Chapter two-ooooo-oooooo.

Largely Hiccup-centric, but there's some Hiccstrid tossed in.

(please remember this is a rebelcup story before you take issue with how this chapter went wrt Stoick)

-HTTYD-

Being the Mayor's son sucked. Hiccup had begun rebelling when he was a child, running out on etiquette lessons and hiding magazines full of motorcycles in his books on politics, so it would look like he was reading important things while really, he was admiring the sleek machines on two wheels. When his dad tried to give him the ultimatum that Hiccup needed to either be something intellectual and high-ranking, like a doctor, or follow in the political footsteps, his mother shielded him with the point that Hiccup was just a boy, and needed time to become himself before he could choose which way he would go.

Hiccup secreted bits of engines and machines into his room, tinkered with them or spent time doodling, designing, picturing even as a child all the ways he could incorporate the art into him, onto his skin. Even then, Hiccup had never really understood why it was important to be 'socially acceptable'.

Losing his mother had only driven he and his father further apart, despite really being all the other had left. It was all very sudden; his mother had been perfectly fine, if a little tired. Then like a lightning bolt, she'd been struck down fast and fierce by sickness. Hiccup had only been fourteen when she died, thin and gangly as he waited for puberty to catch up with him, with her thin hand curled around his while he stood at her bedside. She kept insisting he not be sad, that it wasn't what she wanted for him.

"Promise me. Promise you'll do what makes you happy."

"I promise."

After that, Hiccup and his dad just sort of... existed around each other. However, without his mother there to shield Hiccup from his fathers expectations, he found himself pushed more and more into learning the ropes of the family business, only dodging politics now and then by lying and saying he needed time to study if he was going to be a doctor.

Watching all those people fiddling with the beeping machines, shuffling awkwardly as they worked out how to break the bad news that Valka was dying... that had killed any chance of Hiccup ever becoming a doctor. But it meant his father left him alone to 'study'. He carried on tinkering, drawing, stealing out when his father was busy to visit motorcycle shows, junk yards, art galleries.

All things his dad never really supported.

Things really began to come to a head when Hiccup was eighteen. His mother had took him to get his first ear piercing when he was thirteen, and his dad still didn't know about any of the others, hidden as they were by the thick thatch of hair Hiccup had. But Hiccup's first undertaking as a legal adult was the tattoo across his chest. A soaring owl, dusky blue and dawn orange colours, all wise and strong and free. It was in memory of his mother, and only that reasoning got Stoick to leave Hiccup alone about it.

The next tattoo got him in a little more trouble - it was fairly small, a little green dragon he'd drawn himself on his upper arm, but it was visible in t-shirt sleeves. The more his father pushed, the more Hiccup wanted to rebel. He got his other ear pierced, began using stretchers to increase the size of the holes there. Spent more and more time out of the house, growing more and more resentful as his dad shoved him in a tux and dragged him around this party or that, where Hiccup plastered on a smile, distracted himself from the discomfort by thinking of the next tattoo he could get done.

Sure, Hiccup would have liked to get on better with his dad. But not at the expense of himself. He would never be the compliant, 'normal' son. Hiccup had no desire to fit in, to blend in at those parties amongst fifty other people in a suit, all talking boring nonsense that went in one ear and out the other.

Hiccup began to grow his hair longer, enjoying the way it became more and more thick, messy and untameable as it grew. His next tattoos went on his legs, images designed to look as though skin was torn away, revealing dragon scales underneath. As a compromise with his dad, Hiccup attended the events he was supposed to, but his dad didn't complain Hiccup spent time at the garage his friend worked at. The smell of oil and metal and rubber, the sound of metal on metal and the satisfying feeling of fixing a bike or car...

It beat any black tie event by far.

For his nineteenth birthday, Hiccup got his biggest tattoo by far. It took several sittings, countless hours, and it hurt like Hel. But when Hiccup stood with his back to the mirror, twisting to look at the huge black dragon that covered him... it was all worth it. Wings spread to curve around his sides, tail curling up around his neck to peek out of shirt collars. The head of the dragon came out on one cheek of his ass, which amused Hiccup no end. The prowling beast symbolised a lot to Hiccup - hidden, but dark and mysterious, nothing like anybody else.

Exactly what Hiccup felt like when he was at yet another function.

His dad didn't find out about the dragon until it was finished - the tail was the last part completed, and he and Hiccup didn't see a whole lot of each other by then. The family home was too big, empty and cold without his mothers energy to infuse it with warmth and happiness.

He wasn't happy.

