I'm working on another story, so I didn't really have the time to write this idea down and elaborate. I will later, but I just wanted to put this short idea up for now, so I can keep it as a reminder and expand on it later. I know it starts out pretty serious, but believe me when I say that this is all humor.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey, Arnold!

Also, I've noticed that lately—in my stories—I always have at least one bro and one hipster. Furthermore, Spongebob reference.

That. Was. It. Gerald Johanssen was ready to kick some serious ass. He looked over to his left, where the blonde terror herself stood—eyes narrowed in rage, fists clenched and ready, the most frightening look on her face—and could tell she was ready, too. It was time to end this.

Gerald took a moment to wonder how today came about. It started like any other day, after all.

Twenty-one year old Gerald walked to Fairgrounds Café, a popular indie coffee place where he normally met his best friend, Arnold Shortman, and his beloved girlfriend, Phoebe Heyerdahl. Gerald sneaked a look at a reflective window and took in his appearance. He had finally cropped his tall hair and, though a bit corny, the soul patch on his face really seemed to suit him. He had bulked up considerably—years of playing sports and accepting that basketball scholarship had muscled him up—though his body was lean. He wore his red basketball jersey over a white t-shirt, with dark jeans, and his favorite black and red sneakers. Deeming himself presentable, he smirked at himself and walked inside the café.

In the back table sat Arnold and Phoebe, probably talking about the end of the semester, their backs to Gerald. Arnold had grown to be tall, though Gerald still beat him by a few inches. His hair was still a bright blond and still stuck up haphazardly, but it suited the football-headed boy. He was lean as well, though not quite as muscled as Gerald. His gaze always seemed to be half-lidded and he had matured differently than Gerald had imagined. Arnold was still a dreamer, but he was realistic nowadays—perhaps, Gerald thought, that's why he had let go of his little blue hat and replaced it with a black bowler. Arnold didn't like to dress like others. Today the blond wore his favorite graphic tee with a snazzy black vest on top, black slacks, and his vintage black plaid keds. Gerald chalked it up to Arnold being artistic.

Phoebe hadn't changed as much as Arnold had—at least in the way she dressed. She was always simple and professional and Gerald constantly told her how much he loved her for it. She was still short, but she fit perfectly in his arms. She let her black hair grow considerably; she wore half of it up in a bun and wore the other half down. She had worn contacts for a brief period in high school, but Gerald was infinitely thankful when she returned to glasses—glasses always suited ever studious Phoebe. He had assured her she was beautiful either way, but her glasses were a part of her he had grown to love. She wore the blue glasses he loved so much, with a blue, short-sleeved, tastefully ruffled shirt and a short black skirt. On her petite, stocking-covered feet were modest black heels.

Smiling, Gerald walked over to them and announced his presence. It was routine to him—secret handshake with Arnold and a kiss with Phoebe. He sat down beside the Asian girl, his arm immediately wrapping around her waist.

"So, guys, how goes?" he asked.

Arnold shrugged. "We were talking about Helga."

"You remember her, right?" Phoebe teased.

Gerald chuckled. Helga G. Pataki was a name he could never forget. That girl was a blessing in disguise—a very convincing demonic disguise. After Arnold had managed to win that contest that sent them all to San Lorenzo and Arnold had defected from the group to find his parents, Gerald had never once forgotten the way Helga selflessly put herself in danger for Arnold's sake—and the way she even saved Gerald's life. At one point, when lightning struck a branch in a tree and the branch threatened to fall on an already exhausted Arnold, Gerald watched in silent horror—and admiration—as Helga G. Pataki shoved Arnold out of the way and let the branch fall on her instead. Try as they might, they couldn't get the branch off the blonde girl and Gerald had never been so scared in his life. Even then, half crushed by a branch of a tree, that girl refused to cry. She just coughed up blood and chuckled weakly at them, telling them they were idiots and that they should move on without her.

