Sorry this is a few hours later than they have been, I just needed a bit more time with it.
Also, I just wanted to thank absolutely everyone, because I surpassed 400 reviews on Chapter 9, and that makes me feel so extremely thankful and lucky to have such great readers!
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"Hey, Astrid," Hiccup grumbles, shaking his girlfriend's shoulder and pushing up onto his elbow, glancing at the clock. He can't help but note how relaxed she is and he blushes, almost wincing as she rocks back against him, stretching sleepily.
That feels far too good.
"Hmm?" She mumbles, wiping her eyes and stretching her arms over her head. Her shirt slides up over her hips, revealing an inch of smooth, flat skin. Hiccup gulps, still…worked up from earlier. It's amazing just how quickly his brain flipped from the perpetually anxious fighting mindset to this completely novel, almost accessible arousal.
"It's 10 o'clock," he laughs as she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him back down and rolling to face him.
"Why? Got somewhere important to be?" She mumbles, hooking her leg over his hip possessively, and immediately remembering everywhere she should be. She should at least go for a run today, or something.
She doesn't want to get up. She missed this more than she thought was possible.
"No," he laughs as she yawns, tucking close to his neck and shrugging the comforter back over her shoulder. "You look comfortable."
"I am comfortable," she shrugs, "and I'm ignoring all the important stuff I have to do."
"Oh, what do you have to do?" He asks and she leans in impulsively, pressing her lips to his and holding tight to the back of his neck. He responds slowly, feeling miserably out of practice as she pries his mouth open and darts her tongue in, warm and relaxed. She's so unbelievably close and almost soft, and he can feel her fingers on the back of his neck and can't help but remember what they were doing only a few hours ago.
The kissing escalates dramatically, and he rolls on top of her, momentarily confident as his bad knee slides between hers. She hooks her leg over his hip and her hand slides under the back of his shirt, glancing across his spine and landing hot and distracting against his upper back.
It's been too long since they made out in a bed, Astrid muses through her ragged breathing as Hiccup starts to loosen up, once rusty kisses suddenly fluid. His hand slides down to her waist and his lips leave her mouth, sliding and nipping down the side of her neck. He tugs her tee-shirt aside, nipping at her shoulder in a way that's almost too intimate and she pushes him back by his shoulders, sitting up halfway.
She licks her lips and smiles in spite of herself, breathing unreasonably hard.
"That was…" She laughs and he looks at her embarrassed.
"What?" He ducks his head, sitting back and trying in vain to smooth out his hair.
"No, it was good just—yeah," she murmurs, decidedly uncomfortable with the still heady blood rushing accelerated through her. She shouldn't have liked that so soon after their recent escalation, and for a moment, she feels that maybe she managed to bust through some sort of door. The warmth welling in the pit of her stomach is less hostile and more generally confusing as she reaches down and straightens her shirt, adjusting her mangled bra as inconspicuously as she can.
Hiccup tries really hard not to notice and fails dramatically, coughing into his hand and staring pointedly at the too suggestive closed door. He adjusts his pants, trying to forget how it felt earlier when she touched him.
He never realized how smooth her hands are until today. Astrid just always seemed like the kind of girl who would have calluses, but he guesses she only ever brandishes weaponry in her own mind.
Smooth.
Even just that word is wreaking havoc on his pulse.
"So, about that important stuff you had to do?" He asks awkwardly, searching around the edge of the bed for his leg. He pulls it out from under the bed and attaches it stealthily under the covers, instantly feeling more awake.
"I should go on a run, and I know I have homework due tomorrow and—"
"That's kind of defeating the purpose of a day off, Astrid," He laughs and she glares at him. Somehow, he even missed how unrealistically driven she is.
"Day off? I leave for Worlds in eight days," she reminds him, blushing when she realizes he probably didn't know, because Gobber only told her a solid date last week. "I can have a day off once I'm back."
"8 days?" he asks, feeling astounded that so much time went by without them communicating. Sure, it's only a week and a half, but the last time they talked about Worlds, Astrid was counting down in weeks. Now it's days away, and he realizes how stressed she must have been.
He lets it be enough to forgive all the mean things that she said, at least until the pressure is off of her. Sometimes it's easier to ignore that stain on thecx corner of the rug, rather than buy new carpeting.
