Thank you for the lovely reviews! I do hope you all enjoy and continue reviewing. :)
And as mentioned before I did write the lyrics in this because although it would've been super easy to just use an existing song like a songfic, I wanted people to read this and fully immerse that these characters are coming up with the music themselves. Are they the best songs ever? Nope but I am proud of it. :)
Enjoy and Review please. :)
"Talking"
Thoughts
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE CHARACTERS OF HEY ARNOLD THEY BELONG TO CRAIG BARTLETT. HOWEVER THE LYRICS WRITTEN ARE MY ORIGINAL CREATION ALONG WITH THE PLOT IDEAS. DON'T STEAL. THANKS.
Arnold may not have fully understood why talking to Helga made him calmer that night. But the change that had occurred in his best friend Gerald was apparent.
After returning from the jungle, Gerald and Phoebe had become inseparable. They seemed to understand how these things worked better than the pair of blondes. They made it look easy and straightforward.
The few months that Arnold and Helga spent fumbling quickly turned into a little over a year.
And their best friends finally had enough of their still typical forth grade type antics.
One day, towards the end of seventh grade, they locked them in the janitor's closet at school. Set to keep guard until they got themselves straightened out already.
The sensation of Gerald's rough shove was the last thing Arnold remembered before being thrust into a darkish room. A faint light came from the door cracks. He stumbled slightly and reached for something to brace himself against.
As fate would have it, a soft and squishy object collided with his palm. A feminine squeak stole all rational sensibilities from the boy.
He felt frozen. His hand stuck on target and still clutched to that rounded, soft form. He heard a low sigh from his companion.
It didn't take him long to figure out exactly who he was trapped with.
Didn't have time to wonder how exactly they captured her— of all people.
He felt his heart practically leap in his throat at the realization that he was effectively squeezing her breast. It's not like he minded. In fact, lately he'd been wanting to touch her, hug her, anything to satisfy his curiosity for her, but getting close to her was like playing with a bear trap.
Sometimes it went off and you missed the snap.
And sometimes you lost a leg.
Suddenly, his brain caught up to actions. Ready to send a code red, ready to wrench his hand from this awkward random position he'd found himself in—
His companion's hand locked onto his, keeping him in place. His eyes darted upward to stare at the faint outline of a face before him.
"So, are—are you going to stand that far away?" Helga said, her voice a mix between nervousness and desire.
He swallowed hard and took the few steps he needed to be a space in front of her. Their hands still tied together in place. The rest of his body stiff and trying to ignore the warmth she was put off. The sudden influx of heat that threatened to char him to pieces.
She let out a chuckle, "Quite the octopus grip ya got there, Bucko."
"S-sorry, I wasn't trying—" He sputtered out, his hand still ready to flail away from her.
She placed a finger over his lips, "Stop."
The simple word made him freeze. He breathed in quietly. A small sigh left her.
"They're right you know. We keep dancing around the issue. I thought you liked me." her voice sounded pained, like he'd run off with her heart with the promise to return it.
"I-I do." he said weakly, "I just. I don't know what you want me to do?"
Only he'd never managed to come back with it.
"Well, make it official for one. Sheesh. Isn't that obvious?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry." he said sorely, his free hand running through his hair, "I just know you'd kept this a secret so long, and you seem nervous every time I get close to you. I guess it was making me nervous too."
She let out a bitter laugh, "I'm sorry. I want you to touch me. Actually, a lot."
Even in the dark of the room, he knew she had to be burning red.
"We're pretty dumb, I guess." he offered with a chuckle of his own.
She let out a hiss, "I think. We got in our own heads a bit."
"Maybe." His hand finally found the courage to move faintly against her chest.
A new kind of silence coated the room.
Neither knew what to say at that point as he drew closer to her still. It was her turn to freeze in place. A soft breath left her as he stole her lips in a chaste kiss. His hand rubbed against her gently. She let out another content sigh. She'd expected him to fumble around or squeeze her too roughly again until he got the hang of things.
But that boy was a natural.
Or maybe she was biased because he was the only one she wanted touching her anyway.