Gerald didn't understand. How could she be so selfless? Didn't she hate them? Why did she even come with them? Then, Helga looked at a distraught Arnold, and smiled softly. In that instant, it all clicked; that kiss he saw wasn't a trick. Helga loved Arnold. So much so, she'd rather die than see him hurt. So much so, she'd rather risk her life to save him, Gerald Johanssen, from imminent death, just so that Arnold wouldn't lose his best friend. The yell Arnold made had attracted the attention of a nearby village, which just happened to be the Green Eyes' secret village. Arnold was reunited with his parents, but he couldn't stop worrying about that blonde terror and how she was pale and bleeding and leaving this world way too soon. Gerald concurred. While Helga was recovering in bed, Arnold kept talking to her—even though she was in a coma—and told her that she had to come back; he told her he loved her and needed her and that she had to come back; he kept asking if she remembered the kiss they shared the day before the accident, the one Gerald interrupted (said boy huffed. It wasn't his fault they sucked at hiding) and if she remembered that she loved him and if she did, she needed to come back.

Helga, miraculously, survived and Arnold came back with a full family, all of his friends, and a feisty girlfriend. And even though Arnold's parents left again, Gerald saw Arnold's fits of depression were far and few in between. Gerald never again doubted the kindness Helga supposedly had and they became great friends.

"You really think I'm going to forget that girl?" he replied, laughing.

"Well," came a high, sweet voice from behind him, "she's coming back from France today!"

Gerald grinned and turned, facing Lila Sawyer. After the San Lorenzo incident, Lila confronted Helga and demanded they be friends. Helga, seeing no reason to hate Lila anymore—now that Arnold was hers—accepted and Gerald watched in amazement when he saw the two chatting amiably. Lila had become a close friend to Helga and, invariably, to Gerald, Arnold, and Phoebe. Lila had grown into her curves, and was taller than Phoebe. Her oval shaped face was sweet, honest, and attractive. She still wore dresses, and today she decided on wearing a green sundress. Her auburn hair flowed freely over her shoulders, but that wasn't the biggest change she had gone through; hanging with Helga had changed Lila into an equally fiery person—she was still sweet and caring, of course, but she didn't take anyone's crap.

Gerald beamed. "That's great," he turned to his blond friend. "You must be excited."

"You better believe it," Arnold sighed, "A whole semester away from her has been torture. Our apartment is so empty without her."

"Bro," Gerald frowned, "Phoebe, Lila, and I all live with you."

"So, so empty…"

"As in, we all live in the same apartment as you and Helga."

"So fucking empty…"

"Do you understand what I'm saying to you, man?"

"So void of life…"

Gerald just shook his head with an, "Mmm, mmm, mmm. My man has it bad."

Lila rolled her eyes, smiling, and took a seat beside Gerald. "I thought that was obvious."

Arnold groaned. "It's different this time! What if she still hasn't forgiven for…that and decides to take revenge and leave me for some hunky French guy?"

That referred to the time Arnold and Helga got into a drunken fight at one of Rhonda's many parties during junior year of high school and, in an act of rage no one thought him capable of, Arnold slept with another girl. When Helga found out, she refused to even look in Arnold's general vicinity. It took six months to get her to even look at Arnold and another six months for her to eventually let him back into her life as a friend. Arnold spent the next year begging her to get back with him. When she finally accepted, in their sophomore year of college, Arnold had since been harboring a fear that Helga's ever infamous retaliatory personality would want revenge and she'd give her virginity to some other guy.

Gerald rolled his eyes, "Helga forgave you for that a while ago. If she hadn't, she wouldn't be with you, much less talking to you."

Phoebe nodded. "I believe that you need to forgive yourself, Arnold. Helga has long since let the issue go."

Arnold sighed again—as if the world was ending—and nodded. "I guess you guys are right."

"And, honestly," Lila interjected, "she's been obsessed with you since you guys were in preschool. You really think she has it in her to cheat on you?"

"I don't know. But when I think of her leaving me or cheating on me—as much as deserve it—it leaves me so sad and, assuming my heart ever beats when she's not around, it beats like the saddest metronome."

"You're definitely Helga's boyfriend," Gerald laughed, "All her poetry must be influencing you."

Arnold smiled weakly and sighed again, shaking his head. They all rolled their eyes, knowing only one thing could bring him out of his Helga-induced funk.

"Anyway, when is Helga coming back?" Gerald asked.

"Today," Phoebe supplied, "that's why we're all meeting here now. She should be arriving soon."

"Not soon enough," Arnold muttered dejectedly. Gerald rolled his eyes again.

"Speak of the devil," Lila giggled, "Who's that blonde bombshell at the door?"

