Author's Note: I feel like my updates are progressively getting slower. I would have posted this earlier tonight but wow the teaser for HTTYD2 came out and Hiccup is absolutely lovely. Alright, so this is basically more filler (probably followed by more filler) to space things out and get the boys situated to home life, as well as resolve a few conflicts I kind of left up in the air. The title is pretty self-explanatory. Sorry this one is a little short in comparison to the others, I didn't have too many plans for this chapter; I only knew two points I wanted to extend on so… bleh. Crap chap. Ya' know.

Basic Overview: After three weeks of mischief, the boys have to readjust to home life.

Point of View: 3rd person: Jack/Hiccup alternation

Warnings: Nothing horrible, Whoo-hoo.

Age Reminder: Jack is 12 (7th grade); Hiccup is 11 (7th grade); Emma is 10 (5th grade)

Chapter 21: Home

July 13th

The first thing Jack registered when he walked in the door was the silence.

Emma tugged open the front door with a loud creak, popping her head through the crack to glance around the front entrance. Jack followed after her, the smile on his face just as wide as his younger sister's as they made their way into the living room. He carefully laid down their suitcases by the front door and looked around, taking in each familiar nook and cranny of the house after a long three weeks away. Things looked a lot more organized than he remembered (North must have gotten bored and cleaned up the house, poor guy), and the silence that settled itself in every crevice felt foreign and absolutely unwanted. Jack was used to North's music booming all the way from his study to the living room on the other side of the house, or yelling between rooms when someone needed something. Noise had become a North/Overland trademark, and its absence was just… awkward.

Emma had snuck into the living room on her tip toes, and she snapped her fingers a few times to catch Jack's attention. He turned to face her and sniggered as she pointed to their adoptive father out cold on the couch, his head propped up on the arm rest while his feet just barely touched the opposite one. North slept surprisingly still, taking long, deep breaths that sometimes shifted into snores when his exhaled. Emma giggled, making her way over to the couch carefully to pull a blanket over him. The second her arm reached over his form to tug at a blanket on the back, the old man leapt forward and pulled her into his arms with a loud "AH-HA!"

She sniggered and giggled, wiggling in his arms as he all but crushed her against his chest in a tight hug. Jack grinned from across the room, striding over to sit on the armchair. He watched with a laugh of his own as their adoptive father tickled his sister mercilessly and showered her with affections, before sitting up with his back against the cushions to let her sit on his lap. North chuckled and gestured for Jack to come over as well, so he hopped onto his feet and sat beside him, a large arm curling around his shoulders to pull him close.

"Welcome back, little ones!" he cheered, squeezing both of them tightly with each of his arms. "It has been long time, has it not?"

Emma nodded happily, kicking her feet a bit while they dangled off his lap.

"So, how was camp?" North threw Jack a quick glance, an eyebrow raised to accompany a knowing smile. "I trust you did not get in too much trouble?"

Jack chuckled. "Not too much."

He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer. "Do I want to know what that means?"

"Probably not."

"I will take your word on that," North chuckled, "I am glad to have my little ones home," the old man chuckled, hugging the two of them close. His grip was rather tight (or at least it seemed tight, since Jack could hear a few of his limbs pop). "Come, I make you breakfast."

Jack cheered under his breath while Emma hopped off his lap and skipped into the kitchen with a loud "Yay!"

Overall, breakfast was the same as it usually was. North cooked them pancakes and bacon (much to Jack's delight) while Emma chimed on and on about all the fun she had at camp. There was an instance in which she nearly brought up a few of Jack's stupid pranks — his Lakeside raid in particular — so he hurriedly changed the subject or nudged her leg with his foot to shut her up. It seemed like North was catching on to his mischief anyways, judging by the knowing smirk on his face when Jack dodged topics and "edited" out certain days of his camp experience.

