probably wanted to go home with the gold but— Hiccup gave a bitter smile here "—it never works out that way with me for a son, huh?"

"But you did prove to the village—

"That I'm good with dragons. That doesn't make me some sort of godlike athlete. They still expected me to fail. However, your failure was not expected. Your father wanted YOU to win and you never would have heard the end of it. My dad wanted me to win, too…but there wasn't so much expectation or pressure sitting on my shoulders."

He gave a shrug and turned away and there was silence.

"Thanks," Snotlout said quietly.

Then, eager to change the subject, he added, "You're not so bad…for a pipsqueak."

Hiccup rolled his eyes. "Heartwarming. And you're not so bad for a guy with an I.Q. that's not even in double digits."

Snotlout scowled and Hiccup laughed, and they walked back into the Great Hall, their rivalry fully revived, but the actual hatred in it gone as they were swept into the tide of their village's congratulations of Snotlout and Astrid came over to Hiccup, squeezed his hand and smiled.

Hiccup smiled back.