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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
- 26
- 27
- 28
"Another drink, Arnold?"
Arnold started, jerked from his thoughts. "Uh, no… no thanks Dom." He held up his half-full glass "I'm OK."
Dom nodded, an eyebrow raised. "Are you alright? I know that you must be nervous…" he trailed off.
Arnold swallowed. "Yeah… yeah I'm OK. Thanks." He paused, and Dom put a hand on his shoulder, his face concerned.
"Thank you, Arnold, for being here. I know it means a lot to Eugene."
Arnold smiled at that. They both looked over the crowded room to where Eugene was chatting to an extremely trendy, waifish girl, and Paul, his photography assistant. He looked happy. "Thanks for inviting me. Really. I know how close you guys are to Helga." He could hear the hesitation in his voice as he said her name. Gah, almost nine months and he still felt awkward about the whole situation.
Dom shrugged. "She's late, as usual," he smiled "but she shouldn't be too far away. Are you sure you don't want another drink?"
Arnold opened his mouth to decline, when there was a loud rapping at the apartment door. "Lemme in!" a muffled voice called from the other side.
Arnold's heart leaped into his throat. She was here. That was her voice. His chest suddenly felt tight, the back of his neck seemed to stiffen up. He concentrated on loosening his grip, suddenly afraid he would break his glass in his fist as his fingers tightened around it.
"Good luck." Dom patted his shoulder and stepped past to meet Helga at the door, Eugene following just behind.
Oh god. There she is. He tugged self-consciously at his suit jacket with his free hand. Across the room, Gerald raised an eyebrow at him, but Arnold missed it, completely oblivious to anything but the butterflies churning in his stomach, and the woman making her way into the apartment.
He stood in the entrance to the kitchen, half-obscured by a massive pot plant as Helga struggled under the weight of a large, beautifully wrapped parcel.
He leaned against the wall, staring. She was actually here. It was surreal. Her dark blonde hair was twisted into some kind of low bun behind her right ear. She wore a dark purple mini-dress, and high heeled black ankle boots. Heels? She looked like something out of a French movie, complete with delicate gold earrings.
He had been trying to prepare himself for this for weeks, trying to desensitise himself… but despite himself, he felt his heart jump. She was beautiful. She had lost weight, he could see how her legs were thinner, how her spine was pronounced where her neck emerged from the dress… but despite that, she still looked gorgeous.
She was close, only a few steps away. There were people standing between them, but he didn't seem to notice them at all.
"JESUS this thing is heavy!" She hefted the box onto the side table and stepped back. She hugged Eugene, kissed him on the cheek, showing Arnold her profile. His stomach flipped, scared for a second she would catch sight of him, and disappointed when she didn't, but turned back to Eugene, laughingly demanding that he open his gift straight away.
Eugene exclaimed happily when he pulled a bottle of wine from the box, briefly explaining to Paul and the others the story behind the gift. Helga laughed, blushing. She pulled a bottle from the box and spun around "Is there room in the fridge?" she asked before stepping forward.
Arnold's stomach cramped. The room seemed to slow, to swim as he watched her push past the people in front of him. She had a smile on her face, her head still turned to where Dom was saying something to her.
She was right there, he could reach out and touch her. She turned her head just in time to avoid stepping right into him, her eyes flicked up to his, flicked away. She went to step around him when her gaze fixed on his face again, her smile faltering, her feet shuffling to a stop.
He forced a smile. "Hey, Helga." His voice came out as a croak. He coughed, cleared his throat, tried to smile again.
"H-hey… Hey Arnold." She stuttered, her gaze now somewhere around his throat.
Over Helga's shoulder, he saw Eugene grimace and hurry over. "Let me take your coat, Helga," He chirped "and I'll get you a drink. Grapefruit juice?" He took Helga's jacket from her arm, and passed it to Dom, who gave Arnold a sorry glance. Arnold just shrugged. At least she had acknowledged him.
"Uh… um yeah, thanks Eugene." Helga's voice sounded strained. Arnold stood motionless, completely unsure what to do, when her voice reached his ears. "What about you, Arnold, you want a drink?"
He looked up. She was so close. After all this time, she was here, he could lean to his left and their shoulders would be touching. She was looking into his face, her eyes round, looking more massive than ever above her pronounced cheekbones.
"I'm OK. Thanks." He held up his glass, the ice clinking against the side.
"OK." She smiled weakly and moved off to where Eugene was searching through the fridge.
OK… I can do this. Arnold's heart surged. He could do it. It sucked, but he could get through the evening. He mentally shook himself, and stalked through the room to where Gerald was talking with Rhonda and some people he didn't know.