She kissed him back a little rougher than she intended, suddenly electrified by his confident touch. A flurry of groans arouse from him. Caught off guard by her sudden possessive participation, he fumbled a little backwards. Their kiss broke and hands grasped air before he steadied himself.
"Maybe, we do this later." he chuckled nervously, still not sure if she'd kill him for backing off as suddenly as he'd come on, "They're all outside the door—"
"Oh, right." she managed to squeak out realizing he was probably right.
The pair of them smoothed down their clothes and played nervously at their mussed hair. He offered his hand to hers as he had before and she took it quickly. Her other hand quick to bang on the janitor door.
"We're cured. Now let us out, morons!"
And on the right path they finally went.
From that day on, the two of them became inseparable. Practically one entity- that many of their classmates took to saying their names in one breath. The pair dating seemed a little weird to some at first, but their sudden synchronization made it evident that they were a great pair after all.
And soon they became the envy of other couples.
They had only broken up once in eighth grade for a grand total of a week before they decided being apart just wasn't worth whatever they had broken up over in the first place.
They couldn't even remember now.
Kissing made them forget all that.
Towards the very end of ninth grade, Arnold and Gerald started to delve deep into their love of jazz music.
Sure they had played together a few times before, and both had great singing voices, but neither had strongly considered doing anything with those talents before—
Until Helga and Phoebe suggested they perform something for the upcoming talent show at school. The talent show would be in May right before classes broke for the summer.
The girls handed them a paper and wore matching looks of encouragement. The boys glanced towards one another before looking back at their girlfriends. The group now shared a grin.
Of course, it would've been simple, easy even, to just pick one of their favorite Dino Spumoni songs and call it good.
But with Arnold, nothing could ever be that simple.
Gerald had bickered with him about it because they had less than a week to practice and then perform it in front of the school.
Now was not the time to get fancy with the sauce— as it were.
Stubbornly, Arnold dug in his heels about it. Determined to compose some music and write a song in a day or two.
He always was such an optimist.
The musical composition came easily to him. The piano chords just flew onto the page. The tune was an easy jive, melodic and like a songbird in the morning.
He just needed the words to compliment the tune.
Words had always come easy to him-talked his way out of way too many tricky situations-bargained the way for others to find a better path-
Yet, as he lay in his room with a pile of crumpled paper, he was starting to wonder how the heck Helga could write poetry for days on end and fill books no less.
These kinds of words were a little harder to come by he figured.
Just like talking to her sometimes...he figured.
His hands tight on his phone as he stared at the screen. He swallowed his nerves and pushed the call button next to Helga's name. The phone rang barely once before he was met with her voice.
"What's up, Football Head?" She sounded busy, distracted even.
He pulled at his collar, a nervous grin on his face, but he knew not to dawdle when she sounded like that.
That was practically a death wish in and of itself.
"Hey, I know you're probably busy, but I'm trying to write this song for the talent show and it's just not coming together. Help me?"
"You mean the talent show that's in like four days? The one Geraldo told you to just pick something already made for?" her words snarky, self righteous, as she'd been mirroring the same argument as his best friend.
"Yes, yes, please Helga? I'll make it worth your time." He said with a touch of remorse, before letting his voice lower into that silky octave she adored.
There was a silent moment on the other end before a reluctant hiss left her, "You talked me into it."
While he waited for her to show up, he continued scribbling down any other song ideas he could think of. Every idea that encapsulated jazz to him seemed like a dead end. Every single concept he thought they could sing about seemed to fall flat. It didn't match the music.
It had to match the music.
If they couldn't get it right today, then he'd apologize to Gerald and pick something else.
Still should probably apologize to Gerald. But that was a matter for another day.
A knock on his door drew his attention. He sprinted to open the door and let Helga walk inside. Grandpa threw a greeting over his shoulder as he descended the stairs again. The door shut with a quiet echo.
His gaze half lidded at her appearance. She looked ready to get down to business, but he seemed distracted now. He put a warm hand on her shoulder, and rubbed against her exposed skin.
Since school was nearly done and summer fast approaching it'd been hotter than usual. She'd taken to wearing tank tops. He knew it was for her comfort, that much was obvious, but it still stoked that dangerous fire that always seemed to be brewing around them.
