Chapter Text
Hiccup
Snotlout didn’t expect Hiccup to open the door.
“Snotlout?”
“Oh! Oh, hey, Hiccup.” He tried to seem casual, like he just happened to be passing by the chief’s house in the middle of the night.
“Are you okay?” Hiccup asked immediately. Snotlout didn’t expect the concerned expression on his face either.
“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah, I’m... fine.”
“You’re bleeding.” Hiccup looked sadly at him. “Do you need help?”
His dad’s voice came into his head for the third time that day, rough tones telling him very firmly and authoritatively that “rest is for the weak” and so was asking for help. That was especially weak.
But on the other hand, his cheek did really hurt, and Snotlout knew Hiccup’s dad kept blocks of ice stocked in the outdoor cupboard in spring to keep meat fresh. Ice was the one thing that often helped wounds like these. He could do with some if he didn’t want Ruff and Tuff’s annoying questions as to why one side of his face looked swollen and purple.
In the end, Snotlout shrugged.
“Come in.” Hiccup beckoned him inside without a second thought.
Snotlout’s foot was almost through the front door, when he froze. No one - especially not children - were allowed inside the chief’s house without his authority. Maybe it was one of those weird social customs Hiccup either forgot, or didn’t care about, but Stoick would if he found him.
Then his father would find out. And Snotlout would be lucky to get away with just a beating.
“I can't.” His shoulders slumped. “Thank you for having me though,” he added, because he would die before he forgot his manners.
“Snotlout, wait!” Hiccup cried. “Why can't you?”
“Because you're the son of a chief, and that's the chief's house, and I can't come in.”
Hiccup - Odin bless him - seemed genuinely confused. “Of course you can come in. You're my cousin.”
“Oh. Oh yeah.” That little detail slipped past him in his panic. “But I still shouldn't.”
“You're my guest.” Hiccup held out his hand - a final offer to take or leave.
Snotlout, his hand shaking, closed his fingers around Hiccup's tiny hand.
He led him inside, talking a mile a minute. “My dad's got ice in the cupboard outside, but it's packing boar meat for the rest of winter. But I reckon I can chip some off. If we shuffle it around, my dad won't notice.”
“Okay,” Snotlout said, watching Hiccup pull up a chair by the fire.
“Sit down,” said Hiccup. “I’ll go and get the ice.”
Hiccup disappeared. Snotlout stared at the chair, carved from the finest wood and padded with sheep’s wool. Luxuries only given to village royalty or elders. Despite what his father wanted him to think, Snotlout was neither. He was not next in line. That title would go to scrawny, weirdo Hiccup Haddock. He had to prove himself before he was allowed to sit in something so comfortable.
But then again, Hiccup had offered it to him. And it would be rude to refuse a homemaker’s offer.
He finally sat, perched on the edge. Guilt was already beginning to squirm in his stomach like a dragon’s insides. How could he ask so much of Hiccup? Why was he reliant on him to solve his problems?
“Here! I got a decent chunk,” Hiccup said excitedly. He wrapped it in a piece of cloth, and offered it to Snotlout. Hesitantly, he began to press it to Snotlout’s skin.
“It hurts when it’s too cold, so I always wrap my spare tunic around ice when I-” Hiccup broke off, guiltily biting his lips.
But Snotlout didn’t need him to finish. He knew exactly what he meant.
“I’m... sorry,” he said after a while of pondering what to say. He and the whole village knew about Stoick’s... toughness on his son. But Snotlout had heard the elders dismissing it as “ a good way to strengthen the mind of a future chief ” so that’s what he told himself too.
That is, until Spitelout started getting nasty with him. Then, he was at least a little sympathetic.
“Does it feel okay?” Hiccup asked after a moment of silence.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah it does.” Snotlout focused on the feeling in his cheek; other than the cold, the soreness was going down already.
“Good.” Hiccup smiled faintly, turning his eyes back to watching the fire.
Snotlout stared too, thinking about how tame and calm that gentle, homely fire seemed in comparison to the wildfires brought on by the relentless dragon attacks. It was peaceful- as peaceful as fire could get, anyway. It spat and crackled, but gently, as if it was afraid to disturb the peace.
“It’s not your fault, you know?” Hiccup said. “My dad just gets mad sometimes because I’m a Hiccup.”
“That’s not your fault either,” Snotlout said.
“But I could still try harder.” Hiccup looked down sadly.
Snotlout put his hand on his cousin’s knee. “That’s what my dad tells me,” he admitted. “And you try, right?”
“Yeah, of course I do!”
“Good.” Then at least it was just bad luck, and not actual disobedience, that Hiccup seemed weaker than the other vikings.
It was a long time the two boys sat in silence, mulling their conversation over. Snotlout’s hand stayed on Hiccup’s knee, the other leg bouncing against the wooden floor. In return, after a while, Hiccup wrapped one arm around Snotlout’s neck, and pulled him closer. His head came to rest on his shoulder - already developing muscle - and rose and fell with Snotlout’s heavy breathing.
“I'd... I should be back soon.” Snotlout stared sadly at the floor. “My dad will see I'm gone and get mad.”
“Okay.” Hiccup knows, bright as he is, the familiarity can't last forever. In the morning, they'll go back to pretending the other doesn't exist for the brief time they see each other before Hiccup wanders off and Snotlout trains with his dad.
But the comfort was good while it lasted.
“I’ll show you out.”
The two boys walked to the front door, Snotlout rubbing the cool patch where the ice pressed into his skin. Before Snotlout stepped out of Hiccup’s house, Hiccup gently hugged him. And that he expected least of all.
“Bye Hiccup.” Snotlout waves goodbye.
“Bye, cousin.”
And Snotlout felt a little warmer than he started.