Chapter 11

Warning, alarmingly long chapter ahead.

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Astrid finally gets home around ten, shoving through the front door and scowling at Hiccup briefly before looking back to the floor. She stalks towards her room with surprising speed on those still out of place crutches, not slowing as the dogs trot eagerly by her heels, looking for attention. Hiccup jogs a couple of steps to catch up with her, sheepish and shoving his hands in his pockets as he pulls even.

"Hey Astrid—"

"I have to change," she cuts him off, voice low and muddled, ducking into her bedroom and waiting impatiently for him to step back out of the range of the door. Hiccup sighs and concedes, and Spike gives him a withering look before trotting inside and sitting by the foot of the bed.

"Ok," he mutters, stepping back into the middle of the hallway and sighing as she shuts the door. He hears her crutches fall to the ground and a dresser drawer yanked out with far more force than is really necessary. "Umm…what did you do with Ruff?" Hiccup asks, stepping a bit closer to the wood. Toothless gives him a disappointed look and sits, grumbling low in his throat, because obviously he knows far more about talking to angry women .

"She needed advice dress shopping," Astrid grumbles, voice strained and muffled by the door. Spike's tail smacks rhythmically against the food board, and she mumbles something inarticulate and generally sweet to the dog. "And…" she pauses, growling and stomping her good foot.

"And what?"

"And nothing, Hiccup." She sounds more sad than mad, and the urge to hug her wells up in his throat.

"How'd shopping go?" He asks quietly, stepping closer to the closed door. She'd open if he knocked. It's probably not even locked, he could just open it-

"She found something," Astrid opens the door, taken aback by his closeness and staring daggers into his stomach. "Excuse me."

Hiccup sighs and steps aside, rubbing a hand up the back of his neck. If she's reduced to that polite anger, then he must have really muddled something. Polite Astrid is leagues more terrifying than fierce Astrid, whose emotions are absolutely plain and legible on her face. Polite Astrid is a black box, opening at her own leisure and unsusceptible to outside pressure.

"What are you up to now?" He asks, following behind her as she stalks back down the hallway, crutch-less and slower, but still even. His eyes catch on gym shorts that are definitely tighter than they've ever been before, and he gulps, closing his eyes briefly before focusing back on her angrily swinging ponytail.

"I'm hungry. Then I'm going downstairs," she snips, walking into the kitchen and trying to hide how hard she's breathing from that short distance. Her knee brace is almost too tight, holding her lightly throbbing leg together with loathed and familiar straps as she scowls at the cookie jar and tears a banana off of the bunch, unpeeling it and sighing.

She wants the cookies. She needs to be done with the cookies.

Secrets make her want cookies.

Hiccup loathes the quickening in his chest when she pensively holds the peeled banana to her lips and stares at the floor, tapping her bad foot almost rhythmically. The well-loved running shoes look absolutely strange beneath the line of her brace and he frowns, focusing on them rather than her long fingered hand wrapped around the base of her snack.

"What are you doing downstairs?" Her answering glare could not be clearer in screaming for him to leave her alone. His stomach drops like a stone when she takes a large bite of the banana, and he steps backwards, steeling himself before plowing forward. "I'm just asking because of the shoes."

"I'm supposed to try the stationary bike." She snaps, edging around him, back pressed against the edge of the counter to avoid any accidental contact. "So I'm going to go try it."

"I thought that was supposed to be later this week."

"They didn't specify," she calls over her shoulder, gripping the railing down to the basement and hopping down neatly on her good foot.

He stares at the open door for a moment before following. She's already on the bike, tossing the thankfully empty banana peel into a nearby trashcan and notching her good foot into the pedal. Her right foot takes a moment, unresponsive and oddly heavy as she tries two or three times to thread her toes through the loop before succeeding and bracing her weight against the ball of her foot with a quiet hiss. Hiccup cringes as her face colors crimson and she bites her lip, pushing against her good foot uncharacteristically cautiously.

"That looks like it hurts."

"It's about time I think about getting back into shape," she grunts, concentrating on moving her bad leg in slow, sweeping circles, straightening at the apex of each orbit. It stings, the stretch instantaneously too much before shrinking back into a slack, almost comfortable position. She wishes Hiccup weren't watching her, practically forcing her to notice the unusual bite of her shorts into the side of her thigh where they used to be baggy.