She shivered at his more forward touch, the fact that he was slightly taller than her, now more apparent, "D-don't we have some music to write, Hair Boy?"
"Just wanted to say thanks-for helping me last minute." he said lowly, his forehead pressed against hers.
His sudden contact made her take a step back. The cool door now pressed against her.
"No problem, but—" She felt herself trembling a little under his direct stance.
"But what?" his voice playful as he started kissing her, while his hands gripped her shoulders tenderly in place.
A dove-like sigh left her while she tugged at his shirt, drawing him suction cup tight against her.
Kissing Arnold was like drinking from a cool mountain spring. Refreshing, moist, with a faint tingle on her lips at the taste of spearmint that always lingered there.
A spring she wanted to drown in.
His lips rubbed hers quickly like a bubbling brook, but then slowed down to absorb more and more of her mouth into his with soft tongue flicks, like waves lapped on a shore. Occasionally, his teeth grazed her lips as if he didn't already have enough of her.
He always managed to balance between possessive and gentle. His hands ran down her sides as he pushed her firmer against the door.
Sometimes when they kissed she'd sneak a look and catch him staring. A dreamy expression as he watched her reaction to whatever he was doing. She could never look long as it made her nerves electric.
And those hands of his. They always seemed to know exactly where to touch her. How to hold her and make her feel safe, but also on fire. Like everywhere he touched was setting off a volcano in his wake, and only his refreshing kisses could calm the flames. She felt him tug at her hips as though trying to lead her away from the potentially noisy door.
She followed him for a second before her hand firmly pressed against his chest. He blinked down at her, his haze slowly breaking.
"This is flattering and all, but songwriting takes time." she seemed out of breath, face flushed and like she didn't really want to stop.
His hands distanced themselves from her with a nervous chuckle in his throat.
It was so unlike him.
She'd been driving the pace since they'd been shoved in that janitor's closet all that time ago. She'd pushed them so far and hard already, it was getting challenging to tap the brakes. Sure it'd been mainly making out, kissing every exposed inch of her, and touching her clothed body all over, but it was always so overwhelming.
It made it seem like more.
And much to her usual chagrin he'd tap the brakes for them. He hated that he had to be 'the bad guy', but he knew she might regret it if they moved too fast, too soon.
But lately, he'd started to have stronger and stronger urges towards her. Like they were going to go careening off a cliff face at any moment. That drive to do more and more with her stole his resolve piece by piece.
And he knew it was only a matter of time before she pushed that envelope again with something new.
He wanted all of those things to happen when it was the right time. Deep down he knew he wanted it to be special and that she might be adverse to admit that she wanted it that way too.
"Hey, focus, Buster— I didn't come out here to watch you daydream." Her voice called him back to the present.
She sat at his desk waiting for him to come over. The stack of crumpled papers nearby. He crossed the room to lean on the desk. Far away from her skin lest those thoughts return and send him into a hazy reverie once more.
"Let's see what you have so far." she said cycling through the papers and reading his words with a scrutinizing quickness, "You don't have a theme."
"Well, that's the problem. I don't know what to write about specifically. You make it look so easy." his voice was both sore and amused.
She snorted, "You're totally hopeless. What are most songs about, Football Head?"
His brows knit together, lips pursed, "Well, lots of things. Fun things, family, new stuff, and heartbreak, I guess?"
"Love, Dodo Brain. Most songs are about love." her voice sharp and expression serious as though he had affronted her.
He waved her down, "Right, right. Sorry, when I think about you, all I hear is this beautiful music and well— words are hard then."
He's such a dork...She blushed and covered her chuckle, "It's seventh grade all over again."
"Well, what should we write then?" he said impatiently, Please don't bring that awkward time frame up again...
"I'm getting to that. Let me hear the music you've written." she motioned towards his keyboard piano.
He jumped at her instruction. He pulled a seat up to the keyboard and hastily threw the sheet music on the stand.
He cracked his knuckles and glanced at her, "It'll sound a little different on a real piano, but here's what I got."
