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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
- 30
- 31
- 32
Arnold woke disorientated. He was awake instantly, but didn't feel alert. His head felt heavy, his eyes didn't want to open. It was the kind of feeling he got after sleeping a dreamless, dead sleep.
Helga was next to him.
He could feel it, feel an unfamiliar weight on his mattress, feel a warmth.
He rolled towards her, instinctively noting that the blankets didn't catch, like they would if she were on top of the covers.
His legs brushed against bare skin.
He felt himself collapse inside. This was what he wanted. Not necessarily bare skin, but to wake up and have Helga, warm and cosy beside him.
He opened his eyes. Helga was smiling at him over her shoulder.
"Well hello there, sleepy head." She stuck a bus ticket into the book she was reading and put it on his shelf before rolling over to face him. "Feeling better?" Her voice was so soft, full of concern and affection.
He nodded. "I think so. How long was I asleep for?"
"A couple of hours. It's past two."
Despite of everything… or maybe because of everything… he wanted to touch her, to be close to her.
She nestled further into the blankets. She gathered her pillow beneath her head, and just lay there, looking at him, her full lips in a soft smile.
The haze of sleep slowly dissipated… he remembered what he had asked her. He studied her face. She didn't look freaked out. She was still here, too… which couldn't be a bad thing.
He shuffled closer to her, his knees bumped against hers. "Thank you… and… sorry…" he whispered.
She shrugged "Nothing to be sorry for." Beneath the covers, her hand snaked out, touched his arm. "Nothing."
Guilt, shame, embarrassment. As he remembered more, he realised how crazy, weak and pathetic he must have looked. He'd never felt 'manly' by any means, but he had cried in front of her. "I…"
"…Hey." She cut him off. "You have had a seriously shit time recently, then you find out about your parents? You have nothing to be sorry for. You don't have to explain anything to me, or apologise. I am here to listen to you, or distract you if you don't want to talk… or think…" she paused. "I'm not going to judge you, Arnold… not now."
The thought of his parents made his jaw clench. "I don't want to talk about my… parents…" He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but didn't quite manage it. He was so hurt, so confused… he tried to just push it out of his head. He couldn't deal with it at the moment.
"You don't have to." Helga stated simply, moving closer. Her knees slid along his, their legs straightened, their skin pressing together.Distract me. He thought, wishing he were ballsy enough to make a move on her. Fuck… his head was all over the place. "I was thinking…" she said, breaking his concentration from how soft her thigh felt against his "… if you don't have plans, shall we Thanksgiving together?"
Geeze. Thanksgiving. It was only a few days away. He hadn't even thought about it. "Yeah, that'd be nice." This is nice. It was still raining outside, the drops pattering softly against his skylights. The air outside of the blankets was chilly, but beneath them was warm. He shifted, suddenly aware that he needed to pee. He sighed, the last thing he wanted to do was leave, but now that he had noticed it, he really needed to go.
He pushed the blanket back, climbed out of bed. "Bathroom." He said by way of explanation when Helga had raised her eyebrows in a question. He watched her as she slid out from beneath the covers, picked up her jeans from the floor, and tugged them on. Without a trace of embarrassment, she stood to pull them up the last bit and do them up, exposing her ass, and the scant pink panties that covered it.
He felt the twitch in his cock, and hurried away before she noticed.
What was happening? He couldn't help but hope that something was going to happen… but why now? He didn't want her to be with him out of pity. He didn't want her to do anything she wasn't totally comfortable with. Was that even what was going on? She was probably just being nice, being there for him, and he was reading too much into it. He studied his reflection as he washed his hands:
He looked like shit. He needed a shower and shave. He was too skinny, his hair was a mop, he needed to get to the gym. He ran a hand over his jaw, the stubble grating at the skin of his palm. Football Head. He was still so self-conscious about it. It had been way worse as a kid. Having other children mock him was one thing… but to have adults call him names… that hurt. He sighed, turning away from the mirror. Helga probably didn't want him like that anymore… and who could blame her? Although she had told him, that summer, that she liked his peculiar jawline. "You've grown into it, Shortman. You look like that actor guy… one of the Wilson brothers… Luke?" He smiled at the memory.
Argh. He needed a shower, and to eat something. Maybe then he'd stop feeling so erratic. He turned the shower on, kicked off his track pants, grabbed his electric razor and stepped under the water… by the time he made his way down the kitchen, a towel around his waist, Helga was halfway through her cup of tea, the paper spread out in front of her on the bench. Like she belongs here.
Arnold shook his head to dislodge the thought.
She smiled at him when he walked into the room. "You hungry?"
"Starving."
"Wanna get something?" She stood up straight and started folding up the paper, her eyes on her hands "I thought I could stay… if you want…"
Oh god yes. Please stay. The house was too large, too empty now that he was the only person living there. He needed to fix it up, find flatmates to fill it up… but for the meantime… "Yeah. If you aren't busy… I mean… that would be…" he felt his cheeks redden as he stumbled over his words. Get your act together! He chided himself.
She nodded, her skin flushed a little. "I have to go home, get Dot food… and clothes and stuff. I fed her a can of Spam, I hope that's ok?"
"We had spam?" Arnold grimaced. "Yeah… that's fine. I could drive you… we could get food on the way home?" He should have picked her up this morning, he knew… the Packard was his now, all beautiful and shining, but he had felt way too out of it to drive. He hadn't trusted himself.
"Great! Put some pants on and we'll go."
