a/n: i posted this on ao3 a few days ago and just realized i forgot to post it here. ive been reading fanfics for this show since i was nine and after my hundredth rewatch i finally tried writing my own. i hope it's as in character as possible. i love these kids so much and i wanna do them justice ;_;

for some context: this is set after s5, but before tjm so arnold is fully aware of helga's feelings, and helga knows he knows. they're still in this awkward position because neither wants to address it directly... if that makes sense. i hope you enjoy

Helga was late for school.

Helga jolted up and grabbed her clock. 7:45 blinked like it was mocking her very existence; she had officially missed the bus. Narrowly, too. Bob's boisterous laughter woke her up since the thought of doing so clearly slipped Miriam's mind.

Ah, yes. She had almost forgotten.

Someone get the trumpets and roll out the red carpet — Oh so precious and perfect Olga was visiting this week, meaning that her parents' already limited attention pivoted directly to her older sister and she got left out in the cold like a stray cat, as usual.

Every time Olga returned to grace the house with her godly presence, Helga knew what was in store. Kisses and hugs, parties, and balloons, all directed towards Bob and Miriam's golden child. Unlike Helga, Olga wasn't a mistake or an afterthought. No, no, she might as well have granted world peace, cured all diseases, and built a spaceship to the moon. Her parents tried to pretend that they were a somewhat functioning family when Olga was around while using Helga like she was an old coat rack. Or maybe raggedy shoes is more accurate.

If they remembered Helga existed, that is.

They were much too busy listening to one of Olga's recounts of some altruistic act she performed while she was in the Alps or wherever she decided to travel to this time. Helga wasn't tuned it out after the third time Olga broke out into tears over how adorable the deer were.

She rolled her eyes, huffed, and got up to take a shower. She knew that she had to make her own lunch… no one else wouldn't bother. She went into the closet and was forced to remember that her coat was still at the cleaners — Miriam forgot to pick it up. Again. Helga was fully aware that she had the life of a protagonist in one of those embarrassingly bad soap operas Bob got addicted to when Miriam worked at the beeper emporium. No use dwelling on it. Just another day in the Pataki household — nothing more, nothing less.

Helga was tempted to stay home and fake a tragic case of some archaic illness, barricading herself in her room until her sister said hasta la vista. It wasn't like anyone but Phoebe would notice that she was absent, anyway, and Phoebe would cover for her. She always did.

But Helga didn't know if she would be able to tolerate more than a couple hours of Olga worship in a twenty-four-hour period. Seeing them dote on her so much made Helga want to eat nothing but strawberries for the rest of her life. Allergies be damned, the resulting torture her body would punish her with was better than listening to them laugh and clap loudly while pretending she didn't exist.

But what she did know was that seeing Arnold would manage to cheer her up… it always did, no matter how bad things at home got.

Arnold, with his warm smile and kind eyes. His soft voice and cute nose… his stupid optimism and endless compassion for someone like her… despite her morning being utterly terrible, she couldn't help but pull out her locket, tracing the heart shape with her finger and smile at the thought of her beloved.

"Oh, Arnold… how I wish I could be with you all of the time…" she let out an airy sigh at the bottom of the stairs before she looked at her family smiling and talking happily about Olga's new accomplishments in the living room. "Instead I have to sit here while those two act like Princess Olga invented oxygen," Helga rolled her eyes before bringing the locket close to her heart for comfort. "Reality is often cruel, isn't it?"

She sighed again and went upstairs, putting on a long sleeve shirt under her pink dress, the purple jacket that still fit her (which was incredibly thin, might she add), her red hat (with her pink bow on top, of course), grabbed her lunch box and old snow shoes and head out without hearing as much of a "have a good day" from her supposed loved ones. She didn't care to let them know that she was leaving either. They didn't give a crap where she'd go and where she'd been when she'd come back for years. Why would they start being attentive now?

Of course it was about twenty degrees that day and snow just happened to start tumbling down the minute she went outside. Whatever higher power out there seemed to enjoy mocking her. Criminy, she'd be lucky if she didn't freeze to death within five minutes of an already fifteen-minute walk to school.

"Whatever", she muttered, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "I'd rather freeze my socks off than have to look at Olga's stupid vacation pictures or hear Bob's plans of naming a new beeper after her."