Arnold's head immediately perked up, looking at the door. With a short laugh, Gerald followed his gaze; from the doorway, illuminated with the sun's rays, stood a smirking Helga G. Pataki. Her long blonde tresses cascaded in waves down her back, her pink bow around her neck as a choker instead of on her head, with one eye covered by her bangs. Her eyebrows had long been plucked and, even with the other eyebrow hidden, one could tell that she had her visible one arched in good humor. Her lean, athletic body was enviable, her curves in all the right places, and Gerald couldn't deny that Helga had grown to be even more beautiful than her sister. She wore a white, collared shirt that had the top few buttons open and revealed a little of her cleavage—which was still infinitely attractive, even if Helga didn't have large breasts—with a loosened pink tie around her neck. Her mid-length, plaid pink skirt looked short on her long, toned legs, and the high socks she wore reached her knees where the met with pink converse shoes on her feet.

Gerald supposed Helga would never quite let go of the color pink.

She walked over, though it was more of a cat-walk, with one hand on her hip and stopped directly in front of a seated Arnold. He shook off the shock and stood, about to welcome her, when she roughly shoved him into his seat, straddled his lap, and hugged him. Laughing, Arnold returned the hug, a bright red blush on his cheeks.

"It's good to have you back, Helga," he muttered into her hair. Gerald smiled, happy to see the regular Arnold came back with her; he was tired of moody, paranoid, depressed Arnold.

"It's good to be back, football head."

A loud clearing of the throat from Lila and Helga finally separated herself from Arnold with a laugh, though she quite happily stayed on his lap. Arnold didn't argue as he wrapped his arms protectively around her waist and held her as closely as he could. Helga immediately crossed her legs, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Apparently, Gerald supposed, France taught her to be a little more demure.

"So, what'd I miss?" she asked, her voice loud as ever, and Gerald was glad to see Helga hadn't changed much. He looked over at his girlfriend and could tell the petite brunette was thinking the same thing.

"Not much, Helga," Phoebe replied, "Arnold's been a wreck without you, as always."

Arnold blushed heavily but didn't deny it, breathing in Helga's familiar scent and placing a kiss on her neck. The blonde girl giggled and turned slightly, kissing his cheek, then his lips.

"I missed doing that," she admitted lowly, eyes softened with adoration and hint of lust.

Arnold smirked at her, his eyes mirroring hers, "I missed you doing that. I feel like you should do that more often."

"Oh?" Helga snickered, amused, "When did you have in mind?"

"Now," he replied decisively and kissed her hungrily. With the sort of restraint only Lila, Phoebe, and Gerald had learned over the years, the three adults looked away from their blond friends. After a few minutes of passionate kissing—and it was starting to look like it was going to move into something more heated—Gerald unceremoniously kicked Arnold under the table…various times. It wasn't until he'd asked Lila, rather loudly, to step on Arnold's foot. Lila complied and Arnold finally acknowledged the pain and separated himself from Helga, panting lightly. Helga, who had resumed in straddling her boyfriend, straightened herself with a blush and decided it might be better for her to sit in the chair beside him instead.

"You could've said something," Arnold pouted.

"We did. Eight times," Phoebe smiled.

"….You could've waited until the twelfth time."

They all laughed and Arnold wrapped an arm around Helga, smiling at her. She smiled back, getting lost in his eyes almost immediately.

"I can't believe you were ever worried," Lila muttered.

"Worried?" Helga asked and turned away from jade eyes, "Worried about what?"

"Nothing!" Arnold said quickly and Helga smirked.

"I'm totally convinced, love," she chuckled. "Now what's Ms. Perfect talking about?"

Arnold sighed. He couldn't lie to her. "I…I was worried that you were still mad about…that and that you'd find some hot French guy or something and…y-yeah."

Helga's brows furrowed in confusion and she looked at everyone's faces, hoping one of them could silently explain. Gerald, catching on, kissed Phoebe then turned and pantomimed kissing Lila. Immediately understanding, Helga bit her lip. For a second, her eyes flashed in rage, then in sadness.

"I just remembered. I…I actually have something to tell you guys."

Arnold's eyes, wide and broken, snapped to Helga. He didn't like her tone in the least. She sounded…guilty. The others picked up on her tone and Phoebe gaped at her best friend. There was no way Helga was going to say what they all thought she was going to.

