"Good morning, Chief," Fishlegs says politely, Astrid behind him in the doorway. "Is Hiccup home?"

Stoick's face breaks into a huge grin. "The new mother is upstairs, yes."

Before Astrid or Fishlegs can parse what that meant, there's a loud squeak from the attic stairs. Hiccup comes clattering down with an armful of baby Night Fury. "Oh, Fishlegs, I'm so glad you're here! I was just coming over to your house to ask you. Do Night Fury hatchlings eat fish? I just suddenly realized, I've only ever known Toothless as an adult…" The dragon in question raises one eyebrow in a very adult manner, then his eyes narrow to half-shut, long-suffering slits, "and I don't want to make him sick by feeding him the wrong thing and…"

"Hiccup, you have read the Book of Dragons?" Astrid cuts in. "You know the Night Fury page is blank, right?"

"Besides, hatchlings all eat fish, except Boulder Class dragons, pretty much. Just standard fish, regurgitated by their parents."

"Oh no!" Hiccup plonks baby Toothless down onto the table and runs his hands through his hair. "I gave him fish yesterday without chewing it first!" He bends to Toothless, taking the soft little snout in his palms. "You okay, bud? Your stomach okay? Not upset or anything?"

Toothless stares at his rider with some pity, the tiny dragon clearly wondering why Hiccup seems to have lost his mind. Before any of the teens can say anything, he swings away from the table. "I should have barfed it up! But I can't… Can we find another dragon who can swallow the fish first and then barf it up? Will they even do that with a dragon who isn't their own? What if their saliva is poisonous to Night Furies? What if…"

There's a knock on the chief's door. "My fine hysterical friend! Greetings from—"

"AUGH!" Hiccup turns on Tuffnut, who has appeared in the hut's open doorway, Ruffnut crowding him in the doorframe. "Would the two of you please stay outside? It's not safe to have you here with a baby in the house!"

"Ohohohoho!" Stoick roars out his laughter, the booming of his guffaw so loud that it startles the teenagers. It seems to amuse the fledgling – Toothless is used to living with Stoick, after all – and he lets out a little dragon giggle before Hiccup awkwardly covers his ears.

"Dad! Hatchling ears are sensitive!"

Stoick is falling over the table with laughter now, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Who'd ever thought I'd see the day when one Nattfasa hatchling would give me more vengeance than an entire brood of grandchildren—no offense, lass!" he grins up at Astrid.

"None taken, Chief," she says, smiling herself.

"Vengeance?" Hiccup blinks mystified at his father, absently rubbing his best friend's head. "Are we talking about Dad, or Dagur?" He frowns. "If this is about not being a proper Viking again…"

"Oh, no. Every parent seeks vengeance on their child for the tantrums and sleepless nights, Hiccup. A very special kind of vengeance – you might call it payback." Stoick turns to him, tears of mirth still sparkling in his eyes. "Have ye never heard the old Viking curse, "May your children be just like you when you were little?" Stoick dissolves into laughter again. "'Tis the Parent's Curse and no mistake! And I get to see it with a Night Fury! The gods love me! I must make an offering to Odin!"

"Well, I'm sure all of you think this is just hilarious, but what do I do about feeding him?"

"Hiccup, he seems to be perfectly healthy on fish…"

"Yeah okay seems! Anything could go wrong! What if he gets too hot or too cold? What do I do when I have no idea how to raise a baby dragon—"

"You don't have to raise him! He's going to change back in two weeks!"

"I know that! But how will I know if he's unhappy? What if he gets sick? How do I know if he's hungry or if he needs anything—"

"My dear sister," Tuffnut says in an aside to Ruffnut, "we are on the verge of a full-blown Hiccup Freakout."

"Those are rare."

"Like fine wine."

"Hiccup, we've raised baby dragons before!" Fishlegs cuts in. "From egg! You've raised baby dragons from egg. A Deathsong! A Typhoomerang! Some of the most dangerous and wild—"

"But this is Toothless! And he's a Night Fury! We don't know anything about Night Furies!"

