Phoebe had been the one to insist he join them at this frivolous college celebration, a celebration Helga didn't even understand the purpose of. It was only because he was best friends with Gerald, but that didn't make her feel better at all.

"I am not going to this party with Football Head." she had sneered at her best friend during the car ride, "I cannot stand him."

"Helga." had come a frustrated, and slightly offended if she recalled correctly, sigh from beside her, "I'm sitting right next to you, I can hear you complaining about me."

Phoebe, and everybody else, had neglected to say anything further after that comment and so Helga had instead resorted to mumbling grumpily to herself in the backseat about how much his presence would certainly ruin her night. Not that she even enjoyed these things in the first place.

Sure, back in the fourth grade her griping over him would have soon turned to a passionate monologue detailing her deepest, darkest affections for him, but that was a long time ago. Since then her senseless longing had dwindled, and her severe infuriation had only grown stronger. Thus, for at least the past five years of her life she could deduce that she truly hated Arnold Shortman.

Helga vaguely recalled the night at the aforementioned party being a moderate success, moderate meaning that she got drunk quickly and stumbled around some stranger's house in a fit of giggles. Surprisingly, she had faint recollections of wearing a brightly coloured sombrero, buying a ridiculous amount of glow sticks and, at some point, kneeing Arnold where it hurt.

The very last thing she could confidently recall, was beating Gerald soundly at a game of ping pong somewhere around midnight. From that point onward, her night was a mystery.



"Mmmrumpf..." she groaned, flipping her lifeless feeling body over in the extraordinarily comfortable bed she had found herself resting upon.

Helga had never been fond of mornings, but this morning was hurting her head far beyond the usual means. Her eyes were groggy, and heavy like a weight was pressing on them, not to mention how desperately she needed a drink of water.

"Alcohol. Never again." she mumbled to herself, like some kind of drunken 'sticky note' to save for later. Maybe, just maybe, it would have done her good to stick that memo to her forehead.

"Huh?" said somebody from behind her, and it was at that point Helga realised she was not alone.

She should have noticed sooner, she figured, because neither her dorm room mattress nor her bed at Bob and Miriam's was even close to as comfortable as this.

Very unwilling to strain her poor eyes, but resolving that it would be best to identify her current bed-mate, Helga rolled to look at the owner of the mysterious voice. And, when she set eyes upon him, she was absolutely certain she was going to throw up.

"Arnold!" she shrieked the moment she saw his stupidly shaped head, and all that messy blonde hair scattered over the pillow.

He raised an eyebrow at her, almost like he was feeling a little afraid of her after that sudden outburst, "Yes, Helga?"



"Yes, Helga." he breathed, his body shifting closer to hers and his arms wrapping around her waist, "Whatever you say."

Helga bit her lip, her arms fumbling to clutch at his shoulders, the world felt like it was spinning, "Do it then." she encouraged with a giggle.

Arnold nodded slowly, he even looked adorably anxious, as his lips brushed against hers and sent a little tingle through her body. Oh, it felt good, it felt really good to touch his lips with hers. Immediately, she pushed forward, deepening their kiss.

"Woah." he murmured into her mouth as her push caught him off-balance, sending them backwards into the brick wall of... whoever's house they were at.



"Oh no." she groaned in absolute defeat, as her mind reeled through the sudden memory of her and Arnold making out in the backyard of some unidentified location, "I kissed you."

Arnold was frowning at her, and she got the impression her night hadn't quite ended there when all he could produce in response was, "Umm..."

Looking down occurred to her, just to check her state of dress, but it proved unnecessary when a little gust of wind entered the room, and her skin tingled a little. This provided two discoveries, one that she was in Arnold's room with the skylight slightly ajar and second, the confirmation, that she was in fact completely naked.

"Fuck!" she screamed in indignation, "Why the heck would I ever sleep with you?"

He just looked at her in complete uncertainty, obviously not able to provide an answer to that question, and ran his hand slowly through his scruffy locks, which ultimately did nothing to tame them.

