Secret time: this is my favorite chapter in the whole thing. I don't even know why, I just adore it.

00000

Chapter 8: Chatter

00000

"I'm going to come and sit by you."

He stares at her for a second before shrugging, as if he can look non-committal with those huge green eyes boring into her soul. He looks terrified. "I don't have to—"

"No, that's—yeah, go ahead. I probably won't be here very long, I warn you. I was just stopping in for a nightcap."

"It's seven thirty," she looks at the clock on the wall and he shrugs.

"Long week."

"Another one?" She glances back towards her drink for a moment before stepping over and grabbing it, dragging it as casually as she can down the bar and sitting down beside him. "Tell me about it."

He looks for the bartender again. The man glances over his shoulder and almost winks at Astrid before walking to stand in front of them.

"The regular for you? And do you want another Astrid?"

"Sure—"

"I'll take another—"

They talk at the same time and Astrid laughs nervously, draining the dregs of the drink in front of her and turning back to him. "So…about that week."

"Right, my week," he accepts the beer that the bartender puts down and she watches his Adam's apple bob when he takes a sip. He hasn't shaved in a couple of days and it suits him, the rough red stubble making him slightly less pretty. "It was exceptionally busy, thanks to you. And while that's a good thing, my fingers are sore," he holds his hand out in front of him demonstratively and clenches his fist. "And…that sound really pathetic when I say it out loud." He seems to weigh the silence for a moment, glancing towards her. "How was your week?"

"Not the best. I feel better now that I got to apologize," she accepts her third drink from the bartender and takes a deep sip.

"You didn't have to get hung up over it like that, it happens."

"What happens? Your patients kissing you and then drunkenly trying to pick you up in bars?"

"Well, I mean, look at me," he holds his arms out wide and since he asked so nicely, her eyes drift across the width of his chest. "Of course it happens all the time."

"I bet."

"It was a joke," he laughs nervously and it's cuter than it should be. She pushes the drink tentatively away from her, because getting drunk just means a repeat of last weekend, and she's not sure that her pride can take it.

"You're being nice. I made a fool out of myself," she tugs at the end of her braid hanging over her shoulder, suddenly feeling conspicuous. Despite Ruff's prodding, she only really made a half-assed effort at looking presentable and the bar is starting to fill with people far more ready. Maybe it's a good thing though, maybe she's non-threatening and this conversation could go somewhere.

It's stupid, but she was starting to miss Dr. Haddock and their goofy, stilted conversations.

"I wouldn't say that," he smiles sadly into his drink. "Trust me, if that could have worked, it would have."

"What do you mean if it could have worked?" She turns to face him, bare knee bumping up against the side of his thigh. He looks down and she adjusts her skirt, tugging the black fabric down as far as it will go.

"I mean if it could have worked, it would have worked."

"Repeating it isn't helping anything."

"I'm just saying that it was…flattering. I was flattered, and that's it." He takes another drink of his beer and sets it down on the bar a little too loud. "Because you're my patient, and I know things about you that I wouldn't know if you hadn't ever been my patient. I shouldn't even know you at all, outside of my office, and…it's amoral, using any of that now."

"Oh come on, what do you really know about me, honestly?" She turns towards him, a little too satisfied when his eyes narrow, competitive.

"Your name is Astrid Hofferson, you're twenty-two, you play lacrosse at State and…" he runs out of steam and she gives him a smug smile.

"And I don't think that my sensitive sacroiliac joint really counts as a fact here." She starts numbering on her fingers, "You're from Berk, you're twenty seven, your father is a family doctor, you like helping kids, you have a cat—"

"What's my name?"

"Doctor," she flushes and crosses her arms, daring him to correct her.

"Nope, not even close," he takes another sip of his beer, and at some point another appeared beside it. She didn't even notice.

"I still knew more than you did. Where am I from? What do my parents do? It's not like you're my family doctor who asks me about boyfriends and school every time I go in." She can't help but think that her point went wrong somewhere along the way when he frowns into his beer. "What?"

"It's still wrong," he shakes his head. "It's—"

"Does anything say that we can't be friends?" The American Medical Association's code of ethics says absolutely nothing about being friends.

"Nothing says that, but—"

"But what? Can't we sit here and have a drink together?"

"We already are," he pushes an empty glass away and pulls the fresh one towards him. She takes a sip through her straw, gulping deeply as the tipsiness starts to set in far enough that she can't taste the alcohol anymore. "And I guess nothing in the extremely big book of morals says that we can't."

"And you already turned me down as a patient—"

"That was the right thing to do."

