A/N- A secret Santa gift for Reinamy. I hope they like it!
Arnold hadn't meant to spy on her, he swore he didn't. She just happened to be in the most beautiful spot for a painting. And he was already looking for something extra-ordinary to inspire him, so who was he to refuse the universe when it provided the perfect muse?
Arnold had gone out to the woods that fateful day looking for a winter scene to paint. The discovery of old Bob Ross vhs tapes in the basement had inspired him to pick up art again. So, the day after the first thick, heavy snow fall of the winter, Arnold packed up his art supplies and headed out to find the perfect spot. The park was too man-made, too postcard perfect to paint. In the neighborhood people were too busy trying to get snow off their roofs and driveways. Which led Arnold to pack the Packard and head to the small woods right outside of town. Here, the snow was untouched by human hands or feet. The dark wood of the bare trees made a perfect contrast between the deep purple and light blue shadows dancing on the snow. After finding the best place to park his car, Arnold packed up his supplies in his backpack and started walking. He took his time contently observing the natural beauty around him. At first, nothing quite called out to him. Everything around him was beautiful, if a bit tamed. But then a small glint of sunlight caught the corner of his eye. Arnold turned to locate the source and could make out what looked to be some frozen body of water in a clearing not too far away.
"Perfect." His breath created a little cloud as he smiled. Adjusting his pack more firmly on his shoulders, Arnold headed over. As he neared the clearing, he realized that the glint he saw was the sun reflecting off the surface of a frozen pond.
It was the flash of pink that made him pause and most likely that pause saved his life. Arnold slowed his steps near the edge of the clearing. The pink flashed by again and this time he could take in the stream of bright, blond hair. His breath caught in his throat and Arnold immediately ducked behind a wide oak lest he be caught and pummeled on the spot. He recognized that brilliant yellow shade of hair anywhere. Peeking out of his hiding spot, he witnessed none other than Helga G. Pataki slowly glide to a stop. Arnold ducked back around and waited. Did she see him? Because if she did, he was so dead. There was a skating ring right in town, it was pretty obvious Helga came here for privacy. And if there was one thing Arnold knew was that Helga valued her privacy. But after a few seconds ticked by and there was no enraged shout, Arnold gathered the courage to peek out again. Helga was now gliding slowly on well-worn ice skates. Her eyes were trained on her phone, a small smile on her lips, but she was still effortlessly gliding in small circles.
I should leave, Arnold told himself, I should respect her privacy and leave.
But try as he might to make his feet move, his attention was completely riveted. There had only been a few times in his seventeen years that he saw Helga as content and peaceful as she was now. Like now, those few moments had been when she thought no one was around her. Already his artist mind was sketching her face is it was now, trying to commit the little details to memory. Then, content with whatever she had been doing on her phone, Helga tucked it inside her jacket and took off with an agility and speed that was startling.
A spark of inspiration shot through him so strongly that Arnold immediately dropped his pack and fished out a sketchbook and a charcoal stick. He drew quickly, trying to capture the smooth lines of her long limbs, the powerful movement of her body, the angles. He wasn't spying on her, that wasn't what this was. He was merely… observing without disturbing. This was so much better than painting some still landscape. The trees in the background framed Helga perfectly as she careened around the frozen pond. The bright pink of her jacket and light blonde of her hair made perfectly complimented the white snow. Her movements were somehow both delicate and powerful. She moved beautifully, her face serene and confident.
Somehow, none of this really surprised Arnold. Helga had always been a confusing, conflicting, and very frustrating enigma. In groups of three or more she was interesting, smart, and funny, always able to make the group laugh and do the craziest things. When it was just the two of them though, (a rare occurrence in itself), something weird happened. Either she was elusive and defensive, or they accidentally stumbled into deep meaningful conversations. Seeing her ice-skating like this was just another piece of the multi-dimensional puzzle that was Helga and that he desperately wanted to solve. It didn't help that he harbored a secret crush on her since the eighth grade.
Thankfully the soft scratching of Arnold's charcoal on the paper was easily drowned out by the hissing of Helga's skates on the ice. He doubted that she would be able to hear it either way, but still better safe than sorry. He peeked around again to watch her skate. Helga wasn't doing anything particularly fancy, but her graceful and precise moments made him breathless.
"You're so amazing, Helga." Arnold whispered, "why are you hiding this?"
Deep down he knew why though. Helga loved to be a walking contradiction. This same beautiful, delicate ice angel he was watching was also the same hell-fire and steely eyed bad ass that he'd grown to admire from afar.
