Someday, when Hiccup comes of age, he's going to sit those two down with a barrel of ale and lock them in a room together until he starts hearing drunken singing. The thought comes to him slowly over years spent teaching his best friend's son to be a blacksmith and listening to said best friend complain about the boy's flightiness. It was kind of funny the first twelve times, but he's starting to get a little uncomfortable with how often they echo each other, despite never sharing more than a sentence or two a day.
"He never listens!" That could be terribly true. He's seen it before. Father and son will each say something but it's like their having two different conversations. That's not so bad in and of itself, but, Gobber reminds himself, when it gets to the point that it happens every time he sees them speak together, then it's a little creepy.
"He just doesn't understand!" Frankly, Gobber doesn't understand either, half the time. When it comes from Hiccup, well, some things make grown men uncomfortable. When it comes from Stoick, well, sometimes it's just better not to say anything at all.
The one he absolutely draws a line at though is this one.
"We're Vikings, it's an occupational hazard." It takes five minutes of watching his apprentice dodge huge fiery blasts of super-heated death before that one lodges itself in his brain and he remembers why it sounds familiar. He immediately shoots an accusing look at his friend, who's not even paying attention by the way, and then inarticulately groans.
"Every bit the bullheaded, stubborn Viking you ever were." He decides once and for all.