[ Jack will never understand a lot about himself, but he's still aware of things even without being able to uncover the roots of them. like the fact that he can't stay in one place forever, it makes him restless and irritable like a wolf pacing in a cage, and if he doesn't go out to wander freely then he starts to feel like he's going to snap. since he doesn't need to sleep, there's no better time than night to get that fey wildness out of his system. spending the daytime tethered to Hiccup or Katniss or Nimue has been good; it's a unique comfort, getting to laze around when there's actually company. at home it's a lonely, miserable thing that hits him if he stops for too long.
he's just walking along the rooftops and power lines of the city tonight, enjoying the calm he gets from cold, quiet evenings (even if it comes with a sting when the hours go by and there's no dream sand weaving through the air, something that should be homesickness but first lances through him as a terrible grief, he's dead and it's my fault) — and he isn't at all expecting the text. most people he knows have to sleep, and he can't imagine why the ones that don't would need to message him for anything.
it's Hiccup. his pulse does something strange in his chest, the magic flaring up and skittering. ]
just wandering around. something wrong?
[ at first he thinks that he must have screwed up again, racking his brain for anything he might have done recently or any secrets Hiccup could have uncovered, but when he can't recall anything he decides to just wait. and worry. ]
[He feels a bit guilty about it, reeling Jack in to whatever this sudden discomfort was. Laying on his bed, rubbing at his temple, he considers leaving the spirit to his business, to toss back a no at the response. But his body burns with a warmth that isn't pleasant, like a faint memory felt physically on his skin. Phantom sensations again, he thinks.
He doesn't want to be alone.]
Can't sleep. Think you could make a stop home if you got the time to spare for a bit?
[ it isn't until he's read the message a good five times that he registers properly what it's asking of him, and then there's a spark in him, something warm and bright. it's such a small thing, but— Hiccup wants to see him just because he can't sleep. he just thought that... that he'd like Jack's company or something. and Hiccup doesn't realise it, that no one thinks like that about Jack, no one does that. ]
sure, see you in a minute.
[ how could he say no when Hiccup asks for something like that? just Jack, for no real reason at all.
one of the benefits of having Jack Frost as a friend is perhaps that when he says a minute, he really does mean a minute. it's less than a minute later that he comes gliding down to the treehouse silently, nothing but a gust of wind to herald his arrival, and sneaks through the house, careful not to wake anyone; Katniss in the other room, or Toothless downstairs, or Baby Tooth in her nest beside Jack's bed. he lights up his staff when he slips into their room, a cold blue glow, and heads over to Hiccup's side to crouch down beside his bed. ]
Hey. [ he keeps his voice to a low murmur, both for Baby Tooth's sake and in case Hiccup is drifting back off to sleep after all. ] What's up?
[When Jack says he'll be there, Hiccup immediately knows that he will be. And perhaps there's a bit of something selfish to that, how he can have Jack come to him in an instant, but it's merely the way of the friendship they've built. After all, Hiccup would immediately do the same for him. Besides, that kind of trust and kindness already sets a smile on his lips, the first step to relieving him of his worries in the night.
He doesn't shift much in the minute that he waits, laying there with his hands fidgeting at the fabric over his stomach, legs partially covered by the blanket from the knees down. Eyes focusing on the lines of the wood panels above him, he only turns when that small flicker of light from Jack's staff draws closer to him. A sigh leaves his mouth, his vision following the spirit as he crouching down beside him.]
Uh, nothing really, it's just ... [Nothing is an obvious lie. He knows that's already been contradicted. He quiets for a moment as he chews at his lip.] Jack, do you, do you ever get nightmares?
[ ah. it's a simple enough problem, sure, but it's one that Jack can't fix and that frustrates him, makes him feel like he's already failed even though it isn't his fault he's not the Sandman. Hiccup asked a question, though, and he called Jack here just for company; he's not expecting anything to be magically solved. (it's supposed to make Jack feel less guilty and useless, when he tells himself that. it doesn't.) it's the first time he's really wished that something from home was here for a reason other than homesickness — this would be so easy to fix if he could just get a handful of dream sand, or bargain with Pitch to knock it off.
but it's not like that here, he can't make things that easy. there was a question, and if nothing else, an answer is easy enough to give. he tilts his head to the side, considering. ]
Yeah. I don't sleep that often, but when I do? Sure, I get nightmares. [ strange, hazy things that rend through him, leave him sobbing, shaking, feeling hollow and frightened and alone for hours after they pass. he doesn't explain in that much detail, but his frown is troubled when he adds: ] I never remember anything about them, though, I just... wake up scared, or I freak out in my sleep and fall out of a tree.
