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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
- 15
- 16
- 17
"Uh… just a sec?" Arnold panicked, his leg was leaning against the armchair in the corner, which was strewn with his discarded clothes… the room was a mess, odd, seeing as he hadn't been there long.

"Are you decent?" Her voice was muffled through the door.

"Yeah."

"Then hurry up! I'm in my pyjamas out here!" His heart melted a little, he had never seen her in what she slept in…

"Um… I'll, uh, just…" I don't have my leg on! He hadn't thought about his leg all night, but now…

"You better not be putting that fucking leg on." Her voice was low, still kinda playful, but he got the hint. He opened the door.

"Hi." She smiled, her face turned up to him. He raked his eyes up and down her… she was bare footed, wearing tight leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that came halfway down her thighs, but clung over her shoulders, hips, breasts... the remnants of make-up clung to her eyelashes, making her eyes dark, almost bruised looking…

He swallowed. "Hi, uh, come in…" She walked past him, he closed the door, tried to move without her seeing him… hopping was such an ungainly way to get around.

She slipped past him, turning to face him as he shut the door. "Can I ask a massive favour?"

"Anything." He smiled.

"Can I stay here tonight? Phoebe and Gerald came crashing back into the room I was sharing with Phoebes… it was, uh, awkward."

Arnold grinned. "Yeah, sure." He gestured to the bed. "Make yourself at home."

"You don't mind?" She looked nervous, one hand cupping the elbow of her other arm.

He took a deep breath as she looked into his eyes. So blue. He struggled to keep his lungs full… it felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. "Of course not… I was just getting in when you knocked… I can't offer to sleep on the sofa or anything though, sorry."

She smiled, still nervous looking. "That's fine, obviously… I don't want to impose."

Arnold shrugged. "You're not." He hopped over to the bed, dying of shame inside, but trying not to show it. "You wanna watch some shitty TV or something?"

She nodded. "I suppose so… I'm not that tired."

He threw her the remote, pulled back the covers. "Do you care which side you sleep on?" He tried to smile. Nerves and shame were burning through him, churning up his stomach. She shook her head. "Wanna cup of tea or anything?"

She shook her head. "I'd love one, but I just brushed my teeth, and I don't have my toothbrush with me…"

He shrugged. "I don't care if you use mine." How the hell is she here? How am I offering my toothbrush? Why are we acting like this is normal, when it's so obviously not?

She shrugged, moved hesitantly to the bed. "That's OK…" She used the remote to turn the TV on, slid onto the sheet.

She stretched her legs straight out, her feet sticking up. Her nails were perfectly painted this time, a deep green. He traced the lines of her feet… wondering if he could draw them later, from memory.

She flicked around channels until she came across Predator. "Oh, it's not far in, you wanna watch?" Her voice changed, it was lighter…

"Sure." Nothing like watching cheesy action movies with the girl of your dreams… even if you can't touch her. He smiled at her, watched as the light from the screen danced on her eyes.

At least she relaxed, by the end of the movie, she had rolled half onto her side, one leg splayed out, her arm beneath her pillow, her eyes on the TV. She grinned when the credits started rolling, twisting her spine and stretching her arms up. "I love that movie." She smiled up at him, "You think they'll play Predator 2 next?"

Arnold shrugged, stifling a yawn. "Couldn't tell you… can you check on that thing?"

"You're tired." Helga stated simply. She turned the TV off, casting the room suddenly into darkness… she had turned the bedside lamp off, sometime during the film. "We can just go to sleep."

Like hell I'll sleep. "I don't mind if you wanna watch more." He protested, but his voice died off, his stomach clenched as she shifted closer, pressed her forehead against his arm.

"What are you sorry for?" voice was soft, sad.

"You mean… with… with us?"

She nodded, he could feel her head moved against his shirt. "In your messages, you said you were sorry… what for?"

That was… sudden. "Everything." He let out a breath… this was one of the things he had planned on saying, he tried to remember… "I'm sorry for, uh, starting something with you when I wasn't ready. But I'm sorry for not being ready." He shifted towards her a little, his foot touched hers. "I'm sorry that I never, uh, did anything with you. I'm sorry for keeping my distance. I am so sorry for ending it the way that I did… for not explaining that it was me that was fucked up, not you, not, um, us…"

He sighed. "I suppose I'm mostly sorry for never talking to you, about anything… for, uh, taking you for granted… I'm sorry I never told you how I felt."

In the dark, he heard her breath stutter a little. "How did you feel?"

Oh god. "Oh god, Helga… I was crazy about you." He wanted to run away, the nerves in his stomach were leaping into his throat. He was terrified, but he couldn't fuck this up, not again. She deserved this, at least.

"Was?" Her hand crept out, pressing just the very tips of her fingers against the side of his hand.

He swallowed… what was she asking? "I… I am crazy about you…" he whispered. Jesus…. He had no idea what was going on…

She leaned forward, leaned her chin against the top of his shoulder. "I liked dancing with you." She whispered. Her breath brushed the side of his neck, his ear, sent shivers across his skin. He was stiffening inside his trackpants, conscious of how badly he wanted to touch her.