It felt nice to be back, and what particularly warmed Jack's heart was the wide smile on Emma's face, and the jubilant ring in her voice as she told her tales. It seemed like she was more social and… Well, happy since the "adoption" bomb hit. Then again, her mind was in other places… so Jack paid the details no mind and simply enjoyed her stories about hiking, or the jokes Astrid and Ruffnut told her. In a word, everything felt… Right.

Their day ended up as one of relaxation, with Jack sprawled across the couch lazily as Emma hogged the bathtub upstairs.

There was no way a girl her size needed thirty minutes to wash herself! I mean, Emma was puny but she took the longest baths; Jack had always assumed she either fell asleep while she was lounging or playing pretend or something. Either way, thirty minutes was ridiculous. He watched TV in the meantime, his focus wavering between garbled speech he didn't bother to pick up on and the hum of the fan. Jack drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally putting a damper his own coherency. The whir of fan blades slurred to the electric dialogue of the TV. His eyes shut but he lay still on the cusp of unconsciousness.

Emma snapped him out of it when the light pitter patter of her feet caught his attention. She plopped herself on the couch and threw him a smile. Jack returned the gesture with a smile of his own and hustled up the stairs, swinging a right off the top step to head into the bathroom. Showering felt nice after three weeks of mud and sweat. His hair didn't feel as sticky as the water ran through it, and — despite his usual preference for colder temperatures — hot water got all the remaining dirt clinging to his skin and eased the tension in his muscles. He must have taken around ten minutes longer than usual, but as he tugged on a loose purple t-shirt and ruffled his hair beneath a towel he could hardly find it in himself to care.

Jack slept for a few hours and unwound in the living room with Emma and a few hours of cartoons.

Henrik wasn't allowed to move when he got home.

Oh don't worry; that had nothing to do with his leg or his Dad or anything like that, and sitting around was actually pleasant. Literally the second he walked through the door and hollered "I'm home!" Toothless sped down the stairs (nearly missing a few steps in the process) and hopped all over the place, jumping up his legs with a wild, wagging tail that moved so quickly Henrik could hardly see it. He stood on two paws so he could lean against the boy's legs (or, leg rather) and stared up at him with excited eyes that begged him for attention. The freckled preteen chuckled quietly, placing his bag to the side so he could kneel and pet the little warrior.

"Hey bud," Henrik grinned, leaning his face in close to the small dog. "You miss me?"

Toothless yipped, licking his nose a few times before he pulled back and laughed.

"Yeah," he scratched his chin carefully. "I missed you too."

Henrik strided through the front entrance and stumbled into the living room, letting his back hit the nearest sofa (ultimately being the armchair, but whatever) so he could unwind. He patted his thigh and whistled quietly, catching Toothless's attention. The black beast (as his father had started referring to him as) hopped up onto his lap, hitting him in the crotch doing so. The freckled preteen initially hollered, and slid his back further down so he could rest on his chest, legs dangling off the arm rest loosely. His entire body relaxed and a hand came up to pet his dog on his back and behind his ears. They sat together for a while on the armchair, which would have been more pleasant if Toothless wasn't so fussy about letting Henrik move.

Apparently spending three weeks away from him warranted the little warrior to guard him. He wasn't allowed to reach over to get the remote without him yipping, and even threatening to move any part of his body resulted in a series of snarls and nasty growls. Henrik sighed. Well, any plans he had to unpack or say hello to his father just went out the window, didn't they? Fortunately, Sven came downstairs to say hello later on, so Henrik he didn't have to move (as if Toothless would let him anyways). His father leaned over to give him a rather awkward, one-armed hug (if he could even call it that) before sitting down on the other couch with a smile.

"Good to have you back, son," Sven assured, folding his hands on his lap. "It's been p-pretty… quiet without you here."

It was always quiet in this house. Henrik nodded, biting down on his lip a bit. "Uh… yeah. Good to be back, I guess."

And, sure enough, the silence returned, settling itself comfortably between them.

"…so, did you have a good time? A-at camp, I mean."

