One more after this!


The Falconer didn't usually get many amorous couples. It wasn't the most romantic establishment in Edinburgh, after all, just a run-of-the-mill pub. Occasionally, though, some loved-up pair found their way there and proceeded to inspire decidedly non-amorous feelings in Merida. Usually she viewed such couples with mild disdain to outright contempt, depending on how disgustingly soppy and/or overly affectionate they were being, but sometimes she watched them share smiles and kisses and felt lonely. Tonight there was a couple in with some of their other mates. Eventually the friends moved away and left the pair of them staring into each others' eyes, murmuring low, and something more than jealousy but less than complete emptiness split her gut. It wasn't fair that they got to be together when she was separated from Hiccup. That could be them—that should be them, her stealing kisses over their pints, him sneaking his hand onto her knee, and she knew it would be them, if only Berk wasn't so bloody far away.

By the time her shift had ended she'd felt a curious mixture of sadness and indignation over the injustice of it and plain lust. Jamie had taken one look at her and put down the bottle he'd only just got in order to walk her home. For once she was glad to have him there. The way she felt she might've started a fight or taken off to climb Arthur's Seat in the dark or done something else totally irrational with her nervous energy. As it was he'd followed her as she walked quickly back to hers, all her thoughts on Hiccup.

She had to hear his voice. She needed at least that; she'd never get to sleep if she didn't calm down, and he was usually good for that. It might have the opposite effect tonight, though.

"Thank you, Jamie," she said, distractedly, when she reached her door.

"Oh! Didn't think you'd noticed me. No worries, princess." He stared up at her from the bottom of the steps, frowning just a little, until she twitched under his gaze. "Erm...you alright?"

"Fine. Just thinking."

"About your lad from up north?"

It was her turn to frown. How did he know about that? She hadn't said anything, and she was fairly certain her mum wouldn't have mentioned it to Jamie's mum.

He shrugged. "You were different than usual that weekend. We saw you talking to him a couple times, and he was there when we came to say goodbye; it wasn't hard to put two and two together. What's his name again?"

She hoped by "we" he meant him and the other lads, not him and his parents. "Why are you so interested?" He could only want to take the piss, especially when he heard Hiccup's name.

Jamie smiled, only a bit condescendingly. "We're friends, Merida. And you're acting bizarre right now, even for you. Your dad and my mum will kill me if anything happens to you. I'm too young and pretty to die just yet, so tell me what's going on."

Despite her funk she laughed at the way Jamie shook his hair out as he talked about being pretty.

"Don't laugh."

"You have my word."

"His name's Hiccup."

He really did try, she could tell; his mouth contorted with the effort of not laughing. "That's certainly unique. Family name, is it?"

"Laugh it up, Junior," she retorted. He'd hated being called James Junior when he was younger. It only now occurred to her that if she knew that about him, and he cared enough to abandon his beer to make sure she got home safely, they must be friends, like he said. She hadn't ever really thought of them that way, though now she felt thick for not realizing it. She smiled down at him, for the first time happy that their parents had forced them all to hang out together at every holiday. "Thanks," she said earnestly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go call my lad from up north."

Jamie winked. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Good night, Jamie."

"Night, Merida." Oddly, she felt less like buzzing out of her skin after talking to him. Next time he came in to the pub she'd buy him a beer to thank him, on the off chance he didn't do anything annoying between now and then.


He woke when his phone buzzed near his head. He'd been trying to stay awake until she got off work, but he'd nodded off in the middle of an episode of "Modern Marvels." It was always her calling; no one else ever phoned him so late. "Hey," he said sleepily, stretching along the couch. "Did you just get home?" At least they were in the same time zone—he should be thankful for that much.

Hiccup's voice was husky with sleep and it rasped against her every nerve. She tried to breathe normally, to speak properly. "Yeah. Don't worry, Jamie walked me."

She didn't sound at all tired; the opposite, really, her voice bright and quick. The name seemed vaguely familiar, though. He racked his memory to place it. "One of the guys from the games? His dad's a clan chief too?"

"Aye, the Macintosh. He hangs about the pub a lot."

"Should I be worried?"