"I didn't say that it wasn't…" she looks around and Ruff is back from the bathroom, looking at her curiously instead of at the bartender. Astrid looks away like she didn't notice and rests her elbow on the bar, drumming her fingers on the edge of the wood. "What are you drinking?"

"It's an IPA," he shrugs and she edges her arm down the counter slightly.

"Can I try a sip?"

"Sure," he pushes the glass towards her and she picks it up, making a show of sipping from the opposite side that he has been.

"Ooh, that's good. I'll have to remember that," a look over her shoulder proves that Ruffnut is back on the scent and she sighs. "It looks like I might be in here quite a bit."

"Eret isn't her biggest fan," he gestures to the bartender and Astrid swallows a laugh at the man's slightly nervous expression when Ruff holds a twenty out in front of her. He's proud enough not to take the tip and the blonde sits back, miffed and rooting through her purse for another technique. "How do you know her?"

"Oh, a personal question, you're just trying to get rid of me."

"No I—You're probably right—"

"No, I'm kidding," she almost reaches over and sets her hand on his arm but stops herself at the last second, letting her hand fall uselessly onto her knee. "She's my roommate. And teammate, but roommate is more relevant."

"I notice you didn't say friend."

Astrid glances over her shoulder at Ruff adjusting her boobs like it'll magically help the situation and laughs.

"She's one of my best friends, I just don't admit it when she's acting like this."

"Ah, you don't want to be taken captive by her lynch mob?"

"She is the lynch mob." He laughs and Astrid drains her drink, trying not to enjoy it. But no matter how deaf she pretends to be, she can't help but notice that he has a really nice laugh, a little twangy, a little nasal, but still comforting somehow. She wants to hear it again. "She said she met you in here a couple of weeks ago."

"She did, it was…an experience."

"That's Ruff for you," Astrid laughs and quickly thanks Eret, who set down another drink without even asking this time. It's probably not a good idea, she should probably stop or slow down, but he doesn't seem to be. He takes a gulp out of his beer and she can't help but notice that his lips are planted over the smear left behind by her chapstick. Coincidence, no doubt. "I heard that she thought you were gay."

"And after her man. It was like being dropped onto the set of Maury," he turns towards her slightly, knee brushing against hers. She takes another sip of her drink. "Aren't you going a little fast there?"

"You have no idea, I haven't even gotten into the exciting part of my night yet. If I have any intuition at all, I'm going to be doing a body shot off of Ruff within an hour and I want to be good and drunk for that."

"I don't think this is that kind of bar."

"She borrowed my favorite jacket, if she pours liquor in her belly button, I'm drinking it before she can get it all over everything," nothing about the statement rings an alarm bell in Astrid's head that she's had enough and she takes another drink. Dr. Haddock raises his glass towards her and she clinks hers against his.

"To priorities."

"To priorities," they both drink and she sets her glass back down on the bar, tapping it along the wood grain. "What is your name, anyway?"

"Ah, if I told you that, I'd have to kill you." He smirks, obviously impressed with his own joke and her fist flies out before she really thinks about it, knocking too gently across his bicep.

"That bad, huh?"

"It's pretty bad."

"If you don't tell me, I'm pretty much forced to call you Dr. Haddock."

He blanches at that, looking around like someone will see, like a kid jumping over a 'keep off the grass' sign. She sighs and rests her hand against the back of her neck, relishing in the cold leftover from her glass. "I won't call you that, but I have to call you something."

"Hugo," the corner of his mouth quirks like he tasted something bad.

"That's not so bad, it's French, kind of sexy—" She clears her throat like it'll make him forget what she just said, pushing the glass away from her and telling herself to slow down. "Why so reserved about Hugo?"

"It's not the name, but the nickname," he wrinkles his nose and she grips her knee hard, trying not to reach out and touch him. "Somewhere along the way, high school I think—It wasn't the best time for me—Hugo turned into Hiccup and I haven't quite been able to drop it."

"Maybe you should stop telling it to people," she laughs, nudging her knee against his. "Hiccup."

"Oh, come on, not you too."

"I think it's sort of impressive, pulling off a nickname like Hiccup. Honestly, it's like a bodybuilder named Tiny or something."

"So poetic," he rolls his eyes.

"Don't be such baby," she turns to face the bar again, shoulder buffeting against his as her balance tries to fail her. Eret is still pouring generously, and she'll have to thank him next time. "My best friend back home? Everyone calls him Fishlegs because of this disastrous science fair experiment back in the first grade. He was trying to grow these tadpoles in this big tank, and it got broken by the janitors somehow and the morning of the fair the whole gym was covered in these mutant little frog things."

