Shoes.

He had put it off as long as he possibly could but it had finally reached the point where he couldn't defer any more. So he had followed protocol to the letter and made an appointment to see his father.

In another world-or if he was a normal person looking at the nightmare that his life was-he would be shaking his head at the madness of having to book in to see his own father. And astonished that he had such a deficient relationship that the man never saw him voluntarily, never spent any time with him and steadfastly refused to spare him the smallest moment for any personal or family matter. But he lived in the madness that was B. E. R. K., a skinny eighteen year old locked up in an isolated and top secret base where military and dragons worked and trained together. And then there was him.

He ran a hand nervously through his shaggy auburn hair. It was messy, a little too long and he felt very self-conscious. There wasn't much of Hiccup that hadn't been the subject of taunts and cruel comments and he felt his heart hammering as he reached over and knocked on the door. The deep voice growled for him to come in at once and he quietly entered, turning to close the door and then walk to stand before the huge, glass deck and the large shape sitting behind it. Stoick was in his General's uniform, uniform jacket on and a scowl on his large face. His flaming hair was cropped short but his huge braided beard covered his chin and upper chest. His cold grey-green eyes inspected the slumped-shouldered, skinny teen standing in front of him, his forest green eyes wary as he faced his father.

"For Odin's sake, stand up straight, boy!" he growled. Hiccup gave a faintly hurt look but pulled his shoulders back, his skinny frame straightening with the action. Stoick snorted: the boy looked a mess, in scruffy jeans, T-shirt with a green check shirt over and black converse. His hair was in need of a cut and Stoick's face twitched in disapproval. He glared at his son. "Speak, boy! I don't have all day!"

"Actually, I booked a fifteen minute appointment with you, D…sir," Hiccup protested calmly. "Maybe should've booked fifteen seconds if you won't even give me a chance to speak."

"Okay," Stoick said, sitting back angrily and lacing his thick fingers in front of his chest. Hiccup swallowed and tried to think of a way of phrasing this that didn't make him sound utterly pathetic.

"I need money for shoes," he said quickly, giving up. Because there was no way he could sound anything other than useless. The General stared at him in shock.

"What?" he growled. Hiccup stared into his eyes and resigned himself to another lecture or just a tirade on how utterly useless he was.

"I need some money to buy some more shoes, Dad," he said more firmly.

"Thor, can't you just buy them from your allowance, boy?" Stoick growled. Hiccup flinched: he couldn't help it. Now was the really pathetic part.

"Um…you haven't given me an allowance since four months before we came to Berk," he said. "Um…not for over eighteen months in fact…"

"But you must have frittered it away on…"

"Food, clothes, shoes and essential books for school," Hiccup said more spiritedly than he had intended. Stoick scowled.

"Really, boy, you…"

"You left me alone most of the time and when you were away, I got no money," he said quietly. "So I had to use my savings to get food and clothes if I outgrew them or they broke…" He winced, recalling torn shirts and shredded jeans from some more amusing 'pranks' that his bullies had done in the last couple of years of High School. "Sometimes you didn't leave me with anything…right, Dad?"

He cringed inwardly as Stoick turned puce with anger. Neither was supposed to mention when he had been called away on an urgent mission, leaving his son alone with no food, dirty clothes and no guardian. When Hiccup had been badly beaten by his bullies and landed in the ER, it had all come out and the boy had ended in a home. Stoick had pulled a lot of strings to get his son back but he had never forgiven Hiccup for ending up there in the first place. He had only been away for three months or so, for Thor's sake! What kind of pathetic fifteen year old can't manage to look after himself for that time?

"So how long has it been since you bought those shoes?" he asked. The teen stared at his feet and sighed.

"Over two years," he sighed. "They've actually got holes in the sole, Dad and they're too small…" Stoick scowled.

"And why can't you just buy them out of your allowance?" he demanded. Hiccup stared at the floor. He had already explained but clearly his father wasn't listening. Now there wasn't a surprise! He could count the times his father actually listened to him since his Mom died on the thumbs of one hand.

"I don't have a bank here, Dad," he mumbled. "And I only had twenty dollars and fourteen cents left anyway. I can't afford anything!"

