Author's Note: Ahhh gosh I'm sorry for the longer wait on this update! I've been extremely iffy about this one, so… I actually might end up swooping back in here and adding/changing stuff later? Not sure yet. So… here comes the honey and the hatchet, guys. The honey is that I have a solid outline for middle school ready to go, and we'll most likely hit high school in 5 or 6 chapters. The hatchet is that updates are giving me some trouble (a bit of writer's block and my schedule is gonna get crowded soon) so the space between them might increase more than my usual weekly (or 7/8 days I should say, since I've been getting bad with these lately). I'm sorry! We'll be moving along easier now that I have some plans, though. I swear I'm done with filler chapters for a while; consider this "the talk" (x2) chapter (smushed two chapters into one to avoid fillers).

Basic Overview: Hiccup has his first date with Astrid coming up, but not before his father gives him a few pointers.

Point of View: 3rd person: (Mostly) Hiccup/Jack alteration

Warnings: Hicstrid

Age Reminder: Jack is 13 (7th grade); Hiccup is 11 (7th grade); Emma is 11 (5h grade)

Chapter 26: She's a Handsome Woman

January 25th

Friday

27 was the only number Henrik's mind could process after hours of repeating it excitedly to himself.

Could you blame him though? Months of warm butterflies and awkward stuttering had finally led to his date with Astrid—and in two days, no less! Oh man, Henrik was on cloud nine and he was not coming down. Even tripping on his way to the art room, forgetting his gym clothes for P.E, forgetting how to divide fractions in Math, and badly screwing up his Language Arts presentation couldn't wipe the triumphant smile off his face. Sure they were annoying to deal with at the moment they occurred, but the trouble hardly mattered. He had a skip in his step all day.

There was only one thing really bother him though (aside from the school's mystery meat he almost had at lunch; he could have sworn it blinked at him a few times), and that was Jack.

His usual, vibrant attitude—that brought smiles and fun no matter the circumstances—had dulled to forced, monotonous smirks and darting blue irises that locked on everything but Henrik. When they talked, it seemed as if every word he said went in one ear and came out the other; regrettably he was gaining a horrid tendency to zone out mid-conversation. Yet when he passed by his friend talking to anyone else in the hallway he was perfectly attentive. His laughter came naturally and the curves of his lips formed without hesitation or thought. It bothered Henrik to no end, really, but he had to continuously remind himself that it was Jack—if he had a problem, he'd say something sooner or later. That's just how he is.

It was growing increasingly hard to ignore his sudden distance, however; their usual study sessions after school were getting shorter (and strangely more productive, as if Jack were trying to blow through them quickly), and that troublesome look he gave Henrik when he wasn't paying attention felt like ice tingling against his skin. He caught it out of the corner of his eye far too often, a glance or two thrown his way indiscreetly from across the room; he could recognize the unusual chill of his friend's gaze grazing his cheek from anywhere. The weird thing is, he looked as if he were lost in thought, with a blank expression that conveyed confusion; it reminded Henrik of when he got stuck on a math problem and wasn't sure how to go about finding the answer.

At first, he wasn't really sure what to think of it. He thought Jack was just spacing out but happened to be looking in his general direction. It seemed valid, since he had the usual dazed droop to his eyes that expressed drowsiness. What tipped him off, though, was how quick he was to look away when he looked returned his gaze; there was a curious guilt to the lowering of his eyes, like the time North caught him breaking a plate (for some circus or juggling thing he saw on TV), or when the two of them tried to play outside when it was too dark out.

But… whatever, right? Jack knows he can tell Henrik anything, so it shouldn't bother him as much as it did.

"…you're doing it again."

Jack blinked repeatedly, wagging his head back and forth as if to shake off his thoughts. "Doing what?"

Henrik sighed, lightly dinking the older boy on the forehead with his palm. "You keep zoning out on me."

"Er… sorry."

"You wanna take a break or something?"

The older brunet immediately slammed his math book shut and all but yelled, "Please."

