A/N: Just so you know, there's a whole bunch of drama and mush coming up. I hope you guys are okay with that.

Hiccup hadn't woken up screaming in a long time.

It'd been years since he'd lost his leg, and in those years, his body had healed itself well enough that his leg no longer bothered him. He remembered those long nights, those first months with his amputation. He remembered them because he'd wake up moaning or crying, because his body was attacking itself. The webbing of nerves in his leg would all light themselves ablaze, his muscles twisting and pulling against residual bone that wasn't as dulled as he'd believed it was. Every layer of his limb hurt, and sent him impressions of the memory of exactly how he had lost his foot. He'd been unconscious when it'd happened, of course, but his nerves remembered. To a bunch of touchy neurons, it was a moment frozen in time: the impact, the break, the fire, the bite, the crash, the cutting, the stitching. It was a moment to be replayed again, and again, and again, and again. Between the grief that came to all amputees and the pain and the sleepless nights, Hiccup was sure he'd been the most glum, ghostlike hero Berk had ever seen, those first months.

But it'd been years now, years since his leg had replayed the pain of a subconscious memory. It was behind him. That's what he believed. So perhaps, that's why it hurt even more than he remembered.

It was springtime on Berk, but spring and winter liked to war over their turns until summer. Coldsnaps, heat waves, hail, snow, rain, lightning – Berk got it all during the spring. The older vikings claimed it was the gods reawakening and fighting off the frost giants so that they could not create an eternal winter. Frost giants aside, Hiccup thought that they were just showing off.

Since his first year as an amputee, Hiccup had known to expect what Gobber referred to as 'springtime twists'. Amputees tended to be extra sensitive to changes in the weather (Bucket was a prime example) much like the elderly with bad joints. Gobber complained of them sometimes, rubbing his arm and grumbling when he walked. When Hiccup first experienced them, he understood. The pain could be sharp, or achy, or dull, or throbbing, but mostly, it was just annoying. It came and went with the changes in the weather, and Hiccup didn't let it put him down too much. Still, every year, at some point he would stop and would yell at the sky to just settle the Hel down, for one second, please and thank you, so that his leg might stop –literally- getting on his nerves. It'd been an annual routine for four years, now. But between the fourth and the fifth year without his leg, something had happened to turn the springtime twists into springtime monsters.

Hiccup, small as he'd ever been, had finally hit his growth spurt and shot up like a reed. It wasn't so bad during the winter, even as he grew and grew, because the weather was constant, if not cold. But the spring showed him no such mercy. Between the growing pains and the twists, Hiccup was taken off guard by the pain. It wasn't constant, or even all that common. But unlike in years past, Hiccup had learned that that year, the pain was no longer confined to 'the twists'. There was no threshold where it would stop. It might stop at a dull ache, or a one-time shot along his bones - But it might decide to shoot all the way up his back, to take away his breath, to cramp up his muscles and not let go until he was crippled all over again. The pain itself, intense as it might be, usually only lasted a few minutes at a time, but the fear of sudden attack and the uncertainty of when it might strike made Hiccup even more uptight than before, which made the attacks worse.

It really shouldn't have been a surprise, then, that he'd eventually wake up like this.

Of course, Toothless had been human long enough to see Hiccup when he was having an attack of the twists, but Hiccup hid pain well. Toothless didn't fully understand why his friend sometimes stopped mid-step and grabbed onto something hard, and stared tight-jawed at nothing for a few minutes before limping along like nothing had happened. He tried not to worry about it, because he was still learning about humans, especially an odd one like Hiccup. He watched, but didn't ask questions.

But then, after a long, hot, dry week, a huge thundercloud rolled into place over Berk. The temperatures dropped like a stone, and brought torrential rain down with them. Thor had a field day with the night, but most vikings could sleep through it. Most.

