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Finding your Feet	By : DancingBear Category: +G through L > Hey, Arnold! Views: 13192 -:- 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-Finding your Feet
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 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
- 18-18
- 14
- 15
- 16
"I can't believe Sid's getting hitched." Gerald mused, leaning up against the wall of the hotel elevator as they rode it down from their floor.
"He's getting married to a marine biologist who specialises in amphibians… I can't believe they waited so long." Arnold chuckled.
"C'mon, lets mingle." Gerald heaved himself upright and through the doors as they opened. There were people everywhere…
"Yay, mingling, my favourite thing." Arnold groaned, grinning when Gerald shot him his 'not now' look. "Sorry, darling." He chirped.
"Gerald! Arnold!" Rhonda was waving from across the foyer. A little clutch in her fingers, huge round sunglasses perched on her little nose.
Arnold braced himself. He had no idea if these people knew about his leg or not. The last thing he wanted was to spend all day explaining why he looked like the loader from Aliens 3.
"Oh Arnold! You're here!" A soft voice giggled in his ear. Lila. He stopped trying to walk and turned to where she stood, just a yard away. Fuck she's pretty. She looked exactly like how he would have expected. Her reddish-brown hair was tucked into a loose bun thing, with little curls hanging around her face. Her dress was demure, a little silky blue thing, plain little heels on her feet. I bet she still smells like fruit.
"Lila! Ah, hi!" He smiled. He opened his arms as she stepped towards him, clasping him in a brief hug.
"Oh Arnold, I heard about your accident, and I am just so sorry! Are you terribly in pain? Can I get you anything?"
Arnold cringed. Great… I should have expected this, especially from her. "Uh, no, no thanks Lila. I'm fine, really."
"Are you sure? I can get you a chair if you have to sit down."
Oh fucking hell. Could this be any more emasculating? How on earth could he ask her to shut the fuck up, without making her cry? Lila had always been prone to the waterworks.
"I, uh, I should probably go say hi to Rhonda." He heard himself say to Lila, suddenly not caring how fruity she might smell.
Lila didn't miss a beat. "OK Arnold." She slipped her hand into his arm, holding on to his elbow like they were a courting couple from the twenties.
"Arnold, you look fantastic." Rhonda grasped him in a hug, forcing Lila to let him go. At least that was one small mercy. "You always did look amazing in a suit."
"And you, Miss Wellington Lloyd, couldn't be more stunning." He grinned at her. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were the second coming of Jackie Onassis."
She giggled. "Oh Arnold, you always know just what to say." She batted her eyelashes, smiled, smoothed out the tight skirt of her red dress. He laughed, knowing Rhonda's hammy act for exactly what it was.
He and Rhonda had become pretty good friends in the last few years of high school. In fact, he had been the first person she had come out to, and the person she had turned to when coming out to Nadine had blown up in her face and she had turned into a social pariah.
Thankfully, all that drama was over for her now. No one cared she was gay anymore, she was still Rhonda Wellington Lloyd.
"How long till this show gets on the road?" Gerald asked, his arm around Lila's shoulder. Arnold envied him that, how easily he touched people. Arnold wasn't good with just readily touching others, he was always worried it would be taken the wrong way.
"We should probably get inside." Rhonda checked the slim gold watch on her slim tanned wrist. "If we want to get a good seat. Which we do." She grinned her sly, sharkish grin. "Unless I see it with my own eyes, I will never believe that Sid is getting married…"
"Phoebe!" Gerald lifted his arm from Lila's shoulder and strode across the marble floor. Arnold turned in time to see Gerald sweep Phoebe up into his arms. She was grinning, giggling…
… but he didn't really pay much attention… he swallowed… She came. Her short hair was a little darker, a little redder than he remembered… Oh god. Her eyes slid to his, she smiled weakly, her gaze fluttering away.
"Helga!" Rhonda pushed past him to grasp her in a hug.
… … …
"I see who you're watching." Rhonda stage whispered, her elbows on the table, a glass of bubbly in her hand.
Arnold flinched. "Uh… I, uh…"
She laughed. "It's OK, I won't tell anyone." She leaned up against him, put her head on his shoulder, and watched along with him.
Helga was dancing with Harold, simultaneously laughing and frowning, trying to avoid having her toes trampled. The dress she was wearing was some kind of vintage cocktail dress, in a strange silky fabric that changed from green to orange, depending on the angle you looked at it. It made her shine.
He had spent the entire ceremony conscious of her, sitting a few seats over, at the end of his row, with Phoebe and Gerald between them. He hadn't been able to say anything to her, other than a mumbled "Hi." He didn't know what to say… or, he wanted to tell her he was sorry so badly that his brain couldn't function around small talk…
Rhonda sighed. "I can't blame you. If I had a chance with her…" she trailed off, laughing a little to herself. "Who would have thought… that one day Helga Pataki would be lusted after by both men and women alike."
Arnold wasn't about to admit that he had gotten a chance, but had been too chicken to take it. He put his arm around Rhonda's shoulder, leaned his cheek against her hair. "If anyone could turn her Rhonda, it'd be you."
She laughed. "You're sweet to say so, but that girl isn't straight."
He fought the urge to splutter. Helga isn't straight? What the fuck? "What makes you say that?"
"The fact that she's not straight." She paused, letting it sink in a little. "She may not be gay, but she certainly isn't heterosexual." She sighed. "She just isn't interested in me. That much I know."
"Uh… how… if you don't mind me asking."
"I may have drunkenly propositioned her a while back." Rhonda shrugged. "To her credit, she hasn't been weird about it at all. She's a seriously cool woman, Arnold. Did you know she writes extensively on LGBT rights?"
"No… I, uh, I didn't know that." What else didn't he know about her?
