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Chapter 7: Clash

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Hiccup has been fully booked since eight in the morning with an absolute legion of out of whack athletes. There was the football player with the crick in his third cervical vertebrae and the soccer player with the jacked up shoulder. He spent his lunch hour with a baseball player and his coach, talking about elbows and tendonitis prevention, and by three o'clock he's exhausted and glancing at the clock on the wall like a kid impatient to leave school.

His last appointment for the day slumps into the room and sits on the edge of the table, long blonde dreads draped over his shoulders. He looks familiar somehow, like someone Hiccup has seen in the supermarket a dozen times, someone who goes to the same gym occasionally. Well, some guy who was in the gym that one time Hiccup went in and signed up, even though he knew he'd never follow up.

"Hello…" Hiccup holds out his hand and the boy shakes it, handing him a familiar form.

"Oh, Ted. Ted Thorston," he leans back on his hands, "and as it says on the paper thingy, my back is very much hurt."

"Ok then…" Hiccup skims the form and cracks a smile. "Ah, slack liking accident, ground or tree?" He walks behind the boy's back and tries to square his shoulders, noting the angle sloping across them.

"Tree, this time. I just sort of jumped into it to be honest—ooh!" He yelps as Hiccup grabs his shoulder and pushes between his shoulder blades with a flat hand, coaxing a pop out of the third thoracic vertebra. "That…do it again."

"Just a second," Hiccup laughs, "can you straddle the table? It looks like a lumbar problem."

"Are you that kind of doctor?" He raises an eyebrow and Hiccup flushes at the insinuation, bruised pride still too close to the surface.

"No…I'm just—I'm going to look at your lower back, it looks a bit out of line." Hiccup tries to keep up his professionally calm expression, ordering the kid to cross his arms in front of him and reaching around to grab his elbows.

"This is sort of weird, doc."

Hiccup ignores it and twists to the left, and the patient's back releases with a gunshot pop. "That's not weird at all. Again."

"Ok, other arm on top…and to the right," Hiccup mutters to himself and the kid groans too loud when his back pops again. Kathy snickers out in the hallway and Hiccup glares at the door. "This whole day has been weird, to be honest. I've never been this busy."

"Duh, didn't you know? Someone sent a mass referral e-mail out to athletes over at State last night. Can you pop me again? Please?" The kid pauses and looks around at Hiccup. "Now."

"Who sent the e-mail?"

"Pop me and I'll tell you."

"Tell me and I'll pop your neck," Hiccup argues, calm dread pooling in his stomach.

"Astrid Hofferson, the lacrosse captain. She has the mega-list of athletes and…is that enough intel? I need payment before my next assignment."

"Astrid Hofferson sent out a mass referral e-mail about me?" Hiccup waits for the punch line, and the kid just looks at him eagerly.

"That's what I said. You said something about popping my neck?"

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Astrid takes a sip of her drink, strongly mixed even though the bartender is dealing with Ruffnut. She wonders if there's a sympathy shot in there somewhere, because she has to deal with Ruffnut too, all the time. And of course, the one time she expresses a strong preference about what bar they shouldn't go to, they ended up here anyway.

She's in the market for a new best friend and roommate.

And she really doesn't want to say anything, but her unusual silence is making everything a little too clear. The bartender isn't into Ruff's extreme version of forward, and honestly, he seems to be looking over at Astrid a little too pensively. She should just go. Ruff can get a cab later, or something. She borrows her roommate's car all the time to go to the store or class when she's running late, the other girl wouldn't mind her borrowing it to go home and mope, would she?

Of course she'd mind, but the following fight would be a welcome break from the last week's monotony.

Every day, get up, go to class, go to practice, do homework, sleep. The same places, the same drills, running around the same field in seemingly pointless plays that are already perfect. Something is missing and she's not stupid enough to be confused about it.

Her back is wonderful. Absolutely fine. And that should be a good thing, since her chiropractor dropped her with a list of references she didn't bother to save. She doesn't want anyone else jacking around with her spine anyway. There was trust there, along with whatever made her kiss him, and she's more hurt than she should be about it.

