"Fuck this." Gerald threw the Xbox controller down and stood up off the sofa. "I'm sick of this. Get dressed, we're going out." On screen, his car careened off the track, hit the barrier and went spinning down the shoulder.

Arnold baulked. "What?" He asked dumbly.

Gerald sighed. "You heard me. Get up. I'm fucking sick of you moping around, all depressed and crap because you have no life… well, fuck that. Get up. We're going back to the Tar Whistle."

"Gerald… I… I don't…"

"LOOK." Gerald barked. "There's a little redhead girl there who's cute as a motherfucking button, and for some unknown reason, seems to think you're alright. You're going to go flirt with her. End of story."

"I can't…"

"Yes you can. Get up."

"But…"

"Get up."

"I just…"

"Get up." Gerald glared at him. "Get up, get up, get up."

Arnold just sat there, staring. Where had this come from? It had been months since that night… he hadn't been back to the bar since then… that said, he hadn't been anywhere but work and the hospital since then…

"OK, you might have a point."

"Good. Get up."

He sighed, grabbed his crutches from where they leaned against the arm of the couch. "Could we maybe go somewhere else? I don't know if…"

"No. I've seen Helga like, five times since then, and every time, she just asks about you. Fuck knows why… but you're going to go talk to her. Now get up."

… … …

She wasn't on the stage when they got there. A guy-n-gal hippy duo were strumming their guitars and singing in high voices… Helga's set must have already been over.

The place was more crowded than it had been the first time Arnold was there. People milled around the stage, the bar… all of the tables were full.

Arnold followed gingerly behind Gerald, watching carefully to make sure he didn't fall over. My first time out of the house without the cane… A little part of him was proud… a large part of him was nervous.

He was so engrossed in making sure he didn't face-plant that he didn't register what was going on until he heard Gerald's voice.

"Pataki!" He crowed. Arnold looked up to see Helga in his arms, smiling.

"Good evening, Gerald." She grinning, squirming out of his hug. "You missed an awesome Lionel Ritchie rendition."

He laughed. "Of course I did… I always miss the best ones. You remember my friend, Arnold?"

And he was caught. She was right there, smiling at him. "I'm not sure… was he at the Joneses lake house last summer?" She asked, her eyes twinkling.

Arnold's tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, he desperately scrambled for something to say.

"Hi, Arnold." She grinned, and before he knew it, her arms were around his neck. For just a moment, she was pressed against his chest, his hand was on her back, he could smell her.

It never failed to amaze him, how good girls could smell.

He swayed when she pulled away, he clutched at her arm. "Wait." He gasped softly.

Her eyes widened, worried… "Sorry." He could feel his cheeks burning. He took a second to make sure he wasn't about to tumble over. "I, uh, wasn't quite balanced." He let go of her… he couldn't quite meet her gaze. Smooth. Very smooth… Jesus.

"No cane huh? Very impressive, Shortman." She smiled. "Your brunette's here." She said, turning to Gerald. "I saw her over by the stage a few minutes ago… alone."

Gerald let out a low whistle. "Gimme a sec, I gotta get a drink. You want anything?"

"No thanks." Helga held up a half-full glass.

"Same as last time?" He asked Arnold.

"Yeah, thanks." Nerves were twisting his stomach into a ball. Gerald was just gonna waltz off? He should have known.

Helga smiled, nudged Arnold with her elbow. "How do your pins cope with stairs?"

"Uh… OK. I mean, I can climb a flight or two, but I'm no Rocky… why?"

"I was gonna go up to the VIP room, it's quieter there. You wanna come?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "VIP room?"

She laughed. "It's a joke. There's a weird little room upstairs that we've just started using. It gets too hectic down here."

"You don't have to do your hostess rounds?"

She shrugged. "Already done."

He shifted, uncomfortable. He didn't really know what to say. He worried that she felt like she had to babysit him… He worried that she might come on to him again, and that he'd have to say no again… but then he also worried that she wouldn't.

She sighed. "C'mon… come keep me company while I sit in a cupboard. I hate it down here."

"Well, how can I say no to that?"

"That's the spirit." She smiled, doing that thing where she looked at him from beneath her eyelashes. Jesus.

…

"No, seriously… it was huge!" Arnold held his hands apart, grinning. "It was just the worst timing. You should have seen the guys face when he realised what was going on!" Helga's hand was over her mouth, her eyes crinkling in mirth as he told her the story. "I don't think I've ever seen Rhonda so angry… she actually thought he was telling her to… to…."

She waved a hand at him. "I get the picture. Don't get all Lady Chatterley on me." She grinned, her knees drawn up to her chin as she sat opposite Arnold. The VIP room really was just a large closet with a few chairs, a window, and a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. It was kinda nice though. A few people had come and gone, but Helga and Arnold had claimed the best chairs, and had been sitting together for the better part of two hours.

Helga had slipped off her shoes, her bare feet were on the seat. He kept finding himself looking at them, unable to look at her face. Her toenails had been painted, but most of it had chipped off, just leaving a few flakes of purple behind.

"So…" She leaned forward, her chin cupped in her hand. "… managed to work on your artists block at all?"