[ he doesn't ask the obvious rejoinder, the question of what Hiccup has nightmares about, what this one was. considering how much avoidance Jack gets away with, it doesn't seem fair to wring answers from Hiccup when it's not clear if he wants to offer them or not. especially not now, and especially not when he called Jack here thinking that he would be of some good in this. ]
[It's not as if he has expectations for Jack to magically wish it all away. The company itself is just enough, just preferring not to be alone. It's a distraction more than anything, thoughts looming over the subject of his nightmares. Those he doesn't forget, namely because they consist of memories, events that happened, that won't go away simply because he opened his eyes.]
See, that's why you really shouldn't sleep in trees, Jack. I mean, come on.
[He tries to offer a bit of a smile but it's faint and quickly dissipates. Hand rising to rub at his own forehead, he sighs quietly as he contemplates his words. Opens his mouth to say them before shutting it again, reconsidering. He doesn't want to bring it up, not really. But it tugs at him continuously, the night always rushing those memories back into the core of his mind.
Swallowing hard, gazing at the ceiling, he speaks quietly.] I keep dreaming of the day my dad died.
[ if it could then his heart would probably stop there, or stutter in surprise and panic — Hiccup's dad is dead and Jack had no idea. he isn't hurt by that, because that's so incredibly personal and he doesn't know if Hiccup is just particularly secretive about it. (there's a lash of guilt, though, as Jack wonders whether he's ever actually asked about Hiccup's history and life at home or if he's been nothing but selfish; but this isn't about him right now, so his stupid anxieties are pushed back to dim background noise.) his dismay is more for the fact that this is a huge revelation, and it's important, and it's human.
it's such a terribly human thing. Jack can't relate to it and he doesn't know what to say; he's never lost anyone because he's never had anything to lose, especially not family, not a connection like that. I'm sorry is trite and pointless, and asking about what happened might just be worse. he feels awful for Hiccup and he just wants to help somehow but he doesn't know how he can.
rearranging himself so that he's kneeling beside the bed instead of crouching, he folds his arms on the edge of Hiccup's mattress and rests his head atop them, staff tucked into the crook of his arm to keep the room lit. ]
I don't really know what to say. [ his voice is gentle, and sad. maybe this is the best he can do, he decides. ] But if you want to talk about it, then I want to listen.
[It's strange enough just to say the words out loud. It's not as though he hasn't really acknowledged it; he was forced too far too quickly. But discussing it was never really something he'd been comfortable with, even with his own mother. Perhaps it's also because of everything that came too soon after. The fight with Drago, becoming Chief, having the entirety of the village suddenly depending on him. To do the things his father had once done. Living up that greatness.
Perhaps that's really why he's here to begin with.
When Jack speaks, he suddenly feels the need to apologize, finally turning to face him as he shifts his body to lay on his side. Resting his head on his pillow, he shakes it slightly.] No, I'm — I'm sorry. I didn't, I didn't mean to just throw that. It's just ... it happened not long before I came here. Could have been days before, could have been weeks, it's really hard to tell now, but ... it's still there. Still vivid. And it's, well, it's my fault.
[He chews on his lip, nail picking at a loose string in his mattress.]
Did I ever tell you how I'm Chief of my village? Hope and Heir of Berk, I'm supposed to follow my dad's footsteps. But I'm really, I'm really not that great of a person, Jack. I'm not as strong as you might think I am.
[ there's a rawness in the way he says just that, his horror and distress too much. something in Jack's chest twists, painful, a sharp lance of hurt from sympathy and sadness and love. there's the urge again to just crawl in close, to lean in and rest his forehead against Hiccup's, to climb up onto the bed and hold him until he realises that he's important, too, he's good and he matters so much. but he can't, he can't, he doesn't know where the boundaries are or whether Hiccup would even want that, so he just— he stays where he is on the floor and lets his earnestness spill from him instead, thoughtless. ]
Hiccup, I don't care how strong you are, you're the best person I've ever known. [ they're still speaking quietly but Jack says it fiercely, intense, you are you are. ] You saw my memories, you saw the Guardians trying to get me to join them. They said I had to, and I said no. I...
