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Not exactly the ugly duckling	By : DancingBear Category: +G through L > Hey, Arnold! Views: 5459 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold, nor any of the characters. I do not, and will not make any money from this story. (Original creator: Craig Bartlett)

Chapter List
- 1-Not exactly the ugly duckling
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-Epilouge
- 9
- 10
- 11
It was 6.03pm when Arnold checked his Skype for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had gotten home, flung himself into his favorite armchair, and tried to work on an assignment.
The assignment wasn't working though, his flatmate, Steve, had taken up residence on the sofa opposite, and was giving him grief about his moony-eyed infatuation.
"Man, that chick is smoking fucking hot! Why the fuck did you not stick it to her when you had the chance?" His good-natured smile belied his crass words, but it still sat the wrong way with Arnold.
"Don't. Seriously. You know I fucking hate it when you talk like that." Steve and Arnold had a long-standing debate. Steve was a womanizer. He brought home a new girl seemingly every weekend, and they were not shy about what they got up to, but come Monday morning, they were never seen again. That said, he treated them well, he made it clear that he wanted no more than a couple of days of fun and he always wore a rubber, so Arnold couldn't fault him too much.
It was when Steve tried to get Arnold to do the same that it irked him. More than once, Steve had brought home two girls, in the hopes of getting Arnold to sleep with one of them. It had worked once, and Arnold had felt so bad about it he had dated the girl for two months afterwards. After that, he had just retired to his bedroom when he heard his flatmate drunkenly fumbling with the lock late on Friday nights.
"If she had been up for it, then yeah, I would have…" Arnold paused, he didn't want to say 'fucked her', it sounded far to crass… but 'made love' was just pathetic, plus, the thought of sleeping with Helga had shorted his brain for a second, so he was stuck glaring at the grinning brunette.
"…screwed her… boned her? Rutted? Made sweet sweet music together?" Steve laughed.
"Well, fuck, I would have… whatever you want to call it, I would have done it." Arnold sighed. "But she isn't like the girls that you bring home. Not that there is anything wrong with your girls, and I wouldn't think anything less of Helga if she was like that… but she isn't, so what was I supposed to do?" He glared, then frowned.
"Dude, you sound like a politically correct dating video. 'not that I would think less of her…' but seriously, you're going to give up your game because of some chick in another state that you didn't even schtup?"
"Yes. Fuck man, I don't even have a 'game' to give up. But if I did, then yeah, I still would. It wouldn't be right to shag some dame when I'm trying to… uh… woo… Helga." He felt his cheeks redden at that. Steve often gave him shit for his old-fashioned views, but even more shit for how he sometimes spoke.
To his credit, he seemed to drop it this time though. He just shook his head and chuckled. "I dunno man, I hope she's worth it!" He paused for a second, then grinned again "She definitely has a blow-job mouth! Imagine THOSE lips on ya Johnson! Phwoar!" He pulled a vile face and mimed holding a head down into his crotch, thrusting his hips up off the sofa.
"For fucks sake, you sick bastard." Arnold slammed his laptop shut. "I don't want to hear this shit." He stood up and stomped to his bedroom, fuming.
"Aw, c'mon Arnold! Don't be such a pussy!" Steve wailed from his spot on the couch.
Arnold just ignored him, and settled down on his bed, his laptop on his thighs. He opened ITunes, accessed his favorite blues station (radioio), and tried, once again, to concentrate on his assignment. Within minutes, however, he was mooching through Facebook, and within seconds of that, he was at Helga's page, clicking through the photos of her that others had put up from the party.
He knew he was being pathetic, but he just didn't care at the moment. Comments like the 'blow-job mouth' one were common from Steve, and he could normally brush them off. But he didn't normally have this underlying feeling of guilt. He knew Helga wasn't 'that' kind of person, and he didn't hold it against her in any way… but she really, REALLY turned him on, in a way that he hadn't even known he could be turned on, and the constant tug on his libido was a strain. He had imagined Helga using her 'blow-job' lips on him, more than once, and he couldn't help but feel guilty about it…
He knew that he shouldn't feel bad about his fantasies, that they were completely natural and normal and blah blah blah… but he still did. Maybe it was because he was afraid that they might offend her. With the few other girls he had been with, they liked it when he admitted the kinds of thoughts he had… but Helga was different. She didn't try to attract attention to herself like that, she didn't seem to want people to notice that side of her.
He sighed at clicked to the next photo. There were some great shots. Eugene, of all people, was now quite a trendy photographer. The majority of his clumsiness had been fixed when he had been made to wear glasses in high school, and since then, he had come out of the closet, developed an amazingly polished sense of style, and gotten himself a small studio in Hillwood. He had brought his 'casual' camera, a massive, intimidating DSLR to the party, and had offered prints at cost to any of the gang that wanted them. A good guy, Eugene…
Arnold clicked again, and sighed. Scratch that, Eugene was a great guy, an amazing guy, for getting some of these shots.
Of course the picture was of Helga. She was in Arnold's bedroom, where the last little pocket of people had holed themselves up at the end of the night. Everyone had been pretty drunk by that stage, and the atmosphere had turned surreal, slightly lewd, very cozy, and hilarious. Arnold couldn't even remember what she had been doing, but he remembered her doing it. The photo showed her from the knees up, the bookshelves in the background blurred. She had a hand on one hip, leaning forward, shoulders pulled back. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders. Her eyes were half closed, her shiny lips in a pouty half smile, the very tip of her tongue showing between her teeth. Her other hand was held towards the camera, Arnold's lucky blue hat dangling from her fingers. Arnold studied the photo, how dots of light were reflected in her eyes, how long her neck was, arching gracefully down to her curved collarbones. How inches down from that, her dress jutted away from her body, but that the skin was hidden by shadow. His eyes kept running back to that strip of shadowed flesh, an adolescent desire making him wish, futilely, that something in the photo would change, every time he raked his eyes across her.
"Fuck" he muttered, wondering if he should 'relieve himself' before Helga logged in and they chatted, in what was fast becoming a daily ritual.
His eyes flicked to the door, checking he had locked it behind him. He moved his laptop onto the bed, undid his fly, and was just raising his hips to shove his pants down, when his computer burst into life.
HELGA PATAKI CALLING…
He grinned, and did his fly back up… the blue balls were totally worth it.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Not exactly the ugly duckling