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e-wills-afterhours · 2 years ago

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Heeey. I have a request, Hiccup having phantom pains and Astrid taking care of him? Thanks!

A/N: Sure thing, Nonny. I think I wrote this very oneshot years ago, but I cannot find it, for the life of me. Might as well do an updated version!

And who doesn't love a little Hiccstrid tenderness, amirite?

Our beloved OTP is 17 here. I also seem to be writing a lot of Hiccstrid from the 5-year gap between HTTYD 1 and 2 lately minus RTTE...

Aaaaaand, I'm kind of okay with that right now. I hope you are too.

Rating: T (all of my work pretty much is unless I rate it otherwise)

Just One of Many Things

-------

If Astrid was asked to list all of the things she appreciated about Hiccup Horrendous Haddock, it would be long. Perhaps, equal in length to all of the things that aggravated her about him. Some qualities even held spots in both categories. His stubbornness, for example, could be quite the asset when he was in the right; but just as much a headache when he got stuck on some new harebrained idea.

She loved him, regardless.

Growing up amid dragon raids, she did not understand the old adage "opposites attract." It seemed counterintuitive. What held two people together who could not see eye-to-eye on anything? In those days, there was no one more unsuited for each other's company than she and Hiccup.

But then the fog of war lifted, and she finally saw him for who he was. She came to realize that they had more in common than she dared to imagine. They wanted the same things, from the world and each other; albeit their approaches were drastically different. Therein lied their beautiful counterbalance. Everything she needed was within his capacity to give.

He was patient and kind, slow to anger, and remarkably intelligent--almost frighteningly so. Generous with his resources and abilities, she seldom had to ask him for anything he hadn't already thought to provide. He was the calm to her storm.

But true to form, some of his other admirable qualities irked her as much as they endeared him to her--and in that moment, his fierce independence was the bane of her existence. He had a pesky habit of refusing to ask for help, even if he needed it.

The more she pressed him for the truth, the more he denied the extent of the problem.

"Just because you can suffer in silence, doesn't mean you have to," she huffed, arms folded. "You're not winning any prizes."

"I'm fine," he insisted, through gritted teeth as he limped toward the hearth, all but dragging his prosthetic along.

His gait was always the slightest bit uneven, ever since the Red Death took his left leg. One needed a keen eye to notice it; he had adapted so quickly. It made his exaggerated lurches all the more pronounced and worrisome as he braced himself against the mantle.

"You're in pain," she said, frowning deeply.

"It's just a little burning," he replied with a feeble smile, the faintest edge in his voice.

Astrid could make out the beads of sweat glistening on his brow and upper lip from across the room. The crackling fire illuminated them clearly.

"Hiccup, there's nothing there to burn," she retorted, pointing to his metal appendage.

He let out a dry laugh. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

Astrid clicked her tongue. Unlike him, she was prone to impatience. She strode across the room and grabbed him by the shoulders. With a sweep of a well-placed boot to the ankle, she kicked his good and steady leg out from underneath him. Looping one arm beneath his, she guided his fall and avoided further injury as he crumpled to the floor.

"Frigg og Eir!" Astrid, he hissed when he landed. "You don't have to kick my leg out from underneath me! I only have just the one!"

She crouched down in front of him, her expression flat. "At least your sense of humor's still intact."

"Are you going to be kicking that out from me next?" he asked, indignant.

She sighed and sat back on her knees. Her face softened when she considered his labored breathing and clenched fists. His mouth was a tight, thin line as he tried to force the pain down where she wouldn't see. But the suffering was plain in his eyes.

"Please, let me help you," she murmured, placing a hand on his knee. "I want to do this. Just...tell me how."

He paused for a beat, then said, "You really don't have to--"

"Hiccup...," and his name was a soft plea on her lips; one he never could resist.

A drop of sweat trickled down from his temple. He stared at her. There was obvious tension in his neck and shoulders. His left leg jutted out stiffly in front of him while he leaned back. It was as if he thought distance from his metal leg my improve things.

He finally relented with a shuddering exhale.

"Okay." He sat up a little straighter and repeated with more conviction, "Okay."

Astrid gently unfastened his prosthetic and set it aside. Not too long ago, he would have never allowed such a thing--to spare her from his indignity, or some such nonsense. But she never cared, and he had come to accept that. A quarter or more of the adults on Berk had some sort of fake extremity: battle scares of a bygone era. Nothing about Hiccup could ever repulse her. After all, she had grown up alongside Snotlout and the twins; and nothing was sacred anymore.

"When was the last time this happened?" she asked as she rolled his pantleg up over his knee.