[ there are similar things in his own recent experience that he could offer up in sympathy — everything with the Guardians, losing Sandy, ruining all of Easter — and for once, his throat doesn't close up as badly when he thinks of confessing just a few of them to Hiccup. but it feels like if he does that, he'll just be turning this back to himself. he's done enough of that, especially to Hiccup, Jack needs to stop being such a selfish little brat and actually be good to the people that deserve this.
he shakes his head and breathes out, calming himself. maybe he's not going to pull himself up there and curl up beside Hiccup, but he does shift one of his arms out from underneath his head and takes hold of the hand plucking at the mattress with his own. ]
I'm not gonna make this about me. [ it always ends up being about him, selfish and hopeless and needy. ] What I'm trying to say is... It's okay if you don't want to, or, or if you don't know. And you're Chief even though you're not sure, right? You're still trying? Hiccup, listen, you're such a good person and I— you're so good that sometimes I feel like you can't even be real but you are.
[ he didn't realise it would be so hard to do this, to explain to someone how much you love them. all of the words just seem to catch in his throat and it's so frustrating that he can't even get this right. there's so much love in him that it feels like his chest is going to crack trying to hold it all but he doesn't know how to make Hiccup see that. ]
And for now, you're here. There's still time to figure it out.
[You're the best person I've ever known. Everything in his body tightens and it suddenly hurts to even try swallowing, like this uneasiness has suddenly found its way towards living in his insides. But above it all is a warmth that's wanted and welcome, and perhaps the subsiding pain eases some simply by knowing that someone really thinks that way towards him. That Jack thinks it.
He falls quiet for some time after Jack speaks, lowering his eyes to simply look at their now joined hands as he wanders through his thoughts in the silence. Fingers shift slowly to intertwine properly through Jack's, brushing over knuckles before they tighten their hold, for fear of losing that hold.
The ache from his dreams still lingers, but this is far better than anything else. It's better than being alone.]
Would you ... would you lay here with me? Just, just for a little while.
[His voice is softer and smaller than it's ever been in his months here. Showing off this vulnerability, he hates it, hates falling back to the meek, struggling child of his youth. But it's always present even if hidden, obvious in the way that he chose to run here instead of embracing his new responsibilities back home. Jack lets him have that even though he shouldn't, but perhaps that's alright simply for now.
He makes his selfish request even if he immediately regrets it afterwards, but he says little else to take it back.]
[ he was already expecting to stay beside Hiccup for the rest of the night, whether he was asked to or not. but Jack's plan had been to sit on the floor and keep his hand where it is until Hiccup fell asleep, just to watch over him and maybe stay until he woke so that he'd know Jack had been there the whole time. sharing the bed definitely isn't something he had in mind, and the request comes as a complete shock; he's not even sure that he's understanding it right, at first. Hiccup must mean the same thing as Jack, surely, for him to stay beside the bed — but that isn't what he means, is it, he quite clearly uses the word lay and he seems to be expecting something, anticipating. he actually... he really does want Jack to lay alongside him.
and that's— well— it can't go as poorly as the time just recently when he tried to curl up with Katniss. it won't be as close, he assumes, so the proximity will still make him feel strange but not— whatever happened with the cuddling. not that it would matter even if Jack feared it would be as bad. Hiccup is asking, he needs this, and Jack couldn't say no to that. he's not sure anything could make him refuse when Hiccup asks him like that, vulnerable, and he's asking for help that Jack can actually provide. ]
Oh. [ ... he actually meant for more words to come out of his mouth than that, and he didn't at all intend for his voice to crack on that one sound. he nods and gets to his feet, giving Hiccup's hand a brief squeeze before he untangles his fingers and tries his voice again: ] Um— Yeah. Sure.
[ it's not easy to deliberately separate himself from his staff when it's something he's so rarely done before, but he lays it down on the floor as he straightens up and then — rather than waiting for Hiccup to shuffle over — he simply steps over Hiccup onto the other side of the bed, laying down there, tucked between a body and a wall. when he's settled himself, he offers his hand, so that they can intertwine their fingers again if Hiccup wants to. ]
This is a bad idea, though. You're gonna get cold.
