#writey writes

"Jack, could you get off me, please? I can't move my arm." 

Hiccup's voice carries a note of irritation behind it, but he doesn't mean it. Of course he doesn't. The brunet never does anything to move Jack away.

The winter sprite says nothing. He won't move away from this warmth for anything in the world. Jack merely shifts a little, changing positions and moving limbs, trailing them along the scrawny body of the Viking, fingers fluttering along his neck. The warmth gets a little more intense and as Jack spots red colouring freckled ears he breaks into a grin, proud that he can see a side to Hiccup unknown to everyone else. 

Arm freed, Hiccup eases out his left arm and continues to work at his latest contraption. Jack is still attached to him and clings, arms wrapped around Hiccup's neck and legs around torso. No one else can see him. It used to be a dream of his, having the gazes of an entire crowd directed at him, who could actually see him, but he would give that up forever as long as he has the eyes of one person on him. 

Because when those emerald green orbs are on him,  everything is right and he remains sane. There is no darkness to claim him. 

Ice is his essence, but Jack can't help but be drawn to fire sometimes. Frost only sparkles when there is light nearby, but fire doesn't need anything or anyone. It hurts him when he gets too close, but its heat is enveloping. He wants to get closer. He wants to see vibrant scarlet and gold instead of the darkness and stark whiteness that is equally blinding.

It's happened before, when something was blocking that view. Hiccup keeps away from his father most of the time and it's alright. Hiccup isn't very comfortable with the rest of the village although they need him. But there is a girl coloured like the sky - its azure hues locked into her burning eyes and sunlight woven into golden hair. Jack has seen her fly before, on her dragon as-blue-as-day and sometimes they disappear when they are right there. He believes that a long time ago, her gaze on him (or anyone's, really,) would be everything he ever wanted. 

But she had to intervene. Block him out of view, her radiant sunlight shining his pale silvery self out of sight. She laughed with Hiccup (simultaneously) and he smiled at her, fond and full of awe and Jack wanted to rip his heart out from the claws that gripped it tight. 

"You done with tweaking for today? How about a flight?" She says lightly - and Hiccup follows her, turning his back on him like he doesn't exist - "Hiccup?" He says desperately, but he ignores him, Jack slams his staff on the ground and she trips on ice, but Hiccup catches her and they laugh again and carry on like nothing has happened.

Jack turns away from the sight of the two of them racing each other through the skies, taking off into biting white that blinks into nothingness.

When he returned to Berk, it was covered in snow that isn't his. He didn't remember doing that. "Finally finished with that blizzard?" Hiccup wonders dryly when he sees him in his house, propped up on his bed reading. "I reckon that's enough snow for the rest of the year, right?" Things return to focus now, and he can see Hiccup clearly, bathed in the warm light of the crackling fire. He's smiling, his tone is amused. Jack breathes out and some burden seems to break away inside him. "Yeah." He grins. "Yeah." He repeats himself, grinning wider. Excitedly, he tackles the Viking, who yelps in panic and whose notebook goes flying. "Jack!!" 

It's okay, everything's okay. Hiccup's with him now. Green eyes roll - but they land on him like the brush of first snowflakes, and Jack just looks innocently back with large blue ones. "What did I do to be stuck with you." Hiccup deadpans. He throws his head back, looking at the ceiling. "Odin, tell me what to do to get rid of this spirit and I'll do it!" He announces dramatically. 

"No chance, Hic." The smile plastered on his face stretches wider. "You're stuck with me." 

Because if that happened - Jack stares into weathered woods as Hiccup slumbers on peacefully in his embrace - he wouldn't know how to stop himself. Images of the girl impaled sixty different ways on shards of ice, Hiccup encased in ice with those eyes bright, always looking at him - flash through his mind before he can stop it and he clutches tighter onto the warmth in his arms. As he sleeps, Hiccup does not hear the faint whimpering.