A/N: I know it's late for Christmas, but hey, at least it's still winter! XD First part. Second is already written. No worries. So you may read easy, m'dahlings.

I've had horrendous writer's block for like a month now, though. And depression. Christmas cheered me up a lot, though... This was actually the best Christmas I've had in years. xD And I wanted to write something so bad, 'cause it's freaking Christmas, omg. D: Plus since Phil's outline is finished now (just need to start writing!), I needed to get back into my groove thang, yo. Word. And I think I... succeeded? Omg XD At the very least I've got my "trying way too hard" groove back, which is a start. xD *Boogies hard* It starts out strained but it gets better the further you go... I think. It got easier at the very least. xD I think I broke my block :D *Throws confetti*

So, without further adieu, merry Christmas to all, and to all a good read!

Disclaimer: "HEY ARNOLD!" belongs to the big CB, Craig Bartlett. Zachary Shortman, Joshua "Ham" Shortman, Phillip Shortman, Amanda Shortman, Jaron Johanssen, and Sophie Carpenter are all mine. Taro Johanssen belongs to metalheadrailfan. Pamella Idleberry belongs to Panfla and I.

Of Godzilla and Mistletoe

Part 1

Anyone who knew the Shortman family personally was well aware of their tendency towards the eccentric. Whether it was the fact they lived far out in the middle of the woods in a neighborhood with houses mapped about the countryside like poorly aimed spitballs, or their frequent visits into the city to meet with their extended, just-as (if not more) eccentric relatives and adopted aunts and uncles, or simply because of their strong and often catastrophically conflicting personalities, they were the type of family you did not want to have dinner with, unless you wanted to potentially lose an eye.

The two heads of the family were of course the infamous Arnold and Helga Shortman, married out of college and with a baby on the way before they were even twenty-three years of age, and had caused many a joke to pass amongst their friends about how disastrously they seemed to get along and yet how fiercely they adored each other. Despite all the setbacks laid before them, they persevered, and the years flew by in a tizzy of marital bliss, band-aids, doctors' appointments, therapy sessions, and all around family-concerned calamity and mischief.

The unlikely pair had even unlikelier kids, you see; the eldest with a terrible ego problem and an attitude laid back to the point of dissolution and positive rakishness, the second adventurous, repressed and with far too much sanity for his own good, the third with an unstably listless, sardonic demeanor and depressive attitude, and the last with all the goodness and sweetness they could have hoped for in a daughter—more than they had hoped for, really.

It was on a day not much different than any other in their home that the eldest, a teenager by the name of Zachary, became bored. As all teenagers may do on a boring Saturday afternoon after sleeping most of the day away, he decided to do what he did best—annoy the crap out of his little brother.

"Phil," Zack questioned, standing behind the couch where his youngest brother and best friend were sitting. The TV was on, the volume at a minimum as some ultramasculine, 'I have interesting things to say' voice spoke of things Zack held no interest in.

Phil made a short sound of acknowledgement that sounded a lot like he wasn't paying him any attention, and Zack smirked slightly, unable to control the action as he braced his hands on the couch. Leaning over the back of it, he swung his head down to look upside down into his brother's face, delighting in how Phil's eyes bulged and he scuttled back as much as he could into the couch.

"Phil," Zack repeated, velvetty, eyes half-mast, "what are you doing?"

Phil's eyes narrowed at him, before he reached up to push his head out of his face. "Rehearsing Swan Lake. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Well," Zack spoke vaguely, huffing out a small breath as he scratched at his head, "it looks a lot like you're watching TV but I know that can't be right, 'cause this doesn't look like the Lifetime network."

Phil made a disgusted sound, twisting himself around to give him a dirty look. "We're watching History, Zack, something your brain has no hope of ever understanding the reasons behind."

"Oh!" Zack grinned, clapping his hands together. "History, eh? Am I on there?" Bounding around the couch, he threw himself backwards in between Phil and Jaron, at the edge of his seat as he stared doe-eyed at the television.

"No," he heard Phil say, and he turned his face ever so slightly to smirk at him, "you're thinking of Animal Planet."

He heard a snort suddenly, and turned his eyes to look with alarm as Jaron tried to quell his snickers behind his hand. Zack's eyes narrowed good-humoredly, and he fell back into the couch, startling both occupants as he threw his arms in the air. "Well, I never!"

"It's Modern Marvels," Jaron explained shortly after, still grinning crookedly with mirth shining in his honey-brown eyes.

"Bathroom Tech," Phil added carelessly, arms crossed over his chest as he stared blankly at the screen. "It's kind of interesting, I guess."

Zack scrunched his face up with a smile, turning his face from the two to look back at the screen. "Oh, well that's—Holy crap, that's a big ass toilet roll."

"All toilet rolls start out as a big one," Jaron stated, watching as the colossal roll of toilet paper was transported across the room by machine. "They roll the paper onto one long roll and then that's cut down to what we buy in stores."

"Criminy, man." Zack kept his face scrunched and eyes slit. "Look at that thing. I guess now we know where Godzilla gets his toiletries from."

"You're an idiot," Phil felt the need to drone, sweeping some hair from his face as he eyed his brother with casual disdain.

Zack frowned at him ingenuinely, bringing a mocking hand up to cover his heart. "Why must you be so cruel to your poor, big brother, Phil?"

"I'm not being cruel, I'm being courteous," he corrected with a shrug, reaching over to pick up a cup from the coffee table and take a sip. "Just thought you should know." He hmphed quietly to himself, venturing no further on the topic than that.

Jaron poked his friend in the shoulder, before extending the same hand out in gesture. "Hey, dude, don't be so hard on Phil. I'd trade Taro for him in a heartbeat if I could. At least he admits to insulting you." He blinked. "Well, sorta."

Phil stretched his neck to look around Zack at him, almost smiling. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"I'm never hard on Phil. We're merely brothers," Zack said, sounding almost offended as he looked sternly at Jaron. "And for the record," he declared in a high, pompous tone, grabbing Phil suddenly into a hug just as he'd been stretching to set his drink back down, the cup only just clattering to the table before he was snatched away, "he's not for sale!"

"Let go of me this instant," Phil strained in something that wanted to be a growl, prying at the arms holding him tightly about the neck.

Zack smirked wickedly, cackling at how violently he kicked and squirmed after being so dispassionate but a moment earlier. "See, Jar'?" he gleefully said, grinning at his friend as he stared with some surprise. "This is what big brothers are for! This is how we love!"

"Zachary," a voice came suddenly from behind, startling Zack into releasing Phil. Phil doubled over in his seat immediately, taking in large gulps of air as he rubbed tenderly at his neck. Meanwhile Zack whipped his head around to see their father standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed and body in stance bespeaking his readiness of delivering a lecture.

Zack merely presented a large smile that gave much pronunciation to his cheeks, pretending as if nothing out of the ordinary had just taken place. "Hey, Pops, home so soon?"

Arnold shook his head, something strangely weary in the movement. "I didn't go anywhere, Zack."

Zack shrunk. "You didn't?"

"No. I didn't. I've been home all day." Arnold's frown seemed only capable of deepening.

"Ignorant toad," Phil grunted then, still hunched over as he rubbed at his neck. Zack gave him a look, for once unamused with his dramatizing of the situation.

Rather than comment on the scene he'd walked into, Arnold advanced further into the room and sat down in what Phil had long ago deemed his chair. Him and their mother were the only two people he permitted to ever sit in it, and seeing his dad perched there so innocently made Zack bite his cheek. He'd tried sitting in that chair so many times before when Phil wasn't around, only to have him pop in out of nowhere and start yelling at him, as if he just sat around in random hiding places during the day waiting for someone foolish enough to dare try. The fact Dad could sit so easily there without Phil batting an eye only seemed to further announce his power in the room, and Zack knew he had to act fast.

"Hey, Dad," he hastened to say, back at the edge of his seat as he gestured towards the TV, "they're showing a special on Godzilla's bathroom supplies. After the commercial break, I think they're even showing his toilet. Isn't that interesting?"