He heard or maybe imagined the sound of her curls moving as she shook her head. "Definitely not. What you should be worried about is Gerard Butler coming in and sweeping me off my feet."

"He's welcome to you." She probably knew it wasn't true. If it came down to it, he'd put up a fight for her, but it wouldn't be pretty. "Which one is Jamie?"

"The one who thinks he's a rock star, with the hair and the tattoos."

"Right, the hair. He's got tattoos?"

"Yeah. From his shoulders all down to his biceps. I actually kind of like them, but I'll never tell him that. And mine's still better."

"Whoa, hold up." He scooted up the arm of the couch until he was nearly sitting. "You have a tattoo?"

"'Course I do. I'm a hellion, didn't you know?"

"What is it? No, wait, let me guess. Is it a…rampant lion?"

She giggled. "No."

"Is it the Scottish flag?"

"Nope."

"Is it a thistle?"

"No."

"How close am I?"

"You're in the right general area."

"Is it Sean Connery's face?"

She laughed loudly. "I should have got that, but it's the clan crest. The dagger and knot."

He remembered it from the games. It would make a nice tattoo, he thought. He'd seen her in a tank top and in a skirt and hadn't seen any ink, which made him wonder: "Where is it?"

He remembered the curve of her calves as she danced, the graceful lines of her arms as she drew her bow, the milky skin of her stomach when her shirt rode up. None of what he'd seen had been tattooed. That meant that it was somewhere normally hidden by clothes. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about those parts of her.

His voice had dropped to the low tone that sent shivers up her spine. Far away in Berk he was thinking of her, imagining her pale skin with a tattoo somewhere on it, a patch of skin he'd never seen bare before. Her heart thumped heavily and she blushed, even though he was miles away. She should probably tell him...or she could let him wonder. That seemed cruel, though, and more than a little dangerous. "It's on my right hip," she said, her own voice huskier than she intended.

"Maybe I'll get to see it someday." He couldn't believe the words actually came out of his mouth—he'd been thinking them, sure, but he hadn't meant for her to hear them. A hot flush spread across the back of his neck, both with embarrassment at blurting it out, her knowing now how he felt, what he wanted, how he thought of her, and with the desire itself.

"You'd be the first, apart from the girl who did it," she admitted.

Some of her friends in Edinburgh had been surprised when they learned that she'd never done the deed. She supposed she could have done it, but if she hadn't found anyone who interested her enough to kiss more than once, how could she be expected to have shagged someone? Things were different now, with him. She wouldn't regret it if he was her first. He would be gentle and shy, breath stuttering over her skin, fingertips skating down her bare back, lips latching onto her neck, encouraged by the way she panted his name and pulled him closer. Merida sat down suddenly, knees feeling wobbly.

"Yeah?" His voice was warm; in her mind's eye she saw his smile, sweet and wicked, and she swallowed hard before answering.

"Yeah."

"I'm looking forward to it."

The room was warm, but she broke out in goosebumps nonetheless. It was probably past time to move the conversation along. "What about you?" she asked lightly. "Any tattoos or piercings?"

He laughed. "Nah, none of that. Just freckles and scars." That wasn't any better, because now she was imagining him, all lithe and wiry and speckled, his green eyes dark. She gasped a little.

"I think I'd better go," she said weakly.

"You okay?"

"Fine. Grand. Talk to you later."

"Bye."

When her legs felt steady enough she wandered into the bathroom to take a much-needed cold shower.


artemis alba: what's the furthest from home you've been?
nightfury: DunBroch. you?
artemis alba: down to London
artemis alba: most of the good flying buttresses are in europe, right?
nightfury: pretty much all of them. the places with Gothic cathedrals—France, Italy, Germany.
artemis alba: we should go see them
nightfury: like backpack around Europe looking at architecture?
artemis alba: yeah
nightfury: wouldn't that be boring for you?
artemis alba: not if I went with you. I like the way you explain things
artemis alba: especially your hands-on approach
artemis alba: besides, we wouldn't just do things you wanted to do
nightfury: I foresee lots of time spent in bars, learning how to make new drinks and hustling people at darts.
artemis alba: we'll have to pay for the drinks somehow
nightfury: true.
artemis alba: I'll have to work on my list of famous places I want to kiss you
artemis alba: so far it's just at the Eiffel Tower
nightfury: how disappointing. I was expecting more from you.
artemis alba: like yours is any better
nightfury: mine is foolproof.
artemis alba: what is it?
nightfury: you'll have to wait and see.
artemis alba: i don't want to wait
artemis alba: I want to go now
nightfury: give me a year to try and earn some money for this little expedition.
artemis alba: so next summer?
nightfury: has anyone ever told you you are the pushiest woman in the world?
artemis alba: you don't mind
nightfury: nah, not really.
artemis alba: xxxx