His fingers deftly moved along the piano keys. The motions he created were smooth and focused. He knew exactly what he was doing much like when he touched her. Playing music and making his girl sing were almost one and the same to him.
After he finished his jaunty little tune, he grinned at her awaiting her praise and scorn. He expected both as that was usually the way she operated. She bit her lip, arms folded in contemplation as she thought of what she wanted to say.
"So?" he prodded when she'd been silent a little too long for his taste.
"It's great. Love it. But we'll need to adjust the chorus, I think."
"What's wrong with the chorus?" a flicker of annoyance on his face.
"It'll make sense in a minute." she waved him back to her side.
The pair of them leaned over his desk once more. With a blistering fast speed, words started to explode from her pen. He watched with awe as the lyrics seemed to come to her naturally or maybe some alien force was whispering it into her ear.
At the thought, he felt the sudden urge to whisper in her ear as well. Touch her back, something, anything— as his desire for contact started to grow.
But he knew that would break her flow.
And they really needed to get it done tonight if they wanted a chance.
She raised up the paper with a look of triumph. Scanning the words, he felt his lips quirk into a smile too. The title drew his attention.
"My Only Songbird, huh?" He elbowed her playfully, "Maybe I should start calling you Songbird."
"Psh, do I look or sound like a wimpy bird to you?"
He stroked his chin, gaze narrow as he looked her over, "More like a dog, maybe?"
"Guess again." She flicked his forehead.
"A cat then. Graceful, crafty, and secretly dangerous. You never know when those claws might come out." He pretended to hiss and claw her shoulder with his knuckles.
She let out an amused laugh, "Right, that'll work. Call me Cat."
"But you're also sensitive, very cute and love to cuddle," His lips curling into the most amused smirk, "So maybe, more like Kitten would work better?"
"You got a death wish, Tomcat?"
"What?! Boy cats are annoying." He frowned.
"Yeah, they talk too much at all the wrong times, take claim over things that aren't theirs, and are very protective over the ones they love." Her smirk turned bashful, "Sounds like you to me."
It was his turn to laugh. All of those traits did seem to describe him to a T.
"Unless you'd rather be a Dog—you do slobber a lot and get excited about everything."
"Hey!" He snorted before giving her neck a playful lick.
She jerked out of his reach, "Stop! We're still writing, geez."
"Right, right. You want me to sing it then?"
At her wave, he took the paper into his hands. Crossing back to his piano, he put the lyrics next to the score. Bouncing his leg, he took another second to read.
He took a few attempts to play the score, and tried to say the new words with it. Fumbling here and there, but finally he managed to sing the first lyrics along with his score, albeit slower. His voice low and sultry like it usually was.
"You sound like a songbird injured by a cat." She folded her arms.
He shot her a warning look, "You usually love my voice—"
"I do. It's just not right for this song."
"You're such an expert now? It's my score." His gaze narrowed as he turned to look at her.
"I'm just saying. It's supposed to be happy, merry— his first love! Make it exciting and light!" She waved her arms wildly with a frown, "Criminy, do I have to explain everything to you?"
"Fine. I'll try again, but if you don't like it then—"
"I know, I know, I'll give you an example. But don't botch it on purpose, Bucko." She pointed at him, keeping her arms firmly crossed.
"I would never." His voice was challenging.
He tried to sing as she suggested, but his voice cracked a little. Puberty had not been kind on that front. That's why he preferred to sing lower.
His voice wavered between pitches until he found one he liked in the middle and tried to keep his voice light. A heavy sigh from her broke his flow.
She crossed the room and sat on the bench next to him. A slight tremble in her body as she tried to ignore his warmth. Her fingers gripped the bench as if to anchor herself.
"I'm only doing this once. So listen up, Hair Boy." Her voice tart, blush evident.
He'd learned a long time ago that she could actually sing when she wanted to—
It had been an accident.
She had been alone in one of the art rooms after school. Club had already left and she was alone cleaning up her mess.
He figured she forgot he was coming to walk her home. He walked into the room ready to speak before her voice reached his ears.
The words fell back down his throat. Mouth suddenly dry at the melodic sounds she was making. Totally lost in her own world, singing in front of the sink basin.