Arnold blinked once at him, twice, before he leaned over slightly to smile at their guest. "Hello, Jaron, did you sleep well?"

There was a slight pause. "Very well, Mr. Shortman. Thank you for letting me stay over," Jaron said, smiling in that close-but-not-quite uncomfortable manner kids had around their friends' parents.

"Of course, Jaron, you know you're always welcome." Arnold smiled warmly, before settling comfortably back into the chair. "Helga told me she made you breakfast this morning. Are you okay?"

"I survived," Jaron joked, cheeks dimpling.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to appear until now. It's been a long week." The middle-aged man reached back to rub tiredly at the back of his neck, rubbing away the beginnings of a headache though his lips continued to smile. "You know how it is with my class and…" he paused to cough, "all."

"Of course, Mr. Shortman," Jaron said politely.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Zack ventured to ask quite plainly then, voice pitched deep as he stared fixedly at his father.

"Because to talk to you is to acknowledge the stupid in the room, and that'd only decrease the scant few precious brain cells we have left," Phil deadpanned the next moment, his expression somber as if he were speaking of something that was of a great disadvantage to all involved.

"So cruel to your big brother," Zack repeated calmly, shaking his head.

"Be nice," Arnold censured, eying Phil as he retreated back into his shell, having the decency to look at least a little apologetic. Not towards Zack, but rather towards Arnold, and the man knew him well enough to know this was the best he would get out of the boy. With a soundless sigh, Arnold turned his attention to Zack's currently comically deer-like expression and said, "I'm sorry, Zack, I just didn't know how to respond to 'Godzilla's toilet.'"

"Oh, that's okay," Zack exclaimed, bright-faced once more. "I didn't know how to react to Godzilla's toilet paper either."

There was a short silence in the room, before Arnold replied, "Right." He cleared his throat, fist to lips, before laying his hand in the air as he promptly changed the subject. "So, it's very close to lunch time about now. Is anyone hungry?"

"I could eat a horse and a half," a fifth voice intervened, and they all looked over to see Ham walking in from the dining room, in nothing but a gray wife-beater and jeans as he took a long sip from a bottled water.

"And it's for reasons like that that I'll never understand how you're not morbidly obese," Zack said smirkily, and was rewarded with an eye roll from the fourteen-year-old. Jaron smirked along with him, and Zack reclined back into the couch with his hands behind his head, crossing his legs leisurely, looking almost cat-like for a moment.

"I'm not really hungry," Phil said quietly, reaching over to pick his cup back up and take a sip.

"Oh, come now, Phil," Arnold insisted as he leaned over in his chair, supporting himself by his arms on his legs, "you're a growing boy. You could use a meal or two once in a while." He smirked slightly, almost amused.

"I eat enough," Phil protested, before Zack felt the need to add, "Judging by your height, not nearly enough as you should."

Phil shot a dark look at him for that, clenching his teeth at Zack's lazy expression.

"I could take you all out," Arnold suggested, looking almost hopeful as he exchanged a look with each of them. "There's a diner not too far off I can take you all to. I hear they have really great food."

"You mean Dick's Diner, the one we pass on the way to Hillwood every week?" Zack raised half his brow, amused, and taking it upon himself to sit up a bit in humored alarm at this development.

"Didn't a man die there?" Ham questioned, wary as he perched himself half on the arm of the couch beside where Phil sat.

"Actually I think it was a woman," Jaron corrected, his mouth flattening. "Choked on an especially big piece of hamburger gristle."

"What the heck is hamburger gristle?" Phil asked, looking distinctly disturbed as he looked with great skepticism at the elder.

"Those hard ball things," Ham informed.

"Oh, I hate those."

"You hate everything," Zack ended the conversation with an impetuous snort, before he looked hard at their father. "Don't you know the Heimlich maneuver, Dad? Can you teach us?"

"Are you telling me you love gristle, Zack?" Phil asked vehemently, outraged at his flippant assessment of him, even if it was very partially true.

"No, but that's not important."

"Why the sudden interest in medical knowledge?" Ham questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it just occurred to me that if Dad wants us to eat at Private's Diner that we might want to be prepared for possible choking hazards." The teen shrugged.

There was a silence.

"I think I'd rather stay," Phil slowly decided, warily, casting a haunted look to somewhere across the room. Ham grimaced.

"Yeah, don't want to miss Godzilla's toilet," Jaron jested with a hop of his eyebrows, earning a grin from his best friend as they low-fived each other.

"Aw, come on, Phil, Dad hardly ever takes us out," Ham encouraged as he placed a hand on Phil's shoulder.

"Yeah, that's a good point," Zack said suddenly, earning everyone's attention with his eyebrow scrunching down in bemusement. "Since when does Dad take us out to eat? What's the occasion?"

Arnold looked a bit more tired than he had a few minutes prior, with something unfamiliar in his face they either had never seen before or had seen too long ago to remember what looked like. Though he did try to stay pleasant as he reasoned, "Well, it's not often Jaron stays the night at our house. I just thought it'd be a nice gesture."

"Jaron stays the night almost every weekend, and for a good bit of the week. Jaron practically lives here," Zack said, slightly confused as he looked humorously at his dad, smiling incredulously.

Dad stood up suddenly at that and straightened his button-down, plaid shirt, his face measured as he concluded the matter simply, "Well, if you kids didn't want to go out, all you had to do was say so. I think we have some turkey leftover in the fridge. I'll just go get that." Turning without another word, he quit the room to go and do just that, his face looking a bit longer than usual. And not horizontally, either.

Everyone seemed to blink all at once, and the room was quiet for another heartbeat or two as a toothpaste commercial played merrily in the background, before finally Zack said, "Dad seems down."

Phil snorted involuntarily, and mumbled something about Sherlock.

"Well," Jaron began, trying to be helpful, "Winter is fast approaching, the nights are getting longer. A lot of people get depressed around this time."

"Not me," Phil said blandly, swishing the contents of his drink around as he stared, "I like the cold. It lets everyone know what my soul feels like." Pausing a beat, he added, in a moment of quiet reflection, "Doesn't seem like something Dad would succumb to, though."

Zack wrinkled his chin, casting a sidelong look at his brother before he sank back into the cushions with his hands clasping over his stomach, his voice bright as he said, "I like Winter because it means warm blankets, hot beverages and cozy fires. It's comforting."

Phil paused a moment, before taking an inconspicuous sip of his tea. Zack smirked to himself a second, before going on, a thoughtful expression sliding onto his face, "Oddly, though, I have to agree with Phil on one point. It's getting closer and closer to Christmas. Everyone's in a good mood nowadays, and it's not like Dad can Grinch out. He has plenty of family."

"Ugh," Phil scoffed, his hands tightening around his cup as he bit back a sneer, "I hate that. It's barely even December and already there are people singing Christmas carols. We had Christmas lights set up in our classroom immediately after Halloween ended. It's pathetic."

"See?" Zack gestured a long hand to Phil, his face open and eyes wide. "Dad loves Christmas and it's everywhere. That can't be it."

Phil opened his mouth like he wanted to make a snarky comment at that, but he snapped his mouth shut at the last second and rolled his eyes. "True enough," he said tightly. Suddenly losing any interest in tea, he set it down on the table and leaned back with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, working his jaw.

"Maybe that is the problem, though," Ham piped up, standing from his perch to walk over and set his water on the coffee table by Phil's cup. Clapping his hands together as he turned around to face them all on the couch, he said, "Think about it. Christmas is coming up soon, and we don't have a single decoration up, and we live in the middle of nowhere so it's not like anyone else has bothered either."

"I can attest to that. Pam actually said outright they're not putting lights up or anything," Zack said with faint amusement. "It is getting pretty dismal out here, now that you mention it, and it's only going to get worse, especially with nobody doing anything."