"Yeah," she fumbles with her fingers, frowning at her dry cracked cuticles. "A little more than a week. I mean, the actual race is a week from Friday, but still."
"Do you feel ready?" He asks, and she shrugs.
"I need to lose about 5 more pounds, or I'm not going to be fast enough," she chews the inside of her cheek. "Gobber said it wasn't necessary, but I'm not getting third on the team again."
"Third is great," he insists and she rolls her eyes, impulsively leaning against his shoulder. Everything feels so normal when he wraps his wiry arm around her shoulders that she could burst.
"I missed you," she challenges, her voice meeker than she'd like it to be.
"I missed you too," he takes the closest to an apology that he's probably going to get and kisses the top of her head in the way she hardly ever tolerates. "I have an idea," he proposes and she sits back, looking at him through narrowed eyes.
"What kind of idea?"
"Don't worry, it's a good one, ye of little faith," he teases, and she thwacks him on the chest with the back of her hand. "How about you go and run all the hellish miles that you have to, and then we watch a movie," he suggests and she sighs.
"You read my mind," she pushes off of the bed, standing and offering him a hand. He's taller than she remembers, and she hates that she didn't stand close to him for so long that she forgot how tall he is.
"Ok, and I'm ordering pizza, because you're about to get hungry and yell at me," he jokes with a crooked smile, and she tries and fails to glare at him.
"That'd be annoying if you weren't right."
"I know you too well," Hiccup grins, happy that he gets to flaunt that again. It's easy enough to surmise she hasn't changed too much in a week in a half. Only so much flotsam can boil to the surface in ten days.
"Yeah," she responds, falsely cheerful as she forces the Titanic of refuse he doesn't need to know about deeper into her vow of silence. "You know me better than anyone."
At least that's not a lie.
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Around ten that night, Astrid slips into Hiccup's bedroom and slides into bed next to him, pressing herself against him to finagle her way around Toothless curled at the bottom corner of the bed.
"Sleeping in here tonight?" Hiccup asks unnecessarily as his arm curls almost protectively around her back.
"Yeah," she pokes him in the ribs. "And you should scoot back, Spike will probably be in when she realizes she's alone on the couch."
"We need a bigger bed," he laughs, obliging her and trying not to get lost in premature thoughts of buying a bed together. She follows him towards the wall, head finding the crook of his shoulder as she wraps a clingy leg around his hips.
"I don't know," she laughs, running a hand over his ribs and feeling the divots. "It's not like you take up that much room."
"Did you just call me scrawny?" he snickers. "Because your insults are really going down—Ow! Did you seriously just head-butt me in the jaw?"
"It was right there," she shrugs, sliding an arm under his shoulder and playing with the ends of his hair. "And you were talking."
"I'm not supposed to talk?" He asks, amused and exasperated and she punches him lightly in the side, fidgeting to get comfortable on his still almost bony arm.
"So, are you and Heather still hanging out? Or…" The question falls out of her mouth before she realizes it's on her mind. As soon as she hears the words, they're monumentally important.
The jealousy that rises in her chest is more real than the usual flippant, dramatic emotion and she chews on her lip, waiting too eagerly for an answer.
"On Sunday, I went over to her house and ended up watching her play videogames for a few hours," he shrugs and she keys on something flat in his tone.
"What? Did you want to play or something?"
"I don't know," he holds Astrid closer, fingers curling around and stroking the skin of her waist through her soft sleep shirt. He recognizes it as one of his, but he can't exactly be angry about her not asking to borrow his clothes. Talking about Heather just makes him remember missing Astrid, and every comparison he's ever made between the two girls falls to dust as his girlfriend fits into his side like a puzzle piece.
"So, if you guys are friends, I want to get to know her," Astrid insists, propping herself onto an elbow and looking at him. She slides her free hand under his shirt, resting her fingers on the side of his ribcage.
She briefly wonders what it'd feel like if he did the same, and she almost wants him to try. The thought makes her heart rate accelerate to the point of making her nauseous and she swallows too hard, her throat aching at the sudden motion.
"Sure," he shrugs. "She could probably come over tomorrow after school or something."
"Yeah, you should tell her to text me about it, I gave her my phone number last week," Astrid encourages, feeling more than a little sneaky as she presses herself against him and smiles. "Maybe we can go see a movie. I could go for a two hour break."
