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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
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Arnold cringed. Oh god, what the fuck have I done?

It had just slipped out! He hadn't meant to say anything. He had been so good! He had even managed to keep his mouth shut when she was squirming on top of him before, looking like some classical goddess, making his heart cramp.

She lay still… perfectly still. He couldn't even hear her breathe. He could almost feel her muscles vibrating with tension.

He felt sick. God… why did he have to say it?

"Not appropriate… sorry." He whispered.

Her fingers, woven through his, tightened. She swallowed.

"Sorry." She gasped.

Oh fuck… that hurt.

They lay in silence. His heart was thumping against his ribs. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He drew a deep breath, trying to stop himself from thinking. She didn't want it… him… He felt sick.

Stupid…

What the hell was he thinking… blurting it out like that? For fucks sake… he mentally berated himself, trying to keep his breathing steady.

They lay together for ages… too still… too tense… His mind went around in circles.

At least he hadn't said "I love you.", even though he'd had to stop himself from saying it about a dozen times while they were fooling about…

… He hadn't wanted to be 'that guy' though, that just blurted important crap out when his dick was doing the thinking. He'd realised ages ago that he was falling, hard. If he was going to be honest with himself, he probably knew that he was pretty much there before he had even kissed her for the first time, at the airport.

So why had he been holding back?

Reflecting, he figured that he never really knew how she felt about him. Sure, she said she liked him enough, and she seemed to enjoy spending untold hours online with him… but she was so unlike any other girl he had ever dated. Lila, for instance, was crawling into his lap, smothering him with kisses, and squealing "Oh Arnold, I like you ever-so-much!" from the first day they had started dating.

Actually, most of the girls he had dated had been like that… although seemingly shy with using 'the L word' in most cases, they had been pretty good at blatantly hinting that they wanted him to say it.

He wasn't like that though… he'd only said it to two girls, Lila, and Jess, the girl that he had dated for 6 months the year previously. Unfortunately, with Jess, he had followed it with "…but I'm not in love with you." and they had broken up.

But anyways, Helga wasn't like them. She was reserved, cautious. He hadn't really known how she felt because she was always so wary… but before, when she had told him that she was a virgin, and that she wanted to be with him because she trusted him… coming from Helga, that meant everything.

He still should have kept his mouth shut though, apparently. God… he hoped he had just freaked her a little, and not scared her off completely. She was still in his arms, which was good… he hoped…

He breathed her in, decided he had to say something. There was a lump in the base of his throat, he was so nervous. Amazed that her not responding to his declaration could affect him so badly, he felt like he needed to tell her something, but he didn't know what. Should he back off? Act like it wasn't a big deal? Or should he just be honest, tell her that he wanted her and ask her to be his girlfriend?

He rehearsed in his head. I love you Helga… you absolutely amaze me. You're gorgeous, smart, funny, brave… Sometimes I can't even believe you give me the time of day… you're…

If you like it then you should have put a ring on it!

He jumped as Helga's phone went off. Eugene. He couldn't help but smile at the stupid ringtone Eugene had assigned to himself on Helga's mobile… he loved to play up the 'gay best friend', despite not being a particularly camp guy. Arnold sighed as Helga slid out from his arms. He didn't want her to leave.

He watched her as she flipped open her phone and chirped "Yo!" into the mouthpiece. She was perched on the edge of the cushion, her toes curling in the carpet. She grimaced. "Sorry man… really. I know…" there was a pause as she listened to Eugene. "I know… I KNOW!..." she sighed "Bob had a heart attack… I was with him in hospital."

There was a long silence… Arnold could hear the hum of Eugene's voice as he suddenly gushed apologies to Helga… she laughed. "Seriously, don't worry about it… yeah, I know… no, it's fine…" she turned to smile at Arnold. "You want coffee?" she mouthed, with that beautiful mouth.

"I'll make it." He whispered, struggling upright and padding out of the room, letting the door close behind him.

When he struggled back into the lounge, trying not to spill the mugs, Helga was sitting at the end of the sofa, facing him, her knees drawn up to her chin, chewing at her bottom lip and fiddling distractedly with her cell phone.

"Thanks." She mumbled as Arnold passed her the mug. He nestled down at the other end of the couch, one leg hanging off onto the floor, gazing at her. Something was wrong.

"Helga… I…"

"Please… don't…" she whispered. "I'm sorry… really… I just… I can't deal with this… please… no talking…" she sighed, a heavy, defeated sound. "There's been too much talking… I just want… to do…" she smiled weakly at him.

He had nothing to say… she didn't want to talk, so what could he do?

"Eugene wants to meet up at Tatum tonight… keen?" she wasn't looking at him, but at the phone in her hands.

"I don't need to come… if you don't want… uh…" he sighed. "Up to you, k?"

There was a long silence. "Stay…" she whispered eventually. "Just… no heaviness?"

"No heaviness." He nodded. Ok… he could understand that. Guilt curled in his stomach… he had no right to push or pressure her, especially with what she had just been through. "Hey…" he smiled, remembering something he had thought about when making the coffee "Have you told Olga about Bob yet?"

