A/N: Extremely sorry about the short chapter. Right now, I've gotta million things going on and I don't have as much time to devote to the fic. It's not gonna be too much longer, but I do wanna add a little more to the story before I completely finish it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except this fic, my journal, and a chocolate-chip granola bar. Yum.

Chapter 7

It had been a few months since Arnold and Helga had finally spoken of their love for one another. Helga moved back to New York and in with Arnold. It was a rather tight living space, but not intolerable. Helga managed to convince Arnold to sell some of his paintings and together they built a nest egg, which they planned to use to buy themselves a house someday. Things were going quite well for the two.

On the morning of their six-month anniversary, Helga woke up feeling absolutely crappy. Her head ached, her stomach was sour, and she was in a really bad mood. She walked into the kitchen to find Arnold cooking up fried eggs, French toast, and bacon, the smell of which putrified her. "Morning, baby. Want some breakfast?" he asked, still busying himself over the food. "Oh, God, no! I feel absolutely shitty today. Jesus, I could just puke!" she groaned, slumping into a chair by the table. Arnold scooped out the eggs and put them on a plate near the bacon. "What's wrong, sweetie?" he asked worriedly as he sat down beside her.

"Oh, I don't know. It's just that my stomach is absolutely bitchin' at me today and my head feels like a jackhammer is going through it AND I just wanna...kill something!" she nearly yelled. Arnold frowned. "PMS?" he asked. "That's another thing. I've skipped my period by a whole three weeks. The first week, I thought it was stress, y'know with the new novel I'm working on and everything."

Arnold nodded. Since the release of her novel "Ice Queen", which sold millions of copies AND ranked #2 on the Times best-seller list, Helga had felt pressured to write up the sequel, which was so far only three chapters long. "The second week, I was beginning to get a little edgy, and after the third week, I was waiting for a house to fall on me! I mean, it's pretty obvious what's going on here." Arnold nodded. "Why don't you go out and buy a pregnancy test today? If it says you are, and it sounds like you are, then we'll go to your doctor to get another test done...just to be sure." Helga smiled thinly. "Okay. Wow, we might be parents. Can you believe that? Me and you, Football Head...preggers."

Arnold chuckled. "Stranger things have happened. Well, I've gotta get to work. The Chronicles awaits me. Off to shatter more young novelists with my scathing reviews." Helga rolled her eyes. "Arnold, you're such a Nicey Ned to most of the authors when you review their books."

"I am not! Remember that one guy who wrote that novel Paging the Angel Gabriel ?"

"You mean that piece of fantasy/sci-fi crap?"

"Yeah. Wasn't I tough towards him?"

"Not really. You told him it was alright for a starter novel, but that he would have to raise the bar higher in his next piece of work. I, on the other hand, would've said that it was flamin' shit and to never write another piece of fiction ever again. That's where we differ."

"God, Helga, you're really too tough on people. You're like a female Simon Cowell!"

"And you, Mr. Nicey-Nice, are too sweet to be working as a 'scathing' novel critic. Why do they even keep you on around there anyway?"

"'Cause the editor thinks I'm cute", Arnold grinned, waggling his eyebrows. Again, Helga rolled her eyes. "Alright, get outta here! I've got stuff to do, people to see, and baby detectors to buy. Go on, scram!" Arnold laughed and kissed Helga lightly on the mouth before heading out of the kitchen and towards the front door. "Bye, babe. Love you!", he called. "Love you too!" Helga hollered back. As soon as she heard the door slam, she went back, locked it, and went into the bedroom to get dressed.