#helpmate

flags for helpmate and patron, both of which are (helpful) datemate/partner terms for auxilior attraction.

Mending

Sometimes it’s hard to ask for help...

Based on this prompt.

He doesn’t let on when he’s hurt, but she knows. She’s seen him at his worse. The reality of a partially missing leg where a stump now is. The horrible deep purple that has stained his entire side more than once. His blood on her hands as she helped stop wounds from bleeding.

The battle injuries they acquire are part of the job. They are Dragons Riders on top of also being Vikings. An occupational hazard as the late Stoick the Vast used to say, and his son actively lives by those words.

He never lets on that he’s hurt. As he walks through the village, giving his assistance to his people. As he stands before the people of Berk in the Great Hall, overseeing functions and giving speeches. As he helps train – even in light of his chiefly duties nowadays - at the academy.

She catches his eye, and he silently lets her know he’s okay. That she doesn’t have to worry when he’s fighting through the pain. He knows his limits and knows when to seek her help.

But there was a time when he pushed himself too far; when he was stubborn and not inclined to ask for help.

Hiccup and Toothless had been patrolling the Edge from the ground one evening. Loose rocks had shifted under his prosthetic, sending Hiccup sliding down a ravine. A sizeable rock had rolled down along with him, slamming into his shoulder and dislocating it. He trudged into the club house, gritting his teeth and asking for the strongest mead they had.

Snotlout helped hold him while Astrid popped his shoulder back in place. She’d suffered a dislocated shoulder once and knew the pain. Fishlegs made up a sling, which Hiccup begrudging allowed his friend to help him into.

He was angry with himself, she knew, for getting injured. If there was one person Hiccup was hardest one, it was himself. She sent him to his hut for the evening to rest, asking if he needed anything. He didn’t; no surprise.

Astrid walked to his hut the morning after. A frustrated growl from inside Hiccup’s hut caught her attention, and she hurried in without knocking. What she found sent a pang of empathy in her chest.

Hiccup sat on the side of his bed, trying without success to tie his prosthetic leg on. His leather armor lay thrown on the floor as if it’d been flung from him. Hiccup glanced up from his losing battle and muttered a greeting, “Hey.” His back heaved up and down as the anger welled up in him. He wielded back to throw his peg leg, but stopped, restraint kicking in. Toothless padded over, warbling in concern.

Hiccup hunched over, leaning an elbow on his knee and covering his face – his leg forgotten on his lap. “How can I be of any use around here if I can’t even tie my own leg on?”

“Y’know,” Astrid said, carefully taking a seat beside him, “it’s okay to ask for help sometimes.” She lay a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Remember, we’re in this together.”

Hiccup side-glanced at her, his resolve crumbling. He handed Astrid his prostestic, and she knelt to attach it. She looked up at him with a warm smile before joining him on the bed again.

“How did you get your armor off last night?”

Hiccup snorted. “I have no idea. I guess I drank enough mead to fight through the pain of removing it.” He shut his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I feel like a Thunder Drum laid on me all night.”

She rubbed his back gently, soothing circles with her palm. “I think you should rest some more today. The Edge will survive while you do.”

Hiccup nodded, the smallest smile gracing his lips. “Thanks, Astrid.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Anytime.”

They sat in companionable quiet for a moment, Hiccup absently reaching out to pat Toothless. He raised his prosthetic leg, brainstorming evident on his features. “One of these days I’m going to invent a leg that I can just snap on instead.”

Astrid chuckled. “I’m sure you will.”