A/N: Oh, lookie here. Looks like you've got another Clynn story collection from yours truly. Only this time, I actually have plans on finishing it. So, what's this one all about, you might ask?

See, a pretty snazzy fellow by the name of Petrus Visagie (you can look up him up on his Twitter page or dA page to see some of his wicked cool art) started something called Clynn Week. From January the 6th to the 12th of this year, fans of Clynn are invited to draw or write stories based on the theme of each day during that week. And, of course, I couldn't pass up the chance to take part of this. So, since I'm mostly finished with all the chapters for this anthology, expect to see daily updates from the 6th to the 12th about everyone's favorite Loud House crack ship. ;)

By the way, if you want to know about the themes for the week, again, check out Petrus Visagie on either dA or Twitter for more information.

Oh, and if you're reading this P.V., thanks for doing this, my man!

DAY 1 – KISSING

In terms of weather, this Saturday was one of the best ones Royal Woods had experienced in a while. The warmth of the Sun wasn't overbearing, thanks to the calm wisps of pleasant wind that breezed through the air. It wouldn't be out of the question to say that today was the perfect day for playing outside, especially if the people saying it were kids with all their homework and chores finished.

So naturally, as he made his way to his best friend's house, Clyde couldn't help but smile at the thought of spending all day inside with Lincoln.

While the outdoors certainly held their treasures, the innards of an Ace Savvy comic book and the rigors of playing Muscle Fish: Minnows at War's most challenging levels called to him like a siren.

Clyde's steps must've been lighter than usual—an errant thought that came across the back of his mind along the way—for by the time he knew it, he was just a few feet away from walking along the sidewalk in front of the Loud residence.

'Look out, Lincoln. Hope you're ready for some fun with your good 'ol pal-'

"CLYDE, HEADS UP!"

Clyde's reaction to that loud voice was instant—as his nerves raced and his heart began to spasm from nervous fright, his body practically moved all on its own as he squeezes his eyes shut, pivoted on his heels to his right, and extended his hands out in a last-minute bid for protection.

His arms were already shaking from the strain of panic, but the sensation tripled in a sudden burst as something solid and circular collided against his palms. His jumped back with squeak, but tightened his fingers around the object all the same, keeping whatever had been sailing towards him in his sweaty grip.

His heart rate started to climb back down when he sensed that the danger had passed, and upon slowly opening his eyes, he could see that even better. But before he could bother to inspect the object, he immediately spotted none other than Lynn running towards him, her ponytail swishing and bouncing playfully behind her as her radiant smile shined as brightly as a sunlight's golden ray.

For whatever reason, he could feel a little tingle of fuzziness worming around in his gut as he focused on it, but there was little time to dwell on it.

"Yooooo, way to catch that ball, McBride!" Lynn called out to him before she eventually approached him.

Her words coaxed his curiosity, compelling him to look down and see a soccer ball in his grasp. When he looked back up, Lynn was already in front of him. He had his manners in mind, and aimed to thank Lynn for the compliment.

"Gee, thanks, Ly-"

"I mean, you've never struck me as the coordinated type before," Lynn interrupted casually as she swiped the ball from Clyde's hands and tucked it under her arm. "Guess you learn something new everyday, am I right?"

Clyde sighed. It wasn't like Lynn to hand out compliments without tacking on some kind of barb at the end, whether she meant it or not. Still, at least he was used to it enough to not get too offended.

"Uh...y-yeah," he fumbled out awkwardly. "I guess that's true."

Without seeming to notice his sheepishness, Lynn asked, "Anyway, I guess you're here to geek it up with Stinkoln, right?"

"Uh-huh."

Suddenly, Lynn's lips cranked into a sour frown as her eyebrows formed angry downward slants.

"Good luck hanging out with him right now. Lola and Lana got to him before I could drag him into some soccer practice," Lynn said, her bitterness seeping out like an open wound. "They've been pretending to be astronauts for almost half an hour now."

Whether Lynn knew it or not, she had given Clyde some food for thought about how he had acted before he even stepped out of the house. He hadn't even done so much as called Lincoln before he came over, operating on the assumption that he wasn't busy with anything else.

