Astrid woke up sore and disoriented. Was someone hammering a nail into her head? Because that's what it felt like. And what was that in her back? She rolled onto her side and opened her eyes. At first, all she saw was blurry yellow and she panicked. When she brought her hand up to her face, she was surprised to pull a piece of paper off her face. She stared at it crumpled in her hand, confused. Her eyes then traced up and over the paper because in her peripheral she saw a pink shoulder dotted with freckles. Her eyes widened when she followed the line of that shoulder across a speckled collar bone, up a familiar throat, to an exceedingly familiar jaw and mouth and nose and closed eyes below thick eyebrows and a disheveled mop of auburn hair. Hiccup.

"Oh god," Astrid whispered.

Last night was spotty in places and completely crystal effing clear in others. That thing in her back? Yeah, that was Hiccup's arm. Hiccup's arm. Oh god, oh god. Astrid swallowed with some difficulty, her mouth dry and tacky, a side effect of mass tequila consumption. She had the matching headache to go with it. Her muscles had seized into a violently tense state as she stared at Hiccup and gnawed on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. She'd had sex with Hiccup. Her best friend.

Part of her wanted to recoil, grab her things and run right out of the house (you know, the house she'd spent her childhood practically living in? Yeah, that one). What if this ruined everything? What if Hiccup woke up and looked at her differently? Oh god, who was she kidding? This was Hiccup. Of course he'd look at her differently. They wouldn't be able to just pick up and carry on like before; he'd overanalyze everything. A strange but undeniably true thought occurred to Astrid: she didn't want to pick up and carry on like before.

Her eyes fell shut and she willed herself to take long, deep breaths. Like she was in freaking yoga class. Long, slow, even in and out breaths, she told herself. What had happened? That's what she needed to know. She opened her eyes and stared at Hiccup's sleeping face (god, he was so cute when his brow wasn't furrowed); she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. Once she was satisfied that he was still sleeping, she lifted the sheets and peeked. Yes, yes they were definitely naked. She was frozen in place trying to correlate what she was seeing beneath the sheets with her best friend. Well, well, well, Haddock, she thought with a smirk, you've been holding out on me. Astrid shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, hastily clamping the sheet back down.

"Okay, Hofferson," she whispered, eyes still closed tightly, "There's a perfectly reasonable explanation for this." Her eyes snapped open and she rolled them, "And that would be tequila."

Hiccup grumbled something unintelligibly and rolled toward her, his free arm snaking around her waist so that they were face to face. He tugged her body into his and nuzzled into her shoulder, grinning happily. Oh god, what if he thought she was Heather? Oh god, oh god. Heather. Where the hell was Heather? What the hell happened last night?

"Mm, Astrid," Hiccup murmured into her skin.

Astrid held her breath, her heart speeding with the sudden, chilling rush of adrenaline through her veins. Her body melted once she realized that he was still asleep. And he'd just murmured her name. In his sleep. Her smile felt foreign in the strangeness of this morning and somehow she felt a little lighter. Maybe things would be okay after all.

Okay. She had to retrace her steps and figure out what happened. Effing Snot had stood her up. She remembered this clearly. Then she'd started doing shots with Tuff. That was still clear, too. The sight of Hiccup and Heather had made her feel things that she hadn't liked and she'd retreated to Hiccup's room. Still good. Then, then she'd been in his room. And he'd come in the room. And she'd realized that she hadn't liked Heather. No. (Well, she didn't. That was true. But that wasn't it.) She'd realized that she had less than platonic feelings for Hiccup – she'd kissed him.

Hiccup's breath was hot and moist against her skin of her shoulder, every inhale shockingly icy. The rhythmic pace kept her grounded in the here and now.

She'd kissed Hiccup and he'd kissed her back and it had been wonderful. (Although she had to wonder at that assessment since she had definitely had more than her fair share of tequila by then.) Then what?

Heather, that's what. Heather had interrupted them. It had been this quiet, little gasp of surprise from the doorway that had made Hiccup jump back from Astrid, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wide and green and black. More black than green. It had made something in Astrid's core roar for more. Astrid had licked her lips liking the taste of Hiccup on them.