"What could go wrong in a week?!"

"What could go wrong? EVERYTHING!" Hiccup runs the hand not holding Toothless through his hair. "Look at him! He's so little and it's so dangerous out there and this is Toothless and what if I get it wrong and STOP LAUGHING LIKE THAT!"

By now the Vikings are roaring with mirth, guffawing so hard they're falling over. Toothless bats Hiccup across the face with his wing. "Oh, that's all I needed, you taking their side…" he manages to grumble before falling under the power of big blinking Hatchling Eyes. "Aw, buddy. I'm sorry I upset you."

Toothless hits him in the face again, with his tail this time. You didn't upset me! Stop worrying! I'm FINE!

"Okay, bud… if you say so..." He picks Toothless up and makes to go outside. "You guys go ahead on your dragons. Meet you at the Academy?"

"We can give you a ride on Stormfly."

"Or Meatlug."

"Nah, it's okay. I'd want to hold Toothless with both hands and—" Hiccup looks down into narrowed, accusing dragon eyes. "Don't you start! We're walking, okay? I'll carry you."

Astrid and Fishlegs make themselves scarce as Stoick glares at Hiccup. "Son! Are you ever going to put that dragon down?"

"Ah, Dad, not again!"

"He can walk on his own, you know."

Hiccup throws Stoick an exasperated look. "Of course he can walk on his own!"

"Then why aren't you lettin' him?"

Hiccup hitches the baby Night Fury up in his arms and tucks his head securely under his chin. The hatchling blinks round at the Chief's house with wide-eyed fascination. His eyes fix on the fire, and he wriggles a bit, trying to hop off and investigate it, but Hiccup doesn't let him down. "I'll let him loose outside on the grass. The house isn't safe, and there's too many loose stones in the center of the village. His paws are still soft, he might hurt himself."

"Will you listen to yerself."

"Dad, what exactly is the problem here?"

"You're coddlin' him! You can't carry him around all the time!"

"C'mon, dad, he's a dragon, not a Viking! Toughen-em-up rules don't apply here."

"I'm not talkin' about that! Look at him! He wants to run and play! He's just a child!"

"The term is hatchling, actually."

"Don't change the subject!" Stoick glares at the squirming little Night Fury in Hiccup's arms. "You're smotherin' him!"

Hiccup draws himself up to his full height, which usually means he can see the top of his father's belt buckle instead of the bottom. It's a good thing his father is sitting down. "That's ridiculous!" Toothless squawks, flapping his baby wings. "And don't you start."

"When was the last time you put him down?"

"Ah…" Hiccup's brought up short. "Uh, it was… Well…" He has to think. "I put him down at breakfast, didn't I?"

"On the table," Stoick says pointedly. "And you watched him like a hawk the whole time he was eatin'. Afraid he'd choke on the fishbones!"

"Hey, don't underestimate fishbones. We're more dangerous than we look."

"Hiccup! Who ever saw a Night Fury choke? He's not a human baby, you know!"

"I know that." Hiccup rubs the back of his neck. "But it's different for him now, until he changes back to—"

Toothless hops out of his arms and goes scampering out the open door to their hut. "Oh, great. Now look what you did!" snaps the self-appointed nursemaid at Stoick, and jogs out calling "Toothless!" at the top of his voice.

Stoick slumps at the table, head in his hands. If Hiccup treats his kids the way he treats his dragon, he'd better hope the Hofferson girl has a more Viking-like childrearing style, else his grandchildren really will be bread-making Vikings. Maybe – he shudders – even needlepoint Vikings. Sugar-cake Vikings.

His stomach rumbles. "Down, boy," he admonishes it. It's been a while since he had a sugar cake. Idly, he wonders if Thornado would like the taste of sugar cakes.

Then he realizes what he's just thought. His head slips out of his hands to land with a thunk on the table. "Don't know why I expected any different," he mutters, voice muffled in his beard. "That beast was always just as overprotective of Hiccup when he was bigger than him."