"Ok, but why don't I just invite her?" Rationally, he knows she was always this hot, but it's like that fight opened a door, and they just walked through this morning. She can't really blame him for reaching down and almost sliding his fingers under the tantalizingly loose waist of her sweatpants. He settles for stroking along that thick cotton waistband, dreaming of all the softness underneath.
"Because I want to invite her," Astrid's chipper tone falls flat she compensates by ducking down and kissing him slowly. He frowns and pulls back, staring at her like he's piecing together a circuit board.
"Is this some jealousy thing?" He asks after a moment and she slides off of him, more than a little defeated.
"We were fighting and you went and found some girl to hang out with," she glowers, feeling like a persecuted broken record.
"I thought we were fighting because of my leg. She understood that stuff," Hiccup insists and Astrid frowns.
"You've always told me about your leg before."
"We never fought about it before," he gripes and she freezes, heart quickening as she feels this drifting closer to the source of their fight. She's not sure exactly when she pinpointed the issue, but there's no doubt in her mind that it's her father and it's not to be talked about.
Distraction becomes her main plan of attack.
"We were fighting about me being an idiot and not realizing how hot you are," the complimentary words are some strange half-truth, and she leans in, almost roughly capturing his lips with hers. He mumbles in mild protest against her mouth before it's not worth it anymore and he gives in with a sigh.
She knows he's hot, she'd be an idiot not to notice. It's just always been something visual, separate from the comfort of touching him.
Hiccup can't help but be a little shocked at the vocabulary. Happily shocked, but still surprised. That's definitely the first time she's called him hot in so many words. Ruff probably flings that particular word at him more than anybody, and that's only because she likes to make him blush. And Astrid insulting herself is also new. He wonders if it's the penultimate in stoic apology, and he groans as her leg lands back across his hips and her hands nest in his hair. He relaxes into the kiss, hands sliding down her narrow back and grabbing at her waist.
It's remarkably pleasant to feel him let go of that disastrous line of inquiry, and she sucks his lower lip into her mouth, nibbling on it. He digs his fingertips into her lower back with a groan, and she finds her hips rocking subtly against him before she can really stop them.
She flushes, pulling away flustered as she yanks her hips away from him and rubs her knees together.
"What'd I do?" He asks, breathless and barely joking as his hands slip regrettably off of her skin. She crosses her legs and fixes her shirt, fiddling with its soft hem and breathing as best as she can. She's throbbing in an annoying, nagging way, like a fire alarm low on batteries.
"Nothing," she forces a grin, rolling over and pressing her back against his side in an attempt to comfort herself. It doesn't work as planned and the mysterious, unwanted heat builds inside her like a forest fire. She wonders if he's worked up, and if she should offer to help. She shouldn't like that idea so much. "You're just hot, like I said. And it's late, and we should go to sleep."
"It's ten fifteen," he laughs, way more awake than he should be. He's nowhere near the easily excited guy he was when she first started kissing him, but this is definitely up there with the most worked up she's gotten him. He can count on one hand the number of days she didn't make out with him at least a little bit leading up to that horrible fight, but kissing has never been this potent.
That horrible fight that made him think of what it would actually be like to be with her, beyond boyhood fantasies.
The fight that brought her to his bed in her nicest underwear. The fight that obviously made her start to think of him that way, if this morning was any indication.
He's just happy he could forgive and move on so easily, and they could get back to everything they'd left.
Maybe the change happened when he reached under her dress, but they couldn't manage to see the lightning through the storm clouds. But everything since he kissed her outside of Ruff's house has been on another level.
She was just grinding on him, like she couldn't contain herself or…like she wants him.
Astrid is hot. So unbelievably hot. She's always been hot. But something about her tongue in his mouth while she grinds herself against his hips makes his blood boil in the best way possible.
So it's not exactly an atypical reaction that he wants to kiss every inch of her body right now.
Somewhere in the course of thinking, his hand found her side and is tracing mysterious lines on her ribs through her shirt. Astrid glares at him over her shoulder, breathing too hard with her legs crossed too tightly, wishing all this unbearable heat would just go away.
"I'm tired," she lies, pointedly folding her arm under her head and getting comfortable. She regrets it immediately when he rolls to spoon against her and her fidgeting presses her against something. "I missed talking to you," she declares, legs crossed so tightly her toes are going numb as she tries to quell that unexplained second pulse in her pants.
