Work Text:
He offers to carry her over the threshold ("Appearances, Astrid, the whole village is watching us"), and she offers to carry him ("Appearances, Hiccup, nobody wants the chief's leg giving out when he's trying to prove his manliness"), but in the end they cross it together, turning to wave their joined hands at the assembly as Tuffnut begins shooing everybody away ("All right, all right, show's over, nothing more to see here; disperse to your homes, leave the chief and chieftess to their newly wedded bliss; so help me, Gustav, if you bring that sheep one step closer I'll shear you both").
They both laugh as Hiccup shuts the door and Astrid bolts it.
Hiccup runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head and shrugging at the same time, echoes of the nervous energy that has mostly settled down over the past few years. "Well," he says, "welcome home."
Astrid takes his hand and pulls him further into the house, out of hearing range of the receding clamor. They settle onto a bearskin rug in front of the crackling fire, both of which feel like Gobber touches.
It's a nice gesture, especially since fires take longer to light now.
The orange glow glints off her axe in the corner, where Valka placed it when she helped to move the last of Astrid's belongings over this morning before the wedding. Astrid knows her clothes are somewhere upstairs on Hiccup's shelves, and wonders how long it will be until she knows where everything is in his house.
Wait, not Hiccup's shelves in his house—their shelves in their house.
"It's weird, right?" she ponders aloud. "Do you think that's normal?"
"If you are under the impression that you married somebody who can tell you what's normal," he replies, "I think there's still time for Gothi to annul this whole thing."
She jabs two fingers at his solar plexus and he deflects the blow, capturing her fingers in his.
"And I get what you mean," he continues, "but it's not as weird as I thought it would be, having all of your stuff here. Having you here. It feels...I don't know...like home again."
Astrid looks to one of Toothless' favorite spots, and squeezes Hiccup's hand.
"I have to warn you," she says seriously, "that I am not always as much of a morning person as he was."
"Nah, I like my roommates a little grumpy now and then. Never lived with anybody who wasn't, wouldn't know what to do with myself."
"In that case, this is going to work out really well for you."
He grins. "I expect so." He buries a hand in her hair.
"So why didn't you want to do this earlier? Get married, I mean?"
He looks confused. "Me? I thought you...."
"No, I would've in a heartbeat, except you...."
"Are we about to have our first married fight about how we each thought the other had cold feet?"
"In fairness," she starts, but he swoops in and kisses her.
"No leg jokes," he reprimands.
"Only tonight?" she asks, reaching to unhook the offending prosthetic. "Or is this a long-standing moratorium?"
"Oh, you are asking for it...." And he tickles her until she pulls him off balance and they fall onto the rug, laughing.
He wraps his arms around her, and she snuggles her head against his shoulder.
"The weird part is that you wanted me," he says.
"Present tense," she corrects. "And need you."
"Weirder."
Her head lifts and falls with his deep sigh.
"I guess maybe," he says, "I was afraid that the next person my idealism would injure was you."
"I guess I thought you'd already had too much change all at once."
"This is the best change I could imagine."
"Your idealism makes me stronger." She laughs. “Honestly, no matter what I would say to you when Gobber would bring it up, we’ve been ready for this for years.”
"Should've done this a long time ago. We could've...." His voice catches, and she is thinking the same thing, the same thing she had thought as they stood after the wedding, staring towards the horizon. How lovely it would be to launch into their married life with the stars overhead and the wind in their hair, like so many of their past adventures had begun.
"We had some amazing flights together. All four of us." She puts a hand over his heart. "But even without dragons, you make me feel like I'm flying."
He smiles. "Astrid Hofferson, hopeless romantic."
"Not hopeless, not with you. Not ever. And not Hofferson, either, anymore."
"Astrid Haddock," he says experimentally. "Chieftess of Berk."
"Mm-hm."
He turns his face to hers, and he is her home as she is his, and they move closer....
A crash startles them apart, and from somewhere a little too close to the house, Tuffnut’s voice follows: "Gustav! I warned you!"
Hiccup sits up abruptly. "Remember that abandoned hut a few miles north of here?"
"Moon's nice and bright," she replies.
"I'll pack some food, you grab a blanket or two."
She stands and tosses him his leg. "On it, Chief."
In a few minutes, they have changed into darker, more serviceable clothes and climbed out the back window.
"This is normal, right?" he whispers.
"Nothing weird about it to me."
And hand-in-hand, they take off running under a sparkling sky.