Shuffling their textbooks to the side, the boys leaned back on the couch with a comfortable sigh. Henrik let his limbs go lax, shoulder slumping into the cushions. He peeked over at his and noted the vague expression on Jack's face. Blue irises just barely shifted upward, twitching rhythmically as if he were following the swirls of paint on the ceiling. Something about the lack of sentiment on his face struck Henrik as serene, oddly enough, a pleasant but welcome change after a week of cold, empty glances. It was as if his mind was completely free to stray thought, only active in processing his surroundings. It was perplexing how many things such a vacant stare could say.

"So…" Henrik began, not entirely sure what to say now that he'd broken the silence. He fidgeted with his fingers. "What's up?"

Jack shrugged lazily. "Tryin' to get all this math crap out of my head… Hey, is it normal to see fraction bars everywhere?"

The younger snorted. "N~ope. Just you."

"Aw great…" he furrowed his eyebrows and threw up his hands wildly. "When the heck am I even gonna need this?!"

"What if you get mugged and someone asks you a math problem?"

The older waved his hand dismissively. "Pfft. Like that'll ever happen. Besides, I'd kick his sorry butt before he could get a word out."

He rolled his eyes.

"Man, school's a real drag this year…"

The younger boy affirmed with a nod. "I guess. They're really slamming us with homework lately… But ya' know, it could be worse."

"Are you kidding me? What's worse than 20 math problems a night!?"

"50 math problems, maybe?"

"Auugghhhh don't say that!" Jack groaned, rolling his head back dramatically. "I'm getting a headache just thinking about it!"

"You're such a drama queen."

"What, and you like doin' all this fraction crap?"

Henrik fumbled for a comeback, but nothing came to mind.

"Didn't think so," his friend sneered, crossing his arms with a triumphant grin. Despite how annoying that smug ring in his voice was, Henrik was honestly just glad to see him acting like his usual self.

Jack took a deep breath and let his head rest on the couch cushion more. Rolling it to the side, he grinned thinly at his friend. "So," a knee nudged against his. "You figure out what you guys are doing for your date on Sunday?"

Henrik gaped at him. He definitely hadn't said anything about the date yet.

"…how on earth do you do the psychic thing."

The older boy sniggered. "Oh come on, you're way too easy to read. You've been smiling like an idiot all day!"

Henrik rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, his fingers fiddling with a particularly bad knot at the base of his neck. "Well… I figured we'd see a movie and… maybe get ice cream afterwards. Nothin' too big."

"Oh gosh," Jack snorted. "That's such a TV date."

"Hey, I'm 12, not 20," he retorted with an elbow to his friend's side. "If I could do something actually cool with her you know I would."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah I know. It's just that like… everybody does movie dates. Seems kinda cliché."

He shot him a glare and Jack threw his hands in the air.

"I'm just sayin'."

"Well stop; you're messing me up in the head, okay?" Henrik sighed and slumped his shoulders forward. "Ugh… I kinda just want it to be Sunday already so it'll be over with…"

"What'll be over?" A familiar voice boomed from across the room.

The boys turned their heads to the staircase to find Sven standing on the bottom step with his arms crossed. Jack threw Henrik a quick glance and shrugged. "Hiccup's date with Astrid."

His father blinked, turning to face the boy with an eyebrow raised. "Date?"

Oh. Right. He was supposed to tell his Dad about that, wasn't he?

Their eyes locked for a moment, a thick and awkward silence settling in the room. Henrik could already hear his father's stern voice lecturing him in his head; the confusion settling on his face demanded an explanation to Jack's little comment. He couldn't quite determine if the man was angry with him, though. His eyebrows were definitely furrowed in displeasure, but the look in his eyes hardly matched the irritation in them when Henrik dropped something or broke something by accident. Whatever it was, it made the boy feel unusually guilty—and he didn't think he'd done anything wrong.

Beside him, Jack stiffened. He cleared his throat and hopped onto his feet, quickly piling his books into his backpack. Throwing his arm through the strap, he shrugged. "Welp, I uh… I should probably go and check up on Emma so…" he threw Henrik a side glance. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess?"