"Months ago," he replied, teeth clenched. He breathed through the pain, nostrils flaring. "I don't remember. It's been that long."

"What now?" she asked, holding what remained of his lower leg in her hands.

He betrayed himself with a small whimper, then gestured vaguely at the kitchen. "There's a cloth or a rag. Boiled water on the pot on the table. Should just be warm now."

Astrid filled in the blanks, which wasn't difficult. She got up at once to fetch the rag and took it over to the pot of water that had more than likely been boiled for tea, or some other herbal concoction. With caution, she tested the temperature of the water with the knuckle of her pinky finger. Deciding it was no longer scalding, as Hiccup had said, she dunked the rag in. The excess water, she wrung back into the pot.

"Do I lay it on, or do I wrap it?" she asked, returning to where her boyfriend sat on the floor.

"Wrap it," he replied. Then, with a weak grin, he added, "Please."

Astrid nodded and wrapped the warm rag around the stump of his leg with great care, covering as much of the residual calf muscle as possible. She gave his leg the tenderest squeeze.

He let out a groan, head falling back as he supported his weight on his hands.

"No good?" Astrid asked in alarm. "Is it too hot?"

"It hurts, but it's perfect."

She wrinkled her nose. "What?"

"Do...that again," he said, making a kneading motion in the air with his hands.

"Massage?"

"Yes. But it sounds better when you say it."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "You're such a dork. I mean, truly-- the smartest dumbass I've ever known."

He flashed her a genuine smile then laid all the way back on the floor. She settled in a crossed-legged position and massaged the length of his lower leg, up to the knee, over the warm rag.

They stayed in comfortable silence apart from the occasional pop and hiss from the fire. Hiccup, lying down with his eyes closed, and Astrid, tending to the stump in her lap. It was peaceful and uniquely intimate. She'd keep at it all night to take his pain away, if he only asked, but she knew he never would. So, she did what she could for him in that late hour, running her thumbs to the bend of his knee with steady pressure. Followed by long, kneading strokes back down to the end of his limb, where thick ribbons of scar tissue and mangled remnants of flesh all came together, long stitched off. She wondered how much of her touch he could still feel. He had never told her.

She wondered vaguely if her parents were expecting her home. Time was of little consequence whenever they were alone together. The minutes either crawled or flew by; it didn't really matter either way. All Astrid cared about was easing some of the burden he carried. To help, to do something for him, was all she ever wanted.

Hiccup's breathing eventually evened out. His skin was no longer adorned with sweat, and all the tension had left his body. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was asleep.

"Hiccup?" she asked, cutting through silence, and it was almost jarring.

"Hm?" he replied, opening his eyes to meet her gaze.

"Does the pain always feel the same? Like your leg's on fire, I mean."

He thought for a moment, staring at the ceiling, then answered, "Yes. It happens far less often now than it did in the beginning. But the feeling is always the same. Maybe slightly less intense, but I can't recall."

Astrid shook her head. To imagine a sudden and unexpected sensation of one's own flesh burning was horrific.

"Well, that's awful," she muttered.

He shrugged. "Gobber told me this 'phantom pain' happens more often in the first few years. I might get to a point where it doesn't happen anymore. Or it could happen randomly and infrequently for the rest of my life. Who knows."

"I just...hate that it has to be you."

A silence fell over them again, much heavier than the last. He studied her all the while, his eyes appearing impossibly warmer in the firelight.

He sat up slowly. "I'm alright now. You can stop." When she shot him a skeptical look, he insisted, "Honestly, it's passed. These episodes don't last forever."

She sighed and handed him his metal leg, which he took after rolling his pantleg back down. The speed and finesse with which he reattached was always interesting--but what was more remarkable was that he never complained. Not once, that she had ever heard. Yet, he had brought peace to their island, and he saved the people that had chided him for years--but no one else lost limbs in that fight. Just one boy and his dragon, against an ancient monster, risking everything to stop the cycle of fire and death that plagued their people for centuries. The exchange seemed one-sided; that he should still experience echos of pain from that day, was a terrible injustice in her eyes.

"Do you ever regret it?" she asked.

He glanced up, brow furrowed, as if the question itself was confusing.

"The Red Death is gone. The dragons are free. Berk is safer for our people and our dragons. You're safer." He took her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. With the utmost assuredness, he answered, "No. I don't regret it. Not for a moment."

She closed her eyes and leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

"You're unbelievable, Hiccup Haddock," she said. "Completely unbelievable."

"I thought that's what you love about me."

"Just one of many things," she murmured against his lips, and he smiled.

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid fic #i rewrote this like 3 times #here you go i guess?#*jazz hands*

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