There was a large envelope in her box when she got home. It had been addressed to DunBroch and forwarded to her flat here, but it was stamped from Berk, and she went all gooey seeing her name in Hiccup's writing. She made herself wait until she was in her flat and curled up in her armchair before she slid her finger under the flap and pulled out the contents.

It was a single large sheet of sketch paper, folded into quarters. She unfolded it carefully but curiously, no idea what it could be. The page was covered in drawings of towers. Some of them she recognized, like the Eiffel Tower and the Leaning Tower of Pisa and Big Ben's tower; others were from castles and palaces and cathedrals. The great tower at DunBroch was in one corner, and she was pretty sure one of them was Cinderella's castle from Disneyland. A whole big page of towers, thin spiky ones and thick rounded ones, all of them different and all drawn in his unmistakable bold, dark pencil strokes. She smiled. It was charming, though she wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Then at the very bottom of the page she saw the words that made it all make sense. It was his list, and he was right, it was foolproof. I want to kiss you at the top of every tower I climb.


"Your hair's getting long, laddie."

"I don't know, I was thinking of growing it out, Fabio-style." She laughed. "Or maybe I'll shave it all off. How about that?"

Her expression was one of horrified puzzlement. "I don't know which one would be worse."

"They'd both be pretty bad, just in different ways. I'll go get it cut this week."

"Don't cut it too short. I like running my fingers through it." She bit her lip.

"I like it when you do that, too." They stared at each other stupidly for a moment, each smiling shyly.

"I think it's long enough that you could braid it now," she said.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Try it."

"I'm not gonna braid my hair."

"Come on, just a tiny little one," she coaxed.

"What makes you think I even know how to braid?"

Merida raised an eyebrow, smiling saucily. Teasing him was too much fun. She leaned forward and purred, "Because I know that you're good with your hands."

He gulped. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"Anyway, it's easy." Merida grabbed a section of hair and braided it quickly. "See?"

He squinted at the screen, nose wrinkled. "That looks no different from the rest of your hair."

"Piss off."

"No, really, I saw your hands moving, but it just looks exactly the same." He'd learned that she was kind of touchy about her hair, her relationship with it a combination of pride and frustration. It was a little bit of a low blow to make fun of her about it, and she agreed, glaring until he relented. Now he'd have to do it, to make her feel better. "This is the definition of being whipped," he muttered, clumsily sectioning out three clumps of hair.

"I feel so sorry for you."

"You should." She did her best not to laugh at the look of concentration on his face as he braided; his tongue poked out one corner of his mouth and his eyes rolled. "Ta da," he said, turning his head to display a small, short braid. He looked pleased with his achievement.

"Well done," she said, chuckling.

Stoick peeked around the door, though he knew full well who his son was talking to. Neither of them noticed him as they laughed. He rejoined Gobber in the kitchen.

"On the phone, I take it." Stoick nodded. "Good. More pie for us, then."

"It's my pie, freeloader."

"What's yours its mine, right?" Stoick rolled his eyes and set a plate and fork in front of Gobber as he sliced the pie deftly. "Do you think this girl will be around long enough for me to meet her? I'm curious about her."

Upstairs Hiccup laughed loudly; Stoick cocked his head to listen to the sound. Instead of answering Gobber's question he said, "Can you remember the last time he was this happy?"

Gobber nodded, sliding a slice onto Stoick's plate. "Aye. It was one leg and a mum ago."

"Exactly. I hope she's around for as long as he wants her to be." They ate in silence for a moment; Gobber watched his best friend thinking. When Stoick noticed he said, "You'd like her."

"So you do? Apart from the fact that she makes Hiccup happy."

