Grimmy: Anyone want to explain to me how the singer Prince only seems to get sexier the older he gets? I mean dear Gawd. Not that it matters or anything but I think you all need to know that man is DA SEX.

Anyways. If that wasn't random enough for you then how about Christmas in September? I'm squealing because it's almost the season to be jolly and for the past three days I've been listening to nothing but Christmas songs, my favorite being The Christmas Song by Nat King Cole. That song is so damn sexy. Anywaaays, I'd like to dedicate this to Thundercatroar as an early Christmas present. I mean waaaay early. For what reason? Well, I figured it's the least I could do since she writes such awesome fics. I don't think a review does them quite enough justice. So how about shameless advertising(GO READ HER STORIES) and a fic written just for her. :P (And for once I actually sort of betaed before I posted and just a warning, I use He and She a lot.)

I don't own Hey Arnold!

"I never knew Santa had such a wide head."

The mentioned man in red jumped up, accidentally dragging the back of his head through the heavily decorated half white, half green Christmas tree that he'd been sorting presents under only seconds ago. He quickly climbed to his feet, a surprised expression on his face as he eyed the woman who'd nearly given him a heart attack. The idea of going into cardiac arrest drifted through his mind several times once he got an eyeful of her.

Her long blonde hair hung halfway down her back, just a bit of it covering the right side of her face. It looked as if she'd tried, and failed, to brush it behind her ear several times already. Wire framed glasses were perched carefully against the bridge of her nose, magnifying her blue eyes. Even in the dull light that radiated off the Christmas tree he could make out just how bright they seemed to be. But those were only the accessories to what was making his heart beat so rapidly.

He could just barely make out the thin straps that held her silky pink nightgown in place. Not that it covered much. She leaned against the wall causing her arm to push against her breasts and create a gracious amount of cleavage. He hadn't known it was possible to both love and hate something as simple as v-cut fabric. Her hips were curved away from the wall and her long legs were crossed at the ankle. Although the gown stopped at mid thigh most of it was compiled of a largely gapped lacy material.

His mouth hung down in awe and they just stared at each other for a few moments before she folded her arms under her arms under her chest. A smirk tugged her lips upward in satisfaction as she observed the man who stood stiffly in her living room. "You gonna keep gawking or come and give me a present?" She uncrossed her legs and took a few quiet steps into the room.

"Well...," he started to say, a sheepish grin on his face. He took a deep breath and calmly walked over to the large, black, and plush recliner located horizontally away from the tree. He took a seat and waved her over, his grin changing to a more naughty one. "Come sit on Santa's lap and tell me what you want." He even gathered the nerve to wink at her as he patted his thigh.

The slight blush and look of amusement that crossed her face didn't go unnoticed and before he could take a deep breath to prepare for his signature 'ho-ho-ho' laugh she'd plopped down into his lap. Not on his thigh like he'd intended, but directly between his legs and had even started to squirm in an attempt to get 'comfortable.' If she kept that up the both of them would be feeling rather uncomfortable. She eventually turned so she was laying across his lap, legs draped over one end of the sofa while she leaned up against him and wrapped an arm around his neck.

She sighed contentedly through her nose and began to tap her fingers on 'Santa's' chest in rhythm to the Christmas songs that had been playing softly in the background. A sneaky smile tugged at her lips when she felt large warm hands being placed on her thigh and against the small of her back. "So tell Santa your name young lady."

"Helga Pataki-Shortman," she replied with a light wave of the hand.

Santa arched an eyebrow as he slid his hand higher up her thigh, playing with the ends of the lacy fabric that had ridden up. He made a tutting noise before saying, "I'm sorry to tell you that your name happens to be on my naughty list Mrs. Shortman." Upon noticing the emphasis he'd placed on her second last name, Helga stuck out her tongue at him.

"Are you sure?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious. She poked out her bottom lip in the cutest pout she could muster and tilted her head so that it lay only centimeters away from his. She was so close to his ear that if she puckered her lips she'd be touching it. "I was so looking forward to getting a gift this year."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, thinking about just how he should go about assessing the situation at hand. With a feeble smile he finally said, "It wouldn't hurt to hear what you wanted, now would it?"

"Exactly! You see Santa, I get very lonely here." She paused to slide her hand into his red jacket so that she could trace little patterns on his chest. "My husband is always off saving the world, can you believe that football headed jerk didn't even send his family a postcard for Christmas? I wish that he'd just understand that a woman has needs-" She slid his hand further up her thigh, grinning at the shocked expression that slid onto his face. "-that she just can't take care of all by herself."

"Mrs. Shortman, I hardly think your husband would approve of this." Despite his words he had yet to stop his light groping beneath her gown. And from the relaxed expression on her face she didn't seem to mind too much.

"Why Santa, I'm," she had to take a moment to gasp softly, "I just don't don't think you u-understand what I'm asking. I just need someone to cuddle with." She ended the sentence in a sad murmur before pressing her nose against smooth skin of his neck, sighing when she felt the soft white fur of his jacket rub against her cheek.

His green met her blue ones in an intense stare and he had to break away, glancing anywhere but at her as he said, "I hear he's a jealous man."

"I'm a jealous woman," she countered quickly. She reached up and tilted his face back towards her own, once again capturing his gaze. "I worry Arnold..." It was barely a whisper but when his eyes widened she knew he'd heard her and in one swift movement their lips crashed together. She couldn't remember feeling happier as the tiniest of tears slid down the side of her face.

He pulled away from her only to place the lightest of kisses all over her face. "You don't really think I'd... Not with anyone else do you?" he asked, a slightly pained expression on his face. He had to close his eyes and sigh through his nose when she didn't answer him. "I'd never...," he finally muttered before tilting his head to kiss her so hard that his teeth scraped the back of his lips.

"MOM!"

Helga's eyes widened as she jerked away from him, twisting in his lap so she got an eyeful of her son standing in the middle of the hallway. She could already tell that he was getting ready to wail loudly and retreat to his room in a fit of tears. After he yelled at some first of course.

"You said it was jus' a sowng! You woodn't kiss Santa!" The little boy tilted his head back and let out a loud wail, tears rolling down his chubby cheeks. "I won't get no pwesents nooooow!" His eyes widened dramatically when he looked back to his mother and the man who's lap she was currently sitting on. And with a high pitched squeak he fainted.

"Arnold... Your beard fell off," Helga said with a sigh as she went to retrieve her son. "Miles dear, wake up." She lifted him up off the ground and began to lightly slap his face, glaring back at Arnold who was trying his hardest to reattach the synthetic wig to his face. The elastic material didn't seem to want to stay in place. "This is all your fault you know."

"My fault?" Arnold asked with a frown. He pulled off the beard completely and began to remove the Santa outfit.

"Yes your fault. If you came home more often I wouldn't be so hor- Never mind. Point is. You're to blame," Helga said as she carried Miles back to his bedroom. The light could be seen flickering on before flickering right back off.

"So does that mean we aren't going to do it?"

A shoe narrowly missed Arnold's head.

Grimmy: Beetchez be gettin' bukked wild up in diz sheeet! Yeah, ignore that. Anyways, Audra, I hope you liked it. I certainly had fun writing it. Especially Miles and his speech impediment. Haw, haw, kids.