Her hair tied back while she wore a smock that was way too messy to be considered helpful. He'd never heard such beautiful music before. Even the music in his head about her, paled in comparison.
Of course, he was probably biased.
He ducked back out of the room quickly, knowing that the minute she saw him she'd probably screech or smack him for startling her.
He had been pretty good about hiding himself as she took her time. But as a dreamy haze took over, he started to lean further and further into the door frame.
She turned and suddenly the music stopped.
He'd never seen her so red.
"How long have you been standing there?!" Her voice shrill, hand over heart.
"Helga, your voice is gorgeous! I had no idea you could sing like that!" He galloped to her side, and clasped her hands.
Petrified in his grasp, both flustered and flattered at the same time. Mouth gaping like a fish until he decided kissing her was the best way to calm her down.
Promptly it brought her back to Earth. Her hair wasn't standing on end anymore. He broke apart from her with a dreamy expression brandished into his face.
"You breathe a word of this and—" her finger stopped mid jab.
"I know, I know, you'll cut my tongue out. Let's just go." He reiterated in a snippy tone, "You know one day, I'm going to get you to embrace this side of you. It's who you are Helga. And everyone should see how beautiful you truly are— not just me."
She almost fainted at his declaration. Heart thundered out of control, as she tugged him possessively back to her lips. Drowning him in kisses.
She had told him that she was only 'decent' because of the singing lessons Bob insisted she take.
Had to be the best at everything after all.
And she'd deny the day he found her 'til she died.
No one was supposed to hear that side of her—
Least of all him.
It has been a few years since he heard her sing. But he knew it would be beautiful, maybe even more so with maturity.
It took her a second. Gnawing her lip, clearing her throat, fiddling with her hair— anything to delay the inevitable. His hand covered hers softly, shaking her from the nervous stupor.
She glanced at him with her blue eyes gleaming in the fading sunlight. His gaze burned with an expectant green flame.
She let out another breath before she started to sing what she wrote. She started low and slow before it turned brighter and airy.
Early in the morning, just before the sun,
The only songbird I want to hear,
Is you hon.
Like something you'd wake up to in the morning and sing to get you through the rest of the day. As she sang, he slowly joined in by playing his keyboard.
I've given up trying to contrive,
The way that you are,
How a gal like you can play me like a ritzy piano jive!
She sounded even more beautiful than before, but he figured it was because he didn't know how much he missed the sound of her singing.
The way you tweet,
And every time you swing,
To me, It just sounds so sweet.
The two watched each other as the music they made together swelled. Foolish grins on their faces that this crazy plan might just work out after all.
Even when you drive me cuckoo,
Or call me names,
It just ain't the same without me and you!
It was only their first run through and somehow it already sounded great together.
Like it was meant to be this way.
"I like it your way. It sounds really good already." he was practically beaming, "You're so amazing, Helga."
He couldn't help himself. Restraint on that dam broke hours ago. He tugged her into a needy kiss. She moaned into his mouth at his insistence they finish what they started when she got here. The grip on her arm was so deliberate and hungry.
The two practically stumbled over the bench to meet each other. Their bodies magnetized together as they fell onto his couch.
And for once she fell first—
A startled gasp left her at the sudden change in dynamic.
The soft cushion pushed into her back as he pressed into her. Another heavy breath left her as he claimed her lips. She felt small under him. There was no denying he was growing up anymore.
It may have been small and little cramped for the two, but they didn't mind right now. Pressing as close to each other as possible seemed to be the only thought that permeated their minds. Another breathy gasp left her as he broke their kiss apart.
His lips intent on moving down her neck. Her hands thick in his hair as she urged him onward while her legs twitched in anticipation.
His mouth wandered, kissing every inch of her neck pausing only to suck or nip at the more tender areas. The small sounds on her lips only made the volcano rage hotter.
He used one arm to keep some of his weight off of her while his other hand ran up her side and started to massage her breast. It caused another expressive moan from her.
His kisses haphazardly going all over her neck at the sudden admission. His mouth finally decided to linger on the swoop of her tank top. Playfully tugging at the fabric while his tongue darted under the pocket he created.