Stoick nodded. "From the little I've seen of her, generally, yes. She loves her family, she's loyal, she's not afraid of a fight." Gobber knew him well enough to notice that Stoick's approval was not unconditional; there was something about her, or maybe just about the situation, that didn't sit right with him. For his part, Gobber had no qualms about being nosy.

"She'd fit right in up here, then. What's not to like?"

He stabbed an errant blueberry with more force than necessary. "I'm afraid she'll walk all over him."

"No, she won't."

"Yes, she will!"

"She won't. Not if she cares about him. And seeing as how they're always on the phone, she must care at least a bit." Stoick grumbled, not willing to give in to his friend just yet. "But even if she is some terrible maneater, I know Hiccup—you know Hiccup. He'll deal with whatever she throws him, and he'll be fine. He's not a little boy anymore, and he's stronger than we give him credit for."

Stoick knew he was right; sometimes it was hard for him to admit that his son had grown up, was no longer the wide-eyed child who'd clung to him. And he wasn't going to admit that Gobber was right. "Shut up and eat your pie," he said, and his best friend grinned.


A sheaf of papers lay on the table between them. All they needed was a signature. He already had the pen in his hand, but his dad wasn't quite ready to let him sign yet.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"It's a really good school, Dad. And it's now or never."

"It's not all about the school, though."

"No, not completely. But it's more about the school than it's not about the school. The other things are just a...bonus." He fought against the grin that threatened the seriousness of his words.

"I don't want you to get distracted. It's bad enough that you're taking Toothless..."

"Aw, you're just jealous that your clothes won't be all covered in dog hair anymore." Stoick was not amused, so Hiccup quickly reassured him. "I won't get distracted. Toothless will make sure I exercise, and I'll be less distracted there than I would up here." Probably, he added to himself. Hopefully.

Before his dad could protest further, Hiccup asked, "You don't really think I'm just doing this because of her, do you? 'Cause remember, we kind of had a similar conversation the first time I got accepted there." The part about whether or not he should leave home had been similar; now there was the added wrinkle of the long-distance girlfriend that he'd like to make the at-least-we're-in-the-same-country-now girlfriend.

"I remember. And I know it's not all because of her. But what if it turns out badly?" His father was watching him keenly, and Hiccup knew just how badly he thought it could turn out.

"Then I'll deal with it. Stuff is gonna turn out badly sometimes, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. I'd rather try and fail than sit around and succeed at not doing anything. If I get hurt..." He shrugged. "I'll still have you. And you'll still have me. Even if I'm not actually here, I'm still your son."

Stoick's gaze dropped to the table and he stared at it, hard, as if some secret knowledge was in the grain of the wood there. Hiccup waited to hear what his dad would say next. He was willing to listen if he had a good reason for him not to transfer, though it was going to get embarrassing if he had to try to convince his dad that he wasn't so hung up on her that he wouldn't be able to focus on school.

Stoick didn't want his son to get hurt, not any more than he'd already been. He remembered what Gobber had said about his son's strength and his ability to deal with whatever happened, though he hadn't mentioned how hard-headed Hiccup was. The time when Stoick would have been able to stop his son from doing something had passed long ago; now all he could do was try to prepare Hiccup for what might come and hope for the best.

His dad looked up and smiled wearily. "Maybe you should invite her here for winter break."

That hadn't even cracked the list of things he expected his dad to say, but it was more welcome than almost all of them. It was him saying "I trust you" and "You're old enough to make your own decisions" and "I think you two will still be together in four months" and "I want you to be happy" all at once. Hiccup smiled, feeling almost faint with relief.

"I think that's a great idea, Dad."


Notes:

Arthur's Seat = a hill in Holyrood Park that's the highest point in Edinburgh. Merida could climb it in the dark easy peasy.

Hiccup's tattoo ideas are all symbols of Scotland. The rampant (standing up, with its front paws raised) lion is usually red on a yellow background; Scotland's flag is the St Andrew's Cross/Saltire, a white X on a blue background; the thistle is the national flower. And, y'know, Sean Connery.

In reality, the beginning of junior year is probably too late for Hiccup to transfer. Don't care.

There's a quarantine period for animals entering the UK that I have blissfully ignored.