"But surely the Quartermaster can…"

"I'm not in the army, Dad!" Hiccup shouted, suddenly losing his patience. "I'm not on the payroll. To him, I don't exist! He refused me-and not even Gobber could change his mind! Because the Base Commander ordered that we don't waste precious resources on anything not directly tied to the project-and though I ride the damned alpha dragon, apparently I'm not!" Stoick leapt to his feet.

"SIT DOWN!" he growled. Hiccup glared at him and balled his fists rebelliously. "SIT. DOWN." Stoick's tone was suddenly deadly serious and the boy flinched, then stumbled into the chair. Stoick prowled round to stare at his disappointing son…and then paused.

The shoes in question were literally falling apart, wrecked from miles of walking to and from the Pens and around the Base. The boy's jeans were scruffy, with the white threads showing at the bony knees that threatened impending holes. The T-shirt was faded and lightly bobbled with fabric that was a little shiny and thin and clearly about to fall apart. And the shirt was frayed at the collar with a missing button and again faded.

He looked like the son of a bum, not the son of a General, Stoick realised with shock.

"So you really have no money?" he asked. Hiccup shook his head, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

"I've not even been out," he sighed. "No clearance to go down to the village. No chance to get some work and earn some money. So I'm stuck. I suppose I could walk around barefoot but that may make flying Toothless more difficult…"

"Do you have any other shoes?"

"Sneakers-even worse than these. Also too small." Glancing at the embarrassed shape, Stoick also realised the boy's ankles and wrists were far too visible under the too-short jeans and shirt. He couldn't accuse his boy of being fat-the lad was a twig, after all-but he couldn't stop him growing upward either. Stoick was well over six and a half feet tall and beloved Valka had been over six feet as well so he shouldn't have been surprised…though he had never really considered it because the boy had been so small and disappointing for so long… He blinked. What would she say about her son sitting in almost-rags, begging for money for shoes.

She'd be ashamed at you, Stoick Haddock, he reminded himself. He is your only son, the only part you have left of her and though he isn't the son you wanted and he probably caused her death, you owe him some clothes at least…

"I will pay you an allowance of one hundred pounds a month," he decided sternly, unable to bring himself to say anything reassuring to the boy, who was as wracked by embarrassment as Stoick himself would have been in such a predicament. "I will ask Gobber to take you to the local town to set up a bank account with a card which will permit you to shop over the internet. I will pay the allowance direct into the account. Parcels will be delivered to the village and collected by the base support staff. Deal?" Hiccup glanced up and nodded once. He was being escorted to town like a criminal in case he ran…but to where? Who would want him? What could he do? And how could he go without Toothless? All he wanted was some shoes, but Stoick seemed incapable of realising he was his son and responsibility. It had been demeaning, begging for money for the barest minimum of clothes. An apology was far too much to hope for.

"Thanks, sir," he said reluctantly and rose to his feet. There was an awkward moment where they faced each other, mere feet apart…almost in hugging range…but Stoick spun swiftly away and stomped back to his desk.

"Was that all?" he asked brusquely, checking his watch. Fourteen minutes. Hiccup's shoulders sagged.

"Yes, sir," he said defeatedly. There was so much more he wanted to say, things he ached to discuss with his father, questions he had about his mother, about his life, about why Stoick would never give him a chance…but there was no opportunity. Stoick had effectively slammed the door in his face.

"Dismissed!" the General snapped and his son turned and walked quietly to the door, letting himself out with one last, longing glance at his father…though Stoick never even looked up from his jotter. The soft click of the door didn't intrude on his concentration.

Outside, the teen balled his fists in frustration and gave a yell of anger, before walking away from the door. His father had his own office and suite of rooms while Hiccup, his son, had been simply assigned a standard soldier's room on the other side of the base. He never saw his father, never interacted in any father-son way with him and a casual observer wouldn't even guess they were related. Feeling the frayed shoe rub on his heel, he limped slightly and slowed his pace as he heard voices approach…and then he ducked to the side of the corridor, recognising one of the voices as Dagur, his perennial tormentor. He pressed into the alcove and prayed to Thor that they wouldn't find him.