[ he isn't sure why he's speaking so much quieter than he was even a moment ago. it just feels like a fragile situation for some reason, like if he's too loud then something will fracture. ]
[Maybe it's a stretch of a request, but Hiccup doesn't immediately have that realization, mostly because it seems like the most simple thing in the world. Because Jack is who he is and in all the months they've spent together, all the months they've grown closer and closer, it seems so natural to want to have him beside him, especially on a night like this. It's as normal as wanting Toothless' company when he's at his lowest, and yet it's a different kind of want. One that Hiccup suddenly begins to doubt when Jack stands and lets go of his hand, coming to temporary terms that maybe it was too much —
And then Jack lays beside him, and he shuffles his body around so he can continue to face him. In the darkness, light skin and pale freckles become slightly hardly to see but it's alright because Hiccup can still feel him there even without touching. Jack's right; it's much colder having him beside him like this, especially as Hiccup takes the offered hand, tangling their fingers together once more.]
It's okay. I don't mind it when it comes from you.
[He means it sincerely, reassuring his words with the squeeze he gives a hand, noting his plans not to let go. His lips give an upwards twitch, a vague smile in the darkness of the room and Hiccup wonders if Jack can see it.
He's useless as a Chief and an unreliable runaway, and those thoughts haven't left. But as this boy lays beside him, he begins to forget that just for a little while.]
[ sincere though it may be, the statement gets a snort of laughter from Jack. proximity to him just as he is will hardly freeze anyone to death, it's just that what Hiccup says is such a ridiculous thing to hear. when it comes from you, like the coldness in Jack is anything different. god, he's so fond. ]
The fact that it came from me's not going to help you when you wake up with pneumonia, you know.
[ laying his head down properly, he relaxes into the mattress with a soft sigh and lets his eyes flutter shut. he doesn't know if he'll necessarily sleep or just take time to rest half-awake while he waits for Hiccup to drift off, but he does know that if he keeps his eyes open then all night he'll be laying here quietly strangling the urge to kiss Hiccup. as long as he doesn't look, doesn't see how close they are and how easy it would be to just lean forward and do it, there's no itch to do something incredibly stupid and impulsive.
he doesn't curl in close to Hiccup or reach out to him with anything more than their joined hands, but he doesn't hold himself away either; he just lets himself be positioned naturally by Hiccup, or the dip in the mattress, or whatever is the most comfortable way his body settles. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
he's just walking along the rooftops and power lines of the city tonight, enjoying the calm he gets from cold, quiet evenings (even if it comes with a sting when the hours go by and there's no dream sand weaving through the air, something that should be homesickness but first lances through him as a terrible grief, he's dead and it's my fault) — and he isn't at all expecting the text. most people he knows have to sleep, and he can't imagine why the ones that don't would need to message him for anything.
it's Hiccup. his pulse does something strange in his chest, the magic flaring up and skittering. ]
just wandering around. something wrong?
[ at first he thinks that he must have screwed up again, racking his brain for anything he might have done recently or any secrets Hiccup could have uncovered, but when he can't recall anything he decides to just wait. and worry. ]
no subject
He doesn't want to be alone.]
Can't sleep. Think you could make a stop home if you got the time to spare for a bit?
no subject
sure, see you in a minute.
[ how could he say no when Hiccup asks for something like that? just Jack, for no real reason at all.
one of the benefits of having Jack Frost as a friend is perhaps that when he says a minute, he really does mean a minute. it's less than a minute later that he comes gliding down to the treehouse silently, nothing but a gust of wind to herald his arrival, and sneaks through the house, careful not to wake anyone; Katniss in the other room, or Toothless downstairs, or Baby Tooth in her nest beside Jack's bed. he lights up his staff when he slips into their room, a cold blue glow, and heads over to Hiccup's side to crouch down beside his bed. ]
Hey. [ he keeps his voice to a low murmur, both for Baby Tooth's sake and in case Hiccup is drifting back off to sleep after all. ] What's up?
no subject
He doesn't shift much in the minute that he waits, laying there with his hands fidgeting at the fabric over his stomach, legs partially covered by the blanket from the knees down. Eyes focusing on the lines of the wood panels above him, he only turns when that small flicker of light from Jack's staff draws closer to him. A sigh leaves his mouth, his vision following the spirit as he crouching down beside him.]
