His eyes were a little glassy when she turned him to face her, but he didn't try to look away once she did it. It was almost ridiculous how delicately she could touch him and still get him rotating around as if he was tethered to her.
He'd spent a childhood following her, with scrawny little legs that could barely keep up, falling farther and farther behind the older they all got. When he'd grown old enough to notice how pretty she was, but far more importantly, how graceful she was under fire, how much tougher she'd gotten, how much more sure of herself she'd grown - he didn't run after her as much anymore, knowing it wasn't welcome, and turned and walked right the other way if she made it clear she wanted him out of his face, but he spent his days pivoting, always angling to face her, wistfully looking at her in the distance and hoping he could prove his worth.
It was his worth he'd had to prove, after all. She'd owed him nothing and to impress someone that impressive, he had to be someone that was good at something, whether it was killing dragons or good at being, well, good. He would have laid it to rest if he'd managed to become the kind of person that could attract her attention, if it turned out that wasn't what she wanted, anyway - that he just wasn't it - but he'd always wanted to try first, to become someone she might find worthwhile.
Then, one day, he'd started to care more about being someone he found worthwhile. The day he downed an dragon and wouldn't kill it. That night in the glade, when he told her he was going to protect Toothless. The day he decided to show the village another way in the kill ring.
That had done the trick and won her over, but still, just like before, she hadn't owe him anything. When he and Toothless had killed the Red Death, she still hadn't owed him anything.
She had never once owed him this, no matter how brave he'd gotten, no matter how much his cleverness had turned out be strength, and that was why everything she gave him was a gift.
She kissed him, chastely, and he gently wrapped his arms around her waste, kissing her back just a little bit more fervently, the ache in his chest making him realize even more clearly just how terrified he'd been that he'd never see her again.
Hiccup felt tethered to her at that moment the same way he felt tethered to Toothless when they flew, as if it was one of the only things helping to prevent him from from falling.
When he finally pulled away to face her, he brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek.
"You know, I, uh," he said thickly, "I don't even think I realized how much I missed you and was afraid I wouldn't see you again until now. It was just somethin' I couldn't even think about."
The door finally dinged open to a (fortunately) empty hallway.
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He'd spent a childhood following her, with scrawny little legs that could barely keep up, falling farther and farther behind the older they all got. When he'd grown old enough to notice how pretty she was, but far more importantly, how graceful she was under fire, how much tougher she'd gotten, how much more sure of herself she'd grown - he didn't run after her as much anymore, knowing it wasn't welcome, and turned and walked right the other way if she made it clear she wanted him out of his face, but he spent his days pivoting, always angling to face her, wistfully looking at her in the distance and hoping he could prove his worth.
It was his worth he'd had to prove, after all. She'd owed him nothing and to impress someone that impressive, he had to be someone that was good at something, whether it was killing dragons or good at being, well, good. He would have laid it to rest if he'd managed to become the kind of person that could attract her attention, if it turned out that wasn't what she wanted, anyway - that he just wasn't it - but he'd always wanted to try first, to become someone she might find worthwhile.
Then, one day, he'd started to care more about being someone he found worthwhile. The day he downed an dragon and wouldn't kill it. That night in the glade, when he told her he was going to protect Toothless. The day he decided to show the village another way in the kill ring.
That had done the trick and won her over, but still, just like before, she hadn't owe him anything. When he and Toothless had killed the Red Death, she still hadn't owed him anything.
She had never once owed him this, no matter how brave he'd gotten, no matter how much his cleverness had turned out be strength, and that was why everything she gave him was a gift.
She kissed him, chastely, and he gently wrapped his arms around her waste, kissing her back just a little bit more fervently, the ache in his chest making him realize even more clearly just how terrified he'd been that he'd never see her again.
Hiccup felt tethered to her at that moment the same way he felt tethered to Toothless when they flew, as if it was one of the only things helping to prevent him from from falling.
When he finally pulled away to face her, he brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek.
"You know, I, uh," he said thickly, "I don't even think I realized how much I missed you and was afraid I wouldn't see you again until now. It was just somethin' I couldn't even think about."
The door finally dinged open to a (fortunately) empty hallway.