Edited.

After a short moment of doubled-stunned stares, Artichoke figured they both had reasons to be surprised with each other's sights, but the aching in his knees made it pretty clear resting was a more urgent demand.

"Freya, what happened to you?", was the only thing Hiccup had maneuvered to speak, getting up from her seat at the kitchen table. Her eyes reddened with fresh tears, now wide-open towards him. A small part of him wanted to know why, but a much bigger side of him was too tired to do anything other than just grunt a response. Maybe he'd ask about it tomorrow if he managed to remember. He felt sure he'd ask if it had been any other night. Any other time when he hadn't tasted both dirt and blood and puke and alcohol in such short while.

She walked towards him, grimacing at what he could assume he looked like hell, and unsure, as was her usual. He saw worry grow in Hiccup's still puffy eyes; locks of auburn hair still stuck into her face where her tears were still drying out. Instantly, he took regret at the harshness, despite still thinking he was entitled to a bit of impoliteness, all things considered and so his voice came nowhere near gentle when he explained the unmade question "it's not my blood, okay?", well, not most of it, anyway. Although this only granted him the opposite effect intended, Hiccup only let out a quiet gasp, and her worried expression frowned with more questions she probably wouldn't do out loud.

No, Hiccup's questions were mostly the kind that would slam into his mind loudly as some kind of telepathy. He really doubted she'd actually speak any of them. And, mostly, he hoped not having to explain the whole Snotlout fiasco from earlier. Not because he was too sore for it, his mind and body were tired, but still working well enough for that. It just wasn't an event he'd want to talk about when sober and refreshed either.

Artichoke knew very well his friend (well any of his friends, himself included) was not a saint and that Snotlout was the one who more teased others when they were kids, including Hiccup. Especially Hiccup, actually. But really, Artichoke wasn't certain how they'd connect as a family if at all. Their kinship was sometimes a topic for jokes, but how serious were they anyway? Artichoke himself had too many siblings and cousins to hold grudge from, so would Hiccup be worried with the other guy?

Still, even if he didn't have to talk about it, it was something to give on what to think about… So, Snotlout really wants to be a chief? His strange behavior with hints of jealousy and competitivity (well, extra competitivity) seemed to click in now. Yeah, the boy would brag about his place in line when they were kids, almost as if he was the heir of Berk himself, no offspring of the Chief in the way. Snotlout would shout that he was a leader or a king whenever they played with others, but that was ages ago, it was just a child's daydream, right? Well, come to think about it, Artichoke used to be a warrior or a sailor in such childish arrangements, and now he still hoped to be both things… It's not like he wanted to get all of this, it's not like he asked to marry the chief's daughter and become chief himself, he didn't exactly had much of a choice, the Hoffersons were just thrilled with the opportunity and the dowry.

"But you're still hurt", Hiccup's sudden voice grounded him back to the present. She had a hand stretched out in his direction, meaning to touch him, but backing out on the last second. He flinched involuntarily when she did- well didn't do so. Coward. He wasn't sure who was the one he mentally called such thing, wasn't sure why he'd be bother by the touch of her hand on his face, or why he'd caught himself wanting it. His gaze went for Hiccup's small hands, how they had visible calluses and scars, likely from the smith apprenticeship with Gobber. Artichoke wasn't sure why he'd thought she'd have soft hands, either. He felt those same calluses on his palm earlier and tried to ignore the inner thought on whether or not the rest of her would feel as soft as it seemed, with creamy skin sprinkled with freckles all over…

He felt himself hot and cursed the memory.

"It's nothing I haven't handled", true.

Her eyebrows lifted as if she had just thought and suppressed one of her funny comments. Since when were they funny?

"You should at least get yourself cleaned, you know" and Hiccup didn't reach up for his face this time, only holding his arm before he had finally hidden inside their bedroom. Her hand did stop again, though, this time fleeing to her own nose "I mean you smell like piss and beer – not that there's much difference". He let on half a smile and she added, "between the liquids- I mean", correcting the ambiguity he hadn't even thought about. "I'm not saying you smell like those you- you don't smell bad, well, usually at least".

And then he complied, trying to cease her painfully sudden self-induced awkwardness. Plus, he was smart enough to agree he'd need a visit to the hot springs sooner or later anyway, even with the winter nearing over them, promising early snow, and harsh months to come. Artichoke sat down, when Hiccup vanished for a few minutes, reappearing with a half-full bucket of cold water, he couldn't tell where she got it from so fast, but didn't bother asking. The sleeves of her tunic were already rolled up to the elbows and he got a few rags to scrub away the dirt and blood.