Well, not unexplained. She's not an idiot.
She's horny. And there's really nothing to be done about it. It's toxic to a relationship. She remembers asking Scott to help her out one time, and it won her leering grins and nearly tripled the frequency of necessary performances for at least two weeks.
She doesn't understand why her body can't just get that nothing good is going to come of it by this point.
She wonders if some girls are just wired differently. Like Ruff, she and Fishlegs obviously have no issues, and the other girl obviously really really enjoys the physical parts of her relationship. Astrid is just happier when they aren't an issue. There's nothing wrong with talking to him, especially if she's keeping him happy in the physical department, right?
She figures she has a couple of weeks before he starts really wanting more, but for right now, she's doing enough and she'll take advantage of those weeks she has. What she doesn't understand is why her body seems focused on rushing, why every time he moves this close to her, the room gets unbearably warmer.
She exhales, curling her knees up and trying to think about anything but his hands on her.
"What do you want to talk about?" He asks, urging himself to calm down as he tries to focus on anything other than the curve of her waist under the blankets.
"You know what's not fair?" Astrid starts, falsely indignant. "I'm the one going to Scotland, and you're the one who can drink in Europe."
"But your birthday is March ninth, won't you still—"
"Literally the day I come home. So I guess I can have a Guinness for breakfast," she laughs, unreasonably happy to have diverted the conversation.
"Breakfast of champions," Hiccup tells her, nuzzling at the nape of her neck and shutting his eyes. No matter how much his second brain is vying for more, he's absolutely fine with where he is.
"Goodnight, Hiccup," Astrid mumbles, curling herself into him like clay in a mold. She can feel the crest of his sternum against her shoulder blade, and his slow rhythmic breathing is like a beacon leading her to sleep.
"Love you."
"Love you too."
00000
By four o'clock on Tuesday, Hiccup is mired knee deep in his latest plan that seems certifiably impossible. Despite visiting more questionable websites than he'd like to admit, he hasn't been able to find any simple, descriptive, reasonable instructions that would help him figure out what exactly girls like.
He's smart enough to know that most of what he sees isn't realistic. If he did any of that stuff to Astrid, she'd most likely gut him. And well…he'd obviously love it if she did some of that to him, but he's not exactly going to come out and ask. It seems like more of something that needs to be offered, at least the first time.
Hiccup's last ditch effort sits in front of him on the coffee table, staring up at him with its pink and blue pastels, and smiling thirteen year olds on the cover who are just so comfortable with puberty.
It's already a scam, who is he kidding? This isn't going to help.
He remembers his father awkwardly handing the book to him on his thirteenth birthday in lieu of the whole birds and bees talk. He quickly decided it was the most disappointing birthday present ever and stashed it on a bookshelf to be forgotten until 5 years later when he needs one fucking accurate diagram of how to touch a girl.
He doesn't exactly remember where he learned to masturbate, but maybe this book helped girls out, or something.
And that just reminds him of another thing he would not mind seeing Astrid do.
He really should have just started on his homework, or taken the dogs on a walk, or pulled his toenails out with pliers rather than gotten riled up on the internet in the name of research. He shakes his head and stares back at the book.
When he'd gotten it, girls had still been sort of disturbing and mysterious, and he hadn't exactly been too anxious to figure everything out. Not when he was months before his first National Latin club competition as a junior member. Sometimes it feels downright poetic that Astrid was the first and only girl to really interest him. He remembers a pre-growth spurt, acne-faced Fishlegs moping over girl after girl after girl until he started junior football and generated another outlet for all that energy.
God, thinking about Junior high is depressing. He's knows he's not exactly huge now, but he remembers being a seventh grader crossing his fingers for 5 feet.
He shakes it off and pulls the still crisp guidebook towards him, flicking open to the table of contents. Hormones, puberty, reproductive biology, he knows all of that. Male anatomy? He's good there.
Aha, female anatomy, page 52.
He opens the book to an awkward drawing of a naked, obscenely plain woman obviously meant to be the opposite of sexy. Ok, so breasts and nipples are self-explanatory, he feels like a pervert peering down the page at the cutaway drawing of the rest of it.
He cocks his head and frowns. That's just a little more complicated than what he's used to…or at least there are more labels. Obviously, he's not entirely clueless, and he nods in grateful understanding at the crisp black arrow pointing to the clitoris.