Helga walked for about two minutes before she started questioning her life's choices. God, it had to be below zero.

Despite being largely numb to how her family treated her on a day-to-day basis, Helga found herself feeling enraged that she had to deal with this crap. It wasn't fair. Other kids had mothers and fathers who wiped their snotty noses and cleaned off their scrapped knees before sending them to school. Why couldn't she get that?

She felt a surge of bitterness when she looked across the street and saw a mother fix a scarf around her toddler's neck as the little brat fussed and complained.

What she wouldn't give for a mother like that.

Instead, she got Miriam, the same woman couldn't tell you what she had eaten only ten minutes before you asked.

She continued walking before breathing into her hands, hugging herself for warmth like she was up at the North Pole. She shakily looked at her watch — 8:20. She sighed, looking up to the sky as more snow fell on her eyelids.

She considered walking back home until she reminded herself of her mission. She had to see Arnold. He was the only reason she was trekking through this biblical storm…

…Now, Helga didn't believe in fate — she was more of a believer in cruel, hilarious irony. But maybe the optimistic hacks that spouted on and on about it had a point.

She heard a loud, incessant honking from across the street from her. Helga took pride in her common sense, so she was going to kindly ignore the infuriating sound and continue walking until she realized that the honking wasn't going to stop.

"For Pete's sake, I got it! Knock it off already! Criminy, I wanna keep my eardrums intact before I turn eleven, thank you very much!" She yelled exasperatedly, her face irritated until she saw the vehicle.

It was a green packard, eerily similar to the one Arnold's grandfather had… but it couldn't have been him! Surely Arnold had been on the school bus! He was never late for school… years of watching him told her so.

She was clearly wrong, though, because-

"Helga! Hop in! We'll take you!" A boy with messy blond hair and a tiny blue hat stuck his football-shaped head out of the window and waved her over. He smiled at her, and Helga felt her insides turn to goo.

Things had been… different… between them since they were on FTi's rooftop and she went and blabbed her life-long secret to the boy. What an idiot she was.

But was it a good different? Helga wasn't sure.

She'd caught Arnold staring at her when he thought she wasn't looking and blushing around her, acting all awkward and weird. It was puzzling to her. She figured that he'd run for the hills — justifiably so, she regrettably admitted. She did admit to stalking and making shrines of him. Anyone would be terrified of her after hearing that, but Arnold… he seemed to want to hang around her more, despite the attitude she'd give him in public (she had an reputation to uphold, after all).

That's not to mention the whole April Fools Day fiasco… she still couldn't figure that whole ordeal out. She should have been furious at him for his little prank, but she knew she wasn't a saint, and she had to admit that he got her good. But the flirting… the way he danced with her so closely… that had been on her mind for months.

And they still hadn't talked about it.

She never knew what to say around him anymore. She kept up the bullying for appearance's sake, but he didn't look as annoyed as he used to with her antics. He'd give her these… knowing looks. Sometimes he'd even smirk at her before letting her go on her way. Like he knew something she didn't.

The nerve of him! It drove her crazy.

She knew she and Arnold would have to talk about… you know… eventually, despite how long they've been putting it off. Phoebe has been gently reminding her to do so for ages now.

Soon. Maybe. She wasn't ready to have that conversation and Arnold clearly wasn't ready to have it either.

That didn't stop him from continuing to remind her why she fell in love with him in the first place… like right now.

Helga was about to hold her head up high and protest. Helga G. Pataki never accepted charity — and she took pride in that. She wanted to say that everything was fine and Arnold and his grandfather could drive on ahead to school, but another freezing gust of wind blew in her face and she found herself sprinting to the car.

Her Football Head, ever the gentleman, held the door open for her and scooted over so she could sit down comfortably. She let out a sigh of relief as the warmth of the car hit her.

"…Thanks," she said quietly, her face warm from the car and from embarrassment. Arnold just shrugged, but there was a small smile on his face. He looked relieved that she had listened to him. "It's no problem. I-" Arnold suddenly turned a slight red. "I mean, we saw you while we were driving," he explained, his tone a bit… embarrassed? Helga blinked at the sight as he stumbled around an explanation.