"Yeah," Henrik nodded, bowing his head. "See you tomorrow."

Jack threw them a lazy two-fingered salute and bolted out the front door in what looked like a flash of blue and brown. The now lone brunet sighed, turning to his father with a wavering, sheepish smile.

"So uh…" he rubbed at the back of his neck. "…what's up?"

Dinner was… well, awkward to say the least.

It seemed that—as usual—neither Sven nor Henrik knew what to say to the other, which allowed a marvelous silence to settle between them. Henrik poked and prodded at his mashed potatoes quietly, keeping his eyes lowered solemnly to the indents his fork left. When he looked up, his father looked down or took another bite out of his food, as if he were desperate for an excuse not to say anything. Oh gods this was awkward; any small talk the boy actually managed to get going died down as quickly as it began, leaving him to fumble for something to say. After a few more bites of his dinner, he dropped his fork and sighed, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "Listen, Dad," he began. "Er… about the date—"

Sven held up a hand to stop him. "It's alright, son."

"Wait… It is?"

"Yes, actually," his father sighed, standing to carefully place his dish in the sink. "It's uh… it's good. Gives us a reason to have a… discussion."

"…discussion?"

Sven gave him a nod, clearing his throat with lowered eyes. Henrik searched his face for some sort of meaning to that, and froze for a moment when everything clicked in his head.

Oh. That kind of discussion. Well, there went the boy's appetite…

"I'm… pretty sure I don't need to have this conversation with you."

"Sure you do."

"…okay let me rephrase that: I'm really, extra, super sure I don't want to have this conversation."

Sven sat down across from him and folded his hands on the table. Something about the contemplating, 'let's get down to business' look on his face told Henrik they were probably going to end up talking anyways. Great. Just great. With a heavy sigh, his father rubbed at his temples as if to jog his memory. "Where do I even begin…"

Nowhere would have been fantastic, really. Placing his dinner plate on the counter, the boy slumped in his seat and rested his cheek in one hand.

"Well, son, you're… at that age and I think you're old enough for us to talk about women."

The worst hadn't even come and Henrik was already embarrassed. It was gonna be a long night, wasn't it?

Sven took a deep breath. "Relationships are uh… complicated. They… take a lot of time and effort. When you care for someone a lot, you need to get to know them before anything else. You know, get comfortable with their personality, know what they expect, and all that. And uh… (what else…) you have to respect their opinions and decisions; if a girl says no to anything, the answer is no. Pressuring someone to change their mind is uh… it's wrong."

Henrik could already feel his cheeks lighting on fire. Judging by the hasty almost bullet-like comments, it seemed like his father wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to say. "Dad you really don't have to. I uh… I'm not that stupid, I promise."

"I know, I know. You're a good boy, Henrik." He sighed, letting his face fall into his hand. "Oh, gods… Your mother would know what to say."

The boy's face fell at the comment. The sad part was that he wasn't wrong; when Henrik went to talk to his mother it seemed like she always knew just what to say or do to make him feel better. Despite all of that, it definitely meant a lot that his father was at least trying to talk to him. He'd gotten so used to eating dinner to small talk or silence that actually conversing with him was… well, certainly not unwelcome (ya' know… despite how awkward and one-sided the "discussion" turned out).

Sven chuckled to himself, eyes lowered. "She really was something else."

This was probably another part of the conversation Henrik really didn't want to partake in.

"Uh… yeah. Mom was great."

"I met her back in college, you know. My roommates were throwing a kegger and it got crazy."

"…ya' know, I remember Mom telling this completely different."

"I think at least three other dorms ended up showing without an invite. It was wild."

"Can you even hear me?"

"Ah Val was a wallflower…"

"Helllooooo?"

"But I looked at her and knew she was the one for me."

"…this conversation's starting to feel a little one-sided."

"You know, I fell flat on my face trying to talk to her," he laughed. "Gods, I could hardly get a word out. I'm amazed she could understand a word I was saying."