So that's the goal.
Everything is pretty much what he assumed, and he frowns, still feeling clueless.
He's not sure if it's good or bad that he already knew as much as a puberty book could tell of him.
Half of him wants to just text Fishlegs, just jump out there and ask how to please a woman. How to make a girlfriend happy. How to not make a complete fool of himself.
How to drive a woman crazy and repay a hand job.
For dummies.
Yeah, he's pretty sure anything his friend could tell him would be drowned in a sea of awkwardness, and nothing useful would leap the communication barrier to his brain.
He could ask Astrid, if he doesn't mind her laughing at him. Which he does. But theoretically, couldn't he just walk up to Astrid and ask what she wants him to do? Wouldn't she most likely have the be all, end all answer?
Too bad it's not that simple.
He gives up, putting the book away and lugging his laptop out to the living room, sitting on the couch and turning on the TV. He's been relaxing about five minutes when gentler than normal hands land on his shoulders and he looks back expecting to get tickled by overgrown blonde bangs.
Heather stares down at him and he jumps, squirming sideways from under her hands.
"Aah!" He yelps, and she laughs at him, too nicely to really be cruel. "What are you, Kimmie Gibbler?"
"No, I'm still Heather. Astrid texted me your garage code," She slides around the couch and sits down next to him. He can't help but think it's incredibly odd that the dogs didn't run to greet her, and upon looking around, he's sees them curled together in the sun out in the backyard. He wonders if Spike is cold, but she looks anything but, grey head resting on Toothless' black fluffy hip.
He's glad they weren't inside for his research. They probably would have thought he was hurting Astrid, what with all those sounds…
What if they actually do something and Spike tries to rescue her owner? That's truly terrifying.
"But I guess she didn't think to warn me," Hiccup rolls his eyes, grinning in spite of himself upon imagining Astrid's face, laughing as she realizes how much she managed to scare the shit out of him by proxy.
"So who's Kimmie Gibbler?" Heather asks, toying with the end of her long brown ponytail.
"You know, like Full House…" He tells her slowly and she looks at him blankly before her eyes light up.
"Right! Oh, I get it. Because I let myself in without knocking," she explains the joke with a laugh before looking at him almost seriously. "You have a lot of good references, they're pretty much off the hook."
Hiccup is suddenly annoyed, and it feels out of place.
"Err, thanks."
"Oh, right. So, Astrid was saying we should pick her up after practice?" Heather starts, her upward intonation oddly distracting as she reaches out and grabs his laptop, pulling it onto her lap. "I'm going to check the traffic."
"I can just drive," he offers, somehow not noticing the grievous offense still loaded on his screen until she opens the computer and a chorus of moans rings out into the room. He snatches the machine back and hurriedly presses the exit on the internet, the embarrassing noises still ringing in his ears as he closes the computer, setting it quietly on the coffee table.
"Why were you watching porn?" She asks dumbly before shaking her flushed head. "Never mind, I think I can guess at that. Why don't you have a lock on your computer?"
"Because no one ever opens it without asking!" He responds, rightfully embarrassed, before standing and pacing because the stillness is suddenly excruciating.
"Your girlfriend never borrows your laptop?" She asks absurdly.
"No, she has her own computer," he glares at her. "And why aren't you at lacrosse practice or something?"
"I got MVP at the last game, so I gave myself a day off."
"Aren't you worried about MVP at the next game?"
"Eh, it's not like I'm playing in college anyway," she shrugs, looking almost sad.
"Why not?" Hiccup asks, enjoying the conversational diversion. Anything other than…Why didn't he just close the tab? It's not rocket science.
"Like I can take a hit from a 170 pound Division I jock," she pats her leg and looks at Hiccup seriously. "So I take it you two still haven't had sex," she grins. "I thought that was why you were all happy again." Hiccup's face falls back into a crimson blush and he stares at the wall, avoiding eye contact and feeling six inches tall.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"You wouldn't be watching porn if you'd done it," she explains and Hiccup sighs, nesting a frustrated hand in his hair.
"Actually, it wasn't porn. It was a guide video on YouTube," he defends and she raises her eyebrows.
"It sure sounded like porn," he ignores her comments, and she continues, almost pitying. "And why do you need a guide video?"
