Chronology for renegade-452
Arnold x Helga x Elevator
A/N: Let it officially be known that I started with the elevator part (and the very best of intentions of sticking to the prompt) and somehow it ended up like this? It hardly even fits the prompt anymore (shame on me) but... I like it so... too bad ;)
On the twenty second day in March, at precisely four thirty five in the morning, Helga Pataki kissed Arnold Shortman. He found her on a rooftop, standing by a voice-box and demanded she explain her involvement in his mission to save their neighbourhood. She paced in her large brown trench coat, recounting her love, detailing her adoration and confessing to years of stalking. She talked about poetry and shrines, and backed him up into an empty corner. He was shocked, bewildered, amazed, confused, and all other relevant synonyms of absolute surprise.
On the first day of April, from the minutes between six seventeen and six twenty two in the evening, Helga Pataki did not kiss Arnold Shortman. She rested her weight heavily in his arms, and exaggerated her blindness ruse to the very limits of its reality. He spun her three times, dipped her once and exchanged pointed words over their situation. She attempted to make him the King of Fools, and he attempted rather successfully to beat her at her own game. She did not speak to him for a week afterward. He couldn't quite discern why that bothered him so very much.
On the tenth day of September, spanning from eight fifteen on Monday morning to seven forty six on Thursday night, Helga Pataki did not kiss Arnold Shortman. She muttered blatant curse words underneath her breath at being assigned his partner for their first partner project of the fifth grade. He asked, with as much friendly determination as possible, if she might like to work on it at his hours after school. She successfully shattered the thick glass of the Boarding House biosphere by combining two chemicals that he clearly advised she not mix. They swiftly moved their basis of operation to her house, although she would let him nowhere near her bedroom. She was unusually quiet, and their work was completed in record time. He mentioned to her, very happily, that they had worked rather well together and in response she promptly pushed him out the door.
On the second day of October, at approximately ten fifty eight in the morning and onward, Helga Pataki did not kiss Arnold Shortman. She sneered a weak remark about the size of his oddly shaped head, and its ability to navigate through doorways, as she hopped into the elevator with him at Hillwood Mall. He was surprised, but not unpleasantly so, to run into her there as shopping never seemed like her thing. She was halfway through cursing her sister for dragging her to the complex in the first place when the compartment jumped suddenly and all movement stopped. He firmly pressed the 'emergency' button whilst she flew around in a senseless panic about the tragedy of dying young. He laughed each and every time she called him Football Head, calmed her down when she frantically re-pushed the emergency button over and over again and listened patiently whilst she expressed her dismay at the response time of the elevator technicians. She exhausted herself enough to fall asleep ten minutes before they were 'rescued' and he found himself wondering if she was always so... interesting to live with.
On the twenty fourth day of December, at sometime not long before five in the afternoon, Helga Pataki did not kiss Arnold Shortman. She hurried down the sidewalk with great purpose, her oncoming image nothing but a blur of pink before she slammed into him and sent them sprawling onto the concrete path. He, as usual, extended his hand to her in a silent offer to aid her onto her feet and, surprisingly, she accepted the gesture. She was almost entirely to her feet once more when his preoccupation with the warmth of her glove-less hands in his caused him to stop pulling against her weight. She spluttered a little as they both crashed to the ground once more, this time with him toppling directly on top of her and effectively knocking the air from her lungs. He stared at her until she growled lowly and demanded he get the heck off of her, or else she would remove his intestines the old fashioned way. He apologised while brushing snow from his jacket, and she frowned before walking away without another word. He noticed she hadn't once during their entire exchange, called him Football Head, and it made him horribly anxious.
On the second day of February, at exactly one fifteen during lunch, Helga Pataki did not kiss Arnold Shortman. She lifted the very last of the tapioca puddings into the palm of her hand, and stared at it thoughtfully before turning to face him. He failed to disguise his shock when she casually inquired if he would like to have it, but said yes nonetheless. She shrugged and dropped it onto his lunch tray, very nonchalantly informing him that she hadn't truly wanted it much anyhow. He, for reasons beyond his more conscious understanding, thanked her by pulling her into a tight hug. She wriggled away, glared and told him never to do anything like that again. He briefly wondered if kissing her would be considered as 'anything like that', but brushed the thought away as soon as it surfaced.
On the eighteenth day of April, at possibly three thirty or just after, Helga Pataki did not kiss Arnold Shortman. She had clearly noted the familiarity of the situation they had found themselves in and looked seriously displeased to have been caught once more, but she also appeared better prepared. He had traced a long line of bribery, lies and cheap threats ensuring his victory in an essay writing competition, directly back to her and he had to ask her why. She let him back her into the corner this time, her lanky body squished between two walls of lockers, and he demanded she explain herself. He was absolutely certain, by the time the second pathetic excuse was tumbling from her lips, that if he pushed her far enough, this discussion might just end up a little like the FTI rooftop. She insisted, rather vehemently, that she simply liked the jungle, and wished to see it for herself. He informed her that he honestly did not believe that, and so she simply shrugged, and walked away. He spent the lead up to the trip thinking far too much about why she didn't react to his interrogation like last time, rather than the possibility of finding his parents.
On the twelfth of June, at the moment of five twenty one in the morning, Arnold Shortman wondered why Helga Pataki hadn't kissed him since FTI. He warmed his hands over the flames of the small campfire and let his eyes wander over the dense jungle terrain surrounding him. He concurred, with rational deduction and sharp memory, that she had perfect opportunity to make contact with his lips on at least six occasions during the fourteen months prior. He frowned darkly at how incredibly frustrated she was making him, causing him to question why she hadn't taken her chance at any of those moments. He wondered, too, if it meant she had no intention of ever kissing him again. And, just like he had each and every one of those six times she walked away, the thought of not kissing her made him very unhappy, and incredibly disappointed.
On the fourteenth of June, at precisely nine fifty nine in the darkness of night, Arnold Shortman kissed Helga Pataki. She shuddered violently, huddling herself closer to him underneath the tropical foliage, as torrential rain fell around them. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder go pull her against him and she looked up at him in pure surprise. She was shaking the moment his face moved toward hers and somebody made a strange noise, but he couldn't be sure who. He held her tight, pressed their lips together and hoped he was half as decent at the whole kissing thing as she had been. She relaxed against him as though she were melting into a puddle, so he figured he hadn't done too badly. He decided, almost immediately, that he never wanted to let her go another day without making sure she kissed him.
And so (excluding a period of nine hundred and eighty four days where he lived in an entirely different country and couldn't really help it) he never did.
A/N #2: So, by this timeline here TJM happens the summer between fifth and sxith grade, which I know isn't technically correct. However, it worked out best for this story that way and June 14th is my birthday so it makes me smile. :)