"It's barely been two weeks—"

"I can count." She can count all seven of the days since he last touched her. She can count the scariest three minutes of this whole ordeal and the list of people who should have been there. Hiccup. She should have called him.

"Astrid, they said to try this by the end of the week—"

"And I'll stay away from the cupcakes too, alright?" She cuts him off with a snap, scalding blue eyes briefly meeting his and searing past her uncomfortably frigid exterior. He swallows hard, cringing as his suspicion is confirmed.

"I shouldn't have said that."

"Yeah, the whole refusal to look at me was obvious enough," she rolls her eyes, testing the waters and speeding up slightly, cringing immediately and turning down the bike's resistance with a scowl. The throbbing in her knee is slowly amping up, a second heart beat being born in her leg and taunting her with its nearly audible weakness. "And…" the secret doesn't leak out and her mouth flaps silently.

"I wasn't—"

"No, you stared at the wall," she insists, slowing down with a cringing pout as her knee pulls worse. "And then you decided it was time to be honest, and call me out on being fat."

"That's not what happened," he backs up, eyes wide and apologetic as she pushes a little faster, wincing before gritting her teeth and closing pained eyes. "Can you stop doing that?"

"I'm working off those…cupcakes," she grunts, breathing too hard and wishing that endorphins would kick in and make her feel normal.

"Astrid, stop."

"I'll do whatI want." Her knee is starting to feel looser, throbbing but warm and almost stretched enough behind the glaze of pain.

He hates seeing the way her face crumples with every push, and it's worse knowing that this is in no small part, his fault. She flinches and sets her shoulders and jaw with equal strength, exhaling calmly and pushing forward with that serene calm that he'll never manage.

He can't watch this anymore. This is horrible. She's hurting herself because she thinks she's somehow less than what she was because of some stupid number, and it's making all of that already struggling uselessness even worse.

He should have told her earlier. He should have just bitten the bullet and faced the embarrassment.

"Astrid, stop, I like it," he blurts, hands held out towards her in a calming gesture below his flushed face. She snorts.

"Like what? That I'm back to work?"

"No, I like the umm…the weight you gained?" That sounds awful, and she stops pedaling, opening her eyes to glare at him, almost quizzically put out. "It's…something about…I mean, I like…"

"Were you checking me out earlier?" Astrid asks slowly, hands resting on her knees as the whirring weight in the bike comes to a silent stop.

"You weren't wearing pants," he shrugs, flushed and sheepish. "And then you put on pants, and they were really tight—"

"Why did you lie?" She asks, too upset to sound truly terse as she hugs herself, not used to that layer of softness on her once firm and grooved stomach. Her empty stomach that she really should tell him about.

"I thought you'd be mad," he admits with a too violent shrug. "I didn't want you to be freaked out and hit me, or something."

"I wouldn't have hit you," and she sounds leagues more confident on the matter than Hiccup feels.

"I was checking you out," he admits, gesturing towards those deeply distracting bare legs and looking aimlessly around the room. "And it just seemed like a bad time and…yeah."

"I'm not—ugh, I don't look normal. I haven't felt normal in weeks, and now I don't look normal either."

"You look…different," he takes in what he hadn't quite noticed yet, the slim curve of the outside of her thigh, and the way that her shirt is clinging to her slightly exaggerated waistline. Her subtly curvier hips made obvious by her erect posture as she crosses her arms, jiggling anxious feet against the pedals.

He drags his eyes back to her face.

Of course, she's still tiny. She's always been skinny, and that hasn't changed in the slightest. He can still see the washboard of her ribs along her side, and her collarbones still cast a shadow below her neck.

"Great," she pouts, climbing off of the bike and slumping to sit on the bench pressing station beside it, cradling her head in her hands. "Fantastic."

Hiccup…there's some truth to the fact that men aren't necessarily wildly perceptive. Hiccup doesn't notice bad hair days and blemishes, and haircuts less than six inches. He doesn't notice new clothes, or the fact that she looks horrible first thing in the morning.

If he notices this change beyond the numbers that she told him, it must be big, fundamental.

