A/N: So I've been ridiculously into Hey Arnold recently. I feel like I'm revisiting a childhood that I never finished because of the unresolved tension between Helga and Arnold. I guess this is my way of addressing that issue: creating my own ending for them!

The kiss in TJM – so many different takes by so many authors! But what about other moments from the trip? I feel like there could be many leading up to the kiss. Here's one of them. Please let me know what you think and if you think I should share more! Tank ya and happy readin'.

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Helga was drifting somewhere between asleep and awake, just at the moment where conscious thought takes flight and turns into something that doesn't make sense.

Arnold, Football Head, yellow, dandelions, Arnold and dandelions, Arnold's hair is dandelions… what?

She suddenly twitched awake in her seat, but so softly that no one might have noticed. Except for one boy. She stealthily listened for any movement above the plane's constant whir of the boy next to her. He had been fidgeting since their departure, but he was silent and still now. He must have finally been able to fall asleep. The thought helped her to relax again. She could only see the blurry line of dim light where her cheeks met her eye mask. Concentrating on the peacefulness of the moment, her eyes began to droop shut again…

An itch on her nose. She scratched it.

Followed by a tickle on her arm. She rolled slightly on her side towards Arnold, laying her arm along the length of the armrest. She spied her hand through the sliver of her eye mask, fingers slightly dangling and wondered what it would be like if Arnold were to ever hold her hand. Would he just cup their hands or would he lace their fingers? She guessed he would probably be the type to softly stroke with his thumb… and maybe even bring it up to his mouth for a kiss on the knuckles. She wondered if he'd ever done that to other girls. For the billionth time – she wondered if he'd done that to Lila.

But then – holding her breath and not daring to move a muscle – she saw his hand approaching hers through the sliver of her mask. Slowly, like a secret, his fingers hovered above hers for an agonizing moment. She frowned in confusion as his hand stayed there, rotating slowly until he finally touched her. His index finger grazed her skin – barely – so softly that she wouldn't have even noticed had she not been watching. She felt her beating heart creep up her throat.

She stared in confusion as his hand continued to hover above hers for another moment. His finger ventured up further to linger somewhere above the patch of skin between her thumb and finger. He stayed there for a moment again before he tapped her. It was a touch so small, but so thought out, and so stupid, that Helga wondered if the idiot was actually poking her.

A long breath issued out of her nose. Of course he was poking her. He'd been awake this whole time, too anxious to arrive in San Lorenzo to sleep, and now he was punishing her for trying.

Her theory was confirmed when she felt another itch on her nose. She deftly swept the eye mask off her face and was met by Arnold's hand floating in front of her face and his ashamed one behind it.

"What the heck are you doing?" she whispered harshly.

"Oh hey," he said brightly, casually bringing his hand around his neck. "You still awake?"

"Have you been poking me?" she hissed.

"What? No! I've just been…" but her menacing stare broke him. "Well, okay, I might have accidentally bumped you, but I didn't –"

"Cut the crap! What do you want?"

He stared at her hard for a moment, before a small smile broke out. "Honestly, Helga?" He leaned in slightly closer to her. "I'm bored out of my mind, and you're just sitting there sleeping and not yelling at me or insulting me or anything. Let's argue about something. Please."

He waited with bated breath as she stared at him, dumbfounded. "How about the shape of my head?" he suggested. "You seem to favor that one."

She sometimes didn't know what to make of this new Arnold – the way he was more confident about joking around with her and less afraid of pushing her buttons. It still caught her off guard, leaving her slightly embarrassed and relatively un-bully-like. She hated it. Sometimes he would even go as far as to laugh at her insults, saying they were getting old and that she needed new material.

She recomposed herself. "Why don't you just try sleeping like normal people instead of being a little Football Headed freak?"

"Don't be mad," he said quietly, and he suddenly placed his warm hand over her small pale one. "I just…" he began, his eyes shyly cast downward. "I can't sleep right now."

Helga tried to control her breathing as she watched his thumb begin to softly glide over her skin in a quiet caress. She felt the annoyance she held previously suddenly dissipate from her.

"I'm not mad," she whispered shakily, and then, "Your head looks like a melon."