"Why do you think?" He spits and she sighs.
"I'm sure you'll be fine. Good even," she laughs. "If you weren't dating Astrid, I'd totally have sex with you."
He smiles, feeling awkward but above all grateful for the friendship. At least she's not laughing at him, like Astrid probably would.
Is it wrong that he'd prefer Astrid laughing at him?
"I'll just say thanks," he checks the clock on the wall and double checks that his computer is shut. "And we should go, Astrid is normally done around five thirty."
He doesn't realize that it's weird when he's overwhelmingly glad that the dogs didn't wake up to run in to say hello.
00000
The car ride is awkward, Heather seems entirely over everything that happened back at the house, but it seems Hiccup doesn't recover so quickly.
He needs to learn to lock his computer. Just in case.
And exit out of the internet.
And use incognito mode.
He's suddenly beyond glad that Astrid has always been good about respecting his privacy.
They pull up in the school parking lot, and Hiccup drums his fingers on the steering wheel, looking nervously sideways before unlocking the car doors. The only thing that feels stranger than walking into a track practice without a clipboard, is bringing some strange girl to his high school and meeting Astrid.
And it's only a week after people were calling him a stud all around campus, and Astrid was acting like someone dating the school stud. He's going to have to deal with more of that, isn't he? Oh, no girls for three years of high school? That guy just had to retaliate by dating Astrid Hofferson and some other school's main babe.
He frowns, realizing that the word doesn't quite apply to Heather, but unable to determine why it sounds so wrong.
"So, are we just going to wait in the car?" Heather asks, and for a second, it really is tempting. Just stay behind the tinted windows and talk about…
He's had about enough of talking about his leg for the week. And frankly the last chat with Heather didn't go over so well…
Even if he is disabled, he's not quite ready to let it change him.
"Actually, the coach," he gestures to Gobber, who's madly hopping around at the side of the track, yelling at someone, "is an old friend of my dad's. I should go say hi." Heather's eyes widen when she sees the man fully and she smiles brightly, teeth imperfect but blindingly white.
"No way, you didn't tell me you knew anyone else like us!" she exclaims, eagerly yanking the door handle and dropping carefully onto the icy asphalt with a click.
"Heather—" Hiccup tries to stop her, but she ignores him, shutting the car door too gently and striding confidently down towards the track. He jumps out of the car and follows her, walking up beside her. "What exactly are you going to say?"
He wonders if it's not actually normal to go discuss compression cuffs with any amputated stranger.
"I'm just going to introduce myself," she laughs, and he falters. That does sound pretty innocent.
But what is Gobber going to think? It's not every day that his star athlete's boyfriend shows up with some other girl…
Crap.
This was all a very bad idea.
"Ok. Astrid should be back from her run soon," Hiccup checks the time on his phone and looks up the main road leading away from the school. He assumes she went towards the lake, but obviously doesn't actually know and this whole thing starts mounting into something unpredictable.
"Ok, whenever," Heather shrugs, and some sixth sense tells Hiccup that Gobber has spotted them, and metaphorical heckles spring from the back of his neck.
"Hiccup! I ha'ant seen ye in ferever!" The man greets from the track and Hiccup pastes a fake grin on his face as he realizes every variable in this particular situation is an undefined. One equation, at least 4 unknowns.
"It has been a while," he greets with false enthusiasm, dodging artfully as the man aims a too strong pat to his shoulder with a metal hook hand.
"Ye comin' te pick up Astrid?" the man asks, seemingly overjoyed as he claps his good hand against his bad leg. "That's exactly what—" His eyes fall to Heather and his grin droops to match his moustache. "Who's this?"
"Hi sir, I'm Heather, I'm a friend of Henry's," she introduces, smiling and reaching her right hand out. Gobber shakes it with the hook, and appraises her unperturbed expression curiously.
"Ye are here te pick up Astrid, right?" Gobber's accent is suddenly menacing and Hiccup nods.
"We're going to see some movie?" He shrugs, and the man looks at him, almost maliciously curious.
Heather looks around awkwardly.
"I'm going to go use the restroom," she bows out, wringing her hands together in a perfect pose of worry as she backs up and gestures towards the school.
"It's…and I was about to direct you to the boys' room," Hiccup laughs nervously. "You'll find it."
"Cool, thanks."
