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Hiccup is going to kill him.
Okay, not literally, that would be a bit extreme– but as Snotlout stumbles through the forest, gazing at the upwards hill in front of him, the prospect seems rather likely.
Because, funnily enough, Hiccup is not a huge fan of his team members getting hurt– and Snotlout has been stabbed. In the stomach. Really, it’s– it’s so good, the twins can’t even make fun of him. He just has to– well… keep how the stabbing happened from them.
Snotlout drags himself up the hill, stares proudly out at their outpost, and promptly collapses against a tree. Vaguely, he hears many different voices saying many different things, and he tries to mumble something that is supposed to be, “Hey, I got stabbed,” but something– something is wrong, because his mouth isn’t making the right shapes and his tongue isn’t moving the way it’s supposed to. And– Thor, it’s such an odd sensation, because honest–to–Gods, his mouth feels simultaneously bone–dry and strangely… soggy. Honestly, it’s like when he gets struck by lightning– which, come to think of it, is far too often–
Snotlout closes his eyes. Somebody else will take care of the stabbing, he’s sure of it.
“So how did you manage to get yourself stabbed?” Hiccup asks wearily, and Snotlout groans as Fishlegs tries to cut off his air supply with gauze. “I don’t know, Hiccup, isn’t it enough for you that I got stabbed? You want me to relive a traumatic experience as well?”
“We have bets going,” Ruffnut says menacingly. “I want my gold, and I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Hiccup tilts his head. “You heard the woman.”
“You have a bet on me?!” Snotlout says, slightly offended. Clearly he was wrong– anything and everything can be made fun of.
“I don’t personally. I just want to know how you got stabbed,” Hiccup sighs. Astrid snorts. “I have a bet on you.”
“Your bet is stupid,” Tuffnut accuses, and Astrid widens her eyes sarcastically. “I know. Just stupid enough that it’s bound to be right.”
Fishlegs finishes wrapping the gauze around Snotlout’s stomach, thank Thor. “So… how did it happen?”
Snotlout glares at them all, crossing his arms and trying not to wince. “I was– I was practising my knife skills, and I… attempted something very ambitious.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hiccup deadpans, and Astrid gives a shrill, incredulous laugh. “Oh, that’s– that’s perfect. Pay the Hel up, Tuffnut.”
“There’s no way that’s what you bet on,” Snotlout groans. “Why would you bet on that?”
Astrid smirks. “Call it… intuition.”