Work Text:
April 2019
“ Shit , Heather. You look awful,” is the first thing Ruffnut Thorston says when she opens the door, eyeing her critically. Heather, a bag on each arm and two more lining her eyes, glares at her.
“Sorry. Didn’t sleep.” It’s, unfortunately, not a lie. Heather’s period pain kept her up until at least two, even with a hot water bottle on her belly.
“I said you look awful. Never said anything about it being a bad thing.” Ruffnut grins conspiratorially, her chestnut-brown eyes sparkling. She wipes her finger across her berry-red lip gloss, and smears it onto both cheeks, leaving two pinkish red tiger stripes.
“There! Now I look worse.”
This , Heather thinks, is one of their favourite things about her. Her effortless ability to make any situation easier, brightening the room like the sun itself. Her smile, wider than an orange segment and more luminous than a highlighter, makes Heather at least consider smiling even on their worst days.
Luckily, today is a medium-bad day: she’s sure she’s had worse. So, they ignore the pain spearing her abdomen and back, and say “you wish you did.”
Heather follows Ruffnut to her bedroom, admiring the arrays of crystals in neat rows on her shelf; scented candles dotted here and there, some lit; fairy lights strung around the room, adding the the ambiance of the candles, and giving the room a soft, warm glow.
It’s hard to imagine being in so much pain in a room so lovely.
“Dump your bag wherever, Astrid’s coming soon,” Ruffnut says, stepping over the blown up beds to reach her own. She practically jumps onto it, crossing her legs. Heather, gentle with her fragile body, is much more careful.
Ruffnut gives her a look. “Okay, normally you handstand flip onto the bed,” she says critically, referring to the skill where one handstands against the bed, lets their legs drop, and sits up onto the bed. “Heather, is something wrong?”
Heather would love to tell her, they really would. But she’s never met anyone other than Dagur (who is a nurse, after all) who really gets it. Not just pain, although that is horrible, but the dregs of exhaustion that fill the rest of their body.
Ruffnut doesn’t buy it. “Heather, I might not be a biological woman, but I do know how crappy period pain is.”
“How’d you figure?”
“Eh. I’m psychic, I guess.” Ruff shrugs, twisting the many bracelets and bangles on her wrist. Heather watches them ‘clink’ together, and the sound is so loud she is tempted to bury their head in their hands just to make it quiet.
“Tuff’s got a hot water bottle,” she says. “I’ll get one for you.”
“Thanks.” Heather waits, scrolling through her instagram feed, until she returns. The hot water bottle in her hand is blue and fluffy, and so glittery it makes them giggle.
“Tuff likes stroking the fluff. Says it helps them.”
Ruff tosses the hot water bottle to Heather, and she shoves it under their shirt and clutches it to her abdomen, in near desperation for the heat to flood her body.
For a disappointing moment, there is nothing. Then, warmth starts to seep into her skin, and she lets out an audible groan of relief.
“You okay?” Ruffnut asks.
Heather nods eagerly. “Thank you so much.”
“If you need, you can have my bed tonight. I’ll take yours,it’s no problem.”
“That’s very kind,” Heather says, her face falling, “but no thank you. I couldn’t.”
“Sure you can. What’s the opposite of the words ‘no’ and ‘thank you’?”
“Um... yes please?”
“Awesome! I’ll get new sheets!” Ruffnut beams, her waist-length plaits swinging as she bounces from the room.
Heather stares in shock, wondering what to make of it all.
Ruffnut returns with an armful of pure-black bedding. Heather almost cries in relief.
“Here, let me help you,” she offers, but Ruffnut tells her to kindly “shut up” to let her rest. Reluctantly, Heather collapses onto the blow up bed, and slides earbuds into their ears.
Mitski sings quietly to a low, haunting rock ballad as Ruffnut works around her. It’s peaceful, almost oddly so. Heather hasn’t known their friends to be the quiet kind, and she’d be lying if she said they weren’t grateful for the peace and quiet on the occasion.
“You’re a good friend, Ruff,” Heather says out of the blue. “Lots of males would be uncomfortable around this kind of thing.”
“I don’t really see why, cos half the population does it,” she shot back with her flawless logic as usual. “Plus, it’s just nature. ‘S not like you can help it.”
Heather nods. “I appreciate this, by the way.”
“Gee, I had no idea.” Heather can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “But you know I’d do something like this for you if you needed if, right? Without hesitation.”
“Thanks, Ruff.” They can’t help but think how peacefully domestic the scene feels. Lying on a blow-up bed with a hot water bottle, her best friend working around her, sharing their space, their air, their silence. There’s something gloriously intimate about being in the same room as someone, Heather thinks.
Her mind wanders to Ruffnut -her kind smiles, her easy going nature, her bouncy self, her larger-than-life personality- and decides there’s no one she’d rather exist alongside than her. Her, and Dagur, and Astrid who texts to say ‘TWO MINS AWAY!!! xxx’ and Hiccup who’s always been kind to her, and the others of their odd little group.
Two years ago, Heather had no one. But now, surrounded by oceans of care, she can safely say otherwise.