"You stupid, stubborn, ridiculous, insane, stupid, reckless, stupid..."

"I get it," he mutters, hoarsely. "I'm stupid."

"Don't be too hard on him, now, dear." Valka ducks her chin to hide a smile as she wrings out a cloth over a bowl of warm water. "He needs his strength."

Astrid thins her lips, still red faced and clearly itching for a fight, but she holds back. "Fine." She sweeps her bangs back from her eyes and fixes an unfriendly glare on Hiccup.

"Come on, Astrid," Hiccup grits. His brows are knit together and his jaw is clenched, but still, he manages a hint of a smile and more than a hint of sarcasm as he says, "I thought you didn't mind the peg-leg! What's one more?"

"Shut up!" she snaps. "How many times do I have to watch you narrowly avoid death?"

"But you have to admit, I do a pretty great job of avoiding it." This time he manages a full grin.

"Hiccup..." But there's less bite in her tone this time, and he thinks she might be biting back a smile too.

Valka lets loose a laugh, drifting across the room to stand beside his bed. There's something untamed and wild about her tall, willowy frame that Hiccup can never separate from the woman she's become since settling back on Berk—a proper, domestic, Viking mother. "Hush now, let me take a look at your leg."

She rolls away the fabric of his breeches from his good leg—well, what was his good leg. The skin around his ankle is tight and stained black and blue. She runs her long fingers across it. "I don't think you've broken anything. You're very lucky. A fall from that high could have easily killed you."

Hiccup looks a bit too pleased at this. He smirks at Astrid. "See? I told you I'd be—"

"Hiccup!" She takes the damp cloth from Valka's hands and presses it to his temple to wipe away the sweat and grime. "Didn't you hear what she said? You could have died."

This time Hiccup catches it—the waver in her voice. Sometimes she's so good at aggression that he forgets something else might be hiding underneath it.

"Hey," he says. Aware that Valka is still beside them, he shifts his hand a few inches until his fingers brush against hers. "We're Vikings. It's an occupational hazard."

Astrid sighs heavily, like she's fed up with his sarcasm, but he thinks it might be partially out of relief too. The thing about Astrid is she hates to show weakness or fear, but he's getting better at reading her. "You must not be too badly hurt if you have the energy for this many bad jokes," she quips.

He chuckles, and this time Astrid joins in.

His laugh turns into a moan as Valka lifts his foot. She starts to wrap a cloth tightly around it, pressing down against the tender spot on his ankle. Astrid's fingers find their way beneath his and interlock.

"Remind me," he hisses through clenched teeth, "never to jump off a dragon again."

Astrid rolls her eyes. "I would if I thought you'd listen."

Valka ties off the bandage and sets his foot back down. "You'll be staying off of it, for a few days, at least."

"A few days? But mom—"

"No one wants to see you wobbling around the village like a newborn fawn, son."

Hiccup scrunches his face, this time not in pain, but with embarrassment at Valka's excessive nurturing. Stoick was never one to coddle; he was more the type to say that the best way to deal with an injured leg was to walk it off. He's still getting used to his mother's way about things.

"I'll go get more water," Valka says quietly, and she wanders from the room, leaving the door ajar.

As soon as Valka is out of sight, Astrid's posture slackens, her whole body shifting closer to him. "I know what you're thinking."

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh, you do?"

"You're thinking, flying dragons is technically staying off my feet." The line is coupled by her best Hiccup Haddock impression, complete with exaggerated nasal voice and flailing arms.

"That doesn't even sound like me," he groans, but they've had this discussion before. "And that wasn't what I was thinking."

She looks at him closely. "What are you thinking, then?"

"That I'm really glad you're here," he says, tightening his grip on her hand. He lifts it and places it on his chest, over his heart. "What are you thinking, Milady?"

Her stormy eyes soften in a way he's only ever seen when they're alone. "Oh, Hiccup," she murmurs, and suddenly she looks as if she's about to cry.

"Hey, what? What's wrong?" He's more than a bit shocked. Even around him, Astrid still guards her emotions so closely. He can't remember the last time he saw her shed a tear.

He tugs on her arm and she comes willingly, falling against him, head pressing into the crook between his head and shoulder. "I was scared. I thought you had really..."

"I'm fine," he promises.

"I know." She exhales a warm breath against his neck. "I know that. I just..." Her voice hitches, and she pushes her weight up onto her elbows so she can look into his eyes. "It's like, back when you were fighting off Drago, and the Alpha covered you in ice... There was this moment, when I thought I had just watched you die. I thought I was really going to have to live without you. And I don't want to."

She's never told him this before. He wasn't sure if she'd even seen it happen—after all, a battle had been raging around them. But, in that moment, he had been pretty sure he was about to die too.

"I like who I am around you," she admits, looking down at him with wide eyes. Some of her blonde hair has come loose from her braid, falling past her face and skimming his cheeks. "I don't want to lose that. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

He knows how much courage it must be taking her to say this out loud—how much this must be grating on her for her to admit it. He usually has to weed these things out of her like fallen metal scraps from a still blazing fire. "Me too," he whispers. "We're... we're in this together, you know?"

The both laugh at how silly that statement sounds. But, at the same time, it sends shivers down his spine, because the thought of Astrid maybe wanting to spend the rest of her life with him too is exhilarating.

"Right," Astrid declares, looking much more put together as she lifts herself back into a sitting position beside him. "And that means it's my job to make sure you don't go doing something stupid in the next few days. Like try to take a joyride on a Night Fury when both your legs are out of commission."

"Alright, alright, I hear you," he concedes, rolling his eyes for emphasis. But he keeps his fingers pressed against hers, a reminder of the moment that just passed between them.

It's then that Valka finds her way back into the room, arms filled with a bowl brimming with steaming water. Astrid stands up to help her lower it onto the table.

"Thank you, dear," she says, patting a hand against Astrid's arm. She turns away to douse another cloth into the liquid, but not before Hiccup catches the glint of a tear slipping down her cheek. She brushes a palm past her face, and it's gone.

Hiccup doesn't know what she's crying for—if she heard Astrid and him speaking, or if she's remembering Stoick, or becoming overwhelmed at life on Berk again. Or something else entirely—it's so hard to tell, when there are still so many things about Valka that he doesn't know yet.

But they're all here, together, for now, and that is good enough.


Thanks all who have been reading and reviewing, so sweet! If anyone has any suggestions for more drabbles, do let me know, because inspiration is always the hardest part.