She misses her old body already. It took years to come to terms with the lack of dramatic curves and small letter of her cup size. Between Hiccup and all those successful races, everything finally started to feel right. Comfortable even. She was happy in her skin, content and unworried about bulking up or trimming down.

Maintaining.

And now she's back in line for that roller-coaster, farther back than she's ever been and absolutely unsure if they'll let her on or if it's even worth it to give it a try.

She sighs, sitting up and closing her eyes, rubbing a tired palm over her forehead. It's not a big deal. She can handle this, just like she handles everything else. Hiccup takes her melting glare and mounting anguish as his cue to step in, clearing his throat before talking.

"You do look different," he starts gently, stepping hesitantly forward and sitting down at the opposite end of the bench. "But it's a good different."

"I thought you liked how I looked before," she snaps, and the real problem comes out into the air.

He's either been lying for years, or he's lying now.

"I did," he affirms like he's talking to a scared puppy. He misses volunteering at the new shelter, and his comfort feels rusty, but he's smart enough to know that Astrid still needs him around more than she admits. "I love you, I don't care if you weigh two hundred pounds."

"So it is worse then," she nods solemnly and looks back towards the bike, gritting her teeth and moving to stand up. Hiccup's hand lands on her good knee, comparatively cool and comforting and she relaxes with an indignant huff, staring pointedly at the wall.

"I've always…you've never…" he gestures to her again, flushed and letting his eyes wander in an attempt to get his point across. "I've always liked everything about you," she tries not to smile, "but some curious," she twists slightly to face him, and her shirt stretching in a strange new way across her chest, "very very curious part of me really likes this."

"It does?" She asks, doubting and nervous. There must be some way to prove this, one way or the other. After a too quiet moment, a coy smile rises tentatively to her cheeks. "Can you help me with something?"

"Sure," he nods, too happy that she doesn't sound peeved with him in the moment. She stands on her good foot and shuffles over to him, obviously stiffer than before her escapade on the bike. He's genuinely worried until she spins to face away from him, and the tighter back of those shorts is a foot in front of his face.

"I think I did something to the left side, mind checking it out?"

"The left side of your umm…" And it looks even better up close, with those shorts stretched tight over the plump flesh. His hand is shaking slightly as he lifts it, hovering a few inches away while she watches over her shoulder, failing to look disinterested.

"Left cheek…it feels tight," she frowns, "well, if you don't want to help me—"

"No, I do," he cuts her off, reaching up and cupping her rear through her shorts, heart beating far too fast considering the sheer number of times that he's touched her. He squeezes the decidedly different texture and can't feel anything concerning through the excited throbbing in his fingertips.

"So…am I alright?" She asks, wiggling her hips back against his palm. He clears his throat and nods, standing and spinning her to face him, catching her with a hand on her lower back. "I asked you to look behind me," she grins sheepishly and he laughs, fingers stroking along a slightly curvier waist that makes his face unreasonably hot.

"I don't think you're hurt," he gulps as she leans into him, hands warm and small against his chest.

"Really?" She cocks her head, wrapping long arms around the back of his neck and pulling herself onto one set of eager tip toes. Her lips brush eagerly against the side of his neck and she grins at the throbbing pulse under her lips.

Being hurt is horrible. Being hurt and gaining weight is impossibly worse. The look of haphazard appreciation in Hiccup's eyes is something akin to magic diffusing into her current state of mind and she clings to it, nuzzling behind his ear and earning a strangled gasp.

"Yeah, I think you're alright," he nods, hand sliding up between her shoulder blades, slow and almost confident. She kisses under his jaw, bolstering him onward.

This is more fun than exercising, or worrying over all the walking she can't really do right now and all of the foreign secrets lurking in her brain. This is here and now and a far more enticing plan.

Not to mention that it's sort of nice to have something new to try without all of the usual required effort.

"Just alright?" Astrid purrs against his skin, leaning forward enough to draw obvious attention to the tent in his pants. She pulls back just enough to quirk a curious eyebrow at him, staring purposefully over towards the stairs. "It does still sort of hurt…ache really," she complains, happy to be playing wide eyed and innocent for a while. "Maybe you'd rub it a bit?"

He still has condoms in his bedroom, right? How is she going to explain to him that he has to use a condom?