Toothless had been sleeping patchily because of the storm, but sometime during the night, he awoke not because of the thunder, but because of something else. It was a noise… a human noise. Through the dark room, Toothless saw Hiccup toss in his bed. He heard another groan and realized it must've been Hiccup making the noise. While in sleep? Frowning in confusion, Toothless perked his head up to look and saw Hiccup tossing around his bed, jerking now and again to bring his knees up to his chest.

"Hiccup?" Toothless called uncertainly, not sure of a way to determine if his friend was awake or not. Lightning flashed, and for a moment Toothless could see Hiccup's face, eyes closed, brow tense. "Hiccup?" He called again, stepping over. Hiccup's unconscious groans were growing worse, and then he actually yelled, and it made Toothless jump. "Hiccup," He said, scared as he came over, "Hiccup, wake up," Because he knew that the boy must still be asleep. He was clutching at his leg, and that was when Toothless realized what was wrong. He remembered from years ago, how Hiccup would wake up in pain because of his leg. As a dragon he hadn't understood how something could hurt when it wasn't there anymore. As a human, Toothless was no more certain than before, but he'd come to understand how sensitive human bodies were. Surely, it was like fire. "Hiccup, you need to wake up," He said, and reached out to grab Hiccup's arm. Not because of Toothless, Hiccup screamed again. "Hiccup!" Toothless was growing worried.

That's when the door opened and Stoick came in the door. He'd taken off his armor and helmet to sleep, and looked less huge and intimidating than he did during the day. Toothless turned to him, looking worried and frightened. Stoick didn't say anything, but after he saw Hiccup, sighed and came over. Toothless moved out of the way.

"Hiccup, son, wake up," Stoick grabbed the boy's shoulder in a massive hand and shook gently. "Hiccup," Lightning cracked, and Hiccup awoke with a start, doubling over himself to grab at his leg. Stoick gently stopped him, because he knew it wouldn't help. Hiccup groaned.

"Dad," He said, realizing that he wasn't alone. "Dad, it hurts so much," He said, sounding like he was ready to cry, still delirious from sleep and unexpected pain. Stoick could do nothing but put a hand on Hiccup's shoulder. "W-why does it-" he was cut off as another wave hit him, and he leaned over himself with a moan. By the time it had passed, Hiccup was crying. He punched his bed hard. "Five… bloody years," He said, muffled from how he bent his head, "Why won't it stop?" He tensed up again and let out a choked growl, angry but broken. "Why won't it just stop?" He yelled again as the muscles bunched painfully against his will. He bent his stump underneath him, trying to find a way, any way to alleviate the pain, to no avail. As he cried and yelled angrily at the nerves that had betrayed him, Stoick held him as comfortingly as a Viking father could, and Toothless watched, horror-struck.

He couldn't move his wide eyes away from Hiccup, not even a little bit. They strayed to the boy's teary face and to anger in his fists, and then to the thing that'd caused it all, his leg, which Toothless didn't need daylight or lightning to tell him still bore scars from his dragon teeth.

He'd done that. Hiccup yelled again. He'd done this. Feeling small and wretched and sorry but unable to say why, Toothless shrunk back onto his sleeping mat, into the shadows. From there, he watched in silence as Stoick sat with his son who suffered because of a black dragon that was now cowering in a human skin in the corner.

Every time Hiccup groaned or yelled, Toothless could only stare at Hiccup's leg, and think back at how he'd lost his own tailfin. It had stung the first few days, but had never bothered him after that. He'd known dragons who'd lost limbs or wingtips before, and they had suffered little lasting pain, much as he had. He'd naïvely thought that vikings were the same, especially after five long years.

Hiccup screamed again, and Toothless wanted cry, or hide, or both, because he'd thought wrong. He'd been hurting his best friend all along.

In an uncharacteristic move of compassion, Stoick left quietly that morning and let Hiccup sleep in as long as he wished. This left Toothless to his own devices for the morning, which was probably a horrible idea.

For a while, Toothless stood at Hiccup's bedside, not wanting to force him awake but not wanting him to remain sleeping, either. He blinked at him for several long, awkward minutes, until he eventually sighed and took himself back downstairs.