"How could this have happened? I'd sooner sleep with Brainy than you!" Helga continued, on a little bit of a roll now, and absolutely horrified roll, "Oh hell, I would have rather turned lesbian for Lila than woken up next to you and your freaky shaped head!"

Now he looked a little offended, and he told her as much, "Uh, that's at least a little offensive, Helga."

She was still considering her response to that when he clearly decided this might be a conversation better had sitting up, and the sheets fell to his waist as he moved. Helga had to admit she was incredibly attracted to him, but it only made sense, after all she did still have twenty five old volumes of questionable poetry dedicated to him lying around in the attic space of her bedroom.

And, she really liked the way his stomach muscles flexed as he moved...



"Football Head." Helga whispered as he dropped his lips to her neck, feathering soft kisses down to her slightly exposed shoulders, all as he guided her up the steps to his childhood bedroom, "You make me tremble, you know that?"

The bedroom door shut softly behind it, Arnold having kicked it closed with his foot, shaking his head against the crook of her neck "Uh-uh..." he whispered in response as he reached for the hem of her shirt, "Didn't know."

Shimmying herself against him slightly, and earning a throaty moan in response, she turned to face him and clasped her own hands against the material of his shirt. She loved the way his abdominal muscles flinched at her touch as the piece of clothing was readily discarded. Followed closely by her own shirt.



"Oh come on." she glared, clutching the sheets to her chest in an effort to remain as unexposed as possible, despite clearly being aware that Arnold had obviously seen it all the night before, "Don't sit here and pretend you're not as surprised as I am."

Arnold averted his gaze, "I'm not surprised." he assured her rather plainly, "I actually remember the whole thing."

Oh, so it was like that, "So, you took advantage of a drunk girl?" she accused, despite wondering why of all drunk girls Arnold might choose her to take advantage of. After all, nobody willingly sleeps with their arch nemesis.

"No!" he scolded her, "I did not take advantage of you... I didn't even think you were that drunk, if I'd known, I wouldn't have done it."

Helga scowled at him, "I don't know why you did it in the first place, we hate each other!"

Arnold failed to respond, instead he shifted the covers from the side and hopped from the bed, quickly searching for his discarded clothes from the night before, which were piled on his bedroom floor.



Helga fell backwards onto his bed with a tiny squeal, her jeans now discarded on the floor, and Arnold quickly followed her down, hovering over her, still focussing his attention along her neck and shoulders. His kisses went lower and lower until her eyes fluttered wide open at the sensations of his soft lips around her nipple, his tongue lightly flicking and circling.

"Arnold." she hissed impatiently, squirming with an intense feeling of pure need she could simply no longer ignore, "Please, please."

Her hands scurried, albeit a little frantically, to grab at his belt buckle and with great urgency she managed to unclasp it, closely followed by the unbuttoning of his jeans.

"You're beautiful." he mumbled softly, so softly she almost didn't hear it, before his lips captured hers once more, his kiss insistent and completely mesmerizing, Helga willed her hands to move once more, to continue their previous objective, and as she pushed at his waist band, Arnold got the hint and shifted to let his pants fall to the ground beside the bed.



"I don't hate you," he finally responded, moving to pick up his pants from the bedroom floor. "You hate me."

Helga growled, very loudly, which caused Arnold to flinch across the room, "No, Football Head, I'm pretty sure you said I was, 'obnoxious, rude and unlovable'." and she wanted to slap him for it right now, after all, she'd been in far too much shock at the time he'd said it to do anything. But now, five years later or not, she wanted to enact her revenge.

"I remember." he said carefully, still facing away from her, simply clutching last night's clothes in his hands, unmoving, "I know that saying this doesn't make up for it at all, but... I didn't mean it." and he sighed, "I was frustrated."