Helga gaped, her face turning white. "Oh… shit…" she gasped, and frantically flicked open her phone…

… … … …

"CHEERS! To Olga! For SAVING MY ASS!" Helga waved her beer in the air, a broad grin on her face.

Arnold grabbed her wrist just before she sloshed her drink over her own head. "To Olga!" He took a long gulp of his own drink, and raised his glass to Eugene, who took a demure sip of neat whiskey.

Helga whooped, and threw herself down in one of the over-stuffed chairs. She flung a leg over the arm and threw her head back, laughing. "I can't believe it! I'm actually looking forward to her coming home!" With a chortle, she took a deep breath, put her lips to the glass, and drained the entire thing.

Eugene raised an eyebrow at Arnold, who just shrugged at him helplessly. Helga was trashed. "Uh… I'm hungry. You guys feel like anything?" He needed to get some food into her before she threw up.

"STARVING!" she grinned. "I'll order something." She stood again, unsteady on her feet. Arnold leaped up to help, put his hand on her, but she jerked her elbow from his hand. "I can walk by myself, Arnoldo… geeze." She glared at him for a second, before breaking into another grin. "Any requests, boys?"

Arnold gaped. She'd just snapped at him, and he was sent straight back to when they were nine years old. He shook his head. "Uh… um… nah, whatever." He sat back down, dejected.

They watched her as she weaved unsteadily back to the bar, glass in hand.

"Not the best of drunks." Eugene sighed.

Arnold nodded in agreement. "Not tonight… drowning her sorrows, I suppose." He sighed. That hurt… he was there for her, he didn't want her to feel like she had to get shit-faced to be distracted from her troubles.

"Ah well, get some food into her, and hopefully she'll calm down a bit…" They sat silent for a second, before Eugene sighed heavily. "Gotta say though… I'm glad Olga's coming to look after Bob…"

Arnold nodded in agreement. He started to say something, but Eugene motioned for him to be quiet, pointing discretely to Helga as she strode back towards them.

"Food coming!" She wove around the chair, and perched on the arm. "One more round and I'm cut off… so says Sam. She sighed dramatically and slid down onto Arnold's lap, her new drink spilling over the side of her glass and running down her knuckles.

"Dammit." She muttered, and licked the drips off the back of her fingers. For a second, Arnold was transfixed. Her small pink tongue delicately collected the amber liquid from her own skin, her beautiful, puffy lips sucked at one of her own knuckles. He shivered a little, fuck… she looked like a painting or something, with the low amber light casting shadows beneath her thick eyelashes.

His arm crept around her waist, she turned to him, her lips wet. "Sam's bringing your guys next drinks with the food… is that OK?" she smiled, wriggling her bum down into his lap. He nodded stupidly.

That drink led to another, and another, and a few more, and by the time the lights were turned down and a live band had started performing on the small stage, he felt pretty light-headed. A few of Eugene's friends had turned up, and when the silky-voiced woman had started singing, everyone had shifted their chairs to face the musicians.

It felt like he and Helga were alone. They were tucked up together on the armchair, his arm around her shoulders, her foot twisted around his calf. The light was dim, the woman on stage sang in a low, seductive voice, crooning about love and heartache. Warm and sleepy, Arnold hummed along.

Helga, now drinking water, leaned up against his chest. One of her hands was curled up under her chin, the other stroked his stomach. His muscles twitched as her fingers found the hem of his T shirt and skidded over his skin. He tightened his arms around her, buried his face in her hair and sighed.

I love this.

Her fingers trailed lightly round his ribs, making him suck a breath in through his teeth. She pulled away from him, searched his face with her eyes, then reached up and pressed her mouth against his.

Fuck.

"Fuck." Helga whispered against him. Her fingers dragged back down him ribs to his waist. He could feel the goosebumps spreading over his skin, making him gasp.

"Take me home." She breathed, shifting her hips slightly.

Yes. Every fibre in his body screamed at him to get her alone. He gulped, nodded dumbly.

She stood, leaned over the Eugene and whispered in his ear… he laughed in return and waved them away. "Call me tomorrow." He grinned, and turned back to the stage.

The air outside was cold, he watched Helga's loose hair whip around her face, golden in the streetlight. Her fingers holding tight onto his, she hailed a cab, and they slid into the back seat.

He barely heard her mutter her address before her face was against his, her skin already chilled from the night air. Her breath was in his lungs, her tongue against his lips. His head was spinning from the alcohol…

…All too soon the taxi pulled up to Helga's building and they had to separate. Frantically, they made their way to the Pataki's apartment. His hands were around her waist, his mouth on the back of her neck, distracting her as she fumbled with her keys… and then finally they were alone.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pressed her up against the wall. Groaning against her mouth, he found the hem of her shirt and slid in hands beneath it, grabbing her ribs, pulling her hard against him.

"Room." She gasped and stepped forward, moving him backwards down the dark hallway, her lips still against his, dropping each others jackets on the floor as they tugged them off.

Her room was dim. City night-light melted through the windows, bathing the room in a hazy glow. She pushed him towards the massive white bed, making an impatient noise, pressing her hips up against him.

