A/N: Just an FYI: I do not write from RTTE canon often, if at all. I write almost exclusively from the films with the occasional ROB/DOB references.
The first few moments of wakefulness could be disorienting. If the night that preceded it was wild, and the sleep was deep enough, one could almost forget who they were and where they had collapsed before they drifted into vivid dreams, almost sure to be forgotten in the morning.
Hiccup found himself staring at the ceiling, putting colorful pieces together in his grogginess, until the wooden beams that crossed above his head and the familiar scent of old pine reminded him that he was home, in bed. Completely unremarkable a thing, by most standards.
What escaped him still was when and how he ended up there. Vague memories of food and drink, song and games, drifted to the forefront of his mind; all lingering thoughts of the Einherjar feast that went well into the night. Berk knew how to celebrate and honor its dead. Mead and beer flowed freely. It was a small triumph he could remember anything at all.
He rubbed his eyes then looked to his left. Toothless snoozed peacefully in the corner of his bedroom, with his large head resting on folded claws. Satisfied that his dragon was accounted for, Hiccup looked to his right, with growing awareness of another warm presence in his bed-which he had not anticipated.
His stomach flipped, and he sat bolt upright. Upon doing so, he realized, beneath his furs, he was completely and unabashedly naked. Also, minus one metal limb.
But the tousled blonde hair, unbound and strewn over his spare pillow, was familiar. The rise and fall of his companion's curves were as committed to memory as her delicate scent of rosemary and juniper, which greeted him like a hug. He could drown in it, let it consume him.
The momentary panic of alcohol-induced amnesia faded into relief and adoration. Astrid was beside him, just as naked and vulnerable as he was. She looked so peaceful, breathing slowly and rhythmically.
Like the glow of candlelight emerging from the darkness, flickers of their night together grew brighter and clearer in his mind: unhurried kisses and confident hands had carried them into the wee hours of the morning. Their clothes lay scattered about his room, her tunic as inextricably tangled up with his pants as their limbs had been, in throes of all their passion and sweat.
He leaned over and brushed haphazard strands of gold from her face, tucking them ever so carefully behind her ear. She was as beautiful when she slept as she was almost every waking moment.
"Astrid?" he murmured, placing a loving kiss on her neck. For good measure, he planted another one behind her ear, lingering a moment longer than he had with the first, closing his eyes and savoring the feel of her skin against his lips.
She stirred, humming to herself with a stretch. He stifled a laugh as a carless fist almost connected with his face. It would not have been the first time, but his reflexes had improved. Taking her wayward hand, he kissed the back of it before holding it safely against his chest, hoping the sudden beating of his heart would not startle her.
"Hiccup?" she whispered thickly, opening her eyes and blinking in bewilderment.
He smiled as she worked through that same initial confusion that he had, putting all the night's fragments into place.
"Good morning, you," he said, pulling her back against him, until their bodies met, oh-so-perfectly.
She did not resist, surrendering to the warmth of his skin on hers. They breathed together, and there was nothing better.
"Good m-mornin'," she yawned as he wrapped his arms around her, releasing her hand. "I almost forgot..."
Hiccup kissed her shoulder and she sighed, sweet and contented.
"Mmn. I'm glad you didn't," he said; he wanted her to recall every blissful moment, and every honeyed word he had told her.
She arched back into him, craning her neck until the tip of her nose brushed his cheek. Tender, fluttering kisses fell along his jaw. One of her hands snaked its way up to his hair, her nails lightly grazing along his scalp, making him shiver. She tugged on the little braids he left there for her, grinning. Only she could ever touch him like that; she had his heart, so she had the rest of him. She laced her fingers with his, of the hand that rested on her belly. Her thumb brushed affectionately over his minute scars and freckles, before she brought his hand to her lips.
"I don't think I could ever forget the things these hands can do," she murmured, before placing a couple of appreciative kisses on his palm. They tickled but left behind a subtle warmth all their own.
He smiled, and they shared a kiss before touching their foreheads together, blonde and auburn bangs mixed together. She turned into him, chest to chest, thighs against thighs, in a relaxed embrace.
"I don't want to go," she admitted, tracing idle patterns over the faded scars that adorned his chest-light, affectionate touches. "This is nice."
"Then don't," he replied. "I certainly won't make you." She felt too good, too right, in his hands.
Astrid shook her head. She sat up and began gathering her messy hair behind her head.
"You know I can't," she said, deftly weaving her hair into a loose plait. Her skill in braiding, particularly when her mind was elsewhere, was awe-inspiring. "People will talk."
Hiccup scoffed and rolled onto his back, arms folded behind his head. "People already talk. It doesn't bother me."
Astrid smirked. She bent over and kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose, which he wrinkled playfully. "It's different for you."
He frowned, cursing the double standard he'd rather not acknowledge. "I know, I know..."
She caressed his face, and he leaned into it. "One day, I won't have to sneak out of here. By then, I bet you'll be dying to get rid of me."
"Impossible."
Her blue eyes twinkled. "Oh, yeah? You won't simply 'get used to it?'" she teased, adopting one of his more common phrases.
"If I'm used to it, then I'm probably dead."
Astrid laughed, and it was a beautiful sound. She threw her arms around him and curled into his side, head on his chest. He did not often have cause to feel like her refuge, because she seldom ever wanted or needed one. In such moments, where she relinquished control and dropped her tough exterior, she gave into the comfortable pleasure of being held by him. He draped an arm around her, trailing his fingers up and down her hip, delighting in the goosebumps that arose with his touch.
"A couple minutes more maybe..." she said, giving him a fond squeeze.
He caught her beneath the chin and tilted her face up so their eyes met.
"As much time as you need," he replied, and kissed her forehead.
And they clung to each other no longer concerned with cheap gossip and the passing hours. All that mattered was the warmth between them, keeping the rest of the world at bay.