"What the Hel!? How on earth are ye meant to be presentable like that?"

Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"I'll cover it with makeup."

As though ensuring that definitely happened, his dad got one of the professional hair-and-makeup people from his office staff to come over and teach Hiccup how to ensure it was perfectly masked. Stoick would come to regret that choice.

With that skill taught, Hiccup continued to alter his body. He got an old-school Viking shield on his other arm, in memory of his grandfather. On something of a whim - and maybe a drunken dare from his best friend, Hiccup got a dragon bite on the other cheek of his backside, to match the dragons head already there. His father hugely regretted entering Hiccup's room without knocking, finding his son laid on his stomach, jeans and underwear pulled down to let the healing tattoo get some air.

"What is that?"

"That, daddy dearest, is a dragon bite."

His dad opened and closed his mouth several times, then walked out again with no further words. Hiccup laughed to himself, picked up his pencil and carried on doodling motorcycle designs.

Next on his list came a... personal piercing. Hiccup didn't tell his dad about that one. When was that going to come up in conversation? Each addition Hiccup made to his body made him a little more comfortable, starting to feel like he finally belonged to himself. Every thing made him a little more at home in his own skin.

The next bust up with his dad came along with Hiccup opting to get his lip pierced. After that, his tongue. They made funny noises when his tongue stud clinked against his lip ring. He definitely didn't get one caught on the other... more than once. Honest. Hiccup was taught how to cover the hole left by removing the ring for his father's bloody events, and that fight died down.

Tattoos next made their way onto his hands, the biomechanical design covering half his forearms too. As soon as they healed, he wore makeup over them whenever he was home with his dad, cleaning it off when he went to the garage to breathe free, to be himself again. Every time he left, it became harder to put that mask on, the facade of normality.

For his twentieth birthday? Hiccup got his face tattooed. It was small, a little dragon slumping over one eyebrow. It was adorable, and Hiccup lost countless hours just raising his eyebrow to watch the little dragon move.

He also got his motorcycle license at last. He didn't own a bike yet, but Hiccup was certified to ride it when he did.

Things with his dad were more strained than ever. Hiccup sighed into the mirror, suit already strapped into place as he dabbed makeup on to his eyebrow-dragon. Without his lip ring, his tattoo... Hiccup didn't recognise himself. It wasn't him. It was the sanitised version, the acceptable one. Checking the coverup on his hands was still in place, Hiccup tilted his neck, checked that was covered too. Looking longingly at the metal ring on his bathroom sink side, Hiccup adjusted his tie. His mothers eyes looked back at him in the mirror.

What was he doing? Was this what Valka had envisioned when she begged Hiccup to be happy six years ago?

He was miserable. Only felt free when he was around people who didn't care he'd put art on his skin and metal through his flesh. When talking about motorcycles or archery didn't get him looked at like a delinquent. When he wasn't judged solely by his fathers merit. Hiccup felt like a stranger to himself.

Forcing himself down the stairs, his legs felt like lead. Every step toward the hubbub of people talking politics, toward dozens of people who measured a persons value by their conformity to 'the plan' - education, marriage, money, children - and by peoples last name... Hiccup wanted to cry. His feet landed at the bottom of the stairs, people walking past without even noticing him there. Why would they? He was just another blank face in a black suit.

He caught sight of his father. The look in the mans face said it all.

This was pointless. He would never be who Stoick wanted him to be.

Hiccup went back upstairs. He tossed the suit aside, scrubbed the makeup from his face, his hands, his neck. He replaced the metal in his lip. Opening his wardrobe, Hiccup pushed aside the 'presentable' clothes and grabbed his favourite jeans, t-shirt and jacket. Dressing, Hiccup moved around his room, throwing clothes and other essentials into a duffel bag.

Then he grabbed his backpack, loading that with more fragile things, more important things. Like photos, or things they'd made together when he was younger. Like the saving book his mother left him. Hiccup didn't want to have to come back. If he was going, he was gone.

For a touch of the dramatic (he blamed his mother entirely for that too, her flair unmistakable) Hiccup added eyeliner, ruffled his hair, looked back at that trouble-makers face in the mirror.

And finally saw himself again.

Shrugging on his backpack, Hiccup glanced around, bade farewell to the place that hadn't felt like home in the six years since his mom died. Then he grabbed the duffel, unhooked his dad's house key from his key chain, then headed back down the stairs.

Now they noticed him. Whispers and murmurs and and shocked gasps, silence spreading from the epicenter that was Hiccup in leather. Finally, his father stomped over, looking Hiccup up and down. He'd never seen the full ensemble before; Hiccup kept it toned down so his dad wouldn't push him harder.