It was stupid to kiss him like that. Stupid and naïve and…she's best when she's not impulsive. That's something obvious that always rings true, why did she have to go be an impulsive child right when she actually wanted something?

Ruffnut announces that she's going to the bathroom and Astrid nods, draining her drink in a quick gulp and accepting with a nod when the bartender sets another in front of her. The plans of stealing Ruff's car and going home fly out the window, but they weren't really solid anyway.

"You look like you've had a rough week," he stops in front of her and leans on the bar. She looks up and shrugs. "Then again, I guess all of your weeks are long weeks," he glances towards the bathroom, "living with that one."

"She's not so bad if you're not her…target," Astrid laughs and stirs her drink before taking a sip. "You're pouring generously today."

"You look like you need it." He stands like he's going to leave before deciding against it, looking towards the bathroom door one last time.

"Don't worry, she's probably primping. Because another coat of lip gloss is going to change your mind about her entirely."

"You're Astrid Hofferson, aren't you?" He asks and she frowns, watching him take her empty glass away.

"I've never been infamous before. I'm assuming Dr. Haddock and you…"

"He's a regular. We chat."

"And you chatted about me?" It's not really a question, his face and falsely innocent shrug answer for her. "Of course. He probably thinks I'm an idiot."

"That's the last thing he thinks about you."

"I was going to stay away because running into him after last week would be hard. For him. But I was dragged here."

"Hard for him, huh? That's awfully considerate of you." He looks at her out of the corner of his eye and she looks down the bar at the other half dozen people nursing drinks. Doesn't one of them need something?

"Hey, I'm not some…scorned woman or anything. It's an ethical thing, I get it." She stares at her hands and grumbles, "I'm not a fan, but I get it."

"Didn't he refer you to another doctor?" He asks, "because from my understanding, that means you're not his patient anymore."

"It doesn't matter," she shakes her head. "He turned me down anyway, you know?"

"Because you were his patient."

"Yeah, I'm not going to make a fool out of myself for your amusement. With any luck, I won't even be in here again and he can just have his stomping grounds." Astrid glances sidelong at the bathroom and leans forward slightly. "What are the chances you're going to be able to shirk her any time soon?"

"You are a horrible wingman."

"Maybe I'm just flipping sides."

"I don't think you should give up on the doctor just yet. Maybe get to know him outside of the office, your friend is a unique brand of crazy I haven't ever seen before and I might be too fascinated to get rid of her." He smiles, and for a second Astrid can see why Ruffnut is so interested.

"You're just as crazy as she is."

"Some of us hide it better," he winks at her and nods a goodbye, walking to greet a couple of new customers.

Astrid gets up and walks to the bathroom to check on Ruff, who's predictably in front of the mirror, swearing at her reflection in a bruising pep talk. "…you just need to walk in there and be louder and—"

"Normally those have more swearing." Astrid walks up beside her friend, looking into the mirror and frowning. Rejection and giving up don't look good on her and she makes herself stand up straighter. It just reminds her of Dr. Haddock and her perfect posture. She slumps forward and tinkers with the edge of her braid, fixing the band holding it in place.

"I think this is a delicate measure," Ruff frowns at her reflection and looks over at Astrid. "Do you have any lip gloss? I forgot."

"No, I didn't bring a purse."

"I'll be out in a minute. I need my zen space. And a best friend who remembers lip gloss."

"Go get 'em, Tiger." Astrid rolls her eyes and walks to the door.

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Hiccup walks into the bar, more determined than normal to get to his beer and then his bed, and he nearly falls when someone pulls him aside in the entryway. It's Eret, holding a rag in one hand for cleaning off a table and Hiccup narrows his eyes.

"What do you want?"

"She's here, man. She's here and she's trying to give up on you."