Hiccup jogs after Toothless. Fortunately, the little dragon's legs bear no relation to the powerful, muscled panther-limbs on his adult friend, else he'd never catch up. His friend is just harmlessly tumbling end over end on the side of a hill, squeaking happily.

Hiccup bares his teeth in a grin. Then he sprints towards his best friend, yelling a Viking war cry. "Dragon raid!" Hiccup bellows. "ATTACK!" Toothless rears up on stubby hind legs in delight, spreading his fledgling wings and letting out a baby roar.

Hiccup pounces on his friend, careful not to land with his full weight. "And the battle commences! Who will be the victor? On one hand, the mighty fire-breathing reptile! On the other, the representative of raw, uncontrollable Vikingness!"

Toothless snorts. "Ah, shut up. You want a piece of me? Come and get it!"

As they tumble over and over down the hillside, now Hiccup-side-up, now Toothless-side-up, it strikes Hiccup just how used he is to play-fighting with adult Toothless, never having to worry about hurting him. But with his friend temporarily so small and fragile, Hiccup has to be careful with his strength. Hiccup has never had to be careful of his strength – has never had any strength to be careful with – before.

For the first time, he realizes the advantage he had over his adult best friend in play-fights: when you're so much stronger that you could do your friend a serious injury by playing too rough, you tend to overcompensate, so he ends up winning. Just as the little terror, pun absolutely intended thank you very much, has now pinned Hiccup to the ground, snorting in the arrogant way that sometimes – not all the time, thank the gods – possesses the Night Fury.

"King of the beasts, huh," Hiccup grouses. He side-eyes Toothless, who's squatting on his chest, head held high, nose in the air. His neck is tiny compared to his adult self, barely enough to hold up his big round head. Hiccup has to smile at his friend's puffed-up conceit, but when Toothless narrows his eyes and looks down at him in superiority, that's the last straw. "Okay, you asked for it," Hiccup mock-snarls, reaching up and plucking the little dragon off his chest, eliciting a squawk. "Good speed there, bud, but you're no match for a GIANT VIKING!"

He is a giant as he flips Toothless the way Toothless has often flipped him, rolling his small friend over onto his back and pinning him. He's careful not to slam him into the grass, but he can't help being rough as he shakes the dragon a bit. Toothless squeals and Hiccup immediately eases up. "Do you surrender?" Toothless lets out a tiny roar. "Ah, battle to the finish! To the bitter end!" Hiccup sprawls, carefully letting himself squash Toothless in the crook of his arm and shoulder. "And the Viking wins! I have brought down this mighty beast—"

The words choke him. He flips onto his back, heartsick, his breakfast burning like bile in the back of his throat. Tears burn his eyelids.

"Crr?" A small weight lands on Hiccup's chest. Toothless' smooth baby snout nuzzles Hiccup's face worriedly as his friend croons and purrs at him.

"Yeah, sorry, bud. Just… remembered some stuff there for a minute."

Toothless rolls his eyes. Honest-to-Thor rolls his eyes. Then he smacks Hiccup in the face with his tiny wing. Hiccup knows Toothless is still his all-grown-up friend in that little Terror-sized body, but it's hard to believe it sometimes – until he does something like this. Still, the memory – the knowledge of what he almost did, what he was about to do, how he maimed his best friend for life – has its talons in him, not letting go.

Until Toothless noses aside the bottom of Hiccup's green tunic – and burrows underneath it.

"What—Hey!" Hiccup starts laughing as the little dragon flaps around under his clothes, tickling and scratching with itty-bitty Night Fury claws, licking his tummy with his textured tongue. "No—wha—hey—TOOTHLESS!" He shrieks with laughter, grabbing at his tiny friend through the fabric of his tunic, tickling at his ribs under his wings and floundering around, sadness forgotten.

The Thorston twins sail by on Barf and Belch. "Is Hiccup pregnant?" asks Ruffnut Thorston.

"Looks like the baby's kicking," remarks Tuffnut Thorston.

"Maybe he's pregnant with Hel-spawn," grins Ruffnut Thorston.

"Awesome! Do you think he'll let us play with it?"

Their dragon takes them far away.