He sat quietly in Stoick's chair for a while, (it was the most comfortable in the house, and since the chief was away Toothless couldn't be slaughtered for sitting in it) fiddling with his fingers and looking through a book Hiccup had been using to teach Toothless how to read. A loud gurgling noise interrupted him, and Toothless looked down to stare at his stomach, which had started feeling empty and somehow moving. Humans experienced hunger differently than dragons did, Toothless had learned, and tended to get more irritable because of it. He sighed, because he hadn't the slightest idea how to prepare food for humans. He knew where Stoick kept his foodstuffs, but he wasn't sure what to do with any of it.

He went to the kitchen pantry now, unsure but hungry, and looked around. He knew Hiccup always used fire to heat things – cook, Hiccup had called the process. And there was generally solid foods served with liquid foods, and sometimes and in-between stuff that roasted in a giant pot.

He could've just grabbed some of the bread or smoked meats that Hiccup often ate right off the shelf – But Toothless thought of Hiccup still lying asleep upstairs. Surely he would be hungry too, when he woke up. Looking around at the stores of food, Toothless eventually started grabbing things.

It couldn't be that hard, could it?

Hiccup woke up with his nose twitching, because his house smelled weird. But he was a Viking. Weirds smells were only weird if you let them be, so he groaned and rolled over to go back to sleep. He heard sizzling, too, but not really the type of sizzling that indicated cooking. Maybe the house was burning down. Hiccup didn't care. He dozed for a while, until he heard footsteps on the stairs. His door opened and someone stepped inside. It didn't sound like his father, so it must've been,

"Toothless?" Hiccup asked groggily, rolling over.

"You are awake!" Toothless smiled, and the dragon's wild bed hair and the fact that he'd put his shirt on inside out and forgotten his belt (again) distracted Hiccup enough that he didn't notice the tray balanced in Toothless hands until the dragon nearly dropped it.

"What…" Hiccup frowned and worked to sit up as Toothless recovered the tray before it fell and walked to Hiccup's bedside. "Toothless, did you… did you cook lunch?" Hiccup wasn't sure whether he should be impressed or terrified.

"I was having hungry,"

"You can't have hungry," Hiccup corrected as he rubbed his eyes.

"Oh," Toothless blinked. "I was hungry," he said, and Hiccup knew that he would never repeat the mistake again.

"Did dad leave or something…?" Hiccup looked at the plate, not entirely sure what kind of food he was looking at.

"Yes," Toothless told him, "he left early this morning. I do not know if he ate, but if he did, he did not make a big meal."

"I see," Hiccup said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. When he saw Hiccup's stump and remembered the night before, Toothless felt bad all over again. He extended the tray towards Hiccup as a peace offering of sorts. Hiccup blinked at it.

"…For me?" He asked. Toothless nodded. "…Why?" He asked, because he could've just waited for Hiccup to get up and cook something, or just eaten some bread and cheese to hold him over. Toothless looked down almost guiltily, and Hiccup didn't understand why the dragon's eye caught on Hiccup's leg.

"I'm sorry," He said quietly. Hiccup frowned.

"W-what? What for?"

Toothless fiddled with the sides of the tray and looked sheepishly at Hiccup's leg. "It still hurts you," He said. Of course Hiccup knew what he was talking about, because he remembered last night well (he was even still a tad sore) but he wasn't sure how Toothless' guilt factored it.

"…So?" He asked. Toothless looked up at him, eyes full of apology and hurt.

"I did that," He said horribly.

Suddenly, Hiccup understood. He remembered standing over Toothless that first time. I did this, he'd said to himself. He felt a rush of emotion, the same feelings that came whenever he saw the scars his bola had ripped into Toothless' skin.