"Astrid…" he looks down at her, torn between pleading and something brave. She grins because she's almost there, and the switch is ready to toggle between her fingers.

She could just say that she's a day off on her pill and tell him that she wants to be careful.

He might get nervous, he might ask.

"Come on, it's sore—mph!" She moans against suddenly insistent lips prying hers apart as his tongue eagerly invades her mouth. Astrid returns the favor, fingers scrabbling at soft auburn hair as she stretches further onto already exhausted toes.

"Astrid," he groans against her lips, hands clenching and gripping at her waist, working her shirt up and smoothing soft fingers over her stomach.

"Hiccup?" She mutters against his cheek as he nips down her neck, yanking the neck of her shirt aside. "I thought-I thought I was pregnant." The secret burst out when she least intends it to.

Hiccup drops her faster than she would have thought possible, lunging backwards and staring at her, wide eyed and heaving through kiss swollen lips.

"Y-you—"

"I'm a day off in my pill this month, I missed while I was in the hospital," she admits, staring at his mismatched feet and crossing her arms over her stomach. "And the weight gain, I was hoping it was…I didn't know how to deal with it and—it was just a whim?" He blinks slowly, eyebrows slowly rising towards his hairline. His mouth flaps, chest shuddering underneath strangely rigid shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"Nph," he mumbles, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his inhaler, taking a slow puff and holding his breath for a moment before exhaling. "I—I—I—"

"I—we went and got a test, but it was negative, but it could be too early to take one anyway, but I think I overreacted. I only missed one day, and I'm babbling. Say something." She wrings her hands, taking a step towards him and reaching for his hand. It clenches into a tight fist.

"You didn't tell me? You thought you were…and you didn't tell me?" His voice cracks and he clears his throat, breath shuddering irritably on the way out of his mouth.

"It was for a few minutes, I—false alarm."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It didn't seem like anything, it was just a…joke, and then I realized it could be legitimate and it spiraled out of control—"

"You—you should have called or—I would have been there, you know." He's genuinely hurt, jaw flexing towards her, so menacingly earnest.

"I know you would have. I just wanted to—I took care of it, it's nothing."

"You said it might have been too early to take a test," he swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Yeah, it was only a week ago when we…I've never been in this situation before."

"When—when are you supposed to…?" He looks down at those tighter shorts, and just how good they look floats to the back of his mind.

"A week?" She nods slowly, "and last month I was on schedule." He's always known, it's one of those things that got hard to hide, and never really seemed worth sneaking around. And it was refreshing, just how calm he always was about the entire situation.

Scott was always so…grossed out, yelping like a little girl if he saw tampons in her backpack. Hiccup offers to run to the store for her and keeps the bathroom stocked and has always been absolutely content with snuggling for a week while she snarled a little too ferociously at nothing in particular.

"So we know in a week. For sure."

"I know for sure now," Astrid crosses her arms and snarls at the floor. "I took a test. I'm good."

"We are good," Hiccup spits at her through gritted teeth, suddenly angry and formidable. "We. Us. This wouldn't just be you. This would be our problem and our…and you didn't even tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Can you? I—I need to sit down," he looks around the room, at the uncomfortable bench near the weights and shakes his head. "I'm going to bed, I—"

"Can we talk about this?" She shuffles between him and the door, cautious hands landing against the front of his shoulders. "Because I did—Do I get any points for telling you now?"

"Were you just not going to tell me at all?" His voice cracks again, but there's nothing funny about it.

"I didn't know how."

"How about, 'Hey Hiccup, I think I'm pregnant'," he coughs, face an unhealthy shade of red. "Because that sounds pretty reasonable to me."

"It's not that easy," she edges a little closer, fingers curling in the front of his shirt. "I'm…I was scared, and Ruff was right, and she was asking about a test and I just—I just did it."

"I'm pretty scared right now," he admits quietly, hands twitching at his sides with the urge to touch her. "I—"

"Can we talk about this?" She asks again, closing her eyes and sighing. "I just need…I need to sit down, and we need to talk about this."

"Let's go upstairs," he nods curtly, still not making eye contact as he urges her towards the stairs. "I feel like…privacy? Yeah, privacy."

"Sure," Astrid scoots away, hopping a bit on her good foot. "Your room?" She spins slowly and grabs the banister next to the stairs, knee stiff underneath her.