"What are you doing son?"

Hiccup held up the key, tossed it to his dad.

"I'm out. This isn't me. And this isn't what mom wanted for me,"

He walked out. Every step felt like flying, like freedom, like a sickening weight lifted from his shoulders. Hiccup put his stuff in his car - his mothers old set of wheels, comfortable and familiar - and started it up. Easing the old faithful out of the sea of huge, expensive, ostentatious status symbols, the open road beckoned. Hiccup steered it along the familiar route, pulling up outside his friends house.

"Eret!"

Tattooed face appearing at the window, Eret ambled outside in a pair of shorts, clutching a beer and rubbing his messy hair.

"Hey Hiccup! What's up?"

"That offer of your spare room still open?"

"Always buddy. Come on in."

Eret was his sanctuary, his best friend. Had known how desperately unhappy Hiccup was, always let him seek refuge in the garage his cousin Ug owned, and said if Hiccup ever wanted to bail, Eret's spare room was his.

For the first time in six years, Hiccup was free. He stopped covering his tattoos, stopped taking out his piercings. Began training properly as a mechanic under Eret, using some of the money his mother stashed away for him growing up for exactly what it was meant for - following his dreams. Hiccup took engineering classes, learnt to build engines from scratch. His artistic talent helped him massively; another thing to thank Valka for, her artist streak running through him.

He didn't hate Stoick. If anything, he loved his dad. He just didn't like him. Didn't want to be nothing more than a measure of success for his father. So Hiccup got a new tattoo; a miniature version of their old family crest on his face. It was important enough to display proudly.

Ironically, he rather faded from the public eye after his open vanishing act.

Hiccup was happy that way. He wasn't the Mayor's son out there in the garage, practicing on old write-off wrecks how to build a bike from the scrapheap upward. He hung out with Eret and the rest of his Sami family, people who valued community and respect and heart. It was the happiest he'd been since his mother got sick. Repairing motorcycles to earn his keep there was exactly what he wanted to do.

Learning to build them, customising them... it was his dream.

Hiccup built his own bike from the ground up. Every penny he spent went into building his own set up, training, setting up premises next to Eret's family garage. He built his reputation alongside bikes, became known for doing custom jobs. People brought him specifications, paid him to bring their ideas to life. He worked his ass off to get where he was in only a couple of years.

So when those rich kids at Astrid's college walked past, avoiding him, muttering about him, Hiccup let it simply glide over him and wash away. They had no idea how much he'd gone through just to get there, leant against his beautiful bike, waiting for his girlfriend. As he waited for the tell-tale flash of golden blonde hair, Hiccup mused on how they'd met.

He'd been riding back late one night, having recently finished the mammoth project that was building and shaping and balancing the damned demon wheels beneath him. It had been hard, but when he straddled the dragon and took off? So, so worth it. Naturally, Hiccup's first response was to take it out as far as the fuel tank would take him, refuel and head home.

Flying down a deserted road, Hiccup saw someone pulled over at the side of the road. Being a mechanic, with tools on hand - a maiden voyage, it would be stupid not to have his kit with him - he was going to offer to help. They were over ninety minutes from anywhere civilised. If they were out of petrol, he could give them a ride to get some, or even go himself.

The woman in the car let him know, in no uncertain terms, that Hiccup could get lost. She'd called the roadside rescue.

Hiccup didn't blame her - he was in his riding leathers, face and hands covered in ink, messy hair, massive bike. He probably looked intimidating out there in the middle of nowhere, and she was alone. Though, judging by her sailor-esque language despite that fancy car? Hiccup doubted she needed anyone taking care of her.

"Look. Stay in your car. But I am not leaving someone out here alone in the middle of nowhere. I'll stay here on my bike until your road service get here."

As they sat there in silence, Hiccup couldn't help but notice how very very pretty she was. She had a torch in her car - smart - and was using it to light the inside of the vehicle. It highlighted big blue eyes, fixed with suspicion on him. Soft pink lips, attractive even as they frowned. Her hair was a shade of liquid gold Hiccup had never seen before, tied in an elegant braid slung over her left shoulder, the same side as her fringe framing her face.

Hiccup mimed for her to roll down the window a touch, just enough that they could hear each other again.

"What's your name?"

"Bite me."

"Well hi biteme. I thought my parents pulled a cruel prank with my name. I'm Hiccup."

The blonde blinked.

"Seriously?"

"I can show you ID if you like. I am Hiccup Haddock the third."