He couldn't help but feel disappointed—conveyed from the way his shoulders sagged and he heaved a heavy sigh—but he couldn't say that he wasn't opening himself up for that.

"Guess I came at the wrong time, huh?" Clyde asked, as if he needed to.

"'Fraid so."

For a moment, neither said a word. And in that time, something funny must've crossed through Lynn's head like a whizzing arrow—Clyde couldn't think of any other reason why she was suddenly donning a cheeky grin at him.

"Plus, Lori's at the mall, so good luck trying to make moves on her. Not that it'd work out if she was here, anyway."

The accusation caught Clyde off his guard and made his face flush from indignation.

"H-hey now, I wasn't gonna-"

"Sure, Clyde. Keep telling yourself that."

Clyde could only mumble under his breath and look away as Lynn laughed at his reaction, her merriment making her double over at the knees. Eventually, she collected herself and gave him a quick, light jab in the shoulder, forcing him to look her in the eye again.

"But you know, now that you're here, I've got a great idea that can help the both of us."

Clyde raised his eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well, since I can't hang with Lincoln right now, I've been dribbling this ball and kicking it around to pass the time. But, it's gotten kinda boring just playing around by myself. And since one of the members of the 'Dynamic Duo of Dorks' is busy, it looks like your afternoon of comic books, video games, and LARPing is on the bench for a little bit."

"Actually, I wasn't planning on doing any LARPing today," Clyde corrected.

"Whatever. The point is, you can scratch my back while I scratch yours."

She took a second to lean in and firmly rest her hand on Clyde's shoulder, as if she was about to start a pep talk.

"Those wicked reflexes of yours can't go to waste," she continued, "and I need something a little more stimulating than dribbling. So, why don't you be my goalkeeper while I try to kick the ball past you and into one of my goals? Doesn't that sound like fun?"

The proposal was nothing that Clyde hadn't heard before, but it still made him regard Lynn with a dubious look. After all, he may have heard them before, but they were always directed at Lincoln.

"What? You want me to be your goalkeeper?" he asked.

Lynn shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

It wasn't his first option for passing the time, but he wasn't going to be a chooser while he was nothing more than a beggar. The problem of accepting it, though, came at the thought of his fathers and their conventions regarding his safety and well-being.

"I mean, last time I checked, being a goalie can get pretty messy, what with all the falling," Clyde said. "My dads'll throw a fit if I come back home with grass stains and dirt all over my clothes."

Lynn shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. They can't be that bad, can they?"

"You're only saying that because you don't know them too well. Last month, I came home from school with one of my shirt buttons undone and one of my shoes wet from a puddle I stepped in. They thought someone had mugged me and were gonna call the police."

Clyde would've laughed at the stunned silence and look of frightened awe on Lynn's face if he didn't share her uneasiness. As much as he loved them, his dads could get a little out of hand from time to time.

"Point...taken," Lynn said slowly, looking like she was still struggling to come to terms with that revelation.

But her stupor only took hold of her for a few seconds, much to Clyde's surprise.

"Well then," Lynn began, as if she hadn't heard anything Clyde had just told her, "I guess you can borrow one of my soccer jerseys and a pair of my shorts. We're practically the same size, so it shouldn't be a problem."

As Clyde took a moment to let her proposal settle, she asked, "So, you in or not?"

By the time she finished, he couldn't say that he had any resolute conviction on turning her down, even if the idea of getting sweaty and tired wasn't the best idea.

Then again, it was a pretty nice day—the time he took to think things out gave him the chance to relish the pleasurable breeze and warmth on his skin. And now that he thought about it, he and Lynn had a funny way of bonding over the most unexpected things. Their love of hacky sack and sriracha were only a few things that capped the list, and most of it came from experiences that she had introduced to him.

Why couldn't soccer be any different?

"Alright," Clyde said with a grin. "I guess there's no harm."

"Great!" Lynn exclaimed, lifting her hand off of Clyde's shoulder and giving it another jab. This time, Clyde let out a whine of protest as he rubbed his aching arm.