As soon as Heather is over the hill, Gobber turns sternly to Hiccup.
"So. Last week the Thorston idiot finds 'imself propositionin' Astrid," the man numbers on his single-fingered metallic hand. "An' now there's another pretty girl showin' up to school wit ye?"
"Woah—"
"I know yer father's not around this time 'o year, but consider me a parent," he cuts the boy off. "Astrid's leaving for worlds in a week, an' no matter how tough she insists on bein' she needs the support right now."
"I know, I know!" Hiccup interjects. "Astrid invited her—"
"Oh, well… Good fer ye, lad! But that doesn't seem like the kind of thing she should be doin' the week before worlds, but I don' really see it's my place to mention it—"
"What?" the younger man squeaks, taking a step backwards.
"Oh, does this not involve ye then?" Gobber asks, rubbing his stubbled chin. "Because Astrid does have a butch streak—"
"Ok, I think we're talking about completely different things here," Hiccup says too loudly, eyes wide and face a completely novel color of crimson.
"I'm talkin' about how ye're suddenly surrounded by pretty girls invitin' each other places," Gobber clarifies. "And how ye're eighteen, and livin' the dream that most grown men don't accomplish if ye know what I mean—"
"Heather is my friend," Hiccup backpedals anxiously. "I met her at my prosthesist. When Astrid and I were…not doing so great, she talked about leg stuff with me."
"Oh," Gobber shuts up and eases back and forth between mismatched feet. "Is she—I take it she's not missin' an arm."
"Left leg," Hiccup relaxes into this shockingly less awkward conversation. "Although I guess I should be glad you didn't look her up and down."
"How is that goin'?" He asks with a low, honestly parental voice and Hiccup slumps forward.
"It's…I mean, you know. It's not easy, but I'm doing alright."
"Anythin' in particular you need to talk about?"
"Not really…" Hiccup stares at the floor, and the two feet where they should be four. "Do you ever feel disabled?" He asks and Gobber sighs.
"If anyone else asked me tha', I'd tell them only if it got me somethin' fer free," Gobber chuckles. "But the truth is, on the bad days, yes I do. Sometimes, I'd kill te not worry about where my arm is every night, and I'm sick of hatin' snow days. Some days are always gonna be bad."
"Oh," Hiccup looks down glumly.
"Not—Most days are fine," the man sets his flesh and bone hand on Hiccup's shoulder. "And the rest of 'em are livable. And disabled is relative, I lost my runnin' career," Gobber reminds him, "but I'm still coachin'."
"Thanks, Gobber."
"Anytime," the man thinks twice on that statement. "As long as ye are nice te Astrid until Worlds."
"Nice?"
"She's stressed out more'n ye'd ever believe," Gobber instructs him. "Even if she doesn't admit it."
"Alright," Hiccup crosses his heart jokingly. "No fat jokes until after worlds."
"Oh wow," Gobber laughs hysterically, slapping his thigh and pitching forward and struggling to regain his breath. "An' te think I was worried about how ye'd handle two girls—"
"Don't finish that," the red-faced boy crosses his arms and glances up the hill, where Heather is walking back down to join them. "And can you be friendly this time?"
"Wot are ye talkin' about? I'm always friendly," the man insists, but has the sense to look sheepish as Heather clicks across the sidewalk rim of the long jump pit and rejoins their conversation with a shy smile. "I'm sorry about that earlier, Heather. Hiccup here has been ignorin' my calls, an' I needed a word with him."
"Oh, what about?" The girl asks and Gobber shrugs, momentarily at a loss before mischievous eyes light up.
"Baby pictures," he shrugs and Heather laughs that almost too delicate high pitched sound. "All those baby pictures I have of 'im naked in the bath—"
"Gobber!" Hiccup frowns.
"I ne'er got to embarrass ye because yer dad beat me te Astrid," he shrugs. "This is my shot! And I heard Hiccup met ye at his doctors'?" Gobber quickly turns back to leaving Hiccup out of the conversation, being so nice it's absolutely painful. "Horrible way te meet, but I'm glad 'e he did."
Everyone's eyes flick to Heather's foot, then back to the center of their makeshift triangle.
"I'm glad we met too, it's good to have people to talk to," she says, and for the first time in a while, the club feels absolutely inviting.
