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"Hiccup," Astrid calls as she enters his hut, ducking past the door and pulling it closed behind her.
"Astriiiiiid!" Hiccup calls back. He slurs her name giddily, and she smiles warmly at his enthusiasm. Whatever Gothi gave him has him acting loopy. She said it was to boost healing, but they all know it's to keep him down.
"Healing up alright?" Astrid asks, and steps to Hiccup's bedside. He's got bandages clustered all down his left side, and a stint supporting his arm. He looks up at her with a squinty grin and vocalises something affirmative.
She brushes at his fringe and his eyes—pupils large from the medicine—watch her fingers curiously. "I'm glad you're doing better," she says quietly, "but we've really gotta talk about this when you're healthier." He looks up at her and he's still smiling that too-genuine grin, obviously delirious. It's a wonder he's paying her any attention at all.
"Hiccup," she says again to be sure she has his attention.
"Astrid!" he calls in response. "You have, v-v... very! Pretty hair." His face morphs like the words are an effort to say but, though disjointed, he gets them out. He follows them with another lopsided grin and reaches a shaky hand up to her.
She huffs a fond sigh and takes his hand in hers, then sits on the bed beside him. "You're cute when you're out of it," she murmurs, and squeezes his hand. "Don't think you're getting out of this though."
Hiccup's eyes are drifting to a vacant middle distance. She squeezes his hand and makes to stand. He squeezes back. She turns to see him beaming at her, like all of the stress he's been shouldering has been lifted, he's so happy just to watch her and hold her hand.
Her heart beats loud in her ears and her lips pull into a toothy smile to match Hiccup's almost subconsciously. Astrid knows her eyes have softened—it's something she can't stop, the way her typical colder, stern authority flees when she looks to Hiccup, moreso with each passing year they spend together.
She knows it's Gothi's mix making him so openly emotive, but it pricks her heart regardless.
She leaves and finds her smile hard to scrub off.
Hiccup's up three days later, which is both a relief and a concern. Good because he's healthy again, and he's healed quickly to be up so soon. Bad because knowing him, he's probably up too soon to be properly healed. It's these acts of unending persistence which stress Astrid into worried lips and twitchy fingers, because as endearing and beneficial as Hiccup's constant drive to work is, it's only really stress-free when Astrid's around to watch him.
Which raises the second issue: Hiccup is avoiding her.
Astrid has been pretty consistent in seeing Hiccup daily while he's been healing in bed, giving him the medicine Gothi left behind when she returned to Berk. The other riders have been in to see him almost as frequently, but she's been the most consistent.
But it's dusk and Hiccup's not in their clubhouse, he's not at the forge, he's not in his hut, and the twins are on patrol, so he can't be flying, and Astrid's driving herself mad trying to track him down.
"Stormfly!" she calls as she enters the stables. "We're going flying!"
She's brought chicken for the extra boost, because she's tired of walking in circles around the Edge and Stormfly is a tracker class dragon. If nothing else, they'll know where Hiccup has been.
Stormfly chirps from the back of the stables and bobs her head, beckoning Astrid closer. The setting sun casts the whole place in shadow but though the dark, Astrid sees—
"Hiccup?"
He stands up from under Stormfly where he's been scratching under her chin. "Oh, uh, Astrid! Hey! Didn't—uh—didn't expect to see you here." He runs a hand through his hair and chuckles awkwardly.
"This is where you've been?" Astrid asks incredulously.
He glances away and says, "yeah, just—you know, spending some time with Stormfly. Toothless has been missing her since, well—uh—"
"Since you've been in bed. Healing," Astrid deadpans. The only reason he's out of bed is his stubborn refusal to just stay down.
"Yeah, that," Hiccup says, and turns to rub a hand down Stormfly's jaw, scratching at her scales.
Astrid sighs. "Hiccup," she says, and takes a few steps over to him, "at least let me look at your bandages, if you're going to be out of bed anyway."
Hiccup looks at her and huffs a quiet breath. "Astrid, I'm—"
"—still healing. Thor, Hiccup, at least do it for me?"
"Astrid."
"Hiccup."
He sighs and says, "you're really not going to drop this?"
"Nope," Astrid says, and takes the last few steps up to him. She drops Stormfly's chicken on her way and Stormfly pounces it, jumping away from where Hiccup has been using her like a shield. "Come on, I'll be quick."
She grabs his arm—the one free of a sling—and guides him back to her hut. Toothless trails behind them. The sun sets slow on the horizon.
Hiccup flushes as he pulls off his tunic but sits quiet on Astrid's bed as she starts undressing his wounds. There's dark bruising under the skin down his side, flaring larger than this morning. It's creeping out from beneath the bandages in some places, and when she runs a gentle finger over an especially purple patch Hiccup flinches away from her.
"Sorry, sorry," she says, and continues more delicately. Once all of the bandages down his side are clear she trails her eyes across it. Where the skin has torn is healing well, scabbing nicely and healing quickly. There probably won't be any significant scarring.
Though the bruising looks worse she knows it's fading by the colour of it—less purple, more green and bright yellow, dropping to brown. His arm is looking better too, and from the way he responds when she pokes at it, it seems he's already less reliant on the splint. He might not need it by the end of the week.
"You're looking better," she murmurs as she grabs for some ointment. Hiccup nods stiffly.
"Great," he says, and tips his head to watch Toothless, explicitly not eyeing her.
Astrid starts rubbing ointment over the red and scabbing wounds along Hiccup's side. His shoulders tense, then slowly relax. She pretends not to notice.
"Look, Hiccup," she says after a long moment of silence, "we've really gotta talk about—this."