The shrill sound of a catchy ringtone cut through the muted quiet. Helga gave an irritated sigh and fished her cellphone out of her jacket.
"What Bob?"
Arnold ducked back out of sight again but he could hear the exasperation clear in Helga's voice.
"Don't worry about where I am. I told you that I was going out. - Oh, it's not that late Bob. - Why can't Miriam or Olga do it? - Still? Geez, we aren't that rich, how much more crap can they buy? - Fine, I'll be home in about thirty, forty minutes. - Criminy! Because all I have is a crappy bike dad. Okay, bye."
The temptation to be Helga's white knight and offer her a ride was strong but Arnold remained where he was. Far from gratefully falling into his arms, Helga would more likely be creeped out and angry, accusing him of spying on her (which he totally wasn't doing). So Arnold had no choice but to hide out and wait for Helga to leave, praying that she didn't discover him. After a few minutes of soft shuffling there was silence. Arnold silently counted to fifty before glancing over. The only trace of Helga's presence were the foot prints in the snow going in the opposite direction.
A small, forlorn sigh left Arnold's lips as he slowly stood up. He was such a coward. Too afraid to tell Helga how he felt, too afraid to reveal himself even to offer her a ride home. But there was a small consolation. He now had a new muse to inspire his inner artist. Working out the pins and needles in his legs, Arnold bent down to retrieve his sketch book and art supplies. Flipping through the book he smiled at beautiful images he somehow managed to capture. So much better than the blurry, candid pictures that may or may not exist on his cell right now.
When he got home, the first thing Arnold did after changing out of his snowy clothes was carefully extracting the drawings of Helga from his sketchbook and carefully place them between pages of protective sheets of cellophane. Arnold spread the pages out in his desk and grinned.
"I wish I could show these to someone," He sighed wistfully, "I wish I could show them to her."
The cool toned charcoal renderings of Helga smiled away from him. Though maybe not beautiful by conventional standards, the serene confidence in her face was extremely attractive to him. When his phone started ringing, Arnold answered absently, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.
"Hello?" He answered maybe a bit too dreamily.
"Hey, football head. What's shakin'?"
"Helga!" Arnold squeaked and a guilty flush crept up his neck. Oh man, she knows, she totally knows. "H-hey, how's it going?"
"Ugh, annoying that's how it's going. I'm stuck grocery shopping for dinner since Miriam and Olga are still out Christmas shopping." Helga grumbled in annoyance. She didn't seem to her the nervous pitch in his voice. "It's taking forever though, so I needed to call someone to entertain me."
"Well, that's what I'm here for. To be your personal source of entertainment." Arnold chuckled dryly, only partially being sarcastic.
Helga gave a laugh heartier than his which made his heart beat faster.
"You got that right bucko. So what have you been up to today? Building forts with Gerald and the guys?"
"Umm," Arnold cast a guilty look at the drawings on his desk, "no, but I did manage to enjoy how pretty everything was outside. What about you?"
"Eh, I went out. Nothing special."
I beg to differ, Arnold smiled, "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"
There was a beat where Arnold could hear the clanging of items being dropped into a grocery cart.
"Actually yeah, I got plans," Helga mumbled distractedly.
"What kind of plans?" Arnold decided to push, wondering if she would confide her secret in him.
"Plans, plans," That familiar tone of impatience and suspicion crept up in Helga's voice, "why the hell are you prying so hard into my schedule, football head?"
"Hey, you called me, broomstick head." He immediately responded.
Inwardly, Arnold face palmed. Why the heck did he have to use that old insult he had used on her in sixth grade? He waited, half expecting Helga to curse him out and hang up, but was pleasantly surprised to hear her laugh instead.
"Broomstick head? Wow, haven't heard that name in forever," Helga scoffed, "Hey look, I'm almost at the register so I'm going to hang up now. But we should definitely do something Christmas Eve. Cool? Later!"
Helga hung up before Arnold had a chance to respond, but a grin stretched across Arnold's face regardless.
The next day Arnold found himself in the same woods, in the same spot by the frozen pond, concealed by the same large oak. This time though, he had set of colored pencils as well as his sketchbook. He wanted to see if he can capture the way the sunlight glinted off the pond and her hair. Or the sparkling blue of her eyes. Or the soft pink of her skin when she starts to get flushed from skating. And of course, the snow and all that.
He had just finished setting up when he heard a soft hissing sound. He looked around the tree to see Helga just beginning to glide onto the ice. Arnold's hand immediately began to work over his paper. He built the colors slowly and carefully studied the way the light reflected off the snow and ice. As Helga began to skate faster, he switched to yellows, peaches, and rose pencils to capture the hue of her hair as it spun out from under her hat and her skin as it started to flush from her skating.