He thought back a bit and chuckled, shaking his head back and forth. "Er… yeah. It was uh… I-it was pretty boring though."

"Ah. I see."

His father certainly had a knack for not knowing what to say, it seemed. Of course, Henrik knew not to expect anything less (considering everything that's happened) and awkwardly readjusted from the roar of idiots back in the cabin to the silence of his own household. It wasn't particularly a smooth transition – as lying on the couch for a while with no sound except Toothless's occasional yips and snarls mentally demonstrated – but he was beginning to remember quiet nights in his room and dinners in the kitchen by himself. Sitting up carefully, Henrik rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly and shushed the little warrior on his lap (barking at him for moving, no doubt) with a pat on the head.

Looking over at his Dad, it seemed like he was fumbling for something to say. Maybe he was overthinking it, but judging by the way he kept shifting in his seat and glancing around the room told him that there was something on his mind he couldn't quite vocalize. It bothered him, really, that his father wouldn't just tell him what was going on and made him guess. Sure, Henrik wasn't one to jump on the whole "talking about his feelings" thing either, and he totally understood how hard it was to say what's on his mind, but it was starting to get really… how can I put this nicely… well it was getting downright annoying.

But let's look at the bright side: at least now he knew where his stuttering problem came from!

"So…" he fumbled for his own words, stroking Toothless's lazily as he blew his bangs out of his eyes. "What's uh… what's up?"

Sven glanced up at him in a quick burst before darting his eyes elsewhere. He opened his mouth a few times to speak but shut it each time before answering, "Nothing, nothing really. Work has been a thorn in my side, if anything. How um… how have you been, son?"

The way he worded himself made it sound like Henrik was sick or something. Oddly enough, it stung.

"I-I've been alright," he gestured down towards his prosthetic and forced a laugh. "My leg's kind of sore, but I'm good."

His father didn't even look over at it. Another sting followed as his eyes locked on everything but Henrik.

"Probably from all the excitement. Some rest would do you good, eh?"

Why did the glancing bug him so much? It was so subtle, but man, it was starting to get on his nerves.

"Yeah. I'll uh… I'm gonna go and u-unpack. Maybe take a nap after."

Sven nodded, seemingly at the floor by the way he didn't look up as Henrik stood (while Toothless hopped off of him and hopped off). Yet another subtle gesture Henrik was going to ignore… "Good. Good idea." He cleared his throat, standing himself as the freckled preteen wobbled across the room. He tugged his bag up by the handle and lowered his head as he passed by his father, sneaking up the stairs hurriedly (with difficulty, since dang it was heavy and his leg was not agreeing with him today) with Toothless about 5 steps ahead of him. Swinging into his room, Henrik carefully shut the door and let his bag fall onto the floor with a loud thunk! He collapsed face-first into his bed and sighed.

And as he shifted up the mattress so he could lie down properly, Henrik sarcastically mumbled to no one in particular: "Home sweet home."

North declared the night of their return to be a family game night, so Jack and Emma raced into the laundry room to fish out a few board games from the shelf.

Jack managed to reach the Sorry! board before Emma could reach her game (being taller was starting to have its perks other than bragging rights), so he put it back and let Emma bring back Candyland for everyone to play. At first, it started out as a boring round. As usual, Jack and North were behind while his sister was about 10 spaces ahead of them. She continuously complained about how they weren't even trying, so Jack sarcastically cracked jokes about how exciting the game was. She won that round – obviously – and everyone put their pieces back on the start block for another game.

If I were to describe to you just how into Candyland Jack and North had gotten after that round, you probably wouldn't believe me.

Jack probably would have started screaming if he wasn't so sure that the Haddocks would hear him (and call the police, probably) next door; North was equally as loud, while Emma cackled from her corner of the couch about how they were "stupid boys" that had no chance of beating her. If you're wondering what got Jack so riled up to warrant screaming, it was him getting the wrong colors when he was only two spaces away from the Candy Castle. No, really. He was honestly convinced that Emma shuffled the cards so he would not get violet in the end.