"Sp-Speaking of cheating," she began, "something happened in France. I'm so sorry…"

Arnold's hurt eyes narrowing in jealousy and rage and, unable to hear the rest of the story, began gathering his things to storm out.

"I'm so, so sorry, Lila," she said, not noticing Arnold's movements. Arnold stopped dead and turned to her slowly. Lila, equally surprised, raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she deadpanned.

"Why are you apologizing to Lila?" Arnold asked, almost accusingly.

Helga, startled by his tone, put a hand on his, worried by the way his eyes glared at her. "A-At France, when we arrived, I noticed Lila's boyfriend had come for break. We happened to meet at a bar one night, and we decided to hang out for a little since we didn't know anyone."

"Helga!" Phoebe gasped, "You didn't!"

Helga looked at Phoebe. What was her problem all of a sudden? Then the blonde girl looked at Lila, seeing tears in her eyes.

"How could you, Helga? Why would you do that to me?" she asked, whimpering.

Helga let out a breath, blinking in confusion before it dawned on her. Just as she understood what happened, Arnold scoffed and stood, taking his hand out of hers, and made his way to the door. Helga immediately made chase and put her hands to his chest.

"What?" he hissed.

"You got it all wrong! All of you! I didn't cheat on you, Arnold! I was just saying that I saw Lila's boyfriend cheating on her and you thinking that I would cheat on you reminded me of that! I didn't mean for it to come out the way it did!"

Arnold's anger dissipated and he stared at her, searching for any tiny amount of deception. But, her clear blue eyes relayed nothing but sadness, love, and a bit of confusion. She wasn't lying. He dropped his bag carelessly to the floor and embraced her, shaking his head.

"I'm an idiot," he mumbled into her hair.

Helga laughed and kissed his neck, not quite tall enough to reach his cheek, "I know. I've accepted all your faults."

Arnold chuckled, let her go, grabbed his bag, then her hand, and walked with her back to the table.

"What just happened?" Lila asked while desperately holding back tears.

Helga sighed. "Okay, I obviously started this whole story off wrong. I am not cheating on Arnold and I most certainly not cheating on Arnold with your boyfriend, Lila. You know I'd never do that."

By the end of her small announcement, Helga's voice had softened considerably; it was the vulnerable side of Helga Lila rarely saw. Lila smiled weakly.

"Sorry, Helga. All this talk of cheating must have me a little…yeah."

Helga nodded, understanding. "Anyway. I'm sorry Lila, because after we said goodbye, I left. But I came back to the bar because I left my phone. I grabbed my phone and looked around, seeing if Drake had left, and I saw him making out with some girl. I…I thought you guys might not believe me, so…"

She took out her droid and showed Lila the picture she took. Lila bit her lower lip, hiding her eyes under her bangs.

"I…I wanted to confront him, but he left with the girl before I could reach them. I'm so sorry, Lila."

Lila shook her head and stood, running from the table and out the store. Arnold stood, intending to go after her, but Phoebe put a hand on his shoulder. Arnold looked at the petite girl curiously, but she merely shook her head in response.

"Phoebe's right," Gerald sighed, "Let's give her some time alone. We'll comfort her later. For now, however…" his voice dripped pure venom, sending shivers down Phoebe's spine.

Arnold scowled, his mind in tune with Gerald's. "I think it's time we pay Douche a little visit."

"His name is Drake," Phoebe corrected softly.

"Drake, Douche," Arnold shrugged, "Same difference."

Helga laughed and told them he had given her his address that night at the bar. They grabbed their things, bombarded Lila's phone with encouraging texts, and then followed the blonde to Drake's apartment.

This. Was. It. Gerald, Phoebe, Arnold, and Helga all stood outside the apartment that Helga indicated was Drake's. Gerald rang the doorbell, fist clenched, and stood impatiently. Some noise rustled from behind the door and eventually it opened, revealing the deceptively kind face of Drake. He smiled at them warmly.

"What's up, guys?"

"You cheated on Lila. We're here to kick your ass," Arnold said simply.

Drake blinked then chuckled, "Straight to the point, eh? I was hoping no one would find out. I guess Helga being there was bad luck. Okay, hold on."

He closed the door and Gerald backed away from it, rejoining his girlfriend on the sidewalk. Moments later, Drake stepped out with two of his burly friends.

"So, you guys gonna kick my ass or what?" he smiled mockingly.