Hiccup wasn't sure how his dad had ever expected him to be taken seriously politically with a name like Hiccup, but, well, he wasn't the first Hiccup.

"Astrid. My name is Astrid."

"Hey Astrid. You hungry? Or do you keep snacks next to that torch?"

Astrid was still looking at him suspiciously, but less so than before.

"Whaddya got?"

Smiling, Hiccup opened up his side compartment - in the wing on the side no heat vented off near. Every detail was crafted by him perfectly, after all. It was sized to fit a spare helmet, but it also held a backpack easily enough.

"Water, diet coke, and a bar of... salted caramel chocolate? Come on Eret, you fancy bastard."

He'd grabbed snacks from the fridge on his way out, stopped for a proper meal a few hours ago. Astrid was definitely interested.

"I'll take the chocolate and water."

"You'll have to roll down a little more."

Astrid did; he handed her the chocolate and water, then backed away. Finally, she smiled.

Hiccup was pretty sure he fell in love there and then.

"My favourite."

"You're in luck. I stole it from my roommate."

At last, he seemed to have broken the ice. Astrid still wouldn't let him fix her car, even though he probably could have had her back on the road in ten minutes. She chewed her spoils, took a drink of water and then beckoned him over. He got half his chocolate back.

"I thought it was your favourite."

"It is. But I don't want to feel sick."

Hiccup took a bite, unsure what was so special about salted caramel over caramel. Still, the chocolate was nice. He unzipped his leather jacket, slung it over his dragons tail. Astrid looked at him again, blinking.

Then she got out of the car.

"I didn't expect you to be so skinny under those leathers."

Hiccup looked down, forgetting that the sturdy rider gear bulked him out. She could see the tattoos on his hands and arms more clearly too, bringing the torch out with her.

"Oh. Yeah. Are you cold?"

He held out his jacket, watched her shrug it on half-reluctantly, then lean against the hood of her car. She was slender, but he could see the definition of muscles in her forearms before the jacket covered them.

"Where were you heading?"

"Home. You?"

"Same here. Taking my dragon for its maiden flight."

Astrid cocked her head, examining the shape properly.

"You just bought it?"

"I built it. The whole thing."

"Wow. I hate to admit it, but I'm impressed."

"Thanks."

Her brow furrowed, rubbing her chin.

"Haddock... isn't the city mayor a Haddock?"

"He's my father. I'm the family embarrassment."

Hiccup spread his hands, displaying his tattooed skin with a smile.

"Hey, you stopped to help a stranger in need... I think. That's no embarrassment."

She still wouldn't let him fix her car. But Astrid engaged him in conversation, on everything from engines and bikes to books, films and politics. Not that either of them lingered on politics, but Hiccup knew someone who fact checked rather than swallowed fake news when he saw it, after years of hearing both sides at parties.

They talked the whole time. The whole two hours until the road service turned up. As Hiccup expected, they spent ten minutes doing exactly what he would have done, and Astrid's car purred back to life again. Then it was just the two of them again. Astrid handed over his jacket. And her phone number.

"Thanks for staying with me."

"Any time."

Hiccup smiled to himself at the memories, the angel in his thoughts appearing before his very eyes.

"Afternoon milady."

"Hey there troublemaker."

Gods, he loved this girl. She tossed him a wink, a smile, then her hands were around his neck as they kissed. Astrid saw through the rough outside, she saw through who his father was. He saw through the rich girl exterior, the golden girl who performed for her parents. And they liked what they saw. They separated, that same smile Hiccup was captured by six months back when they first met on that dark road stretching across her face.

Hiccup heard them whispering. Muttering. And even those in silence were probably thinking the same things that were being said.

That he wasn't good enough for her.

That he'd ruin her life, drag down her reputation.

What sort of dates did they have? Was he just using her for sex? Were they doing drugs in dodgy bars?

Watching her helmet up, Hiccup smiled to himself as he put on his own helmet and pondered. They had gone to a bar or two. Astrid's idea. She wanted to rebel a little, just for a night or two. Hel, Hiccup had gotten plenty out of it - his girlfriend made one damn sexy vampire. Feeling her arms slide around his waist, gripping tight as the bike moved, Hiccup pictured their plans; Astrid was all his for a week. Eret was off to meet his girlfriends parents. Their place was empty, and she was off college for summer. Plus, they had a date somewhere nobody would expect.

"Hold on tight."

-HTTYD-

I started this intending to write the intro... four hours ago. Here's a complete chapter!

(story of my life hahaha)