Candyland ended with North winning a single round and Emma winning a total of three. Jack pouted on the other side of the couch and declared the game was rigged.

Eventually, they packed the game back into its box and sat on the couch together for a while. The TV buzzed distantly in the background, playing cartoons no one was really watching as they chatted idly. Emma told more of her exciting camp stories, poking Jack's side when she vaguely hinted at something stupid he and the other boys had done. North seemed particularly interested in his side of the story, so he persisted on asking questions about the things he did. Luckily, the mischief king was pretty smooth. He dodged topics that weren't "North friendly" (see: Truth or Dare or any rogue Dagur-involved pranks), editing out the parts he knew would probably end up getting him grounded. Hey, it wasn't like he was lying; he just left out a few… er… major bits.

He mentioned Hiccup's sensitivity to the storms, and North nodded as if he completely understood (which Jack still didn't, but whatever). Emma cooed about it, saying she didn't like the noise either while Jack just sort of shrugged it off, stumbling past the topic with a bit of difficulty. His gut tightened with that awkward, pleasant-but-not-really-pleasant-at-all feeling from when he'd thought about it before, so he shook it off and changed the subject as quickly as he could. The last thing he needed was to think about it more; especially considering the myriad of memories and uncomfortable sentiments that came from recalling the incident. Instead, he focused on the more amusing stories; he wove his epic tale of scaring all the boys in his cabin, which – much to his surprise – earned a hearty chuckle from his adoptive father.

They headed off to bed sometime around 10 o'clock. Or… well, at least North and Emma did.

Jack shimmied through the crack he made in his window and let his bare feet graze the rooftop's surface. High in the sky, the Man in the Moon beamed down at him, bright and full, chasing away every inch of darkness around him. It brought a smile to his face, and as he glanced down toward Hiccup's window, he noticed the boy all curled up on his bed. The freckled preteen had his knees close to his chest, arms hugging them tightly while his forehead rested on them. Toothless curled up beside him (or at least, Jack thought it was Toothless; it was really just a giant lump of fur and black by his side), and he noted the empty suitcase on the floor – as well as a sizeable stack of books on Hiccup's other side. Jack grinned. He was a dork as usual.

Stepping across the break in the roofs carefully, the mischief king tapped on his best friend's window a few times and smiled when he looked up to meet his waves. Hiccup hopped on his one good leg (what an idiot, he didn't even put on his prosthetic…) and tugged open the window hurriedly, grinning at his friend weakly before hopping back to his bed. Jack choked back a snigger. That should not have been as fun to watch as it was.

The older boy slipped through the now open-window and sat beside his friend. "Well, that was kind of hilarious."

"Sorry," Hiccup sighed. "I'm kinda too lazy to put it on right now."

"You? Lazy?"

He rolled his eyes. "What are you doing over here, anyways?" The young boy peeked through the window and pointed to Jack's suitcase – still full and on the floor. "Don't you have unpacking to do?"

"I'll do it later," Jack shrugged. "I just wanted to say hi."

"…that's it?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Hiccup shook his head with a tiny smile – miniscule in size but oh so very genuine. "Idiot."

"Whaaat?" he elbowed his arm playfully. "I'm bored."

"And you couldn't have just gone to bed?"

Jack crossed his arms with a huff. "Gosh, way to make me feel wanted, Hic."

"Sorry, sorry…" Hiccup sighed, elbowing him back lazily. When the older preteen peeked over, he noted the oddly tired look on his face; like he was ready to go to sleep for a year but he couldn't quite get himself to shut his eyes properly. His eyelids sunk lowly over the greens of his eyes, not quite narrowing them but sagging lethargically beneath a few wild strands of hair. Overall, he just looked… blank. Sort of empty, if that made sense; like one of Emma's old dolls if you rubbed off the paint and took a look at the base beneath it.

"…you okay?"