Just how was he supposed to be a good goalie if she kept hitting him like this?!

"I'll get the goal from the garage," she said, turning to leave. "You wait out back for me."

As soon as she went on her way, Clyde followed her but only when she was outside of punching range. She could call him a "geek" or a "nerd" all she wanted, but she couldn't call him a "slow learner".

Twenty minutes later, Clyde found Lynn running at him again. And just like last time, he had her soccer ball in his grasp.

The journey to this point had involved a lot of falling on his end, and a lot of encouragement on her end, but he eventually found his stride. Now, he could say that he had managed to block six of Lynn's best goal attempts in a row. He was a little out of breath, but he still managed to wear his pride on his sleeve as heavy as the dirt and grass that singed in the fabric of his borrowed clothes.

She finally approached him with her arm stretched up, her hand above her head.

"Up top!" she cried, and smiled even wider as he did so. "Man, you're a quick learner. Those last few catches weren't too bad."

Clyde dropped the ball and smiled bashfully as he rubbed at his arm, as if he had gotten a hundred apology punches. Getting dragged into the spotlight of her praise was little more than he could handle, and it inspired Clyde to try and deflect some it back to where he deserved it belong.

"But I gotta say, Lynn, that trick about staying on the tip of your toes is really effective," he said.

Lynn let out a chuckle. "Of course, it is. It came from me, didn't it? And besides, it's just common sense. Planted feet make for slow adjustments. You can't move to where you wanna go very quickly if you're fighting against your own body."

She had a point, but on a more profound level than she realized. He had his feet planted in one area today, but allowing himself to be more flexible let him move towards a fun session of soccer and an even better appreciation for Lynn than ever before.

He would've told her as much, but a loud diatribe from the upper floor of the Loud house caught both their ears.

"THAT DOES IT! THAT'S THE LAST TIME I'M EVER PLAYING ASTRONAUT WITH YOU, LANA!"

Lola's shrill shouting, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut, filled them in on enough of what had just transpired.

"Seriously?" Lynn asked with a sigh at the end. "When are they not gonna be at each other's throats over their pretend games?"

"Beats me," Clyde said. "I suppose they'll never-"

But he couldn't continue, not when he saw the traces of disappointment that etched in Lynn's long face. Where they came from was anyone's guess but he knew that he'd hear out whatever was troubling her.

"Well, I guess that means Stinkoln's free to hang out with you now. Guess that means you're gonna head on over and-"

"Nah."

Clyde's response was just as immediate as Lynn's reaction—she looked up at him, her cheeks swelling from the big smile she wore. That tingly worm sensation came back in his gut again, then slithered up to his chest to force his heart to race.

"Yeah, I'm having fun where I am now. Stinko-" He caught himself mid-sentence and blushed when she giggled. "I-I-I mean Lincoln can wait."

He couldn't ask himself where that slip-up, let alone the fluttery feeling of butterflies in his tummy and chest, came from before Lynn stopped his train of through before it could leave the station. Her cheeks suddenly reddened, and her smile glowed just as brightly as her face.

"Well, well, well, someone's quite determined, aren't they?" she asked, inching ever closer and unwittingly letting Clyde to get lost in her eyes."But, uh, you're looking a little tired there, Clyde."

The ball slipped from his lax fingers when his arms drooped his sides—the feeling of one of Lynn's rough hands cupping his face melted his bones into jelly.

"I think someone needs a little pick-me-up," she whispered, then closed the distance as she brought her lips to Clyde's cheek, pressing them softly against his skin.

His breath rushed into this throat with a sharp gasp, his body (namely his face) buzzing and burning from crackling heat. The kiss lasted for only a second but it felt like an eternity before she pulled away and regarded his dazed state with a cocky smirk.

"Hey, now, what's this?" she asked in a teasing voice. "You better quit daydreaming before a soccer ball comes your way and knocks you out."

With that, she picked up the ball and strutted back to her spot thirty feet away from the goal and from the boy whom she recently thought, in the right light, could be cute enough to kiss.

At least, when no one was looking.