A/n: Quite short, one of movielover48's ideas. After this I'll only be taking twelve more requests (first come first served basis) so that I can finish on chapter 75. Just a heads up for then.

Hiccup had had enough. He'd been a chief for two weeks - though only working as one for one, after everyone's insistence that he take some time to recover - and in that time, he'd put the village back together, reinstated (and won several) dragon races, sorted out all the dragons into provisional homes, and removed and repurposed all the armour from Drago's dragons.

Yet still people asked for things.

He was beginning to understand why his dad was always so angry; it must've been trying, to say the least, to deal with whiny villagers all day, then have to come home to a sarcastic son who just so happened to be the worst Viking the village had ever seen. But he still managed to be happy to serve. Hiccup, not so much.

"Hiccup!"

Here we go again. "Yes?"

"That dragon - Something-claw - it's causing trouble again."

Hiccup stared blankly at the Viking for a second. He was sure that, if he was fully rested and slightly less frazzled, he would be able to recall their name. "Oh." he said intelligently.

"They were setting fires to stuff!" the Viking - Hiccup dubbed them Pesterer One - continued urgently.

"Great."

"I saw the twins running away with a stick a while ago..." Pesterer One finished. "Were you listening?" she asked, noticing Hiccup's glazed expression.

"Sure, Pesterer One," Hiccup replied distractedly, "I'll get onto it..."

He wandered off in the direction of the plume of smoke.

"Pesterer One?" the Viking, whose name was actually Adelaide, muttered confusedly. She shrugged, deciding it was probably better not to know, and rushed off to grab a bucket.

Two hours of firefighting later - the dragon had been Sharpclaw, a monstrous nightmare who hated both the twins and being poked with sticks - Hiccup slumped down in front of his house.

Toothless came over to him and crooned concernedly, giving Hiccup one of his innocent looks.

"I'm fine, Toothless," Hiccup said, reminding himself that he needed to find a way to understand dragons entirely - just another thing to do. "Just tired."

"You wouldn't be tired if you asked for help."

Hiccup blinked. In his tiredness, he mistook Astrid's voice for Toothless talking. He stared at the dragon in confusion.

"Over here," Astrid sighed, taking Hiccup's face in her hand to move it over to face her. "If you thought Toothless was speaking Norse, you really need some help."

"But... Stoick never got help." Hiccup protested, cursing himself that it sounded so weak.

"I'm sure he did when he first started." Astrid offered. "Why don't we ask Gobber?"

"Stoick?" Gobber laughed heartily, "Yeah, he needed help at first. Wouldn't ask for it, mind - he was just like you: stubborn as anything." Gobber chuckled again, losing himself in memories, "Practically collapsed from exhaustion - that's how we convinced him he needed it."

"See?" Astrid said pointedly. "You can have help."

"But..." Hiccup sighed. "Fine. But what can you help with?"

"Lots of things!" Gobber half-shouted, grabbing Hiccup in a headlock with his hammer arm. "We can help with tasks, sort out arguments, anything you want!" he offered enthusiastically as Hiccup tripped up trying to work his way out of the blacksmith's grip.

"Great," Hiccup said, eyeing the forge door and the impatient dragon waiting on the other side of it. "You do that... I'm going for a flight."

Before anyone could protest, Hiccup ran off and flew away.

"But... you..." Astrid said weakly.

"He certainly took to that well," Gobber noted.