"She also does free work for the disabled, taking dictation for people who want their voice heard, but can't physically type or write." Rhonda sighed again. "She's a better person than most."
He watched her, she was now dancing with Gerald, looking much more comfortable in the arms of a man who knew what he was doing. Gerald caught Arnold's eye over her should and winked. The asshole.
He needed to ask her to dance…
"I'm in love with her." He blurted, tensing himself for the onslaught of nosey questions… but she didn't exclaim or gasp or anything, she just laughed.
"No shit." She sighed, her head still on his shoulder.
He didn't know what to say…
"You think I don't know about you two?" She chuckled. "Helga and I are friends." She sighed again. "I was the one who got her the Film Festival gig… you know, the one you dumped her at?" He cringed.
"I just wanna talk to her…" he croaked, his voice quieter than he thought it would be, his throat tight.
"Honestly… what is wrong with you?" She sat up straight, turned to glare at him. "If you want to talk to her, go fucking talk to her." She shook her head. "You two are fucking pathetic. You're obviously in love. Stop being such a goddamned coward and go ask her to dance… I know she wants to you."
She was laughing, leaning back in Gerald's arms, her eyes on Phoebe, as the smaller girl tried to dance with the best man. Stinky was about 6'4"… Phoebe barely came up to his chest. She's so fucking beautiful.
"Do it." Rhonda hissed. "Or I'll make a scene, and you do not want that." She was glaring, her eyes a little glazed… she'd obviously had more than a few glasses of that bubbly.
He grinned, despite himself. "Yes mam!" He pushed himself to his feet. Do it quick, like pulling off a plaster… don't think about it… He took a deep breath, moved around his table to the dance floor. Oh god… ohgodohgodohgod.
Gerald saw him coming, grinned, edged Helga closer.
He felt like his feet weren't touching the ground, like he was sitting a foot behind his own head, staring down at himself. "May I cut in?" He heard himself say… but he didn't think the words before they came out of his mouth.
Gerald was grinning, Helga twisted her head around, her eyes catching his… her mouth opened, her eyes wide… she stammered…
"Sure!" Gerald beamed, and basically threw her at him, turning straight around to steal Phoebe back off Stinky.
How did she get here? She was in his arms, her eyes staring up at him, her face looking… shocked.
Time was moving strangely.
"Hi." He smiled, his hands at her waist. Without thinking, he had moved to her… like I know her.
"Uh… hi." She blinked. Her hands were on his shoulders, they moved together, in a strange kind of waltz.
He stared at her… everything he had wanted to say had flown from his head as soon as he had looked into her eyes. Shit.
"I missed you." He tried to smile, his muscles felt stiff… he was so nervous, but excited, and scared. He didn't know what he was… was he happy? He had this strange feeling of relief… like when you pull off that plaster…
She smiled, a shy little smile. Her gaze flicked to his mouth, her cheeks blushed. She nodded a little, her mouth opened, but she didn't say anything.
"Did you get my CD?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel the fabric of her dress slipping over her skin as her hips moved.
She looked back up at him, nodded again.
"I didn't want to, uh, harass you…"
"You didn't." She whispered. "I…" she swallowed. "Thank you."
"I'm sorry." His heart thumped. She's here… she's in my arms… she's talking to me… His hands tugged her a little closer, he forgot they were on a crowded dance floor…
She didn't say anything, just swayed with him. He couldn't say how long they were out there for, who he spoke to as they danced past, what songs played… all he knew was that she was pressed against him, moving against him. Sometime later, something was said about cutting the cake, and they were separated. He watched her, a piece of cake on a little plate in her hand, having her photo taken with Phoebe. He watched them put their heads together, giggling.
By the time the cake had been cut, some more drinks had been drunk, the bouquet tossed (caught by one of the bride's friends) and the garter thrown (caught by Sid's cousin) a few more dances danced and a few impromptu, drunken toasts toasted, it was late. The bride and groom left, in amongst cheers and lewd jokes… Phoebe and Gerald snuck away. Harold undid the top button of his pants, Stinky started making out with one of the bridesmaids. The father of the bride danced with one of the waitresses and Sid's grandfather fell asleep in his chair.
Arnold didn't get to dance with Helga again. He wanted to, he keep finding her looking at him over the shoulder of other men, across tables, from behind her wineglass… she could catch his eye, blush, avert her gaze… then look back, smiling and blushing deeper when he was still looking, smiling. His stomach was churning… he wanted to grab her and pull her aside, to get somewhere private, to tell her everything he had wanted to tell her, but had forgotten when she was pressed up against his chest.
Fuck.
But the party wound down, and Arnold didn't gather his courage before Helga and Rhonda went stumbling from the room, Rhonda still looking like a magazine cover, Helga's heels dangling from her fingers.
Arnold sighed, heaved himself up, cursing himself. He never took chances when he should… He bid goodnight to the people around him, patted an ill-looking Harold on the back, and made his way to his room.
He was tired, but wound up. He took a hot shower, towelled off, tugged on trackpants and a T shirt, and lay on the bed, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
He had a book to read, but he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on it. He just lay there, sprawled over the unfamiliar, hotel comforter, and day-dreamed. What could he have done differently? What would she have done if he had tried to kiss her? He hadn't even thought about it when they had been dancing… but now that he was back in his room, this strange, hired room… he felt like maybe he had let a chance go by.
He closed his eyes, wondering what she was doing, wondering if he should try find out what room she was in…. when there was a bang on the door.
His eyes flew open. "Uh, hold on…" He struggled upright, balancing on his one leg, hopping awkwardly to the door. "Who is it?"
There was a low chuckle from the other side of the door. "Helga… you free to entertain a visitor?"
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Finding your Feet