Well, it was at least comforting to know Henrik got his clumsiness from his father.

"But your mother… she was kind. Quiet, sure, but, she was a sweet, really. And to think she fell for a man like me—"

"Dad." The boy interjected, mentally sighing with relief when he finally gained Sven's attention. "No offense or anything, but uh… is there a point to this story?"

"Listen to me, rambling on…" He stood with a loud roar of laughter and sauntered over, patting the boy on the back. "Sorry, son."

"Eh… it's alright," Henrik shrugged, lowering his eyes to the table. "You uh… you might want to get your ears checked, though. I think you're going selectively-deaf."

Sven scoffed, ruffling his hair into a tangled mess of auburn. "Henrik."

He bowed his head and murmured under his breath, "I'm just saying."

"Odin help me, you've got your mother's mouth."

The two of them clearly remembered Val differently. Then again, Henrik hadn't known his mother quite as long as Sven had, so he'd have to take his word on that note.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is…" he thought for a moment, as if he really didn't even know what he wanted to say. "Don't do anything stupid, alright? Sooner or later you'll know if this… this girl of yours is the right one, but if you force things to happen it will never work."

He couldn't have just said that and saved the two of them twenty minutes of awkward?!

"Uh… right. Got it." Henrik nodded, letting his shoulders slump.

"…alright."

"…yeah."

"G-good talk, son," his father stuttered awkwardly, patting him on the shoulder before sauntering out of the kitchen. With a few creaks of the floorboards that retarded, Sven was gone (presumably upstairs, judging by the heavy footsteps panging through the ceiling), leaving Henrik alone with his thoughts. The awkward warmth in his cheeks was starting to subside, the lingering discomfort in his limbs finally easing now that the conversation had ended. Don't get me wrong; he didn't mind hearing stories about his mother or anything like that. It's just… ugh, the way Sven had told it made him feel strangely uncomfortable. But… he supposed there was something to gain from the conversation (despite the ungodly amounts of embarrassment).

He let his forehead collide with the table top and sighed to himself. The one time his father actually decided to talk to him hadto be that conversation...

January 27th

Sunday

Henrik wasn't a boy who cared about his looks, but tonight it was all he could think of.

On any other day of the week, he woke up, ran a comb through his hair (providing he was awake enough, that is; he slept stilly so what's the point anyways), and threw on the first thing he could get his hands on. He never bothered with doing his hair a certain way, or checked if his clothes matched; honestly, he couldn't care less about how he looked. As long as he was comfortable, it didn't mean a thing if his shirt had polka dots or his jeans had torn at the knee. Besides, they're just clothes. Who cares if his socks didn't match; he only had one anyways, and it wasn't like he wanted to impress anyone.

Tonight, of course, became the exception to that. For once the awkward part of his hair stuck out and his usual t-shirt and jeans combo looked sloppy and unusually loose at the sleeves. He must have tugged on three different shirts before settling on his favorite green sweater (which, after months of rolling up the sleeves finally fit him). Following his clothing-quarrel came the usual observations his reflection always pointed out to him; the pudgy nose, the speckled, round cheeks, the gap between his front teeth, a few pimples he opted to hide behind his bangs… see, there's a reason he doesn't like to dote on his appearance—and it was all the little things seeing his reflection brought out.

With an uneasy sigh, Henrik sat on the edge of his bed, tugging his sleeves down so he could curl his fingers into them. The plush, woven strands tickled his fingertips and soothed his shaking palms. Gods, Astrid hadn't even shown up, yet he was a nervous; his pulse rose with every minute click on the clock, and butterflies fluttered in his tummy. He let his back hit the mattress and sighed comfortably, eyes fixated on the ceiling.

Tap. Tap

The familiar knock against the glass brought a smile to Henrik's face; the notion of his best friend's presence was unusually comforting at the moment. He hopped onto his feet and carefully tugged the curtains away from the glass. Sure enough, there was Jack; a grin on his face and barefoot as always (in the snow, no less) with a loose t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants that were reasonably drenched around his ankles. His breathing was heavy, but Henrik had a feeling the boy was purposely exhaling through his mouth to see his breath. Flicking the lock until it clicked out of place, he opened the window and stepped back to let his friend slide through. Jack nearly fell on his face trying to squeeze inside, but landed on the balls of his pale, bare feet.