At first, no one had said a word. But it was in that silent moment that Astrid had decided that she would win this conquest. That Heather with her stupid, perfect cat eye make-up couldn`t have him. Hiccup was hers. He'd always been hers and she didn't like to share. She'd crossed her arms and stood with her hip jutting out to one side – aggressive, combative, threatening. Heather had glared at her.

"I thought you were just friends," Heather spat, making air quotes with her fingers.

"I—" Hiccup sputtered, sparing a nervous glance at Astrid.

Astrid had taken a bellicose step forward. "Funny, he said the same thing about you."

Hiccup had moved toward her, hands outstretched. "Astrid."

Astrid had brushed him off and stalked toward Heather with feline grace, smiling confidently. She had this. Heather narrowed her eyes.

"You skank," she hissed lowly.

Astrid's smile had been involuntary as she launched herself at the other girl. It was a messy drunk girl fight – screeching and nails and hair-pulling. Not Astrid's preference, not by a long shot, but Heather played dirty, so she'd had to stoop to her level.

Wait. Then what happened? Astrid closed her eyes and breathed. Someone had pulled her off of Heather. Hiccup. Hiccup had pulled her off of Heather, his arms familiar bands of strength around her. He'd murmured her name into her back, attempting to calm her. But someone else had been there. Someone who'd pulled Heather back.

Astrid let out an audible sigh and Hiccup nestled into her shoulder more, like a cat. Snuggling into her warmth. She wanted pepper his face with kisses. She wanted to touch him everywhere. She had touched him everywhere last night. She remembered bits and pieces of that. His skin had been impossibly soft, his mouth had been hot and hungry and unyielding, his—well, never mind. She swallowed because thinking about that wasn't going to help anything. Back to last night.

Someone had pulled Heather back. Snotlout. That effing guy. He'd stormed through the door of Hiccup's room and pulled Heather off of Astrid.

"Whoa, cat fight!" he'd exclaimed.

The sound of his voice had enraged Astrid because that effing jerk had stood her up. He'd stood her up. No one stood up Astrid Hofferson, least of all Snotlout Jorgensen. Astrid had tried to shake off Hiccup, but he knew her too well and kept his arms encircled around her. Heather had much better luck shouldering Snotlout off. She'd run a shaking hand through her mussed hair, sent a scathing look toward Astrid, and then appealed directly to Hiccup.

"Hiccup, come on. I'll forgive you," she said.

Astrid had waited on bated breath for his response. His arms had loosened around her, but not enough that he'd let her go. She elbowed him lightly in the stomach and he dropped his hands away. If she was going to lose (and how could she not? Heather was his girlfriend), then she was going to do it with dignity.

"Thanks," he'd said, his voice suspiciously holding a note of sarcasm. Astrid had glanced at him and found his face hard and determined. "But, I don't think there's anything to forgive."

He'd shrugged and Astrid had bit back a triumphant laugh. Heather's mouth had fallen open. "What?"

"Well, you've been stringing me along for weeks," he'd said, stepping forward and gesturing with his hands, "But we haven't gone on a date. We aren't going out," he'd paused, giving one final, dismissive shrug, "I didn't do anything wrong."

Heather's mouth had hung open and Astrid had laughed, a short stifled giggle. Heather glared at her. "You know what, Astrid? He's all yours."

"Oh, how generous of you."

Heather had given her one, last blistering glare before flouncing out of the room.

"Wait, what?" Snotlout was slow on the uptake, but it had finally gotten through his thick skull what she and Heather had been fighting over. Or rather who. "Wait, you were fighting over Hiccup? Astrid, how could you?"

Hiccup hadn't been fast enough to catch her and she'd managed to land a vicious right hook in Snot's jaw that sent him stumbling to the ground.

"Astrid!" Snotlout exclaimed, holding his jaw.

"That's for standing me up! No one stands up a Hofferson."

"You better get out of here, Snot. I can only hold her for so long. After that, all bets are off, but I'd bet on Astrid any day," Hiccup had offered dryly, his arms once again caging Astrid.

Snotlout had hurried out the door with comical speed, holding his jaw.