"And—" Hiccup tentatively starts to respond, watching Gobber for the predictable joking interruption. He barely avoids yelping when too warm, strong hands squeeze his waist from behind and Astrid's chin stabs into his shoulder as she kisses the side of his neck in greeting.
"You guys are early," she greets, still out of breath as she slides to Hiccup's side, grabbing his hand and interjecting herself into the fizzling conversation.
"Not much to do at home, the dogs were ignoring me and enjoying the sun," he explains and Astrid smiles, uncharacteristically clingy as she interlaces their fingers and rests her temple on his shoulder before turning to Heather.
"Heather! I'm so glad you could make it, I've been looking forward to this," she greets, too perky, but Hiccup assumes it has something to do with being overwhelmingly happy that they're not fighting anymore. He agrees with the sentiment entirely and smiles, squeezing her hand. Gobber senses his end in the conversation and ambles away with a wave, looking fakely official as he strides across the field and starts chatting with the sprinting coach.
Heather looks suspiciously green and Hiccup frowns.
"Are you feeling ok?" He asks, and Heather shrugs.
"I'm good, why?"
"You look a little bit like you ate bad sushi for lunch," he suggests and Astrid jostles him with her hip.
"That's not very nice," she frowns at him, trying to hide her own almost sick feelings of accomplishment. "You look fine," Astrid turns back to the other girl, grinning beatifically and leaning back against Hiccup.
Heather's expression sours and Astrid nods nearly imperceptibly.
Ok then, so she wasn't wrong the other night when emotions were high. This girl likes Hiccup.
Of course that makes Astrid angry, defensive, and overwhelmingly, immaturely jealous. But what really threatens to destroy her composure is Heather's methodology. The girl is throwing around words like disabled, and that positively reeks of subconscious warfare.
Astrid was a bully for years. And no matter how hard she's trying to be better, it's something that never quite switches off, seeing people's weaknesses, calculating how to exploit them. She'll be the first to admit that there's a sense of power in controlling people's emotions, but if Heather thinks she'll get anywhere with Hiccup, she's insane.
"Thanks Astrid," the brunette smiles back, eyes hard and piercing. "Long run?"
"Yeah actually, I put in an extra mile, why do you ask?" The conversation is too polite and Hiccup narrows his eyes, trying to zero in on what unspoken sentiments are passing between the two girls.
"Do you need to change before we go?" Heather asks, so friendly, and Astrid looks down at the sweaty neck of her shirt.
"Oh yeah, I have other clothes inside," she retorts, almost snippy behind that super-glued grin. "It's a little cold for shorts anyway."
"We should probably get going," Hiccup warns, somehow out of his depth as the two girls grin almost crazed at each other. "The movie is in half an hour."
"Thanks for being on top of everything, babe," Astrid says too sweetly, turning to face Hiccup and planting a solid kiss on his mouth. She tries to prod further, her tongue shoving almost roughly against his lips, but he pushes her away as gently as possible, shooting her a look that says 'not here'.
Astrid ignores the semi-glare, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and turning back to face Heather.
"You two seem to be doing better," the girl congratulates in an impossibly fake voice. How can Hiccup not hear that? Was she only that convincing? Is Heather actually amazingly convincing?
Who Astrid used to be remains a critically missing unknown, and she wishes she could converse with herself from a year ago.
"Well, the people you love the most make you the most furious," Astrid shrugs, nonchalant as she leans back against Hiccup again, pulling a defiant arm around her waist with an elbow pop that she hopes Heather doesn't notice. "Anyway, I should probably go get changed, or we actually will miss the movie," the blonde bows out almost too gracefully, popping briefly onto tiptoe to give Hiccup a kiss on the cheek before bounding up the hill.
Hiccup can't help but watch her go before turning awkwardly to Heather and shrugging.
"See? She was nice," he challenges with a random gesticulation and Heather nods slowly.
"Everyone was nice."
"And this won't be awkward at all," he mumbles under his breath, wiping an anxious hand across his face.
"Huh?" Heather asks, and he shrugs again.
"Nothing," he insists. "Nothing at all."
00000
So…Hiccup is distracted, Heather is hunting and so is Astrid.
I hope that this was a much needed lighter interlude in the middle of this, and I'll also tell you that it starts setting up the second stage of conflict…
Please drop me a review to talk about any of the many, many things that happened here!