"Have you seen the geek?" Dagur growled as they stopped mere feet from where Hiccup was cowering. "I fancy a little fun. Maybe we can see how fast he runs...with a forfeit if he can't outrun us..." Not even daring to breathe, Hiccup tried to press his body into the wall as Savage paused.

"Dacre in Security said he had an appointment with the General," he reported with a smirk. "I mean, how pathetic is he to have to make an appointment to see his own father?"

"I'd have drowned the runt years ago," Dagur mused and gave a manic laugh. Hiccup curled up inside, feeling ashamed once more. If even Dagur-who was a psychopath-could recognise their relationship was a joke, then what hope did he have? "Let's try by the Pens and see if we can catch him there…" And they moved away. Shaking and listening hard in case they were trying to ambush him, he waited a few more moments, then cautiously peeked out. The corridor was thankfully empty so he wandered back to the main part of the base, heading for Toothless's pen-which was sited well away from the other dragons' pens-and slipping in to see his dragon. The Night Fury bounded along to see him, warbling eagerly and nuzzling the boy who crouched to embrace him. The dragon solemnly treated him to a thorough licking and Hiccup laughed as the tried to fend off the eager reptile.

"Gah! That doesn't wash out!" he grumbled. "No wonder my clothes are falling apart with all the additional washes!" Toothless gave a laughing sound which had Hiccup scowling at him. "Easy enough for you…you come already clothed…well, scaled… I wonder what my Dad would say if I had to walk around barefoot because I had nothing at all to wear? I'm sure he would put me in the brig for being improperly clothed," he added sarcastically, mimicking his father's Scottish accent deftly as he scrambled up and saddled the dragon with practiced ease. Toothless nudged him. "I think he got the message but I'll believe it when I see it."

He sighed and sat on his heels as the dragon paced around him, his tail flicking and obviously eager for a flight. Distracted and still rehearsing the argument he had won with his father, he shook his head.

"I mean, I don't know what he expects me to to? I have no official job, no income and I spent all my savings just staying alive when he vanished and forgot to leave me any money," he murmured. "If they would just give me some shoes, I wouldn't have to bother them. I mean would it kill him to spend the time with me to get it sorted? But NO! He dumped me on Gobber…not that I mind…but Gobber is officially crazy and I may end up registered for the Navy rather than a bank account!" He sighed heavily. "Who am I kidding? I'll never be accepted by Dad. None of the others bother what I look like, as long as I turn up so they can badmouth me or kick the crap out of me. No one here cares if I'm dressed in rags or have any shoes or whatever!" Toothless crooned and the boy rubbed his muzzle firmly. "I know, I know. As long as I can fly you, you don't care either," Hiccup smiled in resignation. "C'mon…let's see if we can nail that loop and leap manoeuvre…"

And he threw himself into the saddle as the back of his converse finally gave out and, undeterred, the boy and his dragon took off with a roar and a whoop of joy, all thoughts of shoes forgotten.

oOo

[Five years later]

The young couple walked hand-in-hand slowly along Princes Street, Edinburgh. It was a glorious day and the sun picked out copper strands in the young man's dark auburn hair, cut choppily around his collar. The beautiful young woman's long braided blonde hair was sun bright and her azure eyes locked on the contents of the shop window, while the tall, lanky young man focussed on the reflection of the beautiful gardens behind them. He smiled at her squeak of excitement: she was an army doctor-tough and practical and brave-but when faced with a really expensive pair of shoes, she had surprisingly turned into a total girl. Reminding himself that he really outta tell Ruff and Cami about this, he leaned closer to her, his arm already around her slender waist, and ghosted a kiss on her hair.

"Hmm, should I be jealous of the shoes?" he murmured. She grinned and peered into his teasing face.

"Commander Dragon Boy-don't even think about asking who would win in a choice between you and the Jimmy's!" she warned him and he raised his hands in surrender.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Milady," he gabbled quickly. She grabbed his battered leather jacket and dragged him close, pushing her lips hard against his. He kissed her back urgently, his hands sliding into her golden hair and closing his bright emerald eyes as he bathed in her love for a long moment. Finally they broke apart, foreheads resting together and breathing hard. "Gods, I love you," he breathed.

