Work Text:
Hiccup’s clothes no longer fit.
This is increasingly obvious, as he attempts to stretch his arms upon waking up and feels his movement restricted. He groans in frustration, pulling his shirt off and setting it down on the bed. As he’s rummaging around in his drawers for larger shirts, he feels his prosthetic click-click-clunk and then it collapses, sending a shooting pain up his stump. “Holy fucking shit,” he mutters, stumbling down his stairs to where he keeps his spare prosthetics.
When he looks in the mirror, his face falls even flatter- his hair is long. It’s in his eyes, it’s past his shoulders, it’s- it’s not right. How did he let it get this bad? He makes a mental note to get somebody to chop some of it off later. Okay. Okay. So the day hasn’t started off quite as well as he’d hoped. That’s- that’s fine, it will get better.
The sun beats down on him as he walks to the Clubhouse, and he shields his eyes, glaring at the sky like he has a personal vendetta against it. The only larger shirt he could find was short-sleeved, and- come to think about it, that would be good, given the current heat, but- but Hiccup has scars, scars that nobody can know about. So he wears a smaller, long-sleeved one. It’s not even thinner material, so the day ought to be fun.
Astrid stumbles out of her hut just as he passes it, and he gives her a wave. She grins at him, a rare feat, and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning, babe.”
“Morning,” he replies, placing his arm around her shoulder as they continue along the bridge. “Sleep well?”
“I did, thank you,” Astrid says, eyeing his hair. “There’s, um, something… different about you.”
“Really?” Hiccup grins, looking down at her. “What is it, then?”
“Mm, I don’t know. I might have to look at you up close,” she says, winking and pulling him down to kiss him.
Hiccup gives a disbelieving laugh, feeling his face flush. “You’re- you’re- wow.” He leans in to kiss her back as they reach the Clubhouse, and Snotlout makes a retching noise. “Ohmygods, gross.”
“Good morning to you too, Snotlout,” Hiccup says mildly, rolling his eyes. Maybe it will be a good day, after all.
The heat doesn’t stop, but the sun does.
It starts storming a few hours after lunch, and it’s relentless. The twins bicker all day, as do Snotlout and Fishlegs, and Astrid isn’t helping with her cutting-edge remarks and insults. Dragons are screeching outside. Hiccup feels like crying, feels like screaming, feels like tearing his hair out of his scalp and not just because he’s overwhelmed, and- and it’s safe to say the day isn’t getting any better.
“I would never do something that stupid. Never. And you’re stupid for even suggesting it- I know the rules of Maces and Talons,” Snotlout says, crossing his arms, and Fishlegs sighs. “I’m just saying, it seems like something you’d-”
“You guys are both idiots,” Astrid scoffs, and Ruffnut looks up from her card game. “Fishlegs is right, Snotlout- you would do that.”
“Totally. Right, Hiccup?” Tuffnut agrees, and Hiccup doesn’t, can’t respond, and he buries his head in his hands instead.
“… Hiccup?” Astrid says tentatively, and after a moment of silence, they all go back to their argument, and finally-
And finally, the dam breaks, and Hiccup stands up, takes a few shaky steps, and collapses against the wall.
“Hiccup!” Astrid and Snotlout cry in unison, and Fishlegs gasps, and Hiccup sobs, grabbing his too-long hair and pulling his aching legs up to meet his too-tight chest and he can’t breathe and Astrid touches his shoulder and he screams, long and loud, and he rocks back and forth and hits his head against the wall and it doesn’t help but he does it anyway because- because because because because-
“Is it a phantom pain?” somebody whispers, and somebody else replies, “No, I think he’s having some sort of panic attack.”
“He’s overwhelmed.”
“Astrid, give him a hug!”
“Are you kidding me? Did you even see what just happened?”
“Well, he needs comfort-”
“No, guys, he needs quiet. Everybody shut up-”
“Snotlout’s right, quiet is the best thing right now if he’s overwhelmed.”
“I just said that, asshole.”
Hiccup whines, his headache growing by the minute why why why why why-
“Fuck, he’s going to hurt himself. We need to stop him bashing his head against the wall- I usually wouldn’t say that, but-”
He’s gently pulled from the wall, manoeuvred onto his side, his head cushioned by something soft but he’s not sure what, and- and and and and help, “Help please please pleasepleaseplease please-”
“What’s wrong?” a voice says gently. “How can we help?”
“I don’t know!” Hiccup chokes on a mixture of saliva and tears, coughing. “Please, pleaseplease please please please help me help me, please, please.” He keeps repeating it, pleasepleasepleaseplease, but nobody helps why does nobody help can they not hear him? Do they not care? Have they left? He screams again even though the piercing sound makes everything worse, trailing off into choked sobs, and the voices resume, but he can’t quite hear what they’re saying.
“… need to jus… this out?”
“… maybe, it s… like it.”
“… can… water, please?” Seemingly immediately, Hiccup is carefully propped up against the wall, a rough, stout hand on the back of his head, and more hands attempt to gently pry his hands from his hair. He screams again, and the hands in his hair vanish.
“… may… ready yet… him another minute? Keep… there.”
After a couple of seconds or a couple of minutes or a couple of hours he doesn’t know he doesn’t know he doesn’t know, the hands are back, and this time he lets them remove his from his hair. Astrid’s face appears in front of him, and he whimpers as she pushes a cool glass of water into his hands, and cold cold cold and it helps. Help me, help me help me helphelphelp help help please help me. He takes a sip, and he’s like an addict to mead, gulping down the water until he can’t breathe. He cries, he whines, he grasps the cool glass so hard his hands begin to shake- well, more, and it doesn’t stop it doesn’t stop it-
It stops.
Slowly, but surely, it stops.
After what Hiccup’s sure is about half an hour, after countless in and out, in and out, that’s it, you’re doing greats from Astrid, he can finally breathe again, and his body unfurls itself, and Snotlout gently removes his shirt once he notices it’s too tight.
“I’m sorry,” Hiccup says shakily, and Fishlegs smiles sympathetically. “It’s okay, Hiccup. We- we overwhelmed you, and that’s on us.”
“Wasn’t just you. E-everything’s… everything’s bad today.”
“How so?” Astrid asks gently, rubbing circles into his back as he leans against her. Hiccup sniffs, feeling a lump rise in his throat. “Just- just, just, just just just-”
“Hey,” Snotlout interrupts. “Keep breathing, dude. You’re okay.”
“My clothes are too small,” Hiccup says after taking a few shuddering breaths. “And- and my hair is too long, and it’s too hot, and it’s too loud, and I hate it.”
“Do you not have bigger clothes?” Tuffnut says softly, and Hiccup shakes his head. Snotlout gives him a small smile. “I can fix that.”
Astrid runs her fingers through his hair, and even though he hates the length, the repeated action is soothing, calming, so calming. “Maybe Ruffnut can cut your hair for you?”
Ruffnut nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. We can do that today, or- or tomorrow, if you want?”
“As soon as p-possible,” Hiccup gasps weakly, nearly collapsing with relief. “Please.”
And in the end, his day does get better.