a/n: the third and final part, enjoy :)

He breaks at three a.m.

She loses it at three a.m.

There is no way he can exist another moment. Not one more temporary fix can hold him over. He is addicted.

There is no way she can continue living; no way she can see past her self-inflicted mind games. She is going insane.

He figures from his father's snores echoing down the hallway that the coast is clear. He fights to free himself from the sheet tangled around his boxer-clad legs, suffocating and drenched in sweat. This has to be the most miserable night of his life. What was he thinking? Even if she loves him back, he shouldn't have said it like that! He has obviously created something between them that he shouldn't have, some sort of distress in her life and she is—

She is furious. She can't sleep. Her eyes are trained on her ceiling fan. Her insomnia is in full swing now and she swears she'll have her revenge on him. Hiccup deserves every coffee-induced mental breakdown in history for what he is doing to her. Either that or she will just punch him in the face. She can't just lie here in the dark, helpless and sleep-deprived, for another second. Three a.m.? Oh, please. It's practically not worth going to sleep at all at this point. She can only hope that he is—

He is miserable. He hasn't slept since the day he told her. He just wants to sleep. Toothless blinks at him silently in the darkness.

He has to see her. He doesn't need a fix, he needs a permanent solution. She is the only solution there is; she is the cure.

Her eyes burn from lack of sleep. Her limbs are heavy and her body protests, loudly, the sleepless state she is in. She has to do something. She needs to end the lunacy. He is the only solution there is; he is the cure.

He's had entirely enough. Throwing back the sheet, he moves to his wardrobe and grabs a random pair of sweatpants from his clothes. He throws them on over his boxers in a hurry, stumbling about the room to pull them on. He quickly throws on a shirt and steps into his ratty sneakers before slipping out of his bedroom.

This is almost as insane as his one a.m. stalking of her window. This is twice as crazy and half as planned out and if she wasn't pissed at him before, this was enough to end his pathetic existence. Put him out of his misery.

It's a win-win from his perspective.

She pulls a sweatshirt over the tank top and shorts she wore to bed, and holding her breath, pads silently to her bedroom door and sneaks down the hallway. This was it. This was her one chance to prove she wasn't crazy and end the insanity.

She could have crawled out the bedroom window, but she fears she might stumble and the fall would knock some sense into her and she'd change her mind at the last moment. She couldn't afford that now; it was much too late. She let herself out the door and, barefooted, she realized as her bare feet hit the wet grass, made a dash for Hiccup's house.

This is a bad idea waiting to happen.

Oh, this is a bad idea waiting to happen.

He let himself out of the house, making sure the door isn't locked from the inside in case he makes it back alive and needs to get in before his dad wakes up. The early morning breeze feels wonderfully refreshing on his face and he solemnly swears he'll never have to feel the summer breeze while coming down from a caffeine buzz ever again.

Nasty stuff, really.

This is insanity. This is madness. Of course, he'll never admit that this is clearly all her fault.

This is clearly all his fault.

That's what she decides as she stares overhead at the blinking yellow traffic lights. She's never seen those lights blink yellow in all the years she's lived in Berk. She should never have learned they were only yellow in the early mornings. These sort of things are fabled and joked about with normal sane people who are asleep at three a.m.

Why isn't he asleep? He must be crazy, because now he can see her, too. In the middle of the night – well, morning now. He is standing on the crosswalk in the middle of town but he can see her standing there under the traffic light, looking up with that perfect little scowl on her face looking utterly adorable in her little pajama shorts and hoodie.

He's totally lost it. He rubs his tired eyes. He knows she is nowhere near here; in fact, she is probably curled up in bed like he should be. But he swears he can see her under the blinking yellow traffic light. His mind is gone — lost to sleep deprivation and too many cups coffee.

Yes, he knew he swore them it but the stuff is pumping in his very veins by now and it's like turning down oxygen. He just can't do it.

She looks down the street and — oh wow, she must really be crazy because she swears from the shadows cast by the moonlight and the streetlamps that he is standing there on the on the opposite sidewalk of the street staring at her with the most adorably puzzled expression etched on his face. At three in the morning? Not likely—

"Astrid?"

-but apparently,

"Hiccup?"

Probable.

"Astrid, what on earth are you doing out here at three in the morning?"

She crosses the street with quick steps to meet him on the other sidewalk. The pavement feels cool under her toes and she sighs at the feeling.

"I could ask you the very same thing," she gives him a fleeting scowl, sleep demanding control suddenly. Oh sure, now she's tired, right when she needs to be angry with him.

Hiccup reaches up to take her hands, "Astrid, about what I said…"

"What you said? Do you have any idea what you've done to me?" She raises her voice ever so slightly, staring at him wide-eyed.

His eyebrows raise slightly, "Done to you? Astrid! I haven't slept in—"

"You haven't slept? I haven't slept! Do you know what you've done to me?"

"You don't understand—"

"Hiccup! You idiot! You've changed everything!" She squeezes his hands, searching his eyes in the moonlight. He sighs, shoulders relaxing.

"Look, this isn't how I imagined this conversation going. I certainly didn't think it would involve coffee and insomnia and yellow-blinking street lights," Hiccup sighs and collects his thoughts before continuing, "Things sucked before, Astrid. I can't be just your friend anymore."

"And I apparently can't get any damn sleep until I tell you this so here we are," A somewhat sane smile graces Hiccup's features and Astrid melts all over again. "I love you. I really, honestly love you. More than you'll ever know."

She is beside herself. She is furious and frustrated and sleep-deprived and— she internally explodes with happiness, looking down at their intertwined hands with a smile.

"I love you too, you idiot," she whispers, eyes slowly rising to meet his again.

He hears her laugh softly to herself as he smiles down at her, practically falling asleep in his arms. In the moonlight, he notices, she looks just like angel… even with the dark circles under her eyes. His smile spreads astonishingly quickly to engulf his whole face as he releases her hands, snatching her up by her waist to spin her around.

"You do? You really do. Oh god, you do." He sets her down on her bare feet, giddy with excitement, body still pressed as close to hers as possible.

"Ugh, don't spin, please. I'm exhausted".

Her body feels three times as heavy and her eyes droop. At least he doesn't look much better either. His dark circles might be even darker than hers. She nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck and realizes there is a small problem.

They are sleep-deprived and standing on a sidewalk in their pajamas in the middle of Berk at three something in the morning and they are both clearly insane. But at least now they are together… and maybe everyone can finally get some well-deserved sleep.