"I kinda owed you one." He smiled. God, it felt good to be close to her. His hand shifted, he pushed his index finger beneath her palm. She shuffled closer, pressing her knee to his thigh. He turned to face her, his eyes growing used to the dark.

"I missed you." He said simply, his eyes on her face, faintly visible against the white sheets, so nervous his stomach felt like ice.

"You already said that." There was laughter in her voice.

Oh yeah, that's right. He stroked the palm of her hand with his finger. She made a little noise… Oh god.

"I missed you too." She admitted in a whisper. "Even if I was angry at you."

"If I could go back and do it all again, I would do it differently." His thumb grazed her wrist. She was so warm, so alive.

"Yeah?" Her voice dropped, she shifted closer again… "and what would you do if you could start it again?"

His stomach twinged, just below his navel… Was that... a come-on? "I'd do what you wanted."

"Did you have any idea how much I liked you?" Her voice shook a little.

He groaned. "I'm so sorry." He rolled towards her a little, pulling his arm away from her to put it under his head, but touching her with his other hand, trailing his fingers up her wrist…

"I kept telling you I didn't give a shit about your leg… and I really, really don't." Her voice was almost pleading.

"I know… I'm sorry."

"I tried to be patient… I mean… I didn't pressure you, did I?"

He shook his head… he felt so awful. How could he make her see that she hadn't done anything wrong?

"Sometimes I think I should have just jumped you." She said, her voice soft, but her tone stern. "Like… if I had just crawled into bed with you and shown you that I think you're… you're gorgeous… that you would have gotten over your… thing…"

She was in bed with him… the thought of her, all warm and round and… soft… if she just moved now, pressed herself against him… He swallowed. He was close to throbbing, his cock aching for her touch.

"I'd…" he swallowed again. "I want you… I always wanted you… you're… beautiful."

She was quiet for a minute, her breath shaking in and out of her lungs, the tension, the closeness of her making him feel woozy. He could smell her… that sweet, clean smell.

She shifted closer…

"Show me." She whispered.

It took him a minute to realise what she meant...

"Fucking hell, Helga." He groaned, he rolled further towards her, met her as they moved together. She lay her head on his arm, he moved forward, buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the smell of her.

Her thighs rode up his, he flinched as her knee traced the end of his stump, but she was shifting against him, her breath shuddering… it was hard to care about his defect when she whimpered, gasping a little when he touched the soft skin at the inside of her elbow.

Her hands grasped at his T shirt, clinging to the fabric. His arm moved around her, pulling her close. "I missed you so much." He groaned against her skin. "I am so sorry…"

She arched her back, pressed her lips to his hair, ran her hand over his ribs. "Just touch me." She gasped.

His hands grasped at her ribs, sliding the fabric across her skin. She wriggled beneath his palms, her arms came up to wrap around his neck, her fingers traced the contour of his shoulders, the ridges between the muscles of his arms.

"You're bigger…" she moaned, pressing her lips to a small patch of exposed skin above the collar of his T shirt.

"Gym." He said simply, groaning when she ran a hand down his chest. He was so hard it hurt, he wanted to enter her… anywhere. He wanted to feel her around him. His fingers felt her ribs, counting them as they bumped over them, pressing his fingers lengthways against them, trying to fit his digits into the corrugations of bone beneath her skin. She groaned… and the noise made his stomach cramp, his cock twitch…

Her hand caught his, her breath gasping, she ran his palm down, into the valley made by her waist, up to the swell of her hip… his fingers found the hem of her shirt, she slid his hand back, over hip and waist, to her ribs… but beneath the fabric, his skin against hers. There was electricity crackling between them… he could feel the tiny hairs on her skin, the blood thumping through her veins…

Her mouth found his ear, breathing against him… "Touch me." She pleaded, her back arched, her skin hot to the touch.

Her breast was heavy in his hand, her nipple hard, she whimpered. He edged his arm out from beneath her head, found her face with his hand, and kissed her. "You're perfect." He groaned against her mouth, revelling in the taste of her.

She bit his lip, arched her hips against him. She gasped as his thumb rolled over her nipple. "Ohmygod." She groaned.

Her hand slid down to the bottom of his shirt, moved underneath it to slide across his stomach, grasped at his sides, her fingers digging into his skin. "I feel like I'm going to burst." Her voice was low, her tongue ran along the inside of his upper lip, her thighs shuddered.

Her fingers traced the waistband of his trackpants, lightly skimming over his skin. The muscles of his stomach jumped at her soft touch, the skin humming as her fingertips pushed between the fabric and his skin. He tensed.

"Helga… I…" he gasped, torn. He wanted her touch, wanted it so bad it hurt… but he was still scared, still self-conscious.

"It's OK." She whispered, mumbling her lips from his mouth to his neck. "Do you want me to?" Her teeth bit lightly at his skin… I never knew this could feel this good.

"Oh god, more than anything."

"Then trust me…" she pushed her fingers further into his pants, her fingertips bumping against his head.

"Trust me." She breathed.
- 15
- 16
- 17
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Finding your Feet