The older boy sighed dramatically, rubbing at his arms frantically. "Hiccupppp~ Your house is so waaaarm~"

"You wouldn't be so cold it you'd just put on shoes, ya' know. You're gonna freeze your feet off one of these days..." Henrik sniggered, poking his cheek. He jolted back when the chill on Jack's skin zapped his finger tip. "Jeez, you're like ice!"

"Yeah?" He brought a chilly hand to his friend's cheek and Henrik whined at his cooler touch. "Hey Hic, are my hands cold~?"

"Aaaahhhh stop!" The younger swatted his hand back with a snort. "Doof… What are you doing over here anyways?"

"Figured I'd pop in and say hey before your big date."

Henrik felt his cheeks flush for no reason in particular. Jack snorted.

"Aw. You're changing colors."

"Eh, shut up," he knocked his shoulder, earning an amused chuckle from the boy.

"Nervous, huh?"

"What, are you kidding?" he faux-boasted, crossing his arms as proudly as he could. Jack raised an eyebrow in response and pursed his lips. The younger let his arms fall limply, sighing with defeat. "…Really nervous, actually."

"Well quit it," he sighed. "You're over thinking; I'm sure you'll be fine."

"I-I dunno, I'm worried I'm gonna screw up or trip or something."

"If you trip it's not the end of the world, ya' know. You fall on your face like, all the time and Astrid's never said anything, has she?"

"…no, but—"

Jack shushed him, holding up a finger to his lips. "But nothing."

Henrik swatted his finger away and pouted. Did Jack even know what he was saying? How could he not be nervous?

A hand landed on his shoulder following a heavy sigh. Looking up, Henrik noted the vaguely calmer look about his friend's face. Jack smiled crookedly. "Hey, don't sweat it so much. Just… Be yourself. I-I mean, I don't know much about girls or Astrid or anyone else but… uh, I like you. T-the way you are, I mean. If that's worth anything."

Henrik felt himself smiling. The weirdest tickle grazed the bottom of his stomach, as if the butterflies had landed but a lone Monarch dared to flutter its wings. He wasn't quite sure what to label it, but something about Jack's words and the sentiments they brought… really pleased him. They made him warm and unusually happy for no real reason.

"And she'll totally think you're cool too, if you just be yourself. Don't try to be someone you're not or it'll just hurt you in the end." His hand reeled back to give him a playful smack in the arm. Henrik yelped. "Besides, you could totally woo her with some of that Hiccup charm."

He rubbed at the blow, smiling to himself with lowered eyes. "…Ya' know, I still have no idea what that even means."

Jack sniggered. "'s probably cause you just don't know how to channel it yet."

"Channel it?" The younger narrowed his eyes incredulously. "What do you think I am, some kind of mage or something?"

"Heh. A real sucky one. Not even close to as great a mage as I am."

"What? Gods, Jack you're so freakin' weird."

"You're weird."

They shoved at each other, punching arms and nudging shoulders playfully. Sometimes Jack pushed him back too hard and he stumbled, but he always dove forward to help Henrik regain his balance again, asking him if he was okay and mumbling an apology under his breath. They didn't particularly do much after, but what they were doing hardly mattered. Henrik simply found being with Jack… comfortable; like there was nothing to worry about.

Sure, there were quiet moments that sat between them like a thick, brick wall, where the younger boy caught his friend staring off into space or looking at him from the corners of his eyes; on occasion, he opened his mouth to say something but (assumedly) decided against it. Those glances hadn't bothered him quite as much, strangely enough; Henrik found it funny to see his friend fluster and fumble for something to say when he realized he'd been caught.

And until the brief silence in their conversation died, he was left to wonder just what it was Jack was so against telling him.