He shook his head. "Not in the slightest. You?"

"Yeah, actually. Got another chapter under my belt. I've been pretty busy with work though, so I haven't been able to work on it as much as I'd like."

"That's great!" He took a swig of his beer… his fourth beer… he was feeling it this time.

"Well, I have you to thank for the inspiration!" She beamed. "You're a lifesaver, with your nerdy planet knowledge."

He didn't know what to say… So apparently blurting out an apology was the best course of action. "About… about last time…" He stammered, "I'm sorry… you know… I didn't mean to…"

She just smiled. "Sorry, Arnold… I don't mean to interrupt, but it's fine. You don't have to explain yourself. I'm sorry for, uh, coming on so strong. If you're not interested, you're not interested. I should have taken the hint the first time you said no."

She took a long sip of her drink, her eyes focussing past his shoulder, a blush creeping up her neck. She was uncomfortable… or was she upset? He couldn't tell anymore, he'd lost his ability to read people.

"ButI was interested!" he blurted. "That's what I'm trying to say… I mean… I didn't want to make you feel bad or anything, or like you did the wrong thing." He sighed. "I… just wasn't ready… with my leg and everything…" he trailed off.

She nodded, slowly. "I suppose I can understand that. I don't know how I'd feel about showing other people my body if it had changed so dramatically and I hadn't gotten used to it yet."

Arnold was shocked into silence. She actually sounded like she understood. She didn't look at him like he was being stupid or vain… It was the very first time that he hadn't felt judged for not being the plucky, brave kid who faced adversity with a hearty laugh.

She looked at him… waiting for him to say something. Smiling when he just stared at her. "Look, Arnold. I don't care about your leg. I asked you to my place because we got along and you're hot. I wasn't planning on screwing you… nor had I ruled it out. It was just a suggestion, you didn't break my heart and I don't hate you." She grinned. "You don't have to worry about it, OK?"

"OK…" He parroted. He didn't know he felt about that… but then, he didn't know how he felt about anything anymore.

"Feel free not to answer this…" she said softly "but… have you been with anyone… since…" She waved a hand at his legs.

He shook his head.

"Shit." She sighed. "That sucks."

He laughed. "You're telling me!" His smiled died quickly. "It's not like I don't want to… I mean… I'm, uh, I'm not paralysed or anything." He smiled ruefully. "Since I was sponge bathed in hospital, you're the closet I've come to having… uh… relations with a woman."

Helga giggled. "Sponge baths, huh?" She raised an eyebrow. "Did they, you know… give you a happy ending?" Her grin was cheeky.

He groaned, laughing despite himself. "No, they're all very professional. I'm just glad I was on such strong painkillers… I was too doped up to, uh, embarrass myself… thankfully."

She laughed. "Oh dear… you poor thing." She sighed, smiled.

He shrugged. "There are things I miss more than just fucking though." He found himself saying. She said nothing, just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. "I dunno… I mean… I just kinda miss contact, you know?"

"Just… cuddles?" She asked, her face falling, her eyes full of sympathy.

He nodded, feeling suddenly stupid. "Sorry… didn't mean to get so… share-y." he smiled weakly at her.

She stood up. "Shift over." She murmured. He moved, pressing his bad leg against the arm of the armchair. Oh god… is she really going to…

She climbed on top of him, nestled herself into him so that her bum was basically on the seat, but her thighs were over his, her calves pressed against his fake knee.

"Helga… I… uh…" He stammered, anxious… bordering on terrified.

"You comfy?" she asked. He nodded. "Then shut up." She murmured, and put her arms around him. She lay her head on his shoulder and sighed. "You smell good." She whispered.

"Likewise." He rasped. He didn't know what to do with his hands. They just sort of lay all useless on the arms of the chair. He could feel himself stirring. He hadn't been this close to a girl in forever. Let alone a girl I actually like. He caught himself… Oh god. He liked her. He genuinely liked Helga Pataki. Shit.

"You can cuddle me back, you know." She whispered, wiggling a little, pressing herself closer.

Tentatively, he brought his hands up. One ran up her leg, lightly held on to her thigh, just above her knee…. The other curled around her back, found her ribs. She murmured - a sweet, heart-melting little noise – and relaxed against him.

His heart was thundering in his chest. He wanted to relax, he wanted to slouch down into the chair, pull her to him and curl up with her… but he was wound up too tight. He was too nervous. He was so sexually frustrated, so touch deprived, that instead of being able to enjoy the moment for what it was, he was just paranoid he'd ruin it somehow.

As if she could read his mind, Helga shifted. "Are you OK with this?" she asked softly. He nodded. Her mouth curled up into a smile, "Relax, then… I'm not going to bite you."

"It's… It's just been…" The words stuck in his throat. Her face softened.

"What are you afraid of?" Straight to the point.

He shrugged. "That I'll do something to piss you off."

She chuckled. "I'll make you a promise. As long as you're not actively a dick to me, I'll give you cuddles for as long as you want them, OK?"

"OK."

She put her head back on his shoulder.

…

"Helga?"

"Yeah?"

"You smell really good."