"We always go over to the boarding house for Christmas, you know that," Phil objected, his eyebrows furrowing and mouth turning down into something that almost resembled a pout. "We don't need to decorate." Sinking down into the couch suddenly, he whispered with shrinking pupils, stricken, "Please don't make us decorate."

"Oh, please, Phil," Zack retorted as he stood from the couch, grinning down at him, "where's your Christmas spirit? This is a great idea! It's just the thing Dad needs to cheer up."

With a slow but sure smile traveling across Ham's lemon-shaped head, he said, "Yeah, we should be able to go out back and cut down a Christmas tree no problem."

"And get those lights Dad bought and never used out of the closet and hang them up outside, glue some leaves together for mistletoe…" Zack added with rising enthusiasm, his own grin growing rapidly.

"Get some of Dad's Christmas records out, make paper snowflakes…"

"Okay, that settles it," Zack proclaimed, throwing a hand in the air as he dropped his head down, hair flopping down into his eyes, "we are gods." Ham high-fived him, proudly stating, with an almost pleasantly surprised air about him, "It was my idea, too."

Zack hummed at this noncommittally, his voice mild as he responded, "Sure, Josh, whatever you say." He clapped his hands together then, his voice raising to his normal tone as he said merrily, "We have a lot of planning to do, though, so let's get to it. How are we gonna get Mom and Dad out of the house?" He looked lively about them, hands still together.

"It was my idea, Zack," Ham reaffirmed, voice lowering as he gave the taller teen a poorly veiled glare.

"Sure it was," Zack drawled as he sent a wink at Jaron, who was eying the scene with an eyebrow cocked. Ham caught this, Zack having not bothered to hide the gesture past holding a hand up to his mouth (which made no sense), and his eyes narrowed. He raised his voice slightly, jutting a thumb towards himself, "It was mine, Zack, don't try to take credit for something you know very well wasn't your idea."

"I'm the one that brought up Christmas," the elder said almost tiredly, as if he were dealing with a rowdy six-year-old. "None of this could be possible without my foresight."

"Please, I was thinking it before you even opened your mouth."

"Now who's the liar, my dear Joshua?"

"You cannot be serious with this. How do you even exist?"

"I ask myself that every day when I look in the mirror, but I hardly see how that pertains to anything here. Look, does it really matter whose idea it was, Josh?" His face took on a new light with these words, his voice light and persuasive as he put a gentle hand on Ham's shoulder. Ham only tensed up further. "The point is that we're doing this together, as a family, and whoever's idea it was in the first place—" he muttered a quick, low, "mine," before resuming his regular speech, "—won't matter at the end. Do you really think Dad will care who's—mine—idea it was? Because I don't think he will." He shook his head.

Ham gaped, his upper body subconsciously drifting backwards and away from him. "Oh my God. Just shut up—"

Zack's eyebrow flew up, his tongue quick, "What for?"

"It was my idea and you know it," Ham yelled, startling Zack enough that his hand snapped off of his shoulder. Ham went on, appalled, "You always have to take credit for everything, don't you? You just can't stand having anyone else have the limelight for one second."

"I hardly think it matters," Zack giggled nervously.

"It matters to me," Ham shouted, his face turning red as his hands snapped up without his permission and grabbed Zack by his collar, jerking him down so he could properly glower into his face. Zack's eyes were wide for only a second, before he smirked, a retort ready to roll off his tongue.

"Both of you shut up this instant," Phil shouted suddenly, making everyone jump from the sheer ferocity of it. The brunet stood up with stiff shoulders, and glared at both of them stonily, mouth set in a straight, tight line. Sharp eyes shifted between the two stunned boys for a few tense moments, before he opened his mouth and stated, calmly, "You're both idiots. Just tell Mom Dad's depressed, and she'll get to the bottom of it and fix whatever's wrong. Problem solved. Now sit down and stop acting like eight-year-olds, for the love of Sinatra." He threw his hands in the air.

Both Zack and Ham's eyes lit up, and almost instantly Phil knew he'd made a mistake. Periods flew through the air, before a lightbulb all but exploded above their heads when they yelled, snapping their eyes to each other, "Mom!"

"We tell Mom Dad's sad, and she'll want to get him out of the house to," Zack brought his hands up to air-quote, smirking wickedly, "get his mind off things."

"Then they'll tell you to baby sit and we'll be alone for a good four hours at least," Ham enthused, bouncing his eyebrows up with a knowing smile.

Phil dropped back down onto the couch, exasperated.

"We'd better get to work," Zack assessed, already on his way out the door. Ham followed after.

The room was silent for a second or two after their departure, before Jaron leaned over towards Phil and asked quietly, "Want to watch Kitchen Disasters?"

"Heck yes," Phil said with great relief, practically breathless as he reached for the remote. Before his hand could even reach the coffee table, Zack bounded back into the room and grabbed him by his collar, jerking him off the couch with one determined yank. He yelled on his way out, as a frantic Phil stumbled and screeched, "You too, Jaron! Let's go, go, go, in search of ho, ho, ho!"

The sound of Amanda's giggle and Phil's groan came shortly after, and Jaron hesitated for only a second, before he shrugged and stood up, flicking the TV off. As he sauntered out of the room, he mused quietly to himself, "This should be interesting."

The air was sharp, cutting through the thin fabric of their jackets as they tramped through the woods. The trees were slight, pathetic looking things in this part of the forest, and got thicker the further you went, revealing lush forest and terrified woodland animals. Ham led the small group with zest, jumping over fallen trees and clearing away branches to let everyone pass by unscathed. Every once in a while, one would slap Zack in the face, however. But then, some things just couldn't be helped.

About halfway through the trek, Phil had gotten tired of mentally ranting to himself about what they were out here to do and just thrown himself to the dirt in despair. Anguished, he'd declared, "I can't go any further—you'll have to go on without me! My legs are like jell-o, I can't see straight, I, I…" Zack had let out a sigh and in a motion too swift for him to argue against grabbed him up off the ground and slung him over his shoulder, continuing on the path after Ham and Jaron. It had taken all of twelve seconds for Phil's shocked mind to process just what was happening, before the yelling had started and Zack had 'complied' and dropped him to the ground. Phil had been pouting ever since, but he didn't pull anymore stunts. Jaron tried a more reasonable approach.

"I hope you guys realize I do need to be getting home soon, my dad's coming to pick me up. I should really get back—"

"Not for hours, Jarry, he's still got work. You know that. Would everyone please stop trying to get out of this? It's just a tree."

"Easy for you to say, flesh-face," Phil grumbled under his breath, as Jaron looked around at the surrounding wilderness and frowned.

After a short hike up yet another hill and back down the other side, they came upon a small clearing, where a few fat cheerful-looking trees grew. Ham's face brightened at the sight, and he beckoned them all over, conveniently not looking where he was waving his arm. Zack, having been directly behind him, was nearly whacked in the face and he flapped his arms frantically at him, a frown digging into his face. Ham grinned his apology, in a not-very-regretful looking way.

Phil ignored the two as he climbed over a particularly massive log, careful to hold his unzipped jacket tightly about himself to keep it from snagging on anything as he passed. Once in the clearing, he looked around himself and decided, "I don't like it."

Twigs cracked and snapped behind the small boy as Ham came to stand beside him, eying the trees. "I don't know, they're a little patchy in places, but if we put it up against a wall it won't matter."

"No, not that," Phil negated tiredly, sweeping some hair out of his face as he exhaled. "This entire thing. The cutting trees down."

Zack came up between the two and wrapped an arm around Ham's shoulders, his other hand coming down to rest on Phil's as he gazed in deep satisfaction at the trees. "Not trees, Philly. Just one tree. Don't be a Scrooge." He inhaled the heady scent of pine and fresh air—true, real, outland, burn your nostrils off air—and a load seemed to melt off his shoulders. He grinned, eyes unwaveringly held by the trees. "It's all in the spirit of Christmas. A part of the festivities."

