Astrid wasn't sure when it started. Yes, she had liked Hiccup for quite some time; but there had to be some imperceptible moment where things shifted. Or maybe is was a gradual turn, from hugs and chaste kisses, to lingering touches and skipped heartbeats?

One day, Hiccup was her adorable, awkward boyfriend, with a freckled baby face and kind smile. The next, he was taller, broader, with a sharpening jawline and warm hands. He had noticed that she noticed; and there came an undercurrent to every one of their interactions that appeared innocent on the surface level. But that was just an exercise in self-restraint. Whatever it was that afflicted them was persistent and in the blood, worsening by the day. Astrid found any excuse she could to touch him, really noticing how he felt beneath her palm, whishing she could appreciate more skin than wool.

She wondered how potent Hiccup felt it, until he approached her behind the storehouse after a particularly rousing dragon race. If they needed a spark, then that kiss was the flint; and Astrid just as eagerly pressed into him as he pulled her close.

Whatever it was that afflicted them was relentless, fundamental—and oh, so welcome.