"Does your knee hurt?" He asks, eyes flitting briefly down her legs before fixing back on her ponytail. "I can help you up, if you want."

"I'm fine, Hiccup. They're just stairs." He steps up beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and taking some of her weight.

"I want to help," he pulls her a little closer to his side, walking faster up the stairs and setting her back on her two feet at the top. "When you need help, I want to help."

Spike looks up from her half of the dog bed, rolling her eyes in a remarkably human way before flopping back down onto Toothless's haunch and falling back asleep. Hiccup gets the distinct impression that she's on his side this time.

"Your room," she repeats, shuffling alongside him down the hallway, shooting Spike a meaningful look that he doesn't quite understand. Toothless sighs and stretches, toenails scraping against the wallpaper. Astrid turns through his door and sits on the end of the bed, grateful to take weight off of her feet and horribly nervous.

She hasn't been nervous to talk to Hiccup about something in years.

"So," he shuts the door behind him, tapping his foot on the ground for a nervous second, looking at her stomach not at all subtly. She crosses her arms and frowns at the ground. She should just tell him.

Tell him that she thought about him as a dad today. That she could see it clear as day and she doesn't know how to feel about it.

"Sit down," she snaps, scooting sideways to leave more room. "I—do you want kids? Ever?" The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, clumsy and impossible. Kids? She's asking about kids?

How old is she? Because she's never felt younger.

"Kids?" Hiccup blanches, walking to sit beside her, head cradled in his hands. "I don't know."

"Apparently Fishlegs wants three. Ruff thinks she wants two." She laughs, miserable and overwhelmed. "I haven't really thought about it."

"I haven't either," he admits, sitting up straight and dragging his palms down his cheeks. "Not specifically, I mean. I have—I do want kids someday, I think."

"Yeah?"

"Someday," he nods slowly. "There's a lot of stuff that I want to do first, alright? A lot, a lot of stuff."

"Me too," she backs off of the topic, loathe to sound like she's dragging him into something. Because she's not. That blazing image of Hiccup holding a baby, sporting those finals week dark circles. "I'm just—It's a future thing, obviously. But you do want kids?"

"I guess I do," he laughs, looking a little insane, a little undone. Unraveling from the edges. "You?"

"Right, because I'm absolutely mother material," Astrid snorts, staring at the wall to avoid his face. A skinny arm loops over her shoulders and tugs her towards him, more warm and comforting than she could ever be.

"That doesn't really answer my question," his chin rests against the top of her head. "Do you want kids?"

"I don't know." She sighs and leans into him, shoulder pressing against his ribs. "Someday? Maybe?"

"At least we're on the same page there," he laughs. "We're both clueless."

"I should have told you earlier," she nods, "I just…it was almost a joke, you know? It was 'maybe I didn't overeat, maybe I'm just pregnant'," the word catches in her throat, again embarrassingly frightening. "And then Ruff started asking if we'd had a condom incident, or something, and I realized that I'm a day off on my pill this month and I—I panicked?" That might be the worst part, just how much she fell apart. Just how readily she signed herself over to the frenzy.

"Missing a day isn't…that's not actually a big deal, is it? It'd be crazy if the tolerance was that close…" he hedges hopefully, hand stiff on her shoulder.

"I don't think it is. I think we're alright, really." Astrid nudges him with her shoulder, trying to get closer as subtly as possible. "I just—" She can't think of anything else to say, the words all fickle and tactless against her tongue. "I think you'd be a great dad, for what it's worth," she admits, chewing on her lip.

"Come on, I'd be a disaster. If it—" he swallows hard at the possibility about to come out of his mouth. "If it were our kid, it'd probably come out athletic and beautiful and we wouldn't have anything to talk about."

"If it were our kid, I'm pretty sure Toothless would raise it."

"Its first word would be 'woof'," Hiccup snickers, kissing the top of her head.

"If it were a boy, he'd start lifting his leg." He snorts in agreement and she leans a little closer, feeling more forgiven.

"I think you'd be a great mom."

"You've thought about it?" She mutters, swinging a leg across his lap and turning to curl up leaning against him. He's smart enough not to mention it, instead wrapping steadying arms around her and holding her there. The brace digs into his thigh, stubbornly between them even now.