Phil's mouth turned into a grim line. He shrugged Zack's hand off, taking a step towards where Jaron stood observing the trees at the other end of the clearing. "Right. 'Cause taking an axe to a living thing and then positioning it's carcass in your living room so you can watch it slowly die is festive." Phil's face was dry as he droned, "Ho ho ho."

Zack looked down at him and blinked. "You forgot the part where we decorate it with pretty baubles and popcorn."

Phil threw a hand up, exclaiming, "Oh, of course!" With a snort he dropped the act and drooped forward, glaring at nothing in particular.

"Well," Ham hastened to change the subject, holding his hand out for Jaron to place the axe in his hand, "we've got Amanda back home doing arts and crafts—all we need's the tree. Which one's best?" Circling a particularly robust one, Ham put a thumb to his mouth, the rest of his fingers curled beneath his chin as he inspected it. It was a bit rough, not like the perfectly plush ones they often found being sold by the roads in the giant tents, with a large naked side of trunk exposed for all the world to see. Like it was wearing a bikini of pine needles and moss or something. In a way, it almost looked like something had come along and taken a bite out of it—Big Foot, perhaps, or Big Bird on crack who mistook it for a green corndog from a Dr. Seuss book. Of course, this is the part where the author gets lazy and starts making stuff up, you see.

The bottom was fat, though, the branches extended far out with a healthy, dark green shade. The tip was long, a bit too long, but that could be easily fixed, and in comparison to the rest of too thin, pathetically gaunt looking trees, it seemed like their best bet to Ham.

Zack was eying one of the thinner ones, however, a smirk resting on his face as he took in the sheer height of the tree, at perfect eye-level with himself. Zack was a tall guy, long-limbed – gangly, really – and with a plain face and messy hair that stuck up in odd directions. Seeing him on the street, you could pass right by him without ever having batted an eye in his direction, if it weren't for the fact he strutted around like he was George Clooney and Orlando Bloom's love child.

The tree was too thin, with yellow needles competing with light green and branches jutting out at seemingly random spots, but Zack looked at it as if it were blessed by God. Smugly, he pointed a finger at the tree and loudly opined, "I like this one."

Ham merely rolled his eyes, axe already posed to swing at the fatter one. "Of course you do." Bringing the axe down hard, he sent a fair gash into the wood.

Zack stared blankly as he chopped down the tree, eyes following each swing of the axe and cut of the wood. The silence didn't last very long, though, as it rarely did with Zack. "That looks like Godzilla's Christmas tree." Jaron snorted. Phil and Ham just ignored him.

After a few more hearty swings of the axe, the tree began to sway, and Ham jumped back with a startled yelp of, "Timber!"

The tree swayed to-and-fro precariously, and everyone gave it a wide berth. Phil all but ran and jumped behind a log, ducking down like it was going to burst into flames. Green eyes popped up from behind the tree the next second, staring in horror.

The tree swayed a few more seconds, back and forth, forth and back, all eyes glued to it's every lethargic movement… before it stopped on one side, and stayed, drooping.

Nobody blinked for a long time, unsure of what had just transpired, before Zack made everyone's thoughts known, "Well that was anticlimactic."

Ham sighed, giving the tree one last hard swing that seemed to decide it as it fell unceremoniously onto the ground, dirt bursting into the air around it with pine needles flying out like tiny missiles.

They all gathered around it, staring for a long while in awe at the fact they'd just chopped down a tree, when Phil muttered, "How are we going to get it home?"

All eyes turned to Jaron.

The boy blinked at the sudden attention, uncomfortable, before he sighed. "I'll think of something," he grumbled.

"This wouldn't have happened if we'd gotten the thinner one. It would've been easy to carry."

"Shut up, Zack."

The Christmas tree, as it was want to be called, stood crookedly at one side of the room, each branch either flat, broken, or void of pine needles now. One branch still stuck out proudly, though, right near the bottom with a few other sorry-looking branches extended out in all their patchy, half-naked glory. The one good branch held a particularly large snowflake made from light blue cardboard paper at the end, crafted with loving hands and a mind abundant with dreams of hearts and diamonds, apparently. And a lot of glitter. Sugar-plumbs be damned.

As it would turn out, after a lot of contemplation and a heap-load of denial, Jaron had sighed and told them what they'd all been afraid of. They'd have to carry it home, with it's fat, heavy trunk, pokey limbs, and sharp, sticky pine needles. In their enthusiasm for tree hunting, they hadn't thought very much ahead, and had neglected bringing something out to wrap the tree up, or help carry it through narrow, awkward mazes and paths back to their backyard. Even if they had, though, they all agreed they had no idea what they would bring, so in the end picking up the ridiculously cumbersome, bulky thing was inevitable. It didn't make it any less annoying, though.

Phil had given an indifferent, "I stinking told you," and then outright refused to have any further involvement with the project (even though no one had asked, as he resembled an elf in height and was not exactly ample in upper-body strength), and mostly just stood back and enjoyed the show as Zack nearly poked an eye out, twice, and Ham grunted and groaned a little louder with each step. Jaron tried to help in his usual hesitant nervousness, but ended up doing nothing but snapping the tip of the tree off. He'd stayed out of the way after that, as commanded, and Zack and Ham did their level-best to carry it back to the house.

That had lasted all of twelve steps, before Zack dropped it onto his foot by accident and ended up doubling over in pain. Ham grew fed up with the situation after that, and in his frustrated state began to drag the ridiculous thing along the harsh, forest floor, over logs and rocks with nothing but pure adrenaline and the raw, senseless determination of an angsty fourteen-year-old boy. It wasn't until it was all said and done that they realized what a big mistake they'd made.

"This settles it. We're having a Charlie Brown family Christmas. Let's all go with it, pretend we did it like this on purpose."

Ham blinked. "Maybe we should make some paper chains and see if we can just… cover up the bad parts?" He winced.

Zack couldn't control the grin that sprung onto his face at the image his mind had conjured at that thought, and he uttered, strained, "Maybe we should get a big white sheet and just cover the thing all together. We can call it the Ghost of Christmas-What-Could-Have-Been." Ham turned his head to give him a look, and Zack pursed his lips against a laugh.

"This is just great," Phil felt the need to interject, eying the tree with both clear disdain and pity. "We dragged a corpse through the woods and let all the limbs get knocked off, then propped it up in our living room, and decorated it in paper and glitter." Trembling slightly, he raised his voice to a yell, throwing his arms out to gesture towards the tree, "We killed something, dismembered it, and then decorated it in hopes no one would notice!" He let his arms drop and swing at his sides, his face going flat. He muttered a final, "I'll never understand holiday customs," before sighing resolutely.

Zack snorted. "It's a tree, Phil. Stop trying to emo it up."

Phil blinked, dead-eyed. "I need a drink," he muttered, turning in the direction of the kitchen. Ham stared after him a few moments, watching as he left the room, bypassing Amanda who was standing in an uncharacteristic silence in the doorway. His mouth started to open as he turned his head back to Zack, before it closed abruptly and his face blanked at the sight of Zack trying to tape a stick to the nubby top of the tree, standing on the top step of a short ladder in wobbly ballet formation. Ham asked blankly, "What are you doing?"

"Fixing what Jaron broke," Zack said quietly, focusing intensely on his task with his tongue peeking out through the side of his mouth. He wrapped the tape around and around carefully, before ripping his teeth into it to break it off from the roll.

Jaron, sitting at the other side of the room on the couch, frowned ever so slightly, and if anyone had bothered to look close enough, might say his face got a little darker, but otherwise he gave no reaction.

Amanda tilted her head to the right, ear almost reaching her shoulder, and asked lightly, "Why is it all broken?"

Ham flushed with shame at Zack's immediate answer, "Josh lost his Josh-ness for a second and decided the tree looked like a good wrestling partner."

"I did not," Ham sighed, before turning his head to Amanda. With a carefully blank look, he said, "We had no way to get it home fast enough so I ended up having to drag it. And I… admittedly may have lost my temper a little."