Even though he didn't need to anymore, Hiccup had kept his arms around Astrid. It had moved from simple restraint to something else. He'd rested his chin against her shoulder and spoken into her ear, his breath tickling her neck.

"I should take a look at that hand."

Astrid had barely nodded, somehow completely lucid while being totally buzzed. Then they'd been on the bed, Hiccup examining the knuckles of her right hand, his fingertips barely tracing her skin and sending shivers up her arm. She'd watched him and she'd known exactly why she'd kissed him. He made her heart pound. He made her head spin (and no, it wasn't the tequila. This was a different spin, a good one). He made her want to be better. He was her best friend. He was the best person.

His eyes had risen to hers and he'd lifted her bruised hands to his lips, brushing her skin with light, delicate kisses until she couldn't stand it anymore. Until she'd pushed him down on the bed and kissed him in earnest. And, well, it had progressed from there, hadn't it? And now she was here, naked in his bed and tangled up in him. She wasn't sorry.

Unable to resist any longer, Astrid leaned down and kissed the swell of Hiccup's cheekbone. His arms tightened around her and he mumbled her name again. She kissed him again and again and again until he opened his big green eyes and…blanched.

"Astrid?!"

If it had been under any other circumstances, she would have laughed at how quickly he disentangled himself from her, how red his face was. But it wasn't funny and he wasn't looking at her.

"Hiccup," she said tentatively.

"Oh god," he moaned, burying his hands in his hair.

Astrid watched him and felt a heavy dread building in her stomach. What if he actually regretted this? What if it had been all a mistake to him? Oh god, what if? His repeated groans of 'oh god' weren't exactly instilling confidence.

"Hiccup, look at me."

He did, eyes wide and terrified. He didn't want this. It had been a mistake. Astrid shook her head and tried to hide the overbearing feeling of disappointment that welled up suddenly. She rolled over to climb out of bed but paused when a flurry of sticky notes fluttered around her.

"What the—?"

She grabbed one and read it. And laughed.

"Oh god," Hiccup moaned again, "Astrid, just, maybe we should leave those."

"Uh uh," she said, reading another one.

"Astrid."

"No way, these are too good."

She didn't remember writing these and they were hilarious. The one she was currently reading said:

Dear Future Astrid,

You will wake up and think this was a bad idea. It was the best idea. And Haddock has some downright delicious abs. I know because I licked them. You should try it.

Love,

Past Astrid (aka Tequila Astrid)

"Astrid," Hiccup said, this time grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back into his chest.

Her heart thumped rapidly and suddenly as she leaned against the warm expanse of his chest. She could have sworn that she could feel his heart pounding against her back, rushing in tandem with hers.

"Did you—I mean, there was one on your," he paused, hesitation evident, "There was one on your head."

"Mm hmm?"

"Did…did you read it?"

"Not yet."

Hiccup let out a sigh of relief that she could feel ruffling through her hair. "Good."

He turned her by her shoulders so that they were facing each other. Here was the Hiccup she knew so well, biting his lip and deliberating on what to say next.

"Look, maybe we should just, you know, forget about last night. We can go back to the way things used to be and—"

"I don't want to go back to the way things used to be."

For a minute, Hiccup was speechless. Anyone who knew him would know that this was quite a feat. Astrid was actually pretty proud of herself over it.

"You don't?"

She shook her head. "I don't. Do you?"

Astrid saw it forming, the hints of a smile. Hiccup shook his head tentatively, as though he was waiting for the whole thing to fall down around him. Astrid grinned.

"I just – I mean—"

Astrid kissed him to shut him up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She opened her right hand, which still contained the crumpled note she'd pulled off her forehead. With her arms still wrapped around Hiccup, his arms safely enclosing her body against his, she smoothed the note out and read it. And read it again. And read it one more time.

"Me too," she whispered.

Hiccup stiffened and she pulled back, grinning and holding the note in her fingers. Hiccup looked at it and flushed red. Then he looked at her and whispered,

"Really?"

"Of course, Haddock. Forever."

Hiccup's face split into a smile that reached his eyes and stretched beyond them. Astrid hugged him again and read the note one more time,

Hofferson,

Don't worry, I'll always love you. Tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon, tomorrow night. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Forever.

HHH III