She pushed his face lower as though directing him. His tongue followed her instructions briefly by trailing lower. He stopped suddenly when he realized exactly how close he was to that area he'd only touched, but had never actually seen. A nervous tremor brought him back from the edge.
He glanced at her, his mouth retracting his claim to her.
"Hey, do you..." she trailed off.
Leaning up on her elbows, their faces still inches from each other. Her gaze hazy as though she decided something for them once again.
"Help me." her voice sultry as she directed his hands to tug off her shirt.
"You sure?" his voice half murmur, half groan at the notion of it, I can't believe she wants to do this now...
She started trying to tug impatiently at her clothing, but felt stuck in his cage. He chuckled at her defiance and leaned up to help her discard the clothing. His eyes stuck on her bra. His face had to be stark red at this point.
Seeing her in a bikini couldn't compare to the beauty she was letting him witness now.
"All of it." she said lowly while biting her lip, I want to do this with him so badly...
"Helga." he breathed as his fingers quickly went to try and snap the clasp.
It took him a few minutes of fumbling and twisting, but he finally managed to break the iron grip of the snap. The bra promptly dropped to the floor as she laid back for him again. Her body beaming pink in her bareness.
His eyes dilated as they seemed to drink all of her in. The silence pricked at the girl's insecurities. She covered herself hastily and looked away from his obviously frozen and passionate gaze.
His hands delicately crossed over her arms and pushed them back with a slow motion. His fingers trailed up her arms to clasp her hands briefly.
Drinking in another look at her bare chest, his voice silky and deep, "You're beautiful Helga, don't ever hide from me."
She shivered, trying to keep her nonchalant composure, "Well, say something, don't just stare, geez."
"All I could hear was your beautiful music—" He teased pressing his lips to her skin once more.
"Shut up, dork." She chortled.
"But I'll make sure to tell you lots of things now."
She tried to stay still and keep her nerves down. But as he inched towards that new territory she felt jolts coursing through her. Fingers clenched his arms as he took his time kissing his way down.
His lips brushed the edge of her breast with a cautious lick. The low groan from her made his gaze flicker to hers. Another experimental lick had her arching towards him. His other hand idly tracing around the features of her other side.
She could already tell he was more interested in what he could do with his mouth.
With another jolt from her, he leaned back, "You okay?"
"Yeah, it feels really good." her voice was already breathy.
His face burned red at the new revelation. Kisses trailed her around the soft mound. His hand rubbed against her, thumb fixated on flicking her nipple. He felt her hand grip into his hair. Glancing up at her, he wondered if it was too much. Her expression was just as enamored as his.
She tugged him tight against her chest, directed his lips to graze close to that center mark. A place he'd been thinking about kissing, but had yet to venture. He licked his lips before parting his mouth like a wave crashed on the shore, he enveloped her.
A small keen left her at his newfound passion. His mouth sucked against her like an undercurrent, tugging her deeper into his mouth. Tongue flicking against her nipple. Her fingers still thick in his hair encouraged him to keep going. Her other hand rubbed against his shoulder.
His mouth heavy against her chest now sucking and nipping while she writhed and sighed. His hips crashed against her, rubbing his need and never pausing his kisses. She arched into his actions feeling more and more like he was trying to drown her.
She noticed out of the corner of her eye that it was getting pretty dark out. Glancing down at his still impassioned state. Finding her voice started to get harder.
He's never been this into it...I almost don't want to stop him...She swallowed heavily, meekly blurting out, "It's getting late."
"Never stopped you before." He smirked against her skin, his kisses unrelenting.
"I know, but—" a low moan passed her lips, fingers clenched his shoulders.
It happened so fast, neither could react to the swift barrage of knocks followed by the door opening. In a panic, he threw his shirt over her and fell to the floor. Clearly shirtless as well.
There was no way to hide what they were really doing.
His grandpa stood in the doorway with a flustered expression. The door promptly shut again.
"Straighten up, Shortman. Need to chat with ya."
Arnold let out a low hiss, his face burned in pure shame. He glanced at his companion who looked equally mortified at having been caught.
