short friends2lovers w/ hiccup <3
it’s the middle of the night when it happens.
you’re half-asleep, shuffling around your room, and your elbow catches the edge of your shelf.
then a small, horrible crack.
you don’t even have to look to know what it is.
the little wooden figurine. the one he carved for your birthday — your dragon, down to the crooked ridge on its tail and the tiny notch in its ear. he’d pretended it was “no big deal,” but you’d seen the splinters in his fingers for a week.
the wing is snapped clean off.
and before you can think logically about how it’s 2 a.m. and he’s asleep and this is stupid, you’re already pulling on boots and crossing the village.
you knock on his door way too fast and way too hard.
there’s fumbling inside. a thud. then the door creaks open and there’s hiccup — hair a mess, shirt half-buttoned wrong, eyes squinting.
“…are we under attack?” he mumbles.
you just hold up the broken figurine.
his face shifts immediately. sleep gone. panic flashing. “are you hurt?”
you shake your head, but your voice comes out small. “i broke it.”
he looks at the figurine.
then back at the figurine.
your throat tightens. “i know you worked really hard on it. i’m sorry. i wasn’t paying attention and i just— i ruined it.”
for a second you expect disappointment. maybe a sigh. maybe that careful neutral voice he uses when he’s trying not to feel something.
instead, he exhales softly and steps aside so you can come in.
“hey,” he says gently. “hey. it’s wood. it breaks. that’s… kind of wood’s whole thing.”
you follow him inside anyway, still clutching the pieces like you’re holding a body.
he lights a lantern and sits at his work table, patting the stool beside him. you sit.
he takes the broken wing from your hands carefully, fingers brushing yours.
“i can fix this,” he says. “see? clean break. that’s practically ideal breakage.”
you huff a weak laugh through the tight feeling in your chest. “ideal breakage?”
“yeah. structurally convenient tragedy.”
that does make you smile.
he studies your face instead of the figurine.
“…you walked over here in the dark for this.”
“it’s two in the morning.”
“you really liked it, didn’t you?”
you nod. “it’s my favorite thing anyone’s ever made me.”
“well. then i guess it’s a good thing it belongs to someone worth repairing it for.”
your breath stutters slightly.
he doesn’t seem to notice — or maybe he does, because his voice softens.
“you could’ve waited until morning,” he murmurs.
“i didn’t want you to think i didn’t care.”
he looks at you like that — that open, vulnerable way he does when he forgets to guard himself.
“you care about everything,” he says quietly. “sometimes too much.”
“i care about you,” you blurt.
his fingers still on the figurine freeze.
“…yeah?” he asks, almost careful.
you don’t know when you started leaning closer, but suddenly you’re very aware of how close you are. the lantern light is warm against his face. there’s a faint line of sawdust on his collarbone. you can hear his breathing.
he sets the figurine down slowly.
“you know,” he says, voice lower now, “if you wake me up in the middle of the night, you’re allowed to do it for worse reasons than this.”
your pulse jumps. “worse reasons?”
“like if you’re scared. or lonely. or—” he hesitates, then lets out a soft, nervous laugh. “or if you just wanted to see me.”
your heart absolutely betrays you.
“i did want to see you,” you admit.
that’s the moment it shifts.
his hand finds yours on the table, tentative at first. you don’t pull away. instead, you lace your fingers with his.
he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months.
“you’re not in trouble,” he whispers. “you could break a hundred of these and i’d just make more.”
you lean in without thinking.
your forehead touches his.
his thumb strokes lightly over your knuckles.
“don’t make a hundred,” you whisper. “just...”
his breath ghosts over your lips.
the wing of the dragon sits forgotten on the table as his other hand slides gently to your waist — hesitant, asking.
you answer by closing the distance.
and somewhere between the kiss and the way he smiles against your mouth like he can’t believe this is happening, the broken figurine becomes the best accident that ever happened to either of you.