He fought the urge to turn back to Helga, to be close to her, to engage her. He took a deep swallow of his drink and forced a smile as Rhonda gripped his arm, introducing her to the strangers she was talking to.
I can do this.
…
"I can't do it!" Arnold watched Helga as she sat laughing on the sofa, a cushion in her lap, twisting a napkin in her fingers. "Honestly, Ican't!"
He sat in a dining chair, his legs sprawled out into the rough circle of party stragglers who lolled on the floor, across chairs and cushions, enjoying the last of the night, the quiet conversation and dozy drunken companionship.
"I don't understand." Dom squinted up from where he sat on the floor, his back against Eugene's legs. "Are you afraid of the water?"
"No! Nothing like that!" she looked around at the few people there who were from the original 'gang', "You never caught on? You honestly thought I always just bombed into the pool because I was naughty?"
"Well I'll be." She sighed, when every former PS118 student there nodded vigorously. She sat up a little straighter. "Nope. Can't dive." She chewed at her lip. "Can't bungee jump. Can't do those stupid teambuilding things Mr Simmons would try make us do… where you fall, and let everyone catch you. It's like a reflex, my body won't let me fall." She shrugged "Just can't do it."
"I can't smell ants." Dom stated, to no one in particular. Above him, Eugene laughed.
"Smell ants?"
"Yes. Smell ants." Dom was indignant. "It's a genetic thing, like rolling your tongue… some people can, some can't…"
Arnold watched as Helga relaxed back into the sofa, obviously glad to get the conversation away from her aquatic deficiencies. He'd been watching Helga all night, as much as he tried not to. He'd keep finding his eyes on her, wondering what she was thinking, trying not to analyse her interactions with others.
Paul, Eugene's intimidatingly masculine assistant obviously had some feelings for her, sitting close, touching her... the thought put Arnold on edge. Stupidly, even after all this time, he was jealous. Especially when conversation had turned to Helga's photo shoot, and the revelation that she had done some nude shots…
Arnold shook himself. He tried to keep his thoughts away from any of those things… anything that would make him overly jealous, or… yeah…
At least Stinky wasn't there… he tried to look on the bright side. He wasn't sure he could have coped with watching both of them vie for Helga's attention.
Helga, though, didn't seem interested. She was polite, but didn't seem to flirt with anyone, as far as he could tell. Which made him feel a little better.
GAH! Suck it up! You should be over it by now! Arnold mentally berated himself. It's been a good night. And it had been. It was –he glanced up at the clock on the wall- shit, almost 3am, and the party had been success.
Dom was obviously pleased with himself. As the new boyfriend, he'd been extremely anxious about throwing the perfect party for Eugene's birthday, and he'd managed to pull it off. He'd even met Mr and Mrs Horowitz for the first time, which had been amusing. Eugene's parents were so eager to show Eugene that they supported him, that they had kind of gone over the top, and almost killed Dom with affection.
It was nice, how loved Eugene was. Despite all the bullying he was subjected to as a kid, he hadn't gotten it that bad when he had come out of the closet. Harold had reacted badly, and Sid… but it had been more out of confusion and not understanding than anything, and had passed pretty quickly.
The worst person –Arnold cringed- had been Lila. He had tried to tell her that offering to take Eugene to the counsellor, so he could try 'fix' being gay was fucking sick… but she was adamant. She meant well, in her own cock-eyed way… but she really was embarrassingly ignorant, and obstinate in the belief that Eugene could 'get over it if he tried'.
Through half closed eyes, he watched Helga's face soften as she averted her eyes. He glanced to where she had been looking, and found Eugene and Dom sharing a tender, drunken kiss.
He looked away again, to find Helga's eyes on him. Oh god. Every time that had happened during the evening, it had turned his stomach to jelly. He had managed it, they had even had some perfectly normal conversations… but it was searing him on the inside, clouding up his head. He couldn't wait to get home, away from all these people. In fact, the only reason he hadn't left hours ago was because he wanted to stay close to her.
He knew it was pathetic.
As she looked into his eyes, Helga smiled, and - as though reading his thoughts - she stood.
"Alright, lovebirds. It's my pumpkin time." She raised her glass to Eugene and Dom.
"Are you alright to get home?" Dom asked softly. "Would you like me to call you a taxi?"
"I'll walk." Helga raised a foot, showing off one of the high-heeled boots. "I'm getting pretty good in these things."