"Sorry, I—" he muttered, covering his face, How embarrassing...
"Shush, it was bound to happen sooner or later." She said with a sore breath, We have such shit timing I swear...
In a silent rush, the pair gathered their clothing back up. Re-dressing in a timid silence. He glanced towards her as though he might chance a good night kiss.
She left him a light peck on the cheek before she disappeared downstairs.
He rubbed that cheek and sighed, Sorry Helga, I should've stopped us...but I was urging us on this time...
Shortly after Helga's departure, Phil returned to Arnold's room. Arnold sat on the edge of his bed dangling his legs much like a child about to be scolded. Phil walked to sit next to his grandson.
"So...getting kind of warm in here—"
"Grandpa, can we please, not." Arnold's hand raised in a pleading fashion.
"You know your dad was about your age the first time he brought a girl here—"
"Grandpa, I'm sorry—" Arnold rubbed the back of his head.
"If you would've seen the look on their faces mid-kiss— wooo boy! He fell off the bed and got such a goose egg." Phil laughed while slapping his knee.
"We just got carried away." Arnold's face relaxed a little. A pensive nervousness still ran under his skin.
"Well, whatever you two do— be careful about it!"
"I promise we won't go that far—"
"I mean imagine if Miles would've seen that!? He'd probably end up with another goose egg—or down the stairs in a coma."
"Grandpa! Don't say that." The teen clutched his chest, brows tense.
"Stella and Miles missed out on so much while they were away. I can imagine they've been tryin' to keep thinking of ya as a small babe to make it last."
"I'll be sure that it doesn't happen again."
"You sure won't! Lock the door next time. That's like Kissing 101." Phil winked and patted his leg.
"Yeah," the boy admitted quietly, hand anchored to his hair, "Sorry."
The older man shrugged, "My point is, Pookie and I can see how much you've grown up. And are going to keep growing up."
"I'm serious. I want to wait until we're out of college and that won't be for a long time." Arnold insisted, the unease in his chest increasing.
"Ah, that's cute Shortman, but your hormones will probably make you go crazy out of control." Phil waved his arms wildly, eyes comically wide, "It seems easy to reign in now, but further along it might not be."
"Right, Grandpa." A disbelieving chuckle hung in his throat, "How are you— so okay with this?"
"Well, one of us has to stay calm through your turbulent teenage years. It ain't going to be your parents. And it certainly won't be you either. That's for sure."
Arnold let out a laugh and hugged his grandpa tight, "I love you, Grandpa."
"Love you too, Shortman."
The tenderness held steady for a moment before Phil turned completely serious for once.
"So promise me, if you two get that frisky again. Be safe already." His voice was sharp, and demanding.
Arnold locked his gaze onto his grandpa's and gave him a determined nod. A silent promise that he wouldn't do anything stupid. Even if Arnold didn't believe it was possible to ever be out of control like that.
"But seriously, use protection, alright?"
"I get it, Grandpa!"
The next morning Arnold hopped down the stairs. His bag slung over his shoulder and ready to get through another week of school. As he hit the last step, he could hear his grandpa and father talking in the kitchen. It sounded jovial and light, so he breathed relief.
Good, Grandpa didn't say anything to him. Arnold walked into the kitchen.
His paternal family members turned to greet him before continuing their conversation. The teen dug into the cabinets searching for something quick for breakfast.
He finally found some granola bars and was ready to call it good. His steps took him back towards the exit of the kitchen.
He was almost home free—
Ready to walk out the archway when he heard—
"So Helga was up there pretty late with you last night—" Miles said with a tone that seemed to imply he knew more than he let on.
Arnold froze in the archway and gripped the wall, "We were working on the song for the talent show—"
Phil started to chuckle, "That's not the only kind of music—" his words fell off at Arnold's glare.
"Lost track of time." Arnold said with finality, his gaze shot between his father figures.
"Uh-huh." Miles said folding his arms.
"I need to get to school—"
"I was thinking, Arnold. About that skylight of yours—"
"What about it?" A flicker of annoyance on the teen's face.
"Think we ought to lock it up at night."