She was unlikely to accept that as an excuse, or as an apology, it simply didn't counteract the tears his comments had brought about. Neither did it make her want to slap him any less. "Oh yeah." she decided to humour his terrible explanation for a moment, "Frustrated why?"

"Because, you're so... so intelligent and interesting." he groaned, making the answering of her particular question sound painful, "And you just never seem to like me, no matter what I do."

Helga didn't know what to say, because now Arnold had turned to face her, arms motioning toward her as he tried to explain himself and all she could do was stare at his naked body. It was particularly overwhelming, and her face flushed as her eyes drifted downward and the last hazy pieces of memory floated back to her. Woah...



Helga watched him with innocent eyes, she almost felt like she'd never done this before, all because she was somehow lost in his sparkling green eyes and everything felt surreal. He was breathing sharply, his eyes fixed to hers with great intensity as his lips hovered over her own, only daring to brush over them slightly.

"I don't know why I hate you, Football Head." she uttered softly, running a hand gently through his uncontrollable blonde hair.

Arnold stoked a hand along her side, down to her hips and she shivered with anticipation, she needed him so, so badly, "I don't know either." he almost whispered, his hand dropping between her thighs and caressing her sensitive skin.

"I think..." she said, half squealing as his hand moved her legs further apart and his hips settled against hers, something hard and something she desperately wanted inside of her pushing against her inner thigh, "I want to love you."

Everything was quiet for a moment, as he moved to press himself against her entrance and she nodded eagerly, wordlessly encouraging him to please her how she so desperately wanted. Her head rolled back and her eyes wouldn't stay open as he slid inside of her, her body already wanted to fall apart beneath him.

"I wish you would..." he told her, brushing a stray lock of blonde curly hair from her face before picking up the pace, slamming himself further, tighter against her.

Her toes curled and her hips raised involuntarily from the bed, everything was suddenly fuzzy and she wasn't entirely certain what she was more drunk on, alcohol or Arnold. "Oh my... OH!" nothing had felt so good, so natural and so ... so strong. There was this pulling feeling she couldn't control and the faster he moved, the more she felt him grind inside of her, the tighter the pull became.

Helga screamed, and she hoped to goodness nobody else was home because it was ear piercing, and suddenly her body was able to collapse, just like she had wanted to. Arnold groaned a little and rolled off of her, "Helga..." he managed to choke out, still catching his breath, "I really love you."



Helga almost choked on her own tongue as the memories flooded back, and Arnold who was now halfway in the process of putting his jeans back on, looked up at her with concern.

"You said you love me." she said in absolute wonder, hardly aware she'd actually verbalised the thought.

He smiled, but his cheeks were brightly flushed and he looked uneasy, "I... I did say that." he conceded.

Suddenly, she didn't feel so thirsty and her eyelids felt far less heavy, she was in a very happy place. One very happy place, which those who truly hate people didn't tend to find themselves during situations like these.

"B-But you said... I was unlovable." and she hadn't meant to make him feel even guiltier than he already seemed to be, but the comment had hurt, it had hurt more than she'd been willing to admit for the past five years.

Arnold frowned, and looked like he was about to slap himself, "I'm sorry." he said sincerely, wincing at her expression and biting his lip, "So sorry." he promised as he dropped the jeans to the ground again and slid under the covers, taking her hand gently and placing a tentative, and incredibly light, kiss against her skin.

"I don't hate you." she informed him, without even thinking it through, which only served to prove that she'd simply been lying to herself for years, not that it surprised her a whole lot, "Actually, I guess I kinda like you, too."

"Really?" he doubled checked, raising a questioning eyebrow, and yet looking rather hopeful.

Helga groaned, 'kinda'... who was she kidding?

"I love you."

Arnold didn't bother double checking that one; he simply shifted closer and placed his lips against hers. His kisses were so perfect she had to slightly scold herself for not properly remembering those from the night before. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and stroked his thumb across her jaw line. Helga smiled into the kiss, letting her tongue brush his and her body relax into his. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd get to relive last night all over again.