"And, um, of course, we didn't want you to just-"

"Oh, for goodness sake," Phil interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Shortman here was worried about ya. Told me to stop the car the second he saw you walking," Phil said matter of factly, a bit of a smirk on his face as Arnold turned a darker red.

"Who could blame him? Anyone would want to make sure their girlfriend gets to school safe-"

"Grandpa!" Arnold interrupted, his tone mortified and his face scarlet as Helga looked on with her own red cheeks.

"Girlfriend?!" Helga's heart did somersaults in her chest at the thought.

Phil laughed and raised his hands like an innocent man before looking at the two through his rearview mirror. "Anyway, Helga." He changed the subject. "How's Big Bob? Still acting like a blowhard?" Phil asked bluntly, and Arnold gave him an exasperated look. "Grandpa…" he scolded again, but Helga shrugged.

"No, it's true," Helga said, her voice deadpan. A small part of her felt satisfaction as Phil laughed. Arnold's grandfather was eccentric like his wife and the other boarders, but Helga found herself liking that.

"He's…" A complete jerk who didn't give a crap if Helga were in one piece or not? A man more concerned with his business than his kid?

"…Fine", Helga settled on saying, her tone more polite than normal. "Thank you for asking, Mister Shortman."

Phil smiled. "Please, just call me Phil. Mister Shortman was my father!"

Phil laughed heartily at his joke as he started to drive once more towards the school. He wasn't as fast of a driver as Bob, but Helga couldn't complain. The more time alone with Arnold, the better.

Jazz hits played lightly in the car as Phil hummed and danced his fingers around the wheel. Arnold was looking out the window, his fingers close to Helga's. She sat up straight, slightly awkward. She never knew how to act when she was alone with Arnold, but this was a million times more… uncomfortable.

She knew he wanted to ask her what happened, but he was being polite by waiting to see if she wanted to talk at all. Her heart hurt at how considerate he always was towards her.

"Okay, Helga. So you're in the car with the love of your life. He's now fully aware of this fact. No big deal. Just be nice. Start a conversation. Don't mess this up!" She nodded internally at her little pep talk, clearing her throat to speak to him.

"So, Football Head," she said, her voice wavering slightly. She tried to play it cool — she couldn't let him know how nervous he made her.

"Why are you late? You and Geraldo are always the first ones on the bus." She hoped he wouldn't point out the fact that she noticed something like that. Being the angel he was, he didn't, letting out a small, knowing chuckle. Her hands felt sweaty as she noticed the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. God, she had it bad.

"Well, I needed to calm Abner down because he got all freaked out by Grandma threatening to rassle him up and make him our 'grub'. She's been really into reenacting the Wild West lately." Arnold explained with a fond eye roll. "It took a bit longer than I expected, so, here I am."

Helga snorted. Arnold's tales of his insane family were the only thing that made school bearable these days; not that she'd ever admit to actually listening to all of them like some pathetic, lovesick girl.

(Yes, she knew she was one. Shut up.)

Arnold smiled at her momentarily before gently asking, "What about you, Helga? You're usually with Phoebe yourself."

Helga bristled immediately. Of course, her immediate response normally would have been rudely saying "What's it to you, Football Head," before muttering about him being nosy. She dug her nails into her side, trying to will her tendency to shy away from showing him any vulnerability away.

"Just answer the question, Helga," she told herself, knowing he'd never judge her.

Helga sucked in a deep breath like she was about to take a nosedive into hell. She looked out the window, wishing she could disappear into the upholstery.

"Olga's home," she said quietly, her voice softer and more vulnerable than she wanted it to be. "You know how Bob and Miriam are. The minute she gets home, I might as well be chopped liver."

She attempted to shrug dismissively, but it was impossible to mask the resentment and pain in her voice. Criminy, she could see Arnold's softened and concerned expression through the reflection of the window. She hated seeing him look at her like that. It made her feel so… exposed.

"Oh," he replied, his voice thick with understanding. Helga loved hated that too. It was infuriating how easy he made it to love him.

Sensing his empathy, she stiffened and raised the defenses once more. She glared at him with her eyebrow raised. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Arnoldo," She rolled her eyes. "It's no big deal, no pity necessary." She snapped, crossing her arms with a huff.