There were frowns. "Helga, it's three in the morning, just let…"
"I'll walk you." Arnold surprised himself, and others, apparently, judging from the open mouthed stares he got. Everyone had heard some gossipy version of what had happened between him and Helga. He stood up, forced himself to meet Helga's astonished gaze, and smiled. "I should probably get going too."
Silence. Everyone waited for Helga's response.
"Uh… yeah, sure." She turned to Eugene. "Arnold a suitable enough bodyguard?" she asked, grinning.
Arnold's head was spinning. Nerves shook him as they collected their jackets and headed out the door together, trying to ignore the incredulous stares and shocked whispers that followed them.
They were silent in the elevator. Arnold kicked himself. The last thing she probably wanted was to be stuck with him alone, and he had basically manipulated her into accepting, by offering in front of everyone like that. He felt awful, and looked up at her to apologise… but she was smiling… grinning even.
"So, Arnoldo." She cocked her head to the side, her eyes twinkling. "How much scandalous gossip do you think is flying around up there right now?" her grin spread wider, showing her small white teeth.
He gaped for a second, then returned her smile. "I couldn't even imagine… You're probably pregnant with my lovechild, if I know Rhonda."
Helga laughed, a short, sudden sound that echoed as she stepped out into the foyer. "Oh god, you can just hear her: of course she's pregnant. Didn't you notice that she didn't touch a drop of alcohol all night? If that's not proof, then I don't know what is!"
They snickered as they crossed the tiled floor, and Arnold tutted as he held the door for Helga. "Pity… it doesn't make for quite the same scandal as drinking during pregnancy."
Helga laughed again as they came out onto the footpath, but it sounded fake. Arnold had said something wrong. He sighed inwardly, he would mess this up, he knew it.
Mess what up? What are you trying to achieve here? He scolded himself, reining himself in. Nothing was going to happen, he had to suck it up. He imagined Gerald sitting on his shoulder, like a tiny, stylish conscience. "Play it cool, Arnold my man… don't be getting yourself all het up over some skirt."
"What way's your new place?" he asked, looking both left and right down the street, as though there would be some kind of sign on the pavement, a neon light with an arrow showing him the way or something.
She nodded right, and they fell in step beside each other. "I'm surprised you haven't been told my address, alarm codes and social security number, the way some of the those people carry on."
Her voice was light, but he caught a trace of bitterness. He wondered what people had been saying to her. They stepped over the curb and crossed the street. He barely registered where they were heading, just followed Helga's lead.
He shrugged. "Everyone is very careful to not mention you to me." He waited, but she said nothing, just kept her eyes on the pavement. "I've…" he swallowed "I've wanted to ask after you, but no one tells me much. Just that you moved out of Bob's, and that you're modelling now."
She laughed at that. "I'm hardly modelling." She pulled a face. "A handful of jobs does not make me a model. I hate it, to be honest."
"So why do you do it?"
"Money." She said. There was a pause. "Everything I make from modelling goes to charity." She rushed in a low voice, like she was ashamed.
That threw him. He stumbled over various questions in his head, but couldn't pick one before Helga yawned and swore softly to herself.
"Dammit, Dot's going to hate me. I didn't mean to stay out this late!"
"Is Dot your room mate?" Arnold asked, wanting to know more about her life, but too nervous to ask any real questions. Why did you move out of Bob's?
"Uh, kind of." She smiled, that soft look back in her eyes. "You wanna meet her?" she asked gently, looking up at him from beneath those dark lashes. Fuck. He had missed that.
"Is… isn't that… uh… like…" he stammered like an idiot, cursing himself on the inside. "I mean… now? It's late… you want me to…" he shut his mouth, furious with himself.
Helga giggled, obviously amused. "It's up to you, Arnold." She shrugged. "I owe you some sort of explanation… if you want one, that is." Her eyes were back on the concrete before her. "I… I'm sorry we haven't spoken sooner." He watched her as she swallowed, hard. He was amazed. He knew Helga, he knew that this kind of frank, vulnerable declaration was not in her nature.
They walked on for a minute, before stopping at a crossing. Arnold pressed the button, and watched Helga as she shifted uncomfortably, her arms crossed, her eyes looking anywhere but at him.
"Are you sure it's not too late?" he asked. "Uh… I mean… it's, what, three?" he blathered, "I don't want to keep you up if you're tired."
"Actually, I'm pretty wired." Her small, rueful smile twisted his heart. "As I said… it's up to you. I am willing to talk, either now, or later, whenever you want." She shrugged, looked away.
"I'd…" he sighed, so nervous that he'd say the wrong thing that his head was starting to hurt. "Yeah, I want to… tonight."
- 26
- 27
- 28
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Not exactly the ugly duckling