"A little," Zack guffawed. Jumping down from the ladder, he bounded over and stated grandly, gesticulating ridiculously as he went, "You were like Attila the Hun. Mouth foaming, eyes blazing red, horns poking out from your floofy hair—"

"That isn't… That's not even…" Ham gaped at him. Shaking himself, he narrowed his eyes slightly and tersely stated, "Whatever."

Zack softened at the look and put an arm around his shoulders, giving him a gentle shake as he gestured to the tree. "Hey, the important thing is the tree is here. Let's just make the best of it. We can make this work."

"How," Ham asked miserably, watching in guilt as a branch that had been hanging finally just dropped off and clunked to the floor.

He caught something in his peripheral vision then, and looked over to see Zack grinning too wide and holding up a roll of clear duct tape. Ham rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but crack a small, begrudging half-smile as Zack yelled out in a poor French accent, twirling the duct tape around on one finger, "We'll make a tree out of you yet, dahling."

Phil walked in at that moment and shoved a cup of hot chocolate in Ham's hand, before plopping down into his chair and taking a long sip of his own. Ham stared down at the cup in shock, before looking incredulously over to Phil. Zack did as well, along with Amanda and Jaron. After a few moments, Phil noticed the stares and snapped his head around at them all, offended. "What? It calms the nerves."

Zack grinned and grabbed around the back of his chair, his free hand coming down to ruffle his mop of brown hair. "Now you're getting into the spirit, Philly!"

Phil swatted him away with a growl, irritated. Zack chuckled warmly and left, blessedly, leaving Phil to grip white-knuckled to his mug and glare at the corner of the coffee table, hair disheveled. "And then people wonder why I never do anything 'nice,'" he grumbled, taking an especially large gulp of his cocoa.

The next couple hours were a flurry of duct tape, cardboard paper, lights, and Christmas carols. Phil had refused to help decorate the tree, but he had no qualms against decorating the rest of the house (or at least not many).

So, with everyone's help, Christmas lights were weaved down stair rails, leaves taped together and strung from paper chains of cherry red and forest green, and snowflakes cut out from varying shades of blue. Zack found some old white candles in the attic that they placed on the tables and stuck in heavy iron candleholders that looked almost like antiques.

Putting up lights outside proved to be a slightly more daunting task than they'd anticipated, though, and—unable to find the ladder—ended up just bordering the front door in lights, using the smallest nails they could possibly find for the job. The potted flower Phil kept in his room was brought out to sit on the coffee table, the lights in Zack's room taken down for use, Amanda's old red bed sheets that she never used brought down and laid out over the couch, and Ham's laptop brought down and hooked up to the TV, putting a video of a crackling fire on repeat.

The overall effect was very Christmas-y, they all thought, even if it did look exactly like a bunch of kids were the culprits. And also had an inordinate amount of time on their hands.

Staring down at the red daisy on the table, Zack had to ask, a bit confounded, "Didn't you used to have a purple flower or something?"

"Yeah," Phil acknowledged, currently in the process of tying one of Amanda's old ribbons on the front of the TV stand. "It died. They tend to do that."

Zack snorted at that, and continued to stare a short time more at the flower, before another question popped out unbidden, "Where do you keep getting all these flowers?"

Phil paused in his work at that, for just a moment, before his answer came out, laden with irony, "Your girlfriend keeps giving them to me for free. She's working at the flower shop now, you know."

Zack grimaced, choosing to end the conversation there. Sophie had only started working there last week, from what she'd told him in their last text conversation—looked like she was doomed to another firing soon. Whistling out a long breath, he let his hands fall uselessly into his lap as he dropped back onto the couch. "Well, I guess we're about done then," he announced, a little too brightly. "Anything missing?"

Ham came strolling sedately into the room, and jumped up suddenly in the doorway to slap his hand against the top, sending the homemade mistletoe there swinging. "Nope," he answered with a smile, surveying their work approvingly. Blinking then, he looked over to Zack and Phil and asked, "Where's Amanda?"

Pinkie chose that moment to caper into the room, throwing a handful of sparkles in her wake and giggling as they fell, glinting like fairy dust in the light. "We needed more glitter," Amanda informed them brightly, clasping her hands in front of herself as flecks still shone at the ends of her hair. Zack's lips parted in a small grin at the same moment Phil scoffed. Ham walked over to Amanda and hoisted her up, walking over to sit next to Zack on the couch and plop her in between them.

"Nothing left to do but wait. Mom and Dad should be home soon," Ham surmised, straightening his legs out in front of himself. Zack propped his feet up, relaxing back as all worries cleared from his brow. Zenly, he smiled, reaching over to grab Amanda to himself as he agreed, "I believe you would be right about that, dear brother." Amanda snuggled into him, pleasantly tired.

Meanwhile Phil collapsed backwards onto the rug, arms spreading out on either sides of himself as he released a long breath. "This was pointless. Mom's probably already cheered him up anyway. I told you guys this was a stupid idea."

"You think any idea that goes against you watching TV is a stupid idea," Zack said without malice, merely stating a fact. He smiled then, sharing an almost secretive look with Amanda, like what he was about to divulge was some great conspiracy. "Besides, Mom can only solve so much for so long. She's just the Band-Aid, we're the antibiotics."

"That has got to be one of the most moronic statements I have ever heard."

"I have trouble believing that."

"I'm just saying," Phil sighed, sitting up on his elbows as he looked contemptuously over towards them, eyes hooded and flat, "everyone gets in a bad mood sometimes and it wasn't like it was slow in coming. It didn't build up into a deep, soul-searing depression that only the aid of a nude tree covered in tape and sloppily hung strips of paper could solve. It was random, and in the middle of the day. He probably just didn't have coffee this morning… or he got stuck in the bathroom without toilet paper for half an hour."

"Yeah, sure, except Dad's always happy. I mean, always. Right?" Zack looked skeptically over to Ham, who nodded his agreement. Shaking his head, Zack continued, "And he just snapped out of nowhere, for no reason. He never does that. Obviously something's been bothering him. Not everyone just shouts their problems from the tops of buildings like you, Phil. Most of us are a little more subtle."

"I do not—" Phil started to yell, before he coughed and lowered his voice to a soft utter, lifting his chin up ever so slightly with closed eyes, "I mean, that is not true."

Zack smirked his response, broadly. Phil just groaned and fell back onto the floor, pantomiming an anguished death with his hands clutched around his throat. Amanda laughed out loud, clapping her hands as she scooted to the edge of the couch. Zack, with his arms stretched out across the back of the couch, playfully rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop."

"Goodbye, cruel world, the stupid has finally killed me," Phil cried out, frantic hands tracing shapes in the air, eyes glassy. "It wasn't very nice knowing you when I did, but, I made it longer than I thought I would, so, I guess that's something." He dropped his arms down suddenly, coughing raggedly from the exertion of his struggles with the afterlife.

"Oh, yes, why must the ridiculously irritating die young," Zack played along, sniffling as he wiped a fat, invisible tear from his cheek. He paused then, half his brow extending up as if a thought had just occurred to him. "Oh, wait, that's not a bad thing."

Phil stopped immediately at that, and grabbed his ankle up to wrestle his shoe off. Before Zack could wonder at what he was doing, a shoe was suddenly sailing at his head and he ducked with a shout. Phil just sat on the floor, glaring at him. "Why is it every time you open your mouth," he asked sourly, accusing, "a part of my soul dies?"

Zack's eyebrow shot up in surprise. "You have a soul?"

The other shoe went flying, this time hitting him square in the chest. He coughed out a laugh, picking the shoe up from his lap to examine mockingly. "I assume you were aiming for my face? Might want to give up those dreams of becoming the next Michael Jordan, kiddo." Phil's face went flat. Amanda just laughed again, reaching up to pluck the shoe from Zack's hand and hold it close for safekeeping.