… … … … … … …
Arnold smiled as Helga laughed at the screen. They were in the front room, on the sofa, in a nest of pillows and blankets they had dragged from cupboards and beds. A stack of dishes was piled up on the coffee table, the dog was curled up in a blanket, on a striped armchair.
Arnold was happy. One leg dangled over the arm of the sofa, his shoulder pressed up against Helga's as she sat cross-legged, eating an ice cream.
"God, she's such an awful woman!" Helga hooted, giggling at the on-screen antics of Troi's mother, Lwaxana.
It was a Saturday evening, and he was curled up with the girl of his dreams, watching Star Trek. It was his every nerd fantasy come true. They were even planning on playing Amnesia once it got late. He smiled to himself. Things were shit, but at the same time, some things were perfect.
"Wanna penny?" Helga asked, leaning forward to drop the ice-cream stick on an empty plate.
"Huh?" Arnold looked up, her smiling blue eyes still had that stomach-in-knots effect on him. He had gotten used to it though, could deal with it without giving himself away.
"Your thoughts."
He smiled. "Just that this is cool…" He gestured to the room "…and that you're queen of the nerds."
She grinned "I take my title very seriously." His heart flipped a little as she moved, snuggling right into him. "But yeah. It is… cool… I mean." He held his breath. She tucked her knees up, leaned her head on his shoulder. It was really uncomfortable.
Slowly, he straightened up, swung his leg around so that both his feet were on the floor, and shuffled over so that she was tucked under his arm. He stared at the screen, tried to pay attention, but it was hard. Was she cuddling him because she felt he needed comfort… or did she want comfort… or were there other reasons? Her hand crept around his back.
She did say she still loves me… Arnold tried to banish the thought. In seven months he hadn't fucked up. He hadn't once over-stepped the mark, and he wasn't going to do it now. He was nervous, frightened of doing the wrong thing. He could feel his heart thumping hard in his chest.
The mood had suddenly changed. Their easy closeness, stupid banter and light verbal sparring had turned into a tense, silent wait. Or was it just him? Was she feeling this too?
"So, Shortman…" Could he actually hear trepidation in her voice, or was he imagining it? She swallowed. He looked down at her, but her gaze was fixed on the screen… he could see the reflection of the television dancing on her wide eyes.
"Yes, Pataki?" His voice cracked a little, but it was better than he could have hoped for. Don't fuck it up… keep it light…
"What are we?"
So much for keeping it light. "Whatever you want." He said honestly. It was the only answer he could give.
"Whatever I want…" she repeated in a whisper. Her forehead creased in a little frown. "What do you want?" She still wouldn't look at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, the hand in her lap was clenched into a fist.
He thought about it. He knew what he wanted… but how could he say it? Somehow he thought that completely spilling his guts and asking her to move in would be a little too much. His neck was tense, his hands were starting to go clammy. He was so nervous his eye twitched. "Nothing has changed… for me…" he sighed, leaning back a little. She was quiet… had he said the wrong thing?
Finally, she turned to look at him. She looked nervous… she was biting down hard on her lip, hard enough to leave teeth marks in her skin when she opened her mouth to speak. "Yes?" was all she said. One word… Her hand gripped her his back, her shoulders pulled back a little, her chest pressed up against his ribs as she turned to him. Her face was so close, her lip swollen from her bite, her eyes wide…
He didn't even know what she was asking… but he knew the answer.
"Yes."
She moved closer, stretched towards him, and he bent down to meet her. He could feel her breath on his cheek, the warmth of her skin. Her hand came up to grip his shoulder, holding tight to the fabric of his T shirt. His hand slid forward, gripped her knee. Her eyes darted to his mouth, just before their lips touched, then closed as his mouth covered hers.
He thought nothing… just felt.
Her lips were as soft as he remembered. Warm, sweet from the ice cream. He felt everything. She relaxed, softened, her body gathered easily into his arms as he slid them around her… pulled her close. He heard her, a soft moan pressed against his lips as his hands slid up her ribs. He leaned back, falling against pillows, pulling her with him, breaking their kiss.
She braced her hands on his chest, pushing herself up as he tugged at her hips, nestling himself between her legs and pulling her close to kiss her again. "I missed you." He groaned, nuzzling her neck, reaching up to tease the hair tie from her ponytail. Her hair fell, a heavy blonde curtain around their faces. His hands moved to rove across her body, not thinking about what was proper, just doing what felt right.
"What's with us and sofas?" she asked, stroking his neck, circling his earlobe, raking through his hair with her fingertips. Her cheeks were flushed. Her back arched, her breath fell from her lungs as his hands found the bottom of her shirt and the bare skin beneath.
"Safer than bed." He replied, lightly skimming his fingers over the small of her back, revelling in the goosebumps that broke up beneath his touch.
Her hands moved to his cheeks, holding his face. "We're not drunk." She whispered, her voice shaking, her eyes dark.
"Ohhhhh god. I feel drunk." He felt his stomach lurch. He didn't even know what she meant, couldn't wrap his head around it… but he didn't care. He didn't want to think, he just wanted to do. His hands were on the warm skin of her back, dragging across her skin, gripping at her shoulder blades. He pressed his face into her neck. She had taken a shower and her skin smelled of soap. Her voice was so soft he almost didn't hear her whispered question, lost as he was in the scent of her, the feel of her. He paused, replayed what he had heard…
He pulled back from her, his eyes searching her face. Fuck. Her lips were swollen, red, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes were wide, waiting for him to answer…
Did he love her?
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Not exactly the ugly duckling