Hugo—no, Hiccup—laughs, snorting and shaking his head. "He still hasn't shaken it. I visited his dorm when we were freshmen and it was pinned to his door. He owns it though, it works."

"So it could be worse. I'll take Hiccup over Fishlegs."

"Ruffnut has a twin, guess what everyone calls him? Tuffnut."

"Ok, so what's your embarrassing nickname?" He turns towards her, "you must have one. Your childhood best friend has one, your current best friend has one."

"Nope." She shakes her head and finishes her drink in a moment of weakness where she forgets she's supposed to be holding herself together.

"Really? No one calls you…anything?"

"People call me Astrid, because it's my name," she shrugs.

"That's lucky."

"No, Hiccup, it's skill."

He laughs at that, elbow sliding a little closer to her along the bar. She swallows and glances over at him, eyes tracing the jagged shadow of his eyelashes across his cheek. The light should be horribly unflattering where he's sitting, but all she can see is patterns of freckles across his cheeks and streaks of red in his hair.

He said he kissed her back. He said it. "So…what exactly does the big book of morals say about this?"

His back springs straight and he almost glares at her, a little too disappointed to look truly angry.

"I have access to your medical files, Astrid. It's not…right to have other access—"

"Didn't you get rid of my file when you rejected me as a patient?" She quirks her eyebrow at him and he flushes, running a hand back through his hair.

"Not yet."

"That freaks me out more than doctors kissing patients, the fact that you still have my file even when I'm not your patient anymore." She's smiling when she says it, but he looks away, ashamed.

"I have to keep your file for three years. It's the law."

"You don't even have my full medical file, you just have a chiropractic file which doesn't say anything aside from what you've learned in the past month. Unless you're an absolute weirdo and you went through all the red tape to get my full medical history," she smiles like she knows she has him. "Which you didn't, because then you'd know more about me."

"But what if you didn't want to kiss me? Or I were coercing you with knowledge that I got from you in a doctor-patient setting?—"

"But I did and you weren't."

He looks over at her again, thinking too hard and she gives him a small smile. He looks away. "Just…hypothetically. If you had a thing—feelings, for a patient, but then they weren't your patient anymore, and you'd gotten rid of their file, what would be the timeline before you'd consider something more than sitting and having a drink?"

"Technically," and the optimistic quirk in his thick brows is almost enough to get her hopes up. "Never."

"Never? Isn't that a little extreme?" She wracks her slightly foggy brain for what she and Fish found the other night. "Because according to the American Medical Association 'sexual contact that occurs concurrent with the patient-physician relationship constitutes sexual misconduct'," she recites and finishes smiling, proud she remembered all of that.

"Exactly. That kiss was sexual misconduct." He shakes his head.

"But it was my misconduct, I kissed you and you dropped me as a patient. The code of ethics doesn't say anything about sexual contact that doesn't occur concurrently with the patient-physician relationship."

"I can't believe you memorized part of the AMA code of ethics. You're crazy." He shakes his head and wipes his hands over his face. "And technically, the code of ethics still says that a relationship with a former patient isn't…desirable. It's still not a good thing. But it doesn't matter, I still know things about you that should have taken months to learn, that you should have told me yourself. A patient's relationship with a doctor is a serious thing, Astrid, it's not—I can't—why are we talking about this anyway?"

"You're asking why we're talking about this? I thought that part was pretty obvious."

"You're…what if my code of ethics isn't necessarily the AMA code of ethics? What if I feel like it's wrong and—"

"A no would be good enough, Hugo." It must have been a mistake, she must have misread him. For her to lay it out in front of him like that and have him wave it off and bring up ethics again when she just cited the rule book, she had to have been wrong. He kissed her back on instinct.

"I think you're the only person that sounds weirder calling me Hugo than Hiccup." He continues quietly, spinning his beer glass slowly between his fingers. "That's the thing, Astrid, I already feel so comfortable with you. It's messed up, I felt comfortable when you were my patient and it's even worse now."

"Were. Past tense," she bites her lip when Eret glances over at them. "I'm not your patient anymore, and I think I'm going to get something stronger. Do you want anything? It's on me."

"You don't have to buy me drinks."

"I know. I want to," she waves Eret over and the man gives her a look, trying to figure out what's going on. His eyes flick to Hiccup's empty beer glass and Astrid shrugs. "I'll take a well whiskey, neat, and I don't know about him."

"Same," Hiccup says slowly before setting his jaw. "And make mine a double."

"Alright, two doubles," Astrid changes her order and glares at Hiccup. "And put it on my tab, alright?"

"I'll be right back with those," Eret looks at her strangely and she shrugs again, turning back towards Hiccup.