Her hands fumbled with his belt buckle, while his ran down under her pants, grabbing her ass. She crowed, triumphant, as his buckle fell loose. She slid her fingers into his boxers, raking her nails through his hair.

With a grunt, Arnold lifted her up and hefted her backwards onto the bed. He fell between her legs, shunting her further up the bed, kicking off his shoes. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down into her as she arched her back, pressing them hard against each other. Their tongues met, their hips rolled.

He groaned when she bit his bottom lip. Without thinking, he ran his hand up her shirt, and cupped her breast. She moaned against his mouth, releasing his lip from her teeth and dropping her head back. He felt his dick jump as her nipple hardened beneath his palm.

He struggled up, kneeling, and watched her watch him. Her eyes locked on his, she reached forward and grasped his cock through his pants. Fuck. He tugged the hem of her shirt up, exposing her perfect hard nipples, dark against her white skin in the dim light.

"Oh fuck Baby…" he groaned, pushing her tiny breasts up with his thumbs and forefingers, watching them bounce back when he released them. "You are so fucking perfect."

He swore when her hands found his bare cock. He ran his palms over her breasts, kneading them gently. She had both her hands round his dick, and a smile on her face.

He leaned over to flick on her bedside lamp. "I want to see you." His voice sounded distant, his head swam as he sat back, blinking in the sudden light.

Oh my god.

Her eyes were dark, heavy lidded, her lips parted, cheeks red. Her hair spilled out across the covers, stupidly making him think of Leonard Cohen lyrics "Her hair upon the pillow, like a sleepy golden storm…."

Her long, lean ribs were heaving with her deep breaths, her breasts… small, round… Arnold felt his dick twitch… her flat stomach, perforated in the middle by her oval belly button. His eyes roved over her, glorying in how fucking gorgeous she was.

"What's this?" he asked, touching a blue-ish mark at her hip.

"Huh? What?" she asked, taking her hands out of his pants and rolling over slightly, craning her neck to look as she exposed her side. A deep, blotched, blackish purple bruise circled her hip, spread slightly at her back.

He gently ran his fingers over it, noting how he could cover it perfectly with his spread hand. He groaned and sat back. "I did that to you?"

"I bruise easy, Shortman, don't worry about it." Helga wriggled her hips, reached for Arnold's fly again, but he caught her hands.

"We can't do this." He statement was glum.

"Yeah… we can… we were doing pretty well, I thought." Helga grinned, but Arnold just shook his head.

"We're drunk…" he sighed. "I don't… we said we didn't want to just fuck..." He tried to gather his thoughts, realising just how pissed he actually was. "I don't want to go further than we did… today… you know?"

Helga's eyes narrowed. She pulled her hands from his and wrenched her top back down, covering herself. "You already have." She stated sharply.

"I'm sorry." He said, his voice small. He couldn't figure out how to say what he wanted to say. He wanted to reassure her that he wanted her, that he wasn't rejecting her… but the sentences weren't forming properly. He really shouldn't have had that last beer.

She hefted herself up onto her elbows. "Whatever." She sneered. "The virgin throws herself at you, and you use having a few drinks as an excuse to cry off?" She blinked heavily, the slow movement revealing that she, too, was still trashed. "More than a little humiliating." Her statement was bitter.

"Throw yourself at me when we're sober, and I will spend every waking moment fucking you for the next week." Arnold challenged, not quite sure if that had come out right.

"Doesn't the golden boy act get tired, Arnold?" god, she could be a real bitch when she wanted to be. Arnold stared at her.

"You want to talk humiliating? I tell you I'm fucking falling for you, and you just ignored it!" He regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth, but it still hurt, remembering it.

"I TOLD you I didn't want to talk about it!" She was sitting up by now, her legs still splayed around where he knelt, but they were glaring at each other.

"And I told you I don't want to fuck you while we're drunk!"

"I'm a grown fucking woman, don't you think I can decide for myself who I want to screw, and when?"

"Am I not allowed the same privilege?"

"So you don't want to do this then?" Her question sounded dangerous, but Arnold just answered without thinking.

"No."

She blinked. Arnold could hear his ears roaring in the sudden silence.

"Then get out."

"Ah fuck Helga… I didn't mean it like that!" Arnold tried to protest, but she just pointed towards the door.

"Just go."

He tried to hold her hand, but she jerked it away. Shit. Shit shit shit. This is not good.

"Don't be like that… You know it's not that I…"

"Get. Out." Her voice was low, but firm. She stared straight into his eyes, her face steely.

He sighed. "Fine." He stood up, did up his fly and belt, picked up his shoes and sat down briefly on the bed to put them on. He wracked his brain for something to say to try and fix this sudden shit-storm. He knew they were both too pissed and irrationally hurt for anything to go well, but he tried.

"I could just stay in on the sofa, if you still want me to…" he petered off.

"No."

He moved to leave, paused before he stepped out into the hallway. She looked strained, her face pale… he didn't want to leave her. "You can call me… if you need… I mean… I'll…" he stopped. She just raised her eyebrows at him, mocking him. He left, picking up his jacket on the way.

He was standing outside the building, trying to figure out what to do, before he had the chance to wonder:

What the fuck just happened?
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Not exactly the ugly duckling