The (sorta-not-really) peace that descended on them was interrupted when the front door opened and closed, and they heard Jaron call, "I fixed the lights. Someone didn't think to use twisty ties. Good thing Pam had some."

"Yeah, I'm the best, aren't I?"

Zack's head snapped up at the female voice and he sprung up from his seat with a whispered exclamation of, "Crap," before he all but threw himself to the ground and tried to scuttle under the coffee table. Leg awkwardly stuck out, and fingers and face hard against the carpet, he did his best to level out his breathing to a silent in-out-in-out. Eyes like plates, he looked over to find himself face-to-face with Phil, who was now laying on his side with his hand supporting his head. Phil smirked. "Hey there, Subtle."

The sounds of footsteps grew closer before they abruptly stopped, and Zack felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up with the knowing. That horrible, six-sense awareness you had that someone was there, even though you hadn't looked. And then it came, awkwardly, "Is this a bad time or…?"

From where he was, he saw Phil grin, wide and blithe and just plain mean. "On the contrary, I'd say it's the best time."

He could almost hear the confused blinking. "Um. Zackass… I can literally see your ass, you know. You suck at hide-n-seek."

Zack grimaced, pushing himself out from under the table in an unhurried yet painfully ungainly fashion. Once out, he breathed a sigh of relief, avoiding Phil's predictable smirk. Falling back onto his butt, he smiled tranquilly at Pam and pulled his legs to himself, folding them in front of himself, as if he hadn't just been hiding under the table to avoid any interaction with her. "Hey, Sam."

Pam's confused face went flat. "Pam."

"Right. Sure, Sam."

Pam blinked, emotionless. "Yeah." Turning her eyes to meet Ham's blue eyes, she immediately snapped them to the wall and changed topic, "Anyway, I saw you guys decorating and all and just thought I'd ask what was up. I thought you were all going over to your grandparents for Christmas."

"We are," Ham chose to answer, giving her a friendly smile even as she refused to make eye contact. "We just thought..." looking between everyone else, he shrugged slightly and neutrally finished, "well, why not?"

Pam stared at the half-naked Christmas tree in the corner, covered in chains and snowflakes with the very tip tied in a neat, bright pink bow that drooped ever so slightly to the left, and had to raise an eyebrow. "Uh-huh." Eager to end the topic, she flicked her eyes to Zack and said in a pleasant enough tone, "Well, fair warning, your dad invited me over for the Secret Santa or something, so I guess I'll be dropping by. Just wanted to make sure it was still on." She turned to leave after that, but Zack yelled out a horrified, "Wait!"

She didn't stop at first, but then her footsteps sounded again, and there she was standing in the doorway again, looking annoyed. "What?"

Zack found he couldn't articulate very well past a hoarse utter of, "Why," but he didn't care.

It took her a second, but then she seemed to understand what he was asking and she shrugged. "I guess your dad's still feeling guilty over the fact he, you know, created you. As he well should be. So he's trying to make it up to me by inviting me to do stuff." Seeing his dumbstruck expression, she took a step back from the room, face wry. "See you at school, Mack." She rolled her eyes then and swiftly departed, not giving him enough time to respond before the front door was slamming shut. They all knew what she really meant, though, and Zack was at least grateful she hadn't ratted him out to Amanda. Peeping Tom, indeed. He was going to have to have a long talk with his dad before the month was out.

A few seconds had passed after her rushed departure, when Phil brightly said, "That went better than anticipated."

Looking over at him, Zack choked slightly on air, before his voice lowered to a strained, "This was your doing?"

Phil sniffed slightly, offering a modest shrug. "Well, it was Dad's idea. But I may have encouraged him, just a little. Or a lot. I forget." He smirked. "You know that whole karma person Ham likes to talk about?" He waved his hand by in one smooth glide, eyes half-mast and sardonic. "Hi."

Zack slammed back on the floor, groaning. There went the holidays.

"Ah, come on, Zacky, where's your Christmas spirit?" Phil asked in a snotty, sarcastic tone, an exaggeration of his own voice.

Zack covered his eyes. "Shut up, Phil."

The road was quiet this time of night, the surrounding trees canvassed in black, glowing against the white of the moon. The dim light of the headlights kept the front of the old car in bright view, cutting through the black to showcase a gray, cracked road and fading yellow lines. Arnold sniffed slightly in his seat, reaching up to run his sleeve over his nose. "It's cold," Arnold noted.

Helga turned her eyes over to look at him a moment, taking in his shadowed features and jellybean green eyes. She smirked slightly, reaching over to run a hand down his arm. "I don't know, I'm still feeling pretty warm."

The shadows around his cheeks seemed to darken, and she pulled her hand away with a sly smile. Gripping the steering wheel, she tapped her fingers there a few moments as they drove in silence, before she suddenly reached down in between the seats and pulled a bag out, throwing it in his arms. "Here, the food's still warm. Knock yourself out."

Seeing movement from the corner of her eye, she glanced over to see Arnold pretending to whack himself in the forehead. Her eyebrows shot up incredulously, and Arnold let his hand drop with a quiet chuckle. She schooled her features and dryly asked, "Spending a bit too much time with Phil there?"

Arnold hugged the food to himself and let out a breath, watching it dance in front of his face. "I took him and Josh fishing yesterday. Before the lakes freeze over."

Helga smiled tenderly, reaching over to squeeze his knee. "See? You're a great dad, Arnold."

Arnold offered a small smile, appreciating her words. He sighed then, reaching over to take her hand in his. He stared down at it, running his thumb over the smooth softness he found there. "Yeah. I don't know." He looked out the window, watching the trees blur past his unfocused eyes. His voice lowered, softer, "I just wish I could give them more than I can. Zack's going to be gone in two years, and Josh won't be too long after. And then Phil…" He let go of her hand, reaching up to rub the pad of his hand against his closed eyes. "You know his teenage years are going to kill us."

Helga snorted, shuddering. "Oh, God, don't remind me."

Arnold stared up at the ceiling of the car, his head having rested back against the seat. "He won't ever want to talk anymore, he won't want to bond or go fishing and his therapy bill will go up." He heard Helga chuckle lightly beside him. His face went grave. "And then he'll be gone, just like that. Amanda will want to have a boyfriend and go to prom and then she'll be gone, too, off to college and to get a job and we'll be left in the dust."

"Right, like our parents were," Helga said sarcastically, and all the weekly visits flashed across his mind. He massaged the side of his face. It wouldn't be the same. They were both pathetically dependent people, and they both knew it. No matter how many times Helga cried that she hated her parents when she was a teenager and even a few times while she was an adult, she'd never be able to cut them out of her life—she needed them there, in all their dysfunction and ridiculousness, because screwed up or not, they were hers, and they fit. Arnold as well wouldn't trade his parents for a hundred happy lifetimes, but that was a bit of a given, all things considered. They couldn't bear to completely leave their families behind, no matter how annoying, which was why they'd made sure not to move too far out of the city. But it was different with their kids.

"They're so independent, Helga," Arnold nearly whined. Checking himself, he gripped either side of the bag in his lap and trained his eyes on the road. "Josh wants to go to that college in Japan, and then thanks to Mom and Dad he wants to go off exploring to God-knows-where. I wouldn't be surprised if Phil wanted to relocate himself to Hollywood or something and never came back—and Amanda, she could do anything, go anywhere, and you know she will." His eyes rolled up slightly then. "And Zack, Zack'll end up out of state for college and, hell, who knows with him? He could be a Canadian before he hits twenty-one."

"Hm, he does love maple syrup," Helga muttered absentmindedly, focusing on the street signs. Turning sharply as Lake Drive came into view, Arnold felt himself slam into the door handle and grunted. Once they were driving down straight road again, Helga smiled and looked over to him, eyes twinkling with irony. "Isn't that all what we've been aspiring towards, though, Football Head? Give them everything we never had, instill the confidence to fucking leave, and then have the house to ourselves again at last? Nice and peaceful…" Shaking his shoulder, he looked over at her in surprise, finding her wide-eyed and almost pleading. "Think of the menopause, Arnold. The menopause."