"What?!" Both Arnold and Phil said together.
"Come off it, Dad," Miles turned a stern eye on Phil, "I overheard you two last night. Anything you want to share with me, Son?"
So much for home free...Arnold bit his lip as his fingers drummed against the wall, "Helga and I may have gotten a little heated last night. But we weren't doing...that. If that's what you're trying to imply."
Miles seemed confused at his son's ability to answer so calmly about it. The older man was flustered to even have to bring it up, but the interrogation persisted, "Dad, is that true?"
"They weren't doing anything I haven't already caught you doing when you were his age." Phil shot him a look to match, and arms folded.
Miles looked caught for a second as though his father had a point. A tense energy still passed through the kitchen as everyone seemed to calculate their next move.
"Well, I still think we should lock it up so they aren't— tempted." Miles shot a pointed look at his son.
Arnold bristled in response, "We're not going to do it. I won't let us."
"Haha! I thought that once too. You literally have a fast pass to sneak out at night. No one would hear them coming or going up there."
"Oh, you're being paranoid. Arnold is an honest kid." Phil waved his finger.
The older man was never willing to admit that he'd realized the innate possibility a long time ago.
"Is he though?" Miles challenged holding up a paper from school, "When was I going to see this?"
Arnold stared at the detention paper that had been lingering in his bag. He and Helga might have gotten into a little trouble in the Science lab...something to do with frogs and Epsom salts— but he wasn't telling.
He had intended to show it to them soon. He technically had a few days before he needed the signature, but it slipped his mind slightly...yeah.
"You went digging through my stuff?" Arnold's voice sharp, glare evident, Great of all the times for him to find something like that!
"If you have nothing to hide, what does it matter?" Miles cracked back.
"I was going to show it to you really. I just forgot that's all."
"How were you going to show it to me— if you forgot?"
Arnold ruffled his hair, "I mean, I forgot last night, okay? Sorry, Dad."
Miles thinned his eyes, lips pursed, "Also noticed on this paper, that your accomplice was Helga."
"It wasn't like we did it on purpose! It was an accident and Mr. Seidel doesn't take any excuses, so he gave us detention."
"Really? I'm supposed to believe that—"
"I'm serious, Dad— he gave Eugene detention last week because he tripped over a display. Eugene is like the most wholesome kid at school." Arnold's voice cracked a little at the admission, I used to be pretty on the level too...
"Is that true? Because I caught you in a lie last week too."
Arnold froze for a moment. He remembered he'd fibbed about taking out the trash. He had intended to take the trash out, but remembered getting distracted by something else. And then didn't bother to get back around to it till his father pointed it out again.
"So I didn't do it exactly when I said I would— it still got done!"
"That's not the point. You still lied. How am I supposed to feel like you're honest with me when this keeps happening?"
Arnold deflated a little, "You're right, Dad. I'll try not to do that again. But I am telling the truth about science class."
Miles narrowed his gaze further, "I've always noticed that you seem to get into trouble when that Helga girl is around—"
"It has nothing to do with her! Honest—"
"If Helga is a distraction to you—"
"She's not!" Anger suddenly erupted from the teen, his fist clenched before he even realized it.
His father and grandpa leaned back a little at his strong reaction. Arnold let out a breath before letting his hands go jelly again.
"She's not." Arnold said quietly this time.
"Well, it still stands. Lock on the skylight, quit lying—even about minor things." Miles pointed, his gaze sharp, "And if you get in trouble with Helga anymore, and we might have to reconsider letting you hang out with her. And that goes for any of your friends."
Arnold and Miles shared a hard look. Phil seemed tense as Miles was technically correct about everything for once. In all actuality, he'd been a little shocked to hear that Arnold had lied about anything.
He was growing up indeed.
"Fine. Lock the skylight. I don't care because I have nothing to hide." Arnold countered and as he turned to leave, he heard his father add one last addition.
"When Helga comes over, you two are to stay downstairs from now on."
Arnold tensed in the hallway briefly, a sore breath on his lips, Great...Helga's going to be pissed and it's all my fault...
La La La, Reviews make this all worth while. :)