The younger boy shrugged. "I guess."

Jack shifted a bit to face him. "What's that even mean?"

"I dunno," he shook his head a few times, as if to shake off whatever thought was bugging him so much. "I guess I'm really tired or somethin'."

It was weird; he didn't look sleep-tired. He just looked tired in general. What that meant, Jack wasn't sure, but something about it bothered him.

The older brunet patted his head. "Alright. Guess I'll get out of your hair, then."

Giving him a playful smack to the shoulder (once again forgetting Hiccup wasn't really comfortable with physical contact after the fact, the idiot) before sneaking across the room to the open window again. With his leg halfway out, he glanced back at his friend with a sincere smile and threw him a wave. "Night, Hiccup."

He didn't even look up when he waved back.

Jack didn't sleep too well that night.

And before you make assumptions, no, nothing was bothering him; he honestly just couldn't keep his eyes shut for more than an hour, so he gave up on it entirely. He resorted to rolling on his bed, sometimes tapping his feet energetically against the mattress and impatiently waiting for his body to somehow click into sleep-mode. His thoughts failed him in the night. When he tried to think of something to amuse himself with, his brain seemed to shut down and clog with demands at him to fall asleep. So, to say the least, Jack was getting irritated. He ended up hobbling across the room to play on his GBA until he got tired. Picking fights in Pokémon was amusing for a good while, but when he finally got bored he sunk back on his bed with a groan, saving and clicking the game off.

His mind slowly regained its regular thinking pace, but the paths it turned down were… well, weird.

It started with the look on Hiccup's face earlier that night, how lethargic and apathetic his expression remained no matter how many jokes Jack cracked, and how his eyes stayed low as if he were looking at his leg. What was up with him, anyways? Did something happen? Was he nauseous or something? Jack wasn't entirely sure what that look was – that pathetic press of his lips and dull glaze in his eyes confused him to no end; it wasn't that he looked sad or angry. Rather, it seemed like he was thinking really hard about something the older boy couldn't quite pinpoint, as if it couldn't quite wrap his head around something and Jack asking about it only made him more confused. If it warranted the freckled brunet to lie, it definitely had to be important.

…man, Hiccup was full of weird quirks.

He didn't talk too much about himself, now that Jack thought about it; most of the time when they hung out, he just sort of spat out whatever popped into his head and Hiccup gave his two cents on the matter. Sometimes they bickered over petty things like superhero showdowns or video games, but all in all… he didn't say too much else. He never talked about his Dad or Toothless, never brought up his mother or his leg unless it hurt and – in more recent events – never mentioned his problem with thunderstorms. It was like he kept everything bundled up inside and gave occasional slips of small information, little fragments of his personality the older boy had to clumsily piece together.

Meanwhile, Jack just sort of let everyone know everything about him. There wasn't much to him, really, so what was the point in keeping things a secret? He lived with his sister and the man who adopted them in Burgess, his favorite color was blue, he hated wearing shoes, his hair was messy when he didn't spike it, and sure, he kind of preferred the cold (well, most of the time). He was a just simple kid with a simple life, but Hiccup didn't seem quite as easy to read – or at least Jack didn't think so. Everything was so much more...well, complicated with him, I suppose. Jack could go on and on for hours about how angry or upset he was, while it seemed like Hiccup wasn't a fan of emotional expression. He took things as they came, it seemed, and Jack had to sit there and constantly guess what was going through his crazy little brain.