Arnold frowned deeply, his own arms crossed as he shook his head. "I'm not pitying you, Helga." He said earnestly, his voice firm but gentle. Helga held her breath as he scooted a bit closer to her instinctively, his hand almost on top of her own. She could feel her heart racing in her chest.

"…I just don't think you deserve to be treated like that, you know?" Arnold said softly, and she finally turned her head away from the floor of the car to look at him. "I just… want you to be taken care of. I want you to be happy, Helga. I care about you."

His voice was so sweet and earnest that it almost made Helga cry. She swallowed against the lump in her throat as she looked at him, her cheeks warm. Her voice was thick with a softness she couldn't conceal like she normally would. "Really?"

Arnold nodded, smiling at her. "Really."

Helga nodded once herself, unable to bring herself to say anything as her eyes fluttered. She looked down at the floor, her head running a mile a minute.

She sighed through her nose, her heart fluttering as the weight of his words hit her. He said he cared about her. Despite everything she's done to him, he still wants her to be happy.

Half of her was angry. Angry at how well he knew her, how much he made her feel seen. "Why would he say that, looking at me with those big green puppy eyes of his! God, I hate him! Does he enjoy tormenting me with his insufferable kindness and soft, knowing smiles?!"

The other half, however…?

"Oh, Arnold! My beloved, my universe! You always know just what to say, my blonde-haired little angel! You were sent from the heavens above just for me! I love you, I love you, I love you!"

Silence filled the car as their fingers drifted close to each other, not quite touching, but just about. Helga shivered despite the warmth in her heart and the heat from the car. She was still wet from the cold and her thin jacket wasn't helping matters.

"You're freezing," Arnold spoke up suddenly, making her look back at him. She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms again. "Wow, thank you for pointing that out, Sherlock." Her voice was deadpan, a smirk on her face. It earned her a dry half-lidded look from Arnold. "What's your next brilliant observation? That the sky is blue? You wanna give me the forecast for tomorrow?"

Arnold just rolled his eyes and gave his own sarcastic reply. "Maybe. I've been told I've got the personality of a meteorologist," Without another word, he shrugged out of the thick green coat he was wearing and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Helga's breath caught in her throat as she looked at the coat. She felt like she was going to die. The gesture was pulled out of all of the romantic fantasies she's had over the years, but this was real. She stared back at Arnold, her cheeks crimson as he looked away shyly. The color of his own face could put a fire truck to shame as he rubbed the side of his arm.

"…Just keep it till tomorrow," Arnold said softly. "I have another coat in the trunk. I'll grab it when Grandpa parks the car."

Helga couldn't bring herself to protest; she felt like she was on cloud nine. It reminded her of that faithful day in front of Urban Tots when he was the only one who saw her. The only person that cared enough to shield her from the rain.

"Oh, Arnold, my knight in shining armor… how is it that every time I build a fortress around my heart, you come crashing in like a wrecking ball of compassion and annoyingly perfect timing! You must know - the second you look at me with those emerald eyes, I'm a goner, my football-headed Adonis!"

She nodded, and despite him being right in the car with her, she hugged the coat closer to her. She zipped it up and brought the lower half of her face inside to hide her growing smile. Her eyes flickered to him quickly, making sure he wasn't looking at her before she sniffed the coat. It smelled like fabric softener — a hint of wood, with some cinnamon sprinkled in. She could see some leftover crumbs from the cookies he must have had before leaving the house.

"Criminy, it smells just like him."

She swore she was floating. This couldn't be happening, could it?

"Jeez, Football Head, you're really spoiling me today," Helga whispered sarcastically, "Giving me a carriage ride and some clothes. Gonna give me hot cocoa and tuck me in bed next?" She tried to hide how flustered he was making her, but he saw right through her. He simply laughed. As she shyly looked at him, he gave her a smile that was brighter than the sun.

"You're welcome, Helga."

Silence washed over the car again as Arnold turned back to the window, his pinky finger barely touching Helga's. She looked at her respective mirror, her expression lovesick as they grew closer and closer to P.S. 118.

Phil glanced at them through the rearview mirror. He was kind enough to pretend he didn't overhear their conversation, humming along to the jazz on the radio. He chuckled to himself as he looked back at the road.

Ah, young love.