It startles him to see a human shape on his altar tonight.

Though if Hiccup had to be completely honest, he wasn’t here for the lecture. Something something boring matrices; right, like that was going to pull him out of bed. Such riveting stuff. No, the only reason that Hiccup was here at this ungodly hour and willing to put up with the droning from the professor was for the guy he sat next to.

Jack Frost and Steve Rogers go way back. Written for prompt on avengerkink, vague spoilers for Rise of the Guardians.

“Ya see, Sandy?” Bunnymund is saying. “Quit your worrying. The kid says he’s fine.” And almost, it ends there. Almost, they go their separate ways and let it stand for another four years, or another three hundred, for even Sanderson wonders whether he has been mistaken, after all. But Jack is agreeing with the Guardian of Hope, carrying obliviously onward. “Am I ever,” the boy says, fervently. “The 21st century’s great. You wouldn’t believe what people just throw out these days.” The admission comes like a wave striking rocks on a stony shore; it raises icy splashes of dread wherever its spray hits. Three horrified stares – and one that is not so terribly surprised – turn to the boy’s face. The spirit of winter falters to a stop, the reaction not the one he had anticipated. “What?” he asks.