"Hypothetically, if I hadn't ever been your patient and I was still lucky—" She clears her throat and lowers her voice, struggling again over the word, "lucky enough to meet you somehow, what would you have done?"

"Nothing," he shrugs, staring down at his hand.

"Again, a no would be enough, you don't have to drag me through all this patient-doctor nonsense, if you're saying no, just say no—"

"Like I would have a chance with you." He cuts her off, pausing with his jaw deliciously flexed as Eret sets down the two drinks. Again, over poured. There are multiple reasons to come to this bar.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She takes a sip of the whiskey that turns into a gulp.

"I wouldn't have any chance with you, look at you, you're smart and funny and athletic and good looking—"

"How do you know I'm smart? I could be an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," he repeats, taking a sip of his drink. He doesn't wince at the burn and it makes her like him more somehow. "So I would do nothing, I wouldn't embarrass myself."

"That's stupid," it doesn't seem to hold much weight and she continues, "especially since I would have done something. Absolutely."

"Oh come on—"

"What? Do you think this is some sort of weird patient-doctor thing for me? That I just kiss all my doctors?"

"I'm thinking you have daddy issues." He says it like an insult but she bursts out laughing, clapping her hand over her mouth when half the bar turns to see what's so funny. "What? We aren't exactly peers—"

"What are you talking about? You're twenty seven, I'd be really concerned if my father was only twenty seven."

"You know what I mean."

"No, I really don't." She shakes her head, "I'm an adult, I thought I was allowed to stop worrying about that when I turned eighteen."

"It doesn't matter anyway," he scowls and sips at his drink again, setting it down on the bar a little too hard. "I don't know why we're even talking about this."

"Because you kissed me back," her voice drops slightly and she leans forward, trying to appear confident while feeling anything but. His eyes dart to her lips and he finishes his drink, sliding it towards the edge of the bar with a meaningful glance towards Eret.

"I thought we were discounting that. Because it was your sexual misconduct and all."

"However you need to think about it," she rolls her eyes and sips on her drink. "It was a really great kiss though."

"I'm not denying that."

"Good, because you aren't an idiot either," she tugs her skirt down again and he looks over at her. "I just—I guess I sort of have a crush on you. Ok?"

"Are you asking for my permission?" His lip quirks again and she narrows her eyes at him, trying to ignore the blood rushing to her cheeks. "Because I don't want to stop you but…I'm in a corner—"

"Stop with that. I'm not your patient anymore. And if you said you'd consider something in a week or a month or a year, I'd probably leave you alone—"

"You're too stubborn for that—"

"And you didn't read that from my file," she snaps, fidgeting and pushing her bangs out of her eyes. "You're not my doctor anymore."

"Really? You have excellent posture, who's your chiropractor, Astrid?"

"I don't need one. I have perfect posture naturally."

"Denial isn't good for you," he puts on that stupid doctor tone and she wants to rip her hair out.

"I don't have to listen to you because you're not my doctor."

His lip twitches again and she falters, almost leaning in.

"I saw you leaving with someone else last weekend, after I turned you down." For a second it looks like he enjoys telling her this, but something pained splits behind his eyes and she feels it deep in her chest like a physical punch. "No matter how great that kiss was, I'm not ready to give up my practice for a crush."

"That's not fair," she crosses her arms and stares down into her nearly empty glass, buzz fading as her foot starts tapping an antsy rhythm against the rung of the bar stool.

"I'm not just…a notch in your belt, this is serious for me. I can't just—"

"I was drunk, my pride was wounded and—"

"I was right, you're too young for me, anyway." He cradles his head in his hands and Astrid watches Eret set another double down in front of him. He reaches out and takes a sip. "I'm…set up and stationary and you're still just a—"

"Just a what? Just a kid? Just a patient?" She shakes her head and drains the rest of her glass, anchored to the seat even though it feels like she should leave.

"I don't know."

"I only did that because I was…I was drunk and I thought I had a chance. With you."

"For what?" He snorts, and he thinks he has her figured out before she even says anything. Honestly, she doesn't even have herself figured out.

"More."

"Why do you—why…just why?" He turns to look at her, brows knitted close together. Worried, hurt.

"You're interesting and kind and funny and handsome, why wouldn't I?" He stares at her for a second, breathing too hard and blinking slowly. Then he kisses her.

00000

Cliffy. What do you guys think about Friday for the next chapter? I'm thinking Friday would be nice of me.

Note: All mentions are from the 2011 AMA code of ethics, if anyone is actually curious.

So I know that I haven't responded to all reviews. I'm working on it. Life got in the way.