"The plan hasn't changed," Gerald informed, then turned to an angry looking Helga. "You got my back?"

She nodded, "You know it."

"Wait!" Arnold interrupted. Gerald and Helga looked at him questioningly.

"Dude!" Arnold offered as explanation, glaring at Gerald.

"What?" Gerald asked.

"Why are you asking my girlfriend for backup?"

Gerald straightened, making a time-out sign to the three men on the porch, then turned to Arnold. "I mean, you have that whole morals thing. And, c'mon. Helga's kind of an intense bro."

Arnold pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "She's my girlfriend. As in, the girl I'm deeply in love with and promised to protect. You asking her to join you in a fight kind of defeats the purpose of that."

"Are we going to fight, or…?" Drake trailed.

"Man, Helga can hold her own and you know it!" Gerald scoffed.

"So? That doesn't mean I want her fighting anyone!"

"So, what? You want me to ask Phoebe?"

"What? No! I don't think either of the girls should be fighting!"

"They can hold their own!"

"It isn't gentlemanly!"

"He wasn't being a gentleman! We shouldn't have to either! If Lila wasn't so sweet, she'd probably come over here herself and kick their asses!"

"No, she wouldn't and we wouldn't let her! Seriously, Gerald, you asked my girlfriend to be your wingman in a fight! Do you not see what's wrong with that?"

"She's a bro!"

"She's my girlfriend!"

"Phoebe's my girlfriend and she's still a bro! Lila's a bro! They've all fought before!"

"The fact that they're bros has nothing to do with this!...Wait, what the fuck is a bro?"

"I suppose a hispter wouldn't really know..." Gerald muttered.

"I'm not a hipster, Gerald!" Arnold sighed, exasperated.

As the boys continued arguing over the qualifications of the girls' bro-ness, and whether or not that meant they could fight, Helga looked to her left and saw an angry Lila approaching them. She stopped right at Helga's side and Phoebe flanked Helga's right.

"You cheated on me!" Lila sneered at Drake, "I can't believe you!"

"So? What are you going to do about it?" he asked, uninterested.

"Kick your ass, naturally," she replied easily. She looked at Helga and Phoebe, completely ignoring the on-going argument between Arnold and Gerald, "You guys have my back?"

"Like a boss," Phoebe replied, smiling slyly.

Helga smirked, facing the three laughing men on the porch. "Come at me, bro."

"Okay, okay, fine! You and I will just have to handle this on our own, then!" Gerald finally conceded, though he still thought Helga's aggressiveness was more useful—Arnold was an amazing martial artist, but unless it involved Helga being in any sort of danger, Arnold just wasn't as mean as Helga could be.

Arnold nodded and they finally turned around, ready to fight, when they noticed that Drake and his cronies were on the ground, groaning. Helga stood tall, looming over them, cracking Ol' Betsy. Phoebe merely smiled again, readjusting her glasses. Lila grinned, delivered one good, final kick to Drake's gut and walked over to the boys, the other two girls following.

"Where were you guys? You missed all the action!" she chided playfully.

"Did you guys seriously just do what I think you did?" Arnold asked incredulously.

Helga smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Yep. Lila probably could've taken out those three losers by herself."

Gerald looked at Arnold, eyebrow raised, then laughed as he hugged his girlfriend. "Mmm, mmm, mmm. Arnold, my man, I think this means we need to watch out."

Arnold chuckled, conceding, and wrapped an arm around Helga's waist and another arm around Lila's shoulders as they strolled away from the crumpled men on the ground, ignoring the sounds of police sirens far in the background.

"We never stood a chance, Gerald. A woman is, without a doubt, the best bro."

Gerald followed, his arm around Phoebe. "So, anyone up for pizza?"

"Ooh, how about Planet Pizza?" Lila asked excitedly, "I promised Brainy that I'd visit him at his job sometime. Might as well be now!"

"Oh, ho," Helga grinned conspiratorially, "Is there something we don't know, Ms. Perfect?"

Lila giggled, embarrassed, and rambled off about how great Brainy was. Phoebe and Gerald came up on her other side of the thankfully wide sidewalk and strolled along side them to the pizza place. Their laughter echoed off the buildings of the city as they police arrived, questioning the three beaten men.

Other than, "Three bros beat us up," the police were never able to get anything more about their assailants.