Work Text:
Domesticity
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According to his wife, being chief of an extremely busy island counted for nothing when there were repairs to be made to the Haddock home. Hiccup had a to-do list longer than his patience, but if one asked Astrid, fixing Toothless’ sky door took first priority.
“You have obligations to your family too,” he muttered under his breath, repeating her earlier words to him. Words snapped over her shoulder mid-argument. Tossing the creaky old hinges to the grass below, he peeked over the edge of the roof to make sure his toddler son was still playing safely under Toothless’ protective gaze. He sighed and swiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his arm. “Thanks, milady, almost forgot for half a second.”
Hiccup scowled as he returned to his task, drawing the newly forged hinges from his shirt pocket. Irritation made his movements sharp and jerky. His jaw was clenched tight. The sun beat down on his back and neck, leaving a faint burn over freckled skin.
It wasn’t that he was opposed to changing the hinges. It certainly bothered Astrid more when the door creaked with Toothless’ every departure or return, but it was a nuisance. Especially while they slept. But there were already ten thousand demands on him before he even stepped outside his door every morning, and it sure would make things a hel of a lot easier if there weren’t a thousand more on the other side of that door. If she could just realize that he had more important things to handle than a sky door that squeaked.
He was a chief, a blacksmith, a dragon master, a husband, a father, and a man who would snap if one more responsibility was placed on his shoulders.
Hiccup was so distracted with his thoughts that he fumbled his wrench with his job half completed. It skittered and clattered and stuck between a pair of shingles near the roof’s edge.
“Thor damn it!” he hissed, raking fingers through his hair with frustration.
From the ground, a little voice echoed, “For dammit!”
And then from the open window, he heard— “Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, if you teach our son one more swear—!”
His eyes rolled so violently they nearly broke free from his skull. “Gods, Astrid, I know!” With an aggravated sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and righted his balance before making his way towards the runaway tool. It was a good thing heights had stopped bothering him long ago.
Hiccup shook his head. He glanced at Icky as he leaned over to pick up the wrench, wondering why such a quiet, pleasant toddler chose only to repeat the words that would get his father skinned. Potty, though, that seemed to be a foreign, unteachable concept.
He was heading back to his spot by the sky door when he slipped. It was preceded by the jolting of his leg as his prosthesis stuck, and then the scraaaapeof his metal foot against the shingles. His balance was shattered. Hiccup fell backwards, hitting the roof before sliding off and landing prostrate on the ground below.
The air was slammed from his lungs. His body vibrated like a door shut too hard. He groaned and rolled to his back, staring up at the impossibly rare blue sky in shock.
There was a hiccupy little gasp. A childlike giggle. And then Hiccup heard his son burst into a fit of squealing laughter.
His brow furrowed at the whispy clouds floating by. Footsteps sounded from the house, and then the door banged open. Astrid came running outside, her gait awkward as she kept one hand to her pregnant belly. She dropped to her knees at his side.
“Oh my gods— babe, are you okay? What happened?” Her hands were cool as they pressed to his cheeks, his neck, his chest. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to get help?”
Slowly, his gaze pulled away from the sky and stilled on her concerned expression. The tension that had been between them all morning was gone. Her eyes were wide and worried and bluer than the unnaturally blue backdrop. Damn, he’d married a beautiful woman.
And his son was laughing. Screeching. Hysteric at the sight of his dad falling flat on his face.
He couldn’t help it. His mouth twisted in a grin. A short chuckle broke past his lips. Then he was laughing too, rubbing his palm across his sore chest. Did he even get the wrench? What did it matter? He suddenly didn’t care. Astrid’s features turned baffled at his reaction, and somehow that was absolutely hilarious.
Sitting up on his elbows, he angled up to press a smiling kiss to her cheek. Perhaps she was just now noticing the baby’s contagious amusement, but her eyes flickered with wary humor. The laughter caught. And soon they were howling and rubbing tears from their eyes as Toothless watched his humans with utter bafflement.
And Hiccup figured that maybe he could make time to fix the roof more often.