He looks back at her and grimaces. "Do we? Really?"
Astrid sighs. "I just don't get it. You've always been a little reckless but recently you've been out of control. It's like—" she cuts herself off. She can't get too worked up or Hiccup will flee. He likes to do that, deciding which big and important conversations are actually that big and important.
She dabs at his skin, splashed with bruising green, rubbing over the raised scabs, and says, "I'm worried about you Hiccup. We all are."
Hiccup shrugs and looks away. "You don't need to be," he says, scratching at his cheek. He's still looking away, talking to Toothless with just his eyes.
"Yes," Astrid counters, "I do."
"I can handle myself," he says, and his voice has a sharper edge than it did before. His eyes are colder too, flicking to the door intermittently. "You don't need to do all of this."
"Hiccup," she says, reprimanding.
"No, Astrid," he says harshly, and his eyes are fiery as he snaps to watch her. "You don't need to—to coddle me. I'm not some defenseless kid anymore, I can handle myself." He moves to get off the bed, and grabs for his tunic as he does.
Astrid scoffs and pushes him back down. "I'll believe that when you quit being so reckless." He swats at her hand and she grabs his wrist. "I'm serious Hiccup," she says, and uses her free hand to tip his chin so he'll meet her eyes. "You can't walk out of this one."
Hiccup sighs and settles back on the bed. Astrid lets him, but keeps her shoulders tensed, ready to catch him.
He sits still as she reaches for more ointment and she lets herself relax. He's being rational for once, letting her take care of him and facing a tough conversation. It's impressive.
Astrid starts rubbing more ointment down by Hiccup's hips. The skin has torn recently, splitting the scabs open again, and she's careful to be gentle. Her hands move in soothing circles over his marred skin and Toothless churrs quietly from the door.
Hiccup takes a deep breath and quietly lets it out, then says softly, "I did the right thing."
"Mhm," she hums.
"You would've done the same."
"Maybe."
"I just," he sighs frustratedly. "I don't get why you're all making such a big deal over it."
"Because," she says, and tries to keep her voice low and even, "this isn't the first time." She keeps rubbing over his aches, looking down and giving him the space she can. "And it's not really what you did. It's how you did it."
"How's that?" he asks, and her fingers still.
She pauses, watching his skin, where it's clouded over by purples and greens. Where cuts and grazes have flecked dried blood all down the length of his side, where the ointment she's already rubbed in is shining on his injuries, awaiting bandages. She watches his lungs expand and retract beneath the watercolour bruising, and she pulls her words together.
"You've been careless recently," Astrid says, more sincerely than she means to. She withdraws her hands. "It's scary, Hiccup. It's like you don't care how the mission gets done, as long as you do it."
"That's hardly a bad thing," Hiccup mumbles, and she snaps to glare at him.
"It is when it ends like this!" She gestures at the bruising and lacerations down his side, at his arm still held in a sling across his chest. "You treat each mission like you're disposable but you're not. I hate that you're too bone-headed to get that." She taps at the bruise on his shoulder and he winces.
"I'm not—I don't do that," Hiccup says.
"You do!" Astrid says too loudly. "Tell me you didn't jump in front of a Quaken to break your arm." She looks down at him seriously, daring him to argue. "Tell me you thought through every other option before throwing yourself at that dragon. Because I know what I saw, Hiccup. I want you to tell me I'm wrong, and you knew what you were doing, and you would've been fine even if Toothless hadn't grabbed the Quaken's attention when—when you were in its mouth."
Astrid picks up Hiccup's hand and weaves their fingers together, running her thumb over his. She looks back to his face and her chest pulls with relief.
He's looking at her with wide eyes and an openly startled expression, and that's how she knows he understands.
"I want you to be safe," Astrid says slowly, "but I don't think I can trust you to do that for me." His fingers twitch in her hold. "I love helping you protect all these dragon's and take down the hunters, but I need to know you'll be more careful. I need you to try."
Hiccup looks at her, large eyes shining, and as she looks back she so nearly says, I love you, I care about you, I wish we didn't need to have this conversation, but she holds her tongue. She lets him come to his own conclusion. He'll understand eventually. He always does.
"I'm—" He cuts off, swallows, and tries again. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I—I get it, I think. I'm sorry. I wouldn't want you to be—" Hiccup looks down, at his arm and his bruises, a sunset across his ribs. "I don't want to see you hurt. Not like this."
Astrid nods and her hand reaches for his face before she realises she's reaching. She cups his cheek and he presses into it.
"It's okay," she says softly. It's not a tone she's used to. She's used to being loud and brash, like a leader. She's always been present in a way Hiccup isn't. It takes shouts for her to control crowds where Hiccup controls them with whispers. Regardless, he needs her to be soft right now.
"I understand," Astrid says, and Hiccup blinks up to her. "I don't like it, but I understand. I just—I need you to promise me this won't happen again." Her thumb strokes his chin and she takes a shaky breath. "I don't like seeing you like this. I know you'll be fine, but it doesn't make it any easier."
"Sorry," he says again, and her heart pulls. Astrid pulls her hand from his face and fights her sudden compulsion to kiss him, to show him what he means to her.
"Don't do that again. Don't do anything like that again, not without talking to me first, alright?" She grabs his hand and holds it in both of hers.
"Yes," he says. "Yeah, I will. I'm sorry."
"You scared me," Astrid whispers.
"Yeah," Hiccup says quickly, quietly. "I'm sorry."
She lets the silence sit for a long moment before letting go of Hiccup's hand and reaching for cloth to wrap the wound.
He's heard her out now, and that's all she can really ask of him.