Jack left when the faint slam of a car door echoed outside.

He patted his friend's head and wormed his way outside, hopping across the snow-covered rooftops with a few muffled cries (presumably his feet against the snow, the idiot). Henrik's heart skipped a beat when the doorbell rang, while Toothless popped his head up and growled. He took off the second the boy got up from his bed to pull on a pair of shoes. Of course, as he made his way downstairs he glanced at the door and sure enough, there was Toothless—barking at the door and hopping up to scratch it. Henrik sighed and hurried over, plucking him off the ground. He took a moment to breathe and gave Toothless a scratch under his chin. "Oh shush," he murmured. "It's just Astrid."

The little warrior growled even louder. Henrik sighed. He shifted him into his other arm and pulled open the front door carefully. Just behind it was Astrid, her hair back in its usual braid and the bangs hanging over a brown-studded headband. Thankfully, it didn't seem she was too dressed up either (in a loose Wonder Woman t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans).

"Hey Henrik," she greeted with a sheepish wave and a crooked smile. Her eyes turned to Toothless, her smile filling more. "Aw I didn't know you had a dog!"

"Yeah," the freckled brunet smiled back, wiggling the dog into both of his arms and stepping closer to show her. "Astrid, this is my buddy Toothless. Toothless, Astrid."

The blonde went to pet the top of his head, prompting Toothless to growl. She slowly pulled back her hand and brought it back for him to sniff. "He seems feisty."

"Yeah, he definitely keeps me bus—ow! Hey!" he jumped at the sudden scrape of nails against his skin, noting how wily the little warrior had gotten. "Alright, alright… Down you go." He wriggled in his hold until finally, Henrik bent over to let him run around in the living room, yipping away at the alleged intruder. He sighed, turning to his date with a lop-sided grin. "Don't take it personally; he's just kinda… protective or something. You should see him when Jack's over. I'm pretty sure he'd bite his hand off if he could."

Astrid sniggered. "What'd he do to him?"

"Nothing. Well, nothing as far as I know of. I think Toothless just hates him or something."

"Maybe," Astrid smiled, gesturing toward the running car parked in the driveway. "So… you ready to head out?"

"Yeah," Henrik gulped, turning around to shoot back, "DAD! Astrid's here, I'll be back around 9:30!"

A distant voice called back, "Have fun and behave yourself!"

The remark made him want to hide his face in his sweater, but Astrid laughed it off. He closed the front door carefully (giving Toothless a wave good-bye when the little warrior peeked at him through the crack) and the two of them made their way over to the car.

Jack quietly snuck down the stairs and swung the corner with his head hanging in shame.

For whatever reason, his brain decided to register Hiccup going on a date as something he should mourn that evening; the thought department clicked on in his head, ushering in a downpour of laments and observations the boy had hoped to overlook. The build-up was starting to eat at him inside, and now that Hiccup was off with Astrid the boy wasn't sure what to do with himself. He kept trying to take his mind off of things but the weird thoughts persisted. After mental quarreling, he finally settled on asking North about it since… well, let's face it; this nonsense was confusing as heck, and Jack was getting sick of dealing with it on his own.

When he finally reached his adoptive father's study, he took a deep breath and carefully slid open the door. "…hey, North? You're not uh…. You're not busy, are you?"

Jack stuffed his hands into his pockets and lowered his eyes to the floor sheepishly. This entire idea was probably stupid, but he didn't know what else to do; North knew everything (or as far as Jack was concerned he did), and he was never a man to judge him harshly or reprimand him for thinking aloud. Surely the old man had some wisdom to pass down, right? And he wouldn't… think Jack was weird or anything like that. He'd come to talk to him before about little things, but he never scorned or jeered. Even when he got in trouble at school or did something stupid he handled the situation calmly and explained to him why his actions were wrong. Besides, keeping this to himself was getting to be impossible; he had to tell someone, so why not North?

The old man swiveled in his chair to face the boy, a concerned but jolly smile evident on his face. "Never for my little ones," he chuckled, gesturing for Jack to come closer. "What troubles you, Jack?"