He blinked, twisting his face slightly and hoping the shadows hid enough of his face that she couldn't tell. Shaking his head, he patted her hand on his shoulder and she took it back hesitantly. "I know. And when we moved out here I was relieved to have some peace and quiet, but now. Things are different. They are, aren't they? We always knew we'd love our kids but not… not like this." He shook his head, feeling a pit ache deep in his stomach. He let out a shaky breath, rippling white puffs in front of his face. He didn't notice.

As the car pulled up into their driveway and clicked off, they found themselves encompassed in thick black, in more ways than one. The car was quiet for a long while, before Helga clicked a light on and turned her head to look at her husband. He looked troubled, and more his age than he ever had before, eyes trained ahead on nothing. Helga knew her husband, knew how he'd always wanted a family—he'd given up so much for this, for them. He could have been an adventurer himself, scouring Central America for treasures and artifacts beyond his wildest dreams. He could have been ambassador to some foreign, incredible place far off, signing important documents and making history.

Instead right out of high school, hand held tight in hers, he'd gone to a college close by to stay with her, and after months of soul-searching and long walks found his passion in teaching children, with a minor in psychology and foreign affairs. They'd stayed at the boarding house for a while after that, before a pregnancy test read positive and they started saving up for a house. It wasn't very long before they were settling down in a quiet neighborhood, with two kids by that time, just far enough away to suit and exceptionally beautiful, the perfect place to raise a family. He could have had a different life, a more exciting future, but instead he'd chosen her. And even after all this time, his only regret that was it would have to end someday. She didn't think it was possible for her to love him more but as always, he proved her wrong.

He was right, too. She had been doing her best to make him feel better and ease whatever sting he'd been feeling regardless of her true opinion on the matter, but the truth needed to be acknowledged. Their kids were pains on most days, but she could still see them as they were, laying in their cribs half-asleep and gazing up at her in awe. Wild blond hair and bright blue eyes, too energetic, too many tears, always needing to be held. A tiny football shaped head hidden beneath scraggly gold and blue knitting, constantly sniffling and scaring the wits out of her when he tried to climb out of his crib. Startling maple hair with emerald eyes that perfectly resembled her beloved's, loving and whiny and forever clinging to her neck and pulling at her hair. And then sunshiny, smooth locks and big, innocent jellybeans for eyes, stubborn and sweet and always in wonder of everything, always hugging people and laughing just enough. Each one perfect and beautiful and eternally making her the Ibuprofen company's bitch. She was scared of them growing up, too.

But she knew they'd never leave them behind, especially not Amanda or Zack and hell, even Phil was a clingy little thing. They'd always be around, and she knew it. She just wished she knew how to make Arnold see it, how to soothe the worried creases from his brow and make him see what a wonderful dad he was, how much their kids adored him. Apparently mind-blowing sex wasn't enough to convince him for very long, and really, once the biggest gun in your arsenal is used up and the enemy's still standing, what the hell can you do?

Releasing a melancholy sigh, she reached over and hugged him about his shoulders, resting her head on his shoulder. "Arnold, about the money…"

Arnold shook his head. "Helga, I offered to take them out for lunch and they looked at me like I was from another planet. Do I really never do anything nice for them like that?"

Helga gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Arnold, you don't need money and pricey cheeseburgers to show them you love them. The important thing is that you're doing what you love, and between the teaching, and the books, and Bob's store, we're okay. We're more than okay. We're just sensible about it. You get ice cream with them all the time and pay for their field trips and, you know, you got Ham those new books just last week." She tilted her head up to smile at him, but he didn't look down, still stiff but listening. "They're good, healthy, socially active kids, and that's thanks to you, thanks to us. You're the gentle, nurturing father figure and I'm the stern, badass mom that puts them in their place when they go too far." Kissing his shoulder, she finished softly, "We've got a good thing going for us, and it's working. How could you ever think they'd forget about us?"

She could feel the tension draining out of his shoulders little by little, guilt and fear puddling at his feet, but still some remained, and it came out as he quietly fretted, "Phil never hugs me anymore. Hasn't for a long time. Where are we going wrong there? Or Ham… wanting to be called Ham." He sighed.

Helga chuckled, lifting her head up to smirk at him slightly, bemused. "Phil will be Phil and Josh will be Ham. They've got problems to sort out and we know they do, but it's fine 'cause we'll be there for them every step of the way." She buried her nose in the side of his neck, inhaling. He still smelled exactly the same, an essence of herbal with just a hint of spice. She knew he knew she'd kill him if he ever changed it, but she still thought it was romantic of him to keep using it for her.

A few moments passed, before he turned his head to smirk at her a little. "Why, Helga, I think you've finally gotten the hang of this whole good-natured, nurturing thing. I feel so much better."

Helga rolled her eyes slightly and leaned her forehead against his, murmuring, "I learned from the best." Arnold hummed in response. Neither knew who closed the distance first, but soon their lips were pressed softly together, both of them relaxing into each other in perfect harmony. The food between them kept them both warmer than usual as they struggled to press closer together, soft moans escaping Helga as Arnold's hands fumbled at her back, holding her tightly against him by her shoulder blades.

Pulling back after a few long moments, Helga brought her hands from his hair to around his neck, nuzzling the side of his head as she sighed, her breath ghosting down the side of his neck and making him shiver. Very softly, she whispered, "Do you ever regret it?"

If she hadn't been right by his ear, he may not have heard her. Running his hands down her back, he asked gently, "Regret what?"

She sighed again, the warm, heavy air hitting him in the shoulder this time, and he smiled slightly despite himself. "You know," she said, almost timid, "me… our family… I mean, I know you love us now," she rolled her eyes slightly, "obviously, but you could have gone off and done so much. Been just like your parents." He shifted in her arms, but she kept her eyes down and arms tight around him, not letting him look at her. "Had adventure," she swallowed, breathing scarce, "excitement… mystery…"

He scared the living daylights out of her when he laughed suddenly, loud and beautiful and entirely irritating. "Oh, Helga, the insecurity was cute at the beginning but now," he chuckled, getting slightly more high-pitched near the end before he took a quick breath to control himself. Still, his voice remained thick with mirth, "You are all the excitement and mystery I will ever need. All I can handle, I think. Every day's an adventure with you and our family. How could I ever regret that?" He coughed slightly on another laugh, face twisted in a small grin. "Save for the few times I've just wanted to lay down on the floor and go to sleep, anyway."

The response was immediate. The food was cast aside in favor of her throwing herself in his arms, nearly smashing his head back against the window from the force of her embrace. Pulling back from her frantic kisses the best he could manage, he gave a strained laugh, rubbing his head. "This is exactly what I'm talking about." She growled against his lips at that, pushing herself closer, "Shut the hell up and put those lips back to work, you infuriatingly perfect man." Before he could laughingly respond to that, she pressed herself back against him, sweeping all thoughts of amusement from his mind.

After an unknown amount of time, Helga pulled back breathlessly and panted, working to blindly catch buttons on his shirt and pull them free, "I think they can handle ten more minutes to themselves."

Arnold gulped, trying to be sensible as he whispered, "The food'll get cold."

Helga snorted at that, choking out a laugh as she pushed the jacket from his shoulders. "Please, in this furnace?"

Taking a shallow, shaky breath, he grabbed her wrists suddenly and looked up at her desperately. "Helga, I'm going to take you to Paris someday. I don't have the money now, but someday, I promise you—" She shut him up when she slammed her mouth against his, and his hands loosened enough around her wrists that she could move them back down to his shirt, slowly, in measured, loving movements freeing him of the last few buttons of his shirt. Once it was open, she wrapped her arms around his bare torso, biting his lip by accident in her eagerness. They broke away with a breathless laugh, and she took advantage of the respite to whisper, loosening her arms from him, "I don't care about Paris right now. I care about you, and getting you out of those pants. Now shut up already and get your ass in the back, Football Head, before I end up having to explain to our kids why their father's standing naked outside in thirty-degree weather."