"You know, I love you too, Babe," she told him, pulling back to look up into his face. He was skinny, lanky and tall, his expression calm and still vaguely lacking in confidence, though he always always had much more self-assurance with her. His emerald gaze was only for her and his cheeks were slightly flushed. Her hand slid down his cheek and caressed his angular jaw, feeling the vague stubble. He closed his eyes briefly and leaned into her hand, the gesture reminding her how desperately he valued her affection. He had been beaten and crushed and terrified when she met him, fleeing from B.E.R.K. after rescuing his best friend and running for his life-but she had known, even then, that he was her soul-mate. It had been love at almost first sight and she had never regretted following him to B.E.R.K. and winning his confidence, his trust and his love. "But this isn't getting my shoes for that ridiculous ball your father has volunteered us for."

"Good old Dad," he managed sarcastically. "He couldn't go himself…well, not unless he wanted Gobber as his date…"

"I'd pay to see that," Astrid smirked.

"So we end up landed at some ludicrous event because it should get us close to the Russian Ambassador, even though neither of us have any espionage experience or training," he sighed. "And while you will look utterly stunning, Milady, I will have them laughing in the aisles as a fishbone in a Tux!" She lifted a blonde eyebrow and a small smile crossed her face.

"Maybe a Tuxedo in the States but in Scotland, we call it a Dinner Jacket," she corrected him and he shrugged.

"Tom-ay-toes, tom-ah-toes," he replied philosophically. "Whatever you call it, I look like crap in it!" Her hands slid down his chest staring into the self-deprecating face.

"I don't know, Hiccup," she told him seriously. "You're gorgeous, smart, funny, tall…"

"My girlfriend needs glasses," he grumbled.

"Fiancee," she reminded him. "And I'm 20-20, by the way! You have a perfect sleek silhouette, my love…don't think that you aren't gorgeous just because you aren't some muscle-bound lump of beef!"

"Sleek?" A well-defined eyebrow raise teasingly.

"Slim, lithe, athletic, limber, toned…" she began and he silenced her with another quick kiss.

"Gods, I am lucky to have you," he murmured softly. "My Tux…whatever…is on order and you have the most amazing aquamarine dress because you are amazing and beautiful and I really don't deserve you…and now we need the shoes…or you'll be in Sketchers and I really will be in converse! And I suppose it should be my treat…even though I will probably have to sell a kidney or something to afford them…" She swatted him playfully at his ironic tone. He had already spent a lot of his carefully accrued savings on her most precious possession.

"Then I'll buy yours," she retorted. "Have you any idea how expensive men's dress shoes are?"

"I'm fine…I have one pair of shoes and one pair of boots," he told her self-consciously, memories of the most embarrassing conversation with his Dad five years earlier briefly running through his memory. Though not his most embarrassing conversation ever…please, Thor-never let Gobber relate how he explained the birds and the bees to me… "I-I don't really need any more…" he added defensively. She hugged him lovingly at his soft, shamed words.

"Babe-you can't wear converse to a black-tie Ball-even though I know they're your only black shoes! And remember-you can never have too many shoes," she reminded him gently.

"I only need one!" he reminded her softly, his prosthesis clicking softly as he shuffled his left leg and eyes inspecting the floor in shame. She took his hands and stared into his self-conscious green eyes, her expression reassuring.

"My Dragon Boy…two legs, one or none…I wouldn't go with anyone else," she told him seriously. "Because you're the only one I love. And the only one I want on my arm when I walk in…on those ridiculous-but very gorgeous-shoes!"

"You said it, not me," he said as they walked into the shop. "I take it you only want me as a crutch to stop you falling and breaking your neck?"

"You got it," she smiled as they paused at the doorway. "You wouldn't want me on actual crutches for our own big day?" He turned to her and slid his hands down to her waist, staring into her eyes.

"One of us limping is enough," he grinned as door closed behind them, the sunlight streaming from over the castle gleaming of the brand new diamond ring on her left hand…

A/N: This started as an idea I had about how utterly useless and careless Stoick was as a parent and him realising (dimly) that he does have a few responsibilities to his son. And then I couldn't resist a little Hiccstrid…