"No," He heard himself say shaking his head. "No, Toothless, don't think like that. I mean… I mean you did – but… I hurt you too, bud, but it's okay, it's like you said, you don't think about it anymore-"

"No," Toothless wouldn't look at Hiccup, "I don't. But you do. You hurt. A lot. Often. It has been five summers and you still hurt. Because I… I bit…" He froze and wouldn't finish. Instead, he said, "I never hurt after the scars healed over. Dragons do not feel the pain of losing wings and legs, not after they are gone for good. Humans are different. You feel much more than we do. I did not understand this when I grabbed you… I… I knew I might take it off," He sounded close to tears, "I didn't realize that it would hurt even after. I am sorry." He looked again at the miserable meal he'd prepared, and blushed suddenly because he realized how miniscule a compensation it was.

"Toothless…" Hiccup was nonplussed, and couldn't say anything for a moment. He wasn't sure why he chose to ask, "What do you mean, we feel more than you do?" Toothless frowned as he tried to find a way to explain.

"Human senses are very dull, compared to dragons," Toothless told him, still not looking up. "Your eyesight his terrible, as is your sense of smell, hearing… you cannot detect changes in weather well, and cannot sense cáfnes at all," Hiccup didn't bother to ask what cáfnes was, "but your sense of touch, of feeling, is unlike anything I have ever had before," Toothless told him honestly. "You humans are picky about where you sleep, what you wear, where you go and how you treat those close to you, and especially how you deal with injuries. As a dragon, I thought it was just because you were odd – all dragons did. I did not understand, it is because your skins are so sensitive, it is because you feel, much more than I had ever imagined."

The room was silent between them for a moment. "Yeah, I guess we do," Hiccup said after a while.

But what could Toothless say? That, if he had known, he would have let Hiccup fall into the fire? That he would have somehow saved Hiccup's leg? (which would've been near impossible) that he would have somehow treated Hiccup better, or differently, or somehow done something better than what he'd been doing for the past five years?

Toothless looked ready to make any of these excuses, but Hiccup didn't want to hear them, because there really wasn't anything to apologize for. Humans feel more than dragons, Toothless told him. Yes, Hiccup thought to himself, they really do. So he scooted as far forward on the bed as he could without his prosthetic to support him, and reached up to take Toothless' tray of messily-cooked food and set it aside. Shakily, he stood on his good foot and reached out to Toothless for support. After that, he half pulled and half fell, and then he was hugging the taller boy tight around his middle.

Toothless was frozen, arms out, eyes wide. He wasn't surprised by the hug. Hiccup had hugged him dozens of times when he was a dragon, he'd seen vikings hug before. But he'd never been human in a hug before, never felt a hug before. He blinked over and over again and it did nothing to change the full feeling in his chest. It felt like sunshine, but better. Hiccup's hair tickled Toothless' chin, and he was holding on so tight that Toothless could feel him breathing, but it only made the full, warm feeling stronger. Toothless knew that he would never be able to explain the feeling to another dragon. But he wasn't a dragon. Not right now. Slowly, hoping he was doing it right, he brought his hands around Hiccup and hugged back. He felt Hiccup's cheeks smile against him, and he wondered how a person could feel a smile, but then, it must've been a human thing. So was this warmth, and the comfort, and the sudden sense that everything would be alright.

Pain like Hiccup's leg was a human thing. And it was horrible, and awful to see, and it made Toothless feel guiltier than if he'd meant to take the leg off, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

But hugging was also a human thing. And as he stood there, arms around his longtime friend, trying to identify this new sensation in his core, Toothless realized what Hiccup was trying to tell him. Intense feeling of touch was, indeed, a human thing. But not all feelings had to hurt. Sometimes, things could feel like this. Toothless had only ever felt Hiccup's hugs through thick, scaly skin, but he realized in that moment that whenever Hiccup had hugged him in the past, this is what his human felt. The warm feeling found its way to his face, and he wondered how such a good thing could make him want to cry.

Toothless was a human. He had been for weeks. But now in a familiar gesture with a familiar person in a familiar way that felt so entirely different, for the very first time, Toothless felt like a human, too.

A/N: Just so you know, cáfnes means 'energy'. I had this idea that dragons, much like sharks and some snakes, have a sense of electricity or maybe even infra-red that gives them a sixth sense, which of course Toothless would miss as a human.