"Not—If you're half as good at mommying them as you are at taking care of me, they'll be lucky kids."

The future tense is oddly comforting.

"I don't take care of you," she thinks back on the last few weeks and the incessant demands. She needed him to get her water and get her pills and help her to bed and take her freaking dog for a run.

"No one else makes sure I get sleep or feeds Toothless when I get busy," his grip tightens around her and she leans further into him, line of his collarbone against her temple. "And no one else always answers my calls. Always. I've called you at three in the morning before and you picked up. You were cranky…"

"Ok. So it sounds like I'd be a fine mom to some stubborn teenager, but a baby?" She shivers and he pulls her closer. "They're so tiny and fragile and I'm not…I'm not good with fragile." Her knee throbs, reminding her just how much she hates its weakness and its horrible instability.

"I think you'd be great."

She's probably going to have kids with Hiccup someday, and one of them is going to say 'I told you so.' She sincerely hopes that it's him, as unlikely as that seems.

"One thing though," she laughs and leans back far enough to make eye contact. "My future child is not ending up with a nickname like Hiccup."

"Of course not, your future child isn't going to suffer in middle school," he snickers, lying back on the bed and taking her with him. She shifts to get comfortable, head on his shoulder as his hand curls around her waist.

"Would you want a boy or a girl?" She asks quietly, tucking her forehead to his neck and wrapping her bad leg across his hips as best she can. She scoots her hips closer to him, his side pressed tight against her front so that her brace is on the far side of him. It's the first time that the metal contraption has brought them closer together, and she silently tells it that it still has a long way to go.

"I don't know," he laughs, shifting a bit under her to get comfortable and letting his thumb stroke along the lower line of her ribs. "I haven't really thought about it. What about you?"

"I don't…I think a boy would be easier, at least to start," she exhales slowly, breath hot against his neck. "No uphill battle against the princesses. And I see you being horrible to a daughter's first boyfriend."

"Really?" His chest puffs out underneath her as he smiles. "You're getting the protective vibe?"

"Come on, you have a pet wolf. And we both know you're going to have a garage full of machinery. It'll be even more terrifying than the whole 'cleaning your gun' act. Showing him some big grinding wheel, and the poor kid is terrified…"

"So, I want a daughter," he laughs and she thwacks his arm with the back of her hand. "What? I want to do the tough dad routine, that sounds like fun."

"You're an idiot," she laughs, curling a little closer to him, hand on his chest.

"I do want to have kids with you someday," he admits quietly, voice low and mellow. "If we're still together, I mean. But I think we will be. Maybe. If I don't say anything about cupcakes in the near future—"

"Yeah…not mentioning cupcakes is probably a good move," she sighs heavily, propping herself onto an elbow and staring down at him. "I'll—I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. I should have called you or something."

"I'll get my chance," he grins, and he looks too happy for her to be mad at the insinuation. She squirms a bit closer and his eyes drift down to the shirt gapping away from her chest.

"Does it really look ok?" She asks quietly, following his gaze and frowning at the change.

"It looks…great," he nods, hand smoothing around her side and sliding to cup the point of her hip. "Seriously."

"So good it made you act like a bumbling idiot?"

"Exactly. Take it as a compliment," his hand slips under her shirt, stroking the soft skin of her side as his face flushes at the different texture. He wonders just how insensitive it would be to try and get her shirt off now.

Probably pretty insensitive…but probably not as bad as cupcakes

"I do look different," something in his eyes makes the room feel warmer, and she remembers her downstairs distraction. She wants him, she wants to feel absolutely normal and loved and to forget how scared she felt earlier.

"Good different," he insists, free hand sliding up the back of her neck to tug the hair tie out of her ponytail, smiling as it spills over her shoulder in a golden cascade. "Really," he combs his fingers through the strands as he starts to work her shirt up over hip.

"Oh?" She lays back down over him, fingers cupping his chin as she kisses him softly. "Because I think I need a little convincing,"

"Convincing?" He chuckles, palm sliding up between her shoulders, hot against her skin.

"So dense sometimes," she grins and sits up just long enough to pull her shirt over her head and squirm out of that impossibly tight sports bra. Hiccup grins and pulls her back onto him, hands greedily exploring the naked curve of her waist.

