Because their sexual tension could only remain unresolved for so long; something was always bound to happen. A collection of Oneshots. AxH

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold!, the songs, or anything else that sounds like I could make any money off of it.

As I am suffering from severe writer's block, I've decided to try and do something to hopefully jump start my motivation and inspiration.

And, because sometimes, I just want to write some smut without all the backstory. Sue me.

This is, as of right now, going to be a series of 10 unrelated, song inspired oneshots on the higher end of the rating chart. It's based loosely on the old iPod shuffle challenge.

Title: Crazy

Rating: T; PG-13

Timeframe: Later high school years.

Summary: Arnold attempts to sort out his confusion over his feelings for Helga.

"Yeah... you want her, but she's so mean"

-She's So Mean by Matchbox Twenty

"I must be crazy," Arnold muttered to himself, as he managed his way through the teenaged-filled house of, who else?, Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd. Normally, he wasn't one for parties; well, not these kind of parties, anyway. He wasn't real big on drinking, and so most parties of this nature were, for him at least, pretty boring.

And yet, here he is. All because she had bugged him about being a social leper lately.

'Her words, not mine,' were Arnold's muttered words on the phone to Gerald, who was visiting a University this weekend.

'Aren't you a little old to still be bullied into doing things by a girl half your size?' was Gerald's snarky retort, to which Arnold had simply hung up as he rolled his eyes.

Since her best friend was currently in a foreign exchange program, Helga had been even more of a pain in Arnold's ass than usual. So, you would think he'd want to avoid her whenever he could. But, that would be the sane thing to do, and he clearly was not in his right mind.

After all, only a crazy person would be in love with their childhood tormentor.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to show up," a taunting voice came from behind him.

Arnold gave a suffering sigh before he turned around. Taking in Helga's ever casual attire of jeans and a t-shirt, he fixed his gaze on her face with a flat, unamused expression, "I'm torn between feeling special, and feeling irritated that out of everyone here, you still prefer me around to annoy."

"Aw," Helga cooed as she reached up and ruffled his already messy hair, "Football Head, don't be silly. You should feel fucking honored I pay you any kind of attention. Now, come on. I heard Harold, Sid and Stinky are going to try and make a human bridge across the pool."

Arnold rolled his eyes, even as the last of the butterflies settled in his stomach. As if coming to terms with his love for that terrorist wasn't hard enough when he was a pre-teen, dealing with her now and all this sexual tension crap was pure torture.

Helga was just...always touching him. And he could never figure out whether she did it on purpose or not. Like he wasn't already crazy enough as it is. Gerald did sort of have a point, although Arnold wouldn't consider Helga so much a bully. She was just...mean.

Not in an evil sort of way (although, his dick would disagree), but in a…

Hm.

"Has anyone ever told you you're really mean?" Arnold turned to Helga suddenly, eyeing the drinks she was mixing for the guys pointedly. Helga looked up at him in surprised, and paused what she was doing.

After a moment she looked off thoughtfully, "Mmm, probably not so much in those words...but yeah!" she looked up at him mockingly, "Don't tell me you're only just now realizing that, Shortman? I didn't know you were that dense!" she patted his cheek, none too gently, and grinned impishly at him before grabbing her concoctions and seeking out any poor soul too drunk to turn more alcohol down.

At some point during the night, he had managed to lose Helga (or, rather Helga had ditched him) and attempted to find someplace fairly unoccupied so he could collect his thoughts. He found himself outside on the deck, and sat against a beam. In a way, he was glad to have lost her for the moment, as he could finally think clearly.

God, she was touchy tonight. And grabby. And close...all the time.

Considering how mean she was, Arnold was fairly certain she did do it on purpose. At this point, Arnold was tempted to leave, because he honestly wasn't sure how much more Helga he could take in such close proximity without doing something crazy, and end up dead by her hand. Or, whatever was available.

Why couldn't she just hit him with spitballs and spray him at the water fountain, like back in the good old days?

Man, he must be crazy for wanting her so bad. Maybe he should see somebody about this.

Arnold sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Why did Helga have to be so-

All of a sudden, Arnold found himself soaked from head-to-toe. From up above on the balcony, he heard a familiar laugh. He sighed again and muttered, "...mean."

He stood up and glanced above him, noting the balcony was already empty, save for the bucket perched on the ledge. He brought his hand to his face, wiping the the excess water from it, when he was pegged by a fluffy towel. He tugged it from his head, and shot Helga an glare, "I'm sure there was a better way to get my attention, Helga."

She clasped her hands behind her back innocently, "I just thought you looked like you needed something refreshing. You know most people would say 'Thank You.'"

Arnold, who had been drying off his face, pulled the towel down and gave her a slanted look, "Fuck you."

Helga shrugged, "Close enough."

Throwing the towel onto his shoulder, Arnold rolled his eyes and made his way back inside to the kitchen, with Helga not far behind. When questioned as to why he was soaking wet, Helga was quick to answer before he could.

"He was a little on the smelly side, so I did what I could to remedy the situation," she said, watching him for his reaction, with a ruthless grin before taking a drink from her Red Solo Cup.

Arnold's jaw clenched in exasperation as the others in the kitchen laughed wildly at the prank, and he shot her another slanted look, which only made her grin wider.

Outside the kitchen, a chant urging someone to chug started up, and the occupants of the kitchen quickly filed out to see the spectacle, leaving only Arnold and Helga remaining.

Helga turned from Arnold's unamused gaze and nonchalantly took another sip from her cup.

Tossing the towel onto the counter, Arnold said, "You make me crazy, you know that?"

Helga feigned surprise, "Who, me?"

"Yes, you," Arnold replied snidely.

Helga rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. Don't be such a baby, Football Head."

At this point, Arnold had had enough of this...whatever it was with Helga. Striding over to the counter, Arnold grabbed a remaining shot from earlier, and threw the contents of it back. Helga's eyes widened in surprise at the action, and Arnold braced against the counter as he let the alcohol burn it's way down his throat.

"You feel like a big boy now, Shortman?" Helga remarked patronizingly from beside him.

Arnold took a steadying breath before straightening, and looking over at her. She was wearing the smirk that just dared him to try and come up with something to say back.

He kissed her instead.

He heard her give a sound of surprise, and he slid his hands to her waist and drew her against him. Within seconds, he felt her respond avidly and her hands went up into his hair, causing excess water to trickle down. He was pretty sure he might've moaned a little, and as he changed the angle of the kiss to something deeper, he was positive Helga did.

Arnold forced himself to pull back, and had to hold back a shudder when Helga opened her eyes and her gaze was clouded with hunger.

Then, she gave him that wicked smile of hers before saying a little breathlessly, "It's about time, Football Head."

Well, this was the tamest one. The rest of them will all be deserving of an 'M' rating. I'll try and have one out by tomorrow.