Arnold laughed, more than happy to obey.

A/N: Ugh, I can't even tell if any of this is funny anymore. I've been working on it for too long. It's all bleeding together. *Facepalm*

Okay, second part will be posted when I deem it time. It has Arnold's reaction to what zey did, and skips ahead to actual Christmas at the boarding house with everyone then. Secret Santas, accordion music by Ernie, and grandparents... Shortman and Pataki grandparents, together, in the same house... So yeah, that's fun. xD

Regarding Phil's chapter: Like I said, I finished the outline, but I didn't want to start writing it before I'd gotten over my writer's block... Really more like writer's strain. I have ideas but they're just not coming out right. I'm sure you can tell here from the beginning of this that I was having issues... I think I'm pretty much over it now, though. I hope. Nyehhh. Philliam's first chapter will be up sometime in January. It picks up where I left off with Zack's, and he's trying to get his revenge on him. So yes, fun, fun, fun. XD

And now, if anyone remembers, I said that writergirl and I were going to do, like, a Q&A type deal? Well, since I've been so busy, that kinda got cancelled... Idk if I ever told you guys that. Sorry. D: So I'll just answer them here (FINALLY, sorry for delay, and LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYONE):

Q - Umm I am kinda confused about their ages how old are the Shortman Kids?

A - Zack's 16, Ham's 14, Phil is 11, and Amanda is 7. Their ages might and will vary in certain chapters, though, as I switch around. I have a ridiculous amount of their lives already planned out, so sometimes I just need to... get that out. XD

Q - (i dont know if you watch trueblood? especially season 4 with eric and sookie?) welllll i was thinking maybe zack and pam could be like eric and sookie hate/want each other to the point of getting together? not as graphic as though... food for thought? maybe? yes? no?

A - Hot question, hot question! LOL. I don't watch Trueblood but I see what you're saying. It's just... Zack is in love with Sophie, and Pam barely even tolerates him at the moment, let alone wants him, and vice versa (just in case I haven't beaten that horse enough to kill it yet, lol), so it's unlikely anything'll happen. That could change, though, maybe... It's obvious there's potential there but it's iffy, for obvious reasons. Originally they were never meant to have chemistry, but it happened, and it's really screwed up. XD We'll just have to wait and see what happens with them. There's a lot of stuff in the way, so it could shoot either direction. I guess, overall, easy concept, difficult reality... Stay tuned. ;D xDD

Q - Arnold and Helga realyy doesn't know what happened to Zack or they doesn't talk about it for some reason?

A - Oooh, that's a complicated question... *Takes deep breath* Okay. Let's see. Well, I think Arnold and Helga definitely noticed something different about him when it was going on... But Zack viewed home as a safe haven, so whenever he was there he didn't act SO unusual—relieved, if anything. It was just small things, more of a feeling than any serious change. Like hugs became scarce (but he wasn't THAT huggy to begin with at 9), he looked at people a little more distrustfully, he got quieter, and he was kinda passive aggressive around them, but nothing seriously serious. Nothing you could pinpoint, especially since it went on over a period of a few months, so it was like this slow descent. He was trying to pretend it wasn't happening, I think, but it was hard and it affected him regardless. He just didn't want anyone to know about it. He was scared, and humiliated, and he felt trapped, and when people feel like that, they'll do everything they can to stay safe, even if it's irrational.

So yeah, I do think they noticed something but they didn't really say anything 'cause they weren't ENTIRELY sure, and they wanted him to come to them about it (they were still kinda new to being parents, you have to keep in mind, and he'd never had a real problem before August. He was always pretty happy and content. It was a first for everyone). You know, they didn't want to force it out of him, and they didn't suspect it was as big a deal as it was (who would've?). I think they just thought he was getting picked on and it made him kinda defensive, like Helga (which is something they were expecting of him, I think). But then it passed and once it was all over and done, they just waved it off as a phase, or figured he'd taken care of it himself (which he did). So that was kinda the end of it. :I I do think they still feel funny about it, though... Sorry for the ridiculously long answer.

Q - SuprSingr- what do you prefer writing, poetry/songs(?) or FanFics

A - Oh... dear God. XD Uh... well, songs I do without thinking, really... they just kinda come out of me. Like gas. And they're rarely very good, even after writing like a bazillion of them in my life (funny thing about gas: it comes naturally and you'll always do it, but it'll also always stink). Writing fanfics is definitely the most time-consuming of them, but it's the one I'm the best at... So, fanfics, I suppose. xD

Q - Zack- does anything actually scare you?

A - Zack: Ahahahaha... no. *Checks to make sure the coast is clear* ...Well, okay. Between you and me, raspberries do kinda unnerve me. Just a little. It's from all the years of being warned off of them... I'm wary, I'll put it that way.

Q - Ham- why are you so freakin' obsessed with sports an working out and stuff?

A - Ham: Uh... 'cause I enjoy it? I don't know if I'd call myself obsessed, though. I just... have a lot of energy I need to get out. That's all.

Q - Phil- what do you enjoy more, acting or directing?

A - Phil: I've acted once and directed none... I can't answer this question very well, can I? Movies are my passion—any form of being involved with them would make me happy.

Q - Amanda- other than Chris, who is your least favorite classmate?

A - Amanda: Oh... I don't want to be mean, but I also don't want to be rude and not answer you. So, um, well, not naming any names, but there is this red-headed girl in my class who causes mischief a lot... and talks back, and makes jokes that can be kinda rude. She's a little annoying sometimes. Not anything like Chris, but. OH, and he's not in my class, but he hangs around with Chris a lot and his name is Duke Caudell. He's HORRIBLE. If you ever see him, run!

Q - everyone- Y U SO AWESOME?

A - Everyone: GOOD JEANS. *All sporting designer jeans*

Q - YO, Phil, Y U SO SHORT? Y U NO WEAR STILTS?

A - Phil: ...I will find you.

Q - This question is for Arnold and Helga: I have to say you guys are awesome parents and you really have your hands full. I'd suggest taking that trip for two to Paris asap lol Anyway all four of your kids are very hilarious and unique. How do you keep up with them especially Phil when he is in rant mode?

A - Arnold: I'M TRYING.

Helga: Ugh, great. Paris will come, Arnold, cool your jets. As for the question, well, we always ask them how their days went and try to get everything out on the table. They don't always want to talk about things, but if you're persistent and let them know you're there, they always come sooner or later. Whether it's to us or their grandparents or the boarders, it comes out somewhere. We have the benefit of having a lot of people around to help us out. They're pretty self-sufficient kids, though, so I try not to worry too much. They've got good heads on their shoulders. As for Phil, though, well... Phil is... is...

Arnold: Uh, a special snowflake.

Helga: Right, what the Simmons wannabe said. And normally, he is pretty calm. It's just when someone makes him angry or says one of his trigger words (Dr. Bliss' word, not mine), which Zack and everyone seems to... like to do. He rarely goes off on us, though, but when he does he usually apologizes. Or tries to anyway.

Arnold: You just have to let him get it all out and then he'll be back to normal. It's Helga's passion coming out there, it's a force to be reckoned with... Trust me. *Gets pushed by Helga* After it's out, though, a cup of tea and a good movie usually calms him right down.

Helga: And we keep weapons out of the way—

Arnold: That too.

Phil: You realize I'm right here...

Helga: Yes, and we love you very much, Snowflake.

Q - To the Shortman kids: What is your favorite holiday and why?

A - Zack: CHRISTMAS

Ham: Wow.

Phil: Gee, didn't see that one coming.

Zack: Oh, shut it. You're all just jealous I said it first.

And that's all I got. If anyone's ever curious about anything, I've always got answers. :P Happy Holidays to y'all now, ya hear? And good luck on your resolutions. XD :D

REVIEW!