Uh, nothing really, it's just ... [Nothing is an obvious lie. He knows that's already been contradicted. He quiets for a moment as he chews at his lip.] Jack, do you, do you ever get nightmares?
no subject
but it's not like that here, he can't make things that easy. there was a question, and if nothing else, an answer is easy enough to give. he tilts his head to the side, considering. ]
Yeah. I don't sleep that often, but when I do? Sure, I get nightmares. [ strange, hazy things that rend through him, leave him sobbing, shaking, feeling hollow and frightened and alone for hours after they pass. he doesn't explain in that much detail, but his frown is troubled when he adds: ] I never remember anything about them, though, I just... wake up scared, or I freak out in my sleep and fall out of a tree.
[ he doesn't ask the obvious rejoinder, the question of what Hiccup has nightmares about, what this one was. considering how much avoidance Jack gets away with, it doesn't seem fair to wring answers from Hiccup when it's not clear if he wants to offer them or not. especially not now, and especially not when he called Jack here thinking that he would be of some good in this. ]
no subject
See, that's why you really shouldn't sleep in trees, Jack. I mean, come on.
[He tries to offer a bit of a smile but it's faint and quickly dissipates. Hand rising to rub at his own forehead, he sighs quietly as he contemplates his words. Opens his mouth to say them before shutting it again, reconsidering. He doesn't want to bring it up, not really. But it tugs at him continuously, the night always rushing those memories back into the core of his mind.
Swallowing hard, gazing at the ceiling, he speaks quietly.] I keep dreaming of the day my dad died.
no subject
it's such a terribly human thing. Jack can't relate to it and he doesn't know what to say; he's never lost anyone because he's never had anything to lose, especially not family, not a connection like that. I'm sorry is trite and pointless, and asking about what happened might just be worse. he feels awful for Hiccup and he just wants to help somehow but he doesn't know how he can.
rearranging himself so that he's kneeling beside the bed instead of crouching, he folds his arms on the edge of Hiccup's mattress and rests his head atop them, staff tucked into the crook of his arm to keep the room lit. ]
I don't really know what to say. [ his voice is gentle, and sad. maybe this is the best he can do, he decides. ] But if you want to talk about it, then I want to listen.
no subject
Perhaps that's really why he's here to begin with.
When Jack speaks, he suddenly feels the need to apologize, finally turning to face him as he shifts his body to lay on his side. Resting his head on his pillow, he shakes it slightly.] No, I'm — I'm sorry. I didn't, I didn't mean to just throw that. It's just ... it happened not long before I came here. Could have been days before, could have been weeks, it's really hard to tell now, but ... it's still there. Still vivid. And it's, well, it's my fault.
[He chews on his lip, nail picking at a loose string in his mattress.]
Did I ever tell you how I'm Chief of my village? Hope and Heir of Berk, I'm supposed to follow my dad's footsteps. But I'm really, I'm really not that great of a person, Jack. I'm not as strong as you might think I am.
no subject
[ there's a rawness in the way he says just that, his horror and distress too much. something in Jack's chest twists, painful, a sharp lance of hurt from sympathy and sadness and love. there's the urge again to just crawl in close, to lean in and rest his forehead against Hiccup's, to climb up onto the bed and hold him until he realises that he's important, too, he's good and he matters so much. but he can't, he can't, he doesn't know where the boundaries are or whether Hiccup would even want that, so he just— he stays where he is on the floor and lets his earnestness spill from him instead, thoughtless. ]
Hiccup, I don't care how strong you are, you're the best person I've ever known. [ they're still speaking quietly but Jack says it fiercely, intense, you are you are. ] You saw my memories, you saw the Guardians trying to get me to join them. They said I had to, and I said no. I...
[ there are similar things in his own recent experience that he could offer up in sympathy — everything with the Guardians, losing Sandy, ruining all of Easter — and for once, his throat doesn't close up as badly when he thinks of confessing just a few of them to Hiccup. but it feels like if he does that, he'll just be turning this back to himself. he's done enough of that, especially to Hiccup, Jack needs to stop being such a selfish little brat and actually be good to the people that deserve this.
he shakes his head and breathes out, calming himself. maybe he's not going to pull himself up there and curl up beside Hiccup, but he does shift one of his arms out from underneath his head and takes hold of the hand plucking at the mattress with his own. ]
I'm not gonna make this about me. [ it always ends up being about him, selfish and hopeless and needy. ] What I'm trying to say is... It's okay if you don't want to, or, or if you don't know. And you're Chief even though you're not sure, right? You're still trying? Hiccup, listen, you're such a good person and I— you're so good that sometimes I feel like you can't even be real but you are.