"She's here?" Hiccup doesn't need to ask who Eret is talking about, and that fact in and of itself is embarrassing. "I don't care. All the doctor charm has probably worn off by now, I don't have to worry about it."

"You're an idiot."

"Thanks for summing that up. Well said, I'll take my business to the liquor store. Where there's not a moral minefield." He turns to leave and Eret gives him a surprisingly stern look. "What are you, my father?"

"You're a lucky man if your father tries this hard to get you laid—wait, that came out wrong."

"That did."

"She doesn't want to be here. She's here with her crazy friend, reluctant wingman." Eret tries to sound optimistic and Hiccup falters towards the door. "Hey, she said she's planning to give you the bar. Her friend dragged her here."

"So she's here and she doesn't want to be, I don't know where you're going with this."

"I know she went home with some other guy the other night—"

"Salt in the wound."

"But," Eret speaks a little louder, drowning out any impending snark. "But she's here and she's talking about you, and she's trying to give up. If she were just trying to hook up, she'd be happy after the other night. But she's still on about you, do you know what that means?"

"That you're a horrible story-teller."

"That she likes you. She likes you, and don't try to say that you don't like her, after all the drivel you made me listen to—Hey, she likes you."

"You're selling a yacht to a homeless guy, it's not going to happen. I should really go home."

"You won't go sit down and talk to the girl? Really?" Eret ribs him and Hiccup rolls his eyes. "Do you think she's here mourning some other doctor."

"I'm not dead."

"Well, if you don't man up, you're going to be dead to her. She's not going to wait around forever—"

"Good, I hope she moves on," Hiccup shakes his head. "I hope that she figures herself out and…appreciates herself instead of giving it away."

"You have to try. Come on, you have to try, you should hear yourself."

"I'm not deaf. I'm just a sappy idiot and I'm going to go sit down, ignore her and have a drink." Hiccup points towards the bar, "unless you're not going to serve me. Because I won't be your entertainment."

"Astrid said the same thing."

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Dr. Haddock sees her and he stops short in front of the same stool he'd been at the last weekend. Regular customer, regular stool, and here she is butting in. His eyes try to bulge out of his head and she sighs, biting her lip and standing.

"Hey," she inches towards him, nervous like he's going to turn and leave. He gives her an awkward nod and stares at the stool. "You can sit down, I'm not going to bite."

"I didn't expect to see you here."

"I—the last thing I want to do is take over your space," she flirts with the idea of sitting down beside him before changing her mind and leaning against the bar. "I just wanted to apologize for…being so inappropriate the other day in your office. And here, how I acted here didn't help anything."

"Oh," he's taken aback, but to her relief he relaxes slightly, leaning his elbows on the bar. "That…apology accepted."

"Alright then," she smiles brighter than she feels. It hurts to look at him somehow, like staring a mistake in the face but worse, more muddled and generally uncomfortable. "I'm glad I had a chance to say that." She turns to walk back to her drink, stopping when he starts talking again behind her.

"Thank you for the referrals by the way, the office has been crazy all week." He's smiling when she turns back to him and her chest feels a little tighter.

"How did you figure out that was me?"

"I asked," he shrugs and turns slightly towards her, knees angled away from the bar. "Was it supposed to be a secret?"

"No, I just—I didn't do that for your attention or anything. You're a good doctor, you deserve the business."

"Thank you. You didn't have to do that." He looks around for the bartender, who's suspiciously lingering at the end of the bar. "I should apologize for how I handled that whole…you kissing me thing too." He rubs the back of his neck with a nervous hand and her heart beats a little too hard in her chest. "For one, I shouldn't have kissed you back, and I should have referred you in person. Or at least left my own voicemail, that wasn't…I'm sorry about that."

She wants to call him out on admitting that he kissed her back. She wants to kiss him again just to see, just to check if it'd be as good and he'd respond in the same way.

"Look, I rode here with my friend and she's…she's about to come back from the bathroom and be insane and—if it's not an ethical issue, I'm going to come and sit by you."

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Another cliffy, I know. I'm horrible.