…Was there a way to say everything without sounding vague? Probably not, right?

"Well uh… There's something I wanted to ask you about."

North raised an eyebrow and shut off the monitor to his computer with a quiet click. "Did you get in trouble?"

"Surprisingly no."

He seemed really pleased with that answer, judging by the sigh of relief. "Alright then. What is problem?"

"I-I have this…" He swallowed, carefully considering how he wanted to go about wording himself. "Friend who uh… likes this person."

North folded his arms. "A friend, huh?"

"…yeah."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Go on."

"So my friend likes this person," he began cautiously. Why Jack had decided to be so vague, he wasn't sure, but something about telling North of his growing feelings toward Hiccup struck him as a horrible idea. "And he seems pretty uh… messed up in the head about it. Like, he's really confused cause he's not sure how he feels about Hi—the… person, and he uh… he doesn't know what to do."

North nodded, chuckling to himself. "Jack, you do not need to be vague." He put a hand on the boy's shoulder and smiled widely. "You like girl and you are confused, yes?"

It was… definitely not the best assumption North could have stuck on him, but it'd save him the embarrassment of explaining his Hiccup-crisis, I suppose. Jack sighed. "Uh… Y-yeah."

"Do not be shy!" North roared with cheerful laughter and gave him a pat on the back (that nearly knocked him over, I might add). "It is good!"

The eagerness to talk North was expressing made the brunet cringe. Maybe he'd have better luck curing his Hiccups with a glass of water or by holding his breath for a long time. The old man gestured for him to sit down, so Jack pulled up a box and plopped himself on top of it. He folded his hands on his lap and nervously twiddled his thumbs.

"So," North started, getting himself comfortable in his seat. "Tell me about this girl."

Aw crap. Jack didn't think this one through too well.

"Uh…" He tried to imagine Hiccup as a girl but the thought ran thin and nearly made him laugh. "H-she's uh… kinda short. Real quiet, too."

North's smile broadened. "She is pretty, yes?"

Would he even consider Hiccup pretty? I… guess? It's kind of a weird question, like asking if a girl was handsome. He didn't normally associate the word with other guys. Of course, that wasn't saying Hiccup was bad looking (honestly he found him adorable) but he wasn't entirely sure if pretty was the word he'd use to describe his clumsy next door neighbor.

"…er… sure?" Jack bowed his head and tried to fight back the red he was sure had overtaken his cheeks. "And she's a really close friend of mine, and liking hi-her's starting to screw with my head."

North stroked his beard thoughtfully (kind of like those evil dudes in the movies when they were scheming things, Jack thought) as if he were heavily contemplating what the boy had said. "How so?"

"Well… I dunno. It's getting really hard to talk to…her since she likes someone else and eh… I feel kinda funny when she looks at me. Like my stomach explodes and I can't think right or… Somethin' like that." The brunet sighed, letting his face fall into his hand. "And I wanna just talk to h-her normally and mess around the way we used to but it's getting hard to."

A hand ruffled his hair. "It sounds like you have it bad, Jack."

How comforting. "I… guess?"

"I tell you something good, then," he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "You see, love is a very complicated thing. Sometimes you find it in strange places or in people you don't want to love. And at your age, it is very… different. You are growing up, Jack and—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! I'm gonna have to stop you right there. It's uh… it's good, North; I definitely remember all the 'growing up' junk from health class."

North laughed heartily. "Of course you do. But love is something different. You are at age when you are changing, and many times your heart must change with you. So, you have feelings for girl but you don't want them, yes?"

"Basically."

"The good news is that you are young, Jack. Feelings come and go like nothing as you grow! With time, your heart will tell you what to do with them; forget them and move by, or do something with them."

"Do… what with them, exactly?"

North shrugged and tapped at his chest, right over his heart as if to say it would have the answer.

Jack huffed. "…this isn't part of that center thing you told me about, is it?"

"Not quite, little one."