Suddenly, while at her top speed, Helga crouched down and in next instant, shot up into the air. Arnold gasped as his jaw fell away from his face. Helga's body spun in tight circles, one, two, three full circles, her hair flying out like a golden cape. But the moment her skate touched the ice, her leg shot out from under her and she fell onto the ice with a surprised scream.
Arnold felt his heart plummet, "Helga!"
All secrecy forgotten, he raced from his hiding spot and raced onto the ice. The girl he cared about more than anything in the world, lay unmoving on the frozen ice. His feet slipped without purchase, but he somehow managed to reach her.
"H-Helga," Arnold panted as he knelt next to her to peer into her still face, "Helga, can you hear me? Please say something."
Helga's eyelids twitched and her lips parted with a small groan. Arnold released a breath that was half sob and half sigh of relief.
"Oh thank goodness," He sighed, gathering her in his arms, "thank goodness you're okay."
Helga gave a dreamy sighed and her lips began to part in a smile, "Oh Arnold, Arnold, Arn-"
But as her eyes fluttered open and locked onto him, they widened in shock and horror. She yelped and roughly pushed away from him. "Arnold!? Wha-what the heck are you doing here, football head!?"
"I… I uh…" Arnold face grew hot and he could feel his body tense, "I was um… observing…."
"You mean spying?" Helga was on her feet in an instant, glowering down at him, "Did one of the guys put you up to this? 'Try to catch Helga doing something embarrassing'? Taking pictures to blackmail me later?"
"No! No! It isn't like that, I swear!" Arnold scrambled to his feet less successfully.
The look Helga gave him was full of ice and barely contained rage. And even now, in this dire moment, Arnold found her both ferocious and beautiful. He licked his dry, chapped lips and decided to risk everything on the truth.
"I was… trying to paint you." He admitted.
Helga snorted and looked away, "You're a terrible liar."
"No wait, I'll prove it."
Arnold shuffled away from her to the spot he had been hiding in. He fished his sketch book out of the snow where he had dropped it, relieved that the snow hadn't ruined any of his work. He turned back around only to see that Helga had followed him off the ice, almost completely silent on her skates. Some of the ferocity had left her expression, but she still looked pretty darn intimidating. Arnold took a second to quell his pounding heart before showing her the pages where he tried capturing her beauty. Helga all but snatched the sketchbook from him and started thumbing through the pages herself. The anger faded from her face, replaced first by disbelief and then by awe.
"See?" Arnold started gently, "I came out here to paint a winter-scape when I stumbled across this place and saw you skating. I swear I was going to leave but…"
He trailed off feeling nervous and heat crept up his neck. Helga's eyes lifted from the book and landed on his face. Her blue eyes glittered, making Arnold's heart jump not for the first time that day.
"And?" She prompted.
"And…" Arnold took a breath and looked her in the eyes, "And I found you the most beautiful thing- woman- I had ever seen and I wanted to paint you. So I could look at you forever. You… inspire me."
Helga's jaw dropped and for a moment Arnold was afraid that the last statement was a little too mushy. She turned away, blushing brightly and Arnold found himself staring at his shoes. A moment of awkward silence passed before Helga cleared her throat.
"Well, um, who am I to deny an artist their muse?"
Arnold looked back at her, feeling something warm blossom in his chest. Helga was looking at him with a soft expression, while her lips quirked up in a slightly teasing smile. She handed back his sketchbook, brushing her fingers against his. Even through the thick padding of their gloves, he could have sworn he felt a spark jump between their fingers.
"So… can I continue?" He smiled sheepishly.
"I dunno," Helga's teasing smiling remained as she effortlessly slid back onto the ice, "can you."
Arnold's smile stretched into a grin as he took that as a yes. He hurried over to his supplies moved to a better spot to paint. Helga waited patiently as he set up his easel, gathered his brushes and water, and squirted paint onto his palette. He would need to work in small starts because of the temperature, but he didn't mind coming back again and again until it was done.
"Hey Picasso," Helga called out, "any specific pose you prefer."
"Anything you do is perfect." Arnold called back sincerely, "I'm ready when you are."
The light blush remained on Helga's cheeks as she nodded and began to skate. Arnold took a moment to just enjoy watching her before making the first strokes. This time, the silence that stretched between them was comfortable.
"Hey Helga," Arnold called after a while.
"Yeah?"
"About Christmas Eve," He took a moment to gather his courage, "do you think we can make it a… date?"
Helga gave rewarded him with a coy smile, "Do you have a cute football shaped head?"