"I figured it'd be a couple of days," his hands dance up her spine, tickling her shoulders and holding those soft new lines close. He flushes, fingers clenching sweet and urgent on her shoulder blades, pulling her down to kiss him. "What with the whole cupcakes thing…"

"I should have called," she frowns, nodding resolutely. "We're even."

"Fair enough," he laughs and glances down towards where she's pressed against him. "You're making it kind of hard for me to get naked, you know."

"I—" she tucks her head to his shoulder and sighs. "Give me a second."

"Are you…" the question feels downright nonsensical in his mouth and he starts over, hands gentle on her back. "Are you nervous right now?"

"No," she jerks her head up and glares at him for even suggesting it. Nervous? That's crazy. Why would she be nervous? He's seen her naked hundreds of times. But not like this, not with this new strangeness making her feel heavy and slow. "Yes. I'm nervous."

His soft smile does very little to help the fluttering nausea in her stomach and she hides her forehead again in his shoulder, nose pressed against the side of his neck.

"I already told you that I liked it," he tries, turning sideways and planting a soft kiss against her temple. She burrows deeper into the dark, safe spot, legs lazily splaying on either side of his hips. "And you were the one taking your clothes off and talking about convincing. I've already seen it," he wraps his arms around her waist and holds her against him. "And it was nice. I saw it, and it was really nice."

"Fine," she sighs, because this is ridiculous, and his shoulder is too shallow to be a good hiding place anyway. "I'm—I'm trusting you."

"Trustworthy," he assures her, eyes wandering as she rolls off of him back onto the bed. He attempts to follow, hand landing against her stomach, but she holds a finger in his direction, looking down at his annoyingly present clothes.

"Clothes. You've got to be naked too," she waits until he starts sliding his shirt up a milky white stomach before hooking her thumbs in the sides of her shorts and carefully pushing them down over her brace. He grins, crooked and boyish as he stands and pushes his pants down, hopping on one foot and unbuckling his leg.

"Bossy," he teases her, crawling back onto the bed and hovering over her. She has to give him credit for the eye contact.

"Whatever," she wraps arms around his neck and pulls him down to kiss him, nipping at his lip and slipping her tongue between his teeth. She can feel his smile against her, upturned lips almost tickling her cheeks as he takes over the kiss, hand pushing through her hair. His other fingers start to wander, tickling the outer point of her hip and tracing a line to her waist.

His lips wander down her neck, barely ghosting over her skin and tickling her again with that smile as she lets out an embarrassingly high pitched moan. The hand in her hair joins his grip on her waist, holding her as his hips nudge against hers. She'd be lying if she said that his already throbbing shaft isn't a self-confidence boost. Her hands drift to wind in his hair as he kisses further down, melting anxiousness with each gentle touch.

Finally, he dips his head and nibbles across that new, fuller rise of her breast and she moans, stretching carefree arms over her head.

"Less nervous?" He grins up at her, hands cupping her chest and breathing a bit harder as that inhuman urge reawakens in the back of his brain. She's just…It's different but familiar, utterly irresistible in all of those Astrid ways he's used to on top of the appeal of all those new curves.

"You're teasing me," she complains, gasping as he sucks a pebbled nipple into his mouth with a too loud slurping sound.

"What do you expect, with all of this," he nuzzles against her chest, kissing softly and breathing almost unbearably hot air over her skin. "It's…" he trails off distracted, rocking his hips against hers and giving her other breast much deserved attention.

"Mmmm…" she hums happily, tugging at the ends of his hair and relaxing into the bed.

"Seriously, Astrid," he gasps, grabbing her hip and grinding a bit harder against her, teasing with that heat against her core. "You look amazing," he swipes a thumb across her breast, mouthing at her pulse point and sighing as she slings her good leg over his ass, pinning him against her.

"Can…" she starts to ask something but loses her train of thought when his hand slides down the back of her thigh and grabs her ass. He groans into her neck, and it sends electric pulses shooting through her, scalding fingers stroking at the warmth in the pit of her stomach. "Roll over."