He groaned with confusion, rubbing at his temples with his hands. Why did feeling things have to be so complicated? "And…the bad news?"

"It may not be easy. Perhaps confusing at times," North nodded to affirm his own statement, with a longing expression as if he knew the feeling all too well. "But when the time comes, your heart will tell you what it wants."

"…so basically I've gotta suck it up until my heart figures out what the heck is going on in my brain, don't I?"

The old man chuckled, patting his adoptive son on the back. "You think much too objectively. Relax a little! Let your heart decide what is best for you. Love is very tricky, but in time you will know what to do."

Thinking about what North had said, Jack figured it made sense. Maybe he was just overthinking this Hiccup situation, or forcing himself to make a decision too quickly. I mean, if romance (he didn't even want to call it love; liking him was confusing as it was, but loving was an enigma on its own) was as tricky as the old man made it sound, he shouldn't force himself to understand it, right? Jack has always been a guy to go with the flow, and now that he was stumbling around trying to figure himself out.

In the end, Jack was just… Stuck. Jammed right in the middle of multiple but equally complex emotions that flickered on and off to their own amusement. He was fumbling for a rhyme and reason to every flutter in his stomach and the catalyst of curdling nausea from choking his feelings down around Hiccup. His thoughts told him one thing while the rhythm of his heart screamed another, yet each message ran at an equal depth, advising him in opposite directions in a complicated cluster of thoughts.

North told him to listen to his heart. That was all fine and good, really, but honestly, he hadn't the slightest idea what his heart was trying to tell him (nor how an organ hammering beneath his ribs was supposed to help him govern his emotions). All he knew was what his head told him; how feeling this way about his best friend—his next door neighbor, his companion, and a boy no less—was stupid an weird. He knew that Hiccup's laugh made his heart race and how much he liked being around the boy; all of that had been obvious from the start. He knew that Hiccup had a place in his life, and he never wanted him to leave that place (selfish as that may be)

Hiccup was… someone special to Jack. That much was certain.

He was someone that mattered, someone whose approval meant everything. Hiccup was his best friend and companion; an entertaining, clumsy little dork that Jack found absolutely fascinating. He was full of surprises and packed full of quirks the older boy loved discovering by accident. And despite the romantic undertone to Jack's Hiccup-related observations, he wouldn't risk their friendship for anything. Years of bonding and playful bickering had taught and brought the boy so much; imagining life without Hiccup's snarky sarcasm or his ridiculous laugh was sort of… frightening. Bland. Life without Hiccup was a horrible thought.

The accident scared the living daylights out of the older boy. The threat of his best friend bring broken beyond repair sent him spiraling; he could still remember the ache in his chest from when he heard the boy cry, and the initial terror from his missing limb. Jack was grateful to whatever forces made sure he was okay, but that thought, that initial fear when Hiccup "wasn't coming back"… It stuck. Never mind all the romantic business—losing a friend like Hiccup would be the end of him.

How he'd choose to handle this would be risky, then, wouldn't it?

So… In the end… maybe over-thinking their relationship was a mistake. Maybe he needed to give this time like North had said, and handle all this confusion when the right moment presented itself. Jack could deal with liking Hiccup when everything settled down; right now he needed to focus on getting to know him, and figuring himself out. And should the opportunity to act on his feelings present itself, Jack would have to confront his confusions and determine what kind of relationship he (and Hiccup) wanted. Like all things in life, the two of them would need time—the time to grow and put all the pieces in their places.

And maybe waiting wouldn't be easy. Maybe waiting would hurt in some regards, maybe he'd have to sit by and pat the idiot on the back while he dated, but… that was alright.

To Jack, Hiccup was worth the wait—no matter what direction it brought them in.

Author's Note: The ending was fluffy by accident, I swear. Who knows, maybe it'll be important later *nudge nudge* Again, I'm sorry for the slower update than usual. Had a bit of a hard time on this one, but looking at my outline we should be moving right along now (as far as I know, this is the only real "filler" I have planned). Next chapter I'll go into their date and stuff. Thank you for the reviews and follows!