[ he didn't realise it would be so hard to do this, to explain to someone how much you love them. all of the words just seem to catch in his throat and it's so frustrating that he can't even get this right. there's so much love in him that it feels like his chest is going to crack trying to hold it all but he doesn't know how to make Hiccup see that. ]
And for now, you're here. There's still time to figure it out.
no subject
He falls quiet for some time after Jack speaks, lowering his eyes to simply look at their now joined hands as he wanders through his thoughts in the silence. Fingers shift slowly to intertwine properly through Jack's, brushing over knuckles before they tighten their hold, for fear of losing that hold.
The ache from his dreams still lingers, but this is far better than anything else. It's better than being alone.]
Would you ... would you lay here with me? Just, just for a little while.
[His voice is softer and smaller than it's ever been in his months here. Showing off this vulnerability, he hates it, hates falling back to the meek, struggling child of his youth. But it's always present even if hidden, obvious in the way that he chose to run here instead of embracing his new responsibilities back home. Jack lets him have that even though he shouldn't, but perhaps that's alright simply for now.
He makes his selfish request even if he immediately regrets it afterwards, but he says little else to take it back.]
no subject
and that's— well— it can't go as poorly as the time just recently when he tried to curl up with Katniss. it won't be as close, he assumes, so the proximity will still make him feel strange but not— whatever happened with the cuddling. not that it would matter even if Jack feared it would be as bad. Hiccup is asking, he needs this, and Jack couldn't say no to that. he's not sure anything could make him refuse when Hiccup asks him like that, vulnerable, and he's asking for help that Jack can actually provide. ]
Oh. [ ... he actually meant for more words to come out of his mouth than that, and he didn't at all intend for his voice to crack on that one sound. he nods and gets to his feet, giving Hiccup's hand a brief squeeze before he untangles his fingers and tries his voice again: ] Um— Yeah. Sure.
[ it's not easy to deliberately separate himself from his staff when it's something he's so rarely done before, but he lays it down on the floor as he straightens up and then — rather than waiting for Hiccup to shuffle over — he simply steps over Hiccup onto the other side of the bed, laying down there, tucked between a body and a wall. when he's settled himself, he offers his hand, so that they can intertwine their fingers again if Hiccup wants to. ]
This is a bad idea, though. You're gonna get cold.
[ he isn't sure why he's speaking so much quieter than he was even a moment ago. it just feels like a fragile situation for some reason, like if he's too loud then something will fracture. ]
no subject
And then Jack lays beside him, and he shuffles his body around so he can continue to face him. In the darkness, light skin and pale freckles become slightly hardly to see but it's alright because Hiccup can still feel him there even without touching. Jack's right; it's much colder having him beside him like this, especially as Hiccup takes the offered hand, tangling their fingers together once more.]
It's okay. I don't mind it when it comes from you.
[He means it sincerely, reassuring his words with the squeeze he gives a hand, noting his plans not to let go. His lips give an upwards twitch, a vague smile in the darkness of the room and Hiccup wonders if Jack can see it.
He's useless as a Chief and an unreliable runaway, and those thoughts haven't left. But as this boy lays beside him, he begins to forget that just for a little while.]
no subject
The fact that it came from me's not going to help you when you wake up with pneumonia, you know.
[ laying his head down properly, he relaxes into the mattress with a soft sigh and lets his eyes flutter shut. he doesn't know if he'll necessarily sleep or just take time to rest half-awake while he waits for Hiccup to drift off, but he does know that if he keeps his eyes open then all night he'll be laying here quietly strangling the urge to kiss Hiccup. as long as he doesn't look, doesn't see how close they are and how easy it would be to just lean forward and do it, there's no itch to do something incredibly stupid and impulsive.
he doesn't curl in close to Hiccup or reach out to him with anything more than their joined hands, but he doesn't hold himself away either; he just lets himself be positioned naturally by Hiccup, or the dip in the mattress, or whatever is the most comfortable way his body settles. ]