The boots had already been forgotten and discarded by the door. He'd need to wear them tomorrow even with them being rather soggy by his own inability to hold a drink earlier. If owning many clothing wasn't exactly common, then boots to spare were even less. He'd need to wash those, too. Or maybe get new ones anyway, due how thin they had become and how that was never good on a freezing winter.

As Artichoke's thoughts traveled to the impracticability of the Viking lifestyle, a movement from Hiccup's hand to fetch a rag for herself woke him up, as he quietly noticed she was in the usual sleeping gown, hair loosened clear out from her face, from the tears that had glued it there. The words then slipped through his tongue, by worry or curiosity against the quiet so different from the Great Hall's fuss.

"You were crying…?", it wasn't really a question, but he said as one.

"I was", Hiccup held her head low, brown-ish curtains attempting to block the view from her eyes, though he knew that if she wasn't so short, the length of her hair wouldn't have been enough to hide much, so he bent himself more than what could be considerable normal or comfortable.

"And I got in a fight" he admitted, though she hadn't asked, it did seem like an unfair trade, to be the only one getting answers.

"Well, I supposed that much", her lips were slightly bent up though she crooked her nose with an amicable tone and slight interest. "Who with though? I thought you were the kind to hold up that violence for foreigners and- and, well, dragons".

"Snotlout", a pig-ish-like sound left Hiccup's mouth as a short laughter as she commented "can't blame ya for that, I'd have done it a thousand times if, you know, if I were able to", she held her arms high to show her point.

"He can be difficult to handle, yeah", he snorted in response.

Hiccup brought her knees up to her seat and rested her chin against it before asking "So, why did you fight for? Who had the sharpest ax?".

Artichoke noticed her face was still humid from the water, rather than the tears, and that her eyes wore a very light shade of pink, one that could easily be mistaken for lack of sleep or any other reason, he supposed. Then his eyes fell to the body beyond her face. Hiccup was… her shape was thinner than most of their age, sure, but then, it was more of a bullying overreaction, rather than truth itself. She was shorter but growing and she wasn't that much skinnier than Ruffnut, although not as muscular. Hiccup wasn't malnourished at all; she didn't lack anything. At this point, her knees were not pointy against her still round face and her hands, although small, he knew were firm and rough due hard work, just like his own, even if his hard work wasn't the same as her blacksmith one. She might have got used with holding her head low, sometimes resorted to the sarcastic coping mechanism of her to avoid her awkward, cute manner, but Artichoke knew she was just as much of a child of Berk as he was. Even if she was unmistakably smarter and with a tendency for stupid craziness.

The still-drunk boy had failed to perceive how his current posture was so much inclined towards the current object of study as his sight accompanied his thoughts. He was oddly inclined to Hiccup's seat, a curve growing on the side of his lip as he still held his eyes focusing on the hands around her knees, around the clear, thick fabric of her night vest. A crack on his own chair brought him back to reality. Well, not entirely, just enough for him to notice how close they were. Blue eyes searched for green first, too out of a sober mind to feel embarrassed himself, though except for that dragon-kidnaping-flight, they've only been this close with opposed faces, touching each other's back.

He was so inclined, he had to look up to see her at the time, and though he'd always focus on the green of her irises, his sight almost instantly fell just a little bit, to the pink lips ever so close. But they weren't parted, as he wished they were, no, they made a straight line of tenseness.

"You're pretty", he mumbled, unaware of his own words.

"I- uh- I-".

Artichoke remembered feeling her breath brush his own skin when she was forced to let a bit of air go to start her stuttering. She was uncomfortable, he knew that much even if he still just wanted to be closer. Anyway, he ordered his body to lean back to his actual seat, on a respectable distance. Instead of doing so, his body got lower, not to make his head rest in Hiccup's lap, as he thought could feel nice to have her small hands caressing his scalp, no. His head fell to the table in between them instead and he thought of getting up, but the heaviness of his eyelids fogged most thoughts of his at that point.

Before fully closing them, he remembered cursing his eyes and his mind, the first for being so tired already, the second for being misty enough to wonder how the rest of Hiccup's body looked like, how far did her sprinkled freckles go, if she had any smaller hidden scars from battles and trainings, he never did himself, to see how different and how similar she was and how thick her night gown looked like, too thick to give him any answers…