That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, though. Sometimes that mystery in him was fun to explore and poke at; if he pressed the right buttons, his oh-so-stoic demeanor would waver and he got to see the more excitable, animated half of his character. There was one time when they were studying for a history quiz and Jack tried to make some lame joke about the Romans that Hiccup was positive was historically inaccurate. They bickered over the matter for what must have been a half an hour before the younger boy started getting loud. It was an odd sight, let me tell you; quiet little Hiccup pretty much screaming about history while Jack just sort of gaped and giggled at how into it he'd gotten. For the record, Jack lost that argument. But the point still stands; his best friend was definitely livelier than he let on.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was so curious about his best friend; he's had friends before but none of them interested him the way Hiccup did. Spending time with the boy was always fun, even when he was nagging him to do his homework or finish his chores. He was getting a lot mouthier as he got older, the boy noticed; instead of him wincing or taking offense to Jack's sarcastic cracks, he could whip around and throw an even more sarcastic crack at him. When they picked on each other, he had a knack for giving comebacks too. But along with that was the quieter side to him, the side that spent nights in his room reading from the stack of books on his desk and avoided trouble at all costs. It was odd how quickly Hiccup could flip between both of them, but it interested Jack in the strangest of ways.

Before his thoughts could forge forward, the young boy jumped at the sound of a tap at his bedroom door.

"Uh… come in?" he responded quietly, sitting up with his voice lowered to a whisper.

The door creaked open slightly, a sleepy but shaky Emma stepping through the crack. She stood in her night shirt (one of Jack's old t-shirts, he thought) and a blanket tightly wrapped around her shoulders, hair disheveled and eyes half-shut. Jack blinked a bit, looking at her blankly as she walked over. "Hey Emma," he greeted. "What are you doing up?"

"I had a really weird dream," Her words drowned out into a yawn. "And it reminded me that I wanna to talk to you."

"…it couldn't have waited until tomorrow morning?"

She shook her head. "Nuh-uh."

Jack sighed. "Al…right then. What's up?"

Emma scurried over to the bed; hopping onto the mattress tiredly (she nearly slipped off when she landed on the very edge, poor thing), she turned to her older brother and curled her blanket around herself more. He shifted a bit to face her. "I wanted to say that it's okay," she mumbled, with an oddly determined look on her face.

Maybe it was because she was tired, but Emma wasn't making any sense tonight. "What do you mean—"

"—And that I don't really get why you lied but it's fine."

Oh. Oh! She was talking about the adoption thing.

"Emma, can't we talk about this later—"

She shushed him, covering his mouth with one of her hands. "And I thought about it a lot and decided it's okay, because you're still my big brother and I love you."

Every word out of her mouth was sort of slurred and sloppy, but they meant just as much as they would if she were fully awake. Jack actually had very sparse to say in response; his heart thumped happily and thoughts buzzed calmly in his head, but for whatever reason he couldn't bring himself to say something. So he ended up sitting there and smiling like an idiot while his sister pulled back her hand.

"And I still think you should have told me," Emma sighed, lowering her eyes and letting her expression soften. Small fists tugged her blanket tightly around her. "And you're really, really stupid for not saying anything sooner."

Jack nodded. "Fair enough."

"And," Emma was just full of ands tonight, wasn't she? She looked up at her older brother with sincere, curious eyes and folded her hands on her lap. "I had some time to think about it and… I dunno. I guess I'm curious about them."

"About who?"

"Mom and Dad."

The older boy gulped a bit. "What about 'em?"

"What they were like, what they looked like… ya' know," she shrugged as if she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to ask either. "Stuff like that."

"Uh…" Jack sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. It wasn't like he remembered too much about them either… just the faded blurs and random splotches of color that came and gone with his nightmares. "Gosh, you're probably askin' the wrong person."

She scooted closer, looking up at him with wide eyes that begged him to tell her what he knew. Jack snorted and shrugged.

"Well," he thought back as far as he could, finding difficulty in the task. The first thing to pop into his head was the blurred image of narrowed, russet eyes and a loose, brown bun on the back of the figure's head; they were accompanied by a stern voice telling at him to get down from somewhere, and Jack registered it as a memory of his mother. "You uh… you look like Mom. A lot actually." He patted her head. "North wasn't lying about that."

"Really?" Emma gaped at him, tilting her head a bit. "What was she like?"

"Uh… Mom-ish, I guess."

She giggled. "What's that even mean?"