"Huh—ack!" He grips tight to the edge of the bed as she flips him, wincing as the motion pulls at her knee. Luckily, the way that they landed, she can let the brace hang off of the side of the bed, toes brushing the floor as she raises herself on her good knee and positions herself over his hips. Her hand wraps around his shaft and pumps slowly, pressing him against her and preparing to sit. His eyes widen and he jerks halfway to sitting. "Wait!"

"What?" She glares at him, "they'll still be there later." She gestures to her chest, and feeling exposed isn't anything to be nervous about.

"Umm…condom?" Her eyes widen and she jumps back a few inches, feeling beyond idiotic.

"Right. Condom. Where are they?"

"Bedside table? I think there are some in there," Hiccup looks towards the small drawer and Astrid hops onto her bad foot, carefully crawling off of him and taking a slow careful step to the table. Because it's convenient, he reaches out and pinches her butt, grinning when she squeaks and glares back over her shoulder at him. "It was right there."

"And here we go," she ignores his explanation, retrieving an almost embarrassingly dusty foil wrapper from the back of the drawer and ripping it open. "Thanks for reminding me," her smile is sheepish as she slides the rubber onto him, wiping the sticky lube on her side and climbing back into position.

"No problem," his thumb finds her clit, flicking gently across it as she lines him up again and sits with a moan. Her toes brace against the floor as she leans down to kiss him, hips rocking forward against him.

It's less intimate, admittedly, with the barrier between them, but it doesn't change the way that he strokes so sweetly against that spot deep inside her with every twitching rock of his hips. She plants her hands against his shoulders and leans up slightly, biting her lip as the angle deepens and he grabs her hips, pulling her down firmly against him.

"Right there," she nods, fingers digging into the points of his shoulders as her movements find a quickening rhythm. He can almost feel her, his brain filling in the wet walls so soft and welcoming as they grip him. It's almost enough and he sits up, short leg dangling over the side of the bed under hers as his arms wrap around her waist, tugging her close to bury his face in her neck. "This is…that…there…" she tries to talk, giving up as he dips his head to suck on a pebbled nipple, dragging her closer to him.

It seems like far too soon when she tenses, eyes rolling back into her head as her hips twitch frantically on his.

"Alright?" He checks, rubbing the boneless thigh above her brace and she nods, loose and happy in his arms.

"Good," she looks at him, leg sliding from beside them to curl around his back. "You didn't?" Her eyes fall to where they're still joined and he shakes his head.

"It's…harder with the…yeah," he says almost apologetically, kissing her sweat damp forehead.

"What do you need?" She asks, hand hooking behind his neck and kissing him, prying his lips apart and invading his mouth with an eager tongue.

"I'm not complaining…" kiss, "about this," he reaches down to grab her rear, hips grinding up into her.

"This?" She checks, kissing him again, groaning into his mouth as he starts to move her up and down on top of him.

"Yeah," he nods, head tipped back as she starts nibbling along the column of his neck, eyes squinting shut. Astrid takes over some of the rocking, anchoring her arms around his shoulders and sliding alongside him, mouth dancing across his upper chest. "Astrid…" he moans her name and it's an electric shock through her body.

Her hand slips between them, grinding down on her clit as they start to rock together faster, collision slippery and almost enough, with her warm fingers glancing across his base on every stroke. He can feel that she's going to follow him again, from the warmth again building within her, clenching frantically around him as she starts to moan, forehead resting against his shoulder.

"Oh—oh god," she groans, back stiffening as her fingers press hard into her clit, sending her over that edge. Hiccup follows, pulling her hips down and holding her there as she twitches. "That was—you really last longer with a condom, don't you?"

"And thanks for that confidence boost," he laughs, arms falling slack around her.

"Love you," she kisses his cheek, more tender than words would be and looks down at her braced leg tangled in his short one. "Now how do we get out of this?"

00000

And the smut. Way to talk yourself out of trouble there Hiccup. Props.

Good luck to everyone surviving finals, and chapter 12 will be out on Wednesday.

Also, does anyone have a strong opinion on this update schedule? Because I'm thinking about posting everyday starting next Thursday or Friday just to get this thing done with, because otherwise it's trying to go into June, which I don't want. So let me know if that sounds alright.

Also let me know if the smut was alright, I did not have as much time with it as I'm used to, so I hope it's still ok.