"You're askin' me?" he chuckled, bowing his head a series of memories came to mind. "I dunno, she was really… nice?" The only real memories he could muster up were small ones, of her calling to him before the flood or yelling for him to come back inside. He could vaguely recall his mother's constant nagging, too. "And she had your habit of yellin' at me all the time, too. I swear, she wouldn't let me do anything."

Emma smiled. Jack wasn't entirely sure why, but it was sort of contagious.

"Dad was really funny. He had this gross old boat, I think. Kept trying to patch it up so we could go sailing but it kept falling apart. And… well I… honestly don't remember too much about him, but uh…" he thought hard for a minute. "He really loved you."

Her smile softened. "He did?"

"Of course he did. What kinda question is that?"

They sat silently for a moment, before his younger sister rested her head on his shoulder and hugged him with both arms. Jack tensed a bit as she squeezed him (not particularly hard, but enough to startle him a bit), looking down at her curiously. She seemed at peace; with both eyes shut and her cheek comically smushed against his side. The older boy smiled, bringing his arm around her shoulders to lazily hug her back.

"…Da—uh—North told me that they drowned."

He nodded sadly. It wasn't so much at the memory that got him; rather, it was how she seemed to stutter out North uncomfortably. It sounded weird coming out of her mouth.

"...and that I got out 'cause you saved me."

Another nod.

"…was it scary?"

Jack shrugged indifferently, fumbling for an answer. I mean, how would you just… tell someone how much a memory like that bothered you, that every nightmare you had was centric to it and terrified you in unimaginable ways?

"Kind of," the brunet admitted. "I try not to think about it too much."

Emma nodded against his side as if she understood what he meant. She squeezed his chest a little tighter and sighed heavily.

"You're not allowed to lie to me anymore, Jack."

He snorted, squeezing her shoulder with his hand. "I know, I know. No more lies, alright?"

"…I mean it," she tilted her head up to look him in the eyes. "If I catch your sorry butt lying again I'm gonna kick you. And I'll kick you really hard!"

"Whoa, whoa, there's no need to get violent on me!" Jack laughed, holding up his free hand. "I won't lie to you again. It's honesty here on out, I swear it! Happy?"

Emma pulled back, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. "Promise?"

He crossed his thumb in a little 'x' over his heart.

"Cross my heart."

Emma ended up sleeping in Jack's room that night.

She was buzzing with more questions about their parents, curled up in her blanket with her head on his lap for a while; he answered each silly query to the best of his ability (which wasn't much, but Emma didn't seem to mind too much), stuttering out fragmented memories that occasionally popped into his head. He told her about the flood as gently as he could, sparing her certain details and simplifying it enough to get the point across without scaring her. She seemed to grasp what he was saying fairly easy; the parts he thought were complicated ended up not being so hard to explain to her at all. Eventually they ended up lying back against the pillows (his back hurt from sitting hunched over) while they continued to go back and forth.

Sometime while the older brunet was telling a story about their mother, he glanced over and noticed his younger sister sound asleep. She'd tugged up the blanket to cover her shoulders and part of her lips, her legs curled under so her toes barely peeked out the bottom. Jack smiled. He slid his back further down the mattress and curled up next to her, an arm tucked under his pillow to prop it closer to his head as he turned onto his side. It didn't take very long for him to fall asleep afterward.

And Jack wasn't entirely sure what he dreamt of that night, but waking up in the morning after it hardly felt like a chore.

Author's Note: And… this will forever hold the title of the shittiest chapter. I'll go into Stoick and Hiccup's relationship a lot more in later chapters, I promise. Next time we're starting 7th grade, as a warning. Also, I mentioned on Tumblr that I have a few chapters I had ready (most of them taking place in high school; yes, I wrote ahead) but ended up scrapping. So… I'll probably post them here later on. My only problem is that some of them kinda spoil stuff so. Mehr. I'm one-foot-in-one-foot-out about posting them. Thanks for the reviews and follows!