Here is my brand-new Hey Arnold story! I hope that you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold! or any of its characters.

"I'm going to kill her!"

The ferocity of the voice, which was followed by a solid thud, would have frightened most people but Arnold was used to it. Calmly, he turned from the sink where he was washing the lunch dishes to face the kitchen table where his wife was sitting, her head on the table top. None of her face could be seen as tendrils of blonde hair were splayed out in every direction. He grinned at her and dried his hands off on his pants. "Watch it, honey, you don't want to damage the table. It's a fine antique."

Helga whipped her head off the table, her hair flying, and shot him a glare that would have sent full-grown tigers running for cover. As it was, her husband of six months simply grinned more widely at her, crossed his arms across his chest, and leaned casually against the sink.

"A fine antique?" She skeptically shot back at him.

She had a point there. The table was certainly an antique, but it was far from fine – the top had a good number of scratches across its surface and it made a highly suspicious creaking noise whenever people sitting around it moved too quickly. It was the one eyesore in the otherwise pleasant but modestly furnished apartment. Soon after the two had returned from their honeymoon, they had moved to the apartment which was located in the quiet side of Hillwood. There had been a flurry of housewarming parties upon their return, and their friends and families had provided them with gently used furniture, knowing that between Helga's burgeoning writing career and Arnold's continued schooling to become a psychiatrist, they were a little short on money. The end result was a comfortable, eclectic environment that felt somehow seamless – except for the one jarring note that was the table. But no amount of coaxing from Arnold could convince Helga to give up the table – it was on that table that she'd written her first novel when she'd roomed with Phoebe during college. As much as she tried to contain it, Helga was incredibly sentimental.

Arnold thought about pointing that out, but decided not to press the issue. Instead he asked, "Who are you talking about?"

Helga looked at his grinning face. "You know very well who I'm talking about, Football Head! I'm going to kill her."

Arnold walked over to the table and began rubbing her shoulders. "No, you're not."

"Oh, yeah? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't!"

"I can do better than that – I'll give you three." He sat down beside her. "One, she's your best friend. Two, you volunteered. And three," he reached over and gently lifted her chin until she was looking him in the eyes, "I think it would put a real damper on the wedding if you killed the bride."

"Arnold!" She tried to sound indignant but couldn't keep from erupting into giggles, and the irritation seemed to drain from her body.

"That's better, Helga. Why do you let yourself get so stressed about such a happy occasion?"

"Because I'm the only one doing the major planning!" She cried out with an amused tone as she bashed her head back onto the table. Arnold couldn't keep from rolling his eyes affectionately at his wife's antics. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that when the literary world had gained Helga as a compatriot the theatrical world had suffered a great loss.

The happy occasion in question was one that had been heavily awaited since the old gang had been together in middle school – Gerald and Phoebe were finally getting married. It had been a running joke among their friends that the couple that had been together the longest was the last to actually tie the knot; except for Harold and Rhonda all the other couples had been married off. The happy couple did not get particularly ruffled by the teasing; Gerald would just laugh it off and Phoebe would simply outline all the logical reasons why they decided to wait – one major one being that she had only just recently finished her residency and that getting married when she was so preoccupied would make the day more of a hassle more than a joy. Now that Phoebe had finally achieved her long-desired goal of being a pediatric surgeon, she felt more prepared to put full focus on the upcoming nuptials.

The one unforeseen wrench in the works was that Phoebe's reputation in the medical community was unnaturally renowned for her young age, and she had immediately been snapped up by the nearby Hillwood Medical Hospital which sucked up a great deal of her time. Phoebe had been disappointed that she couldn't give the kind of attention she'd wanted to give to her wedding, but she loved her little charges and wouldn't have given them up for anything.

That was where Helga had come in.

"What do you mean, you're just going to get married at the courthouse?" Helga had heatedly asked her friend at one of their weekly coffee talks.

Phoebe had calmly sipped from her coffee cup before setting it down and lacing her fingers in her lap. "It's for the best, Helga. I don't have the time to plan one out, and it would need to be big so that everybody could come. It's easier this way."

"But Phebes," Helga had continued, her eyes softening as she reached across the table to touch Phoebe's arm, "you've wanted a big wedding ever since we were little. How can you give that up?"

Phoebe smiled. "We're still getting married, and we still love each other. That's all that really matters, Helga." Her nonchalant tone would have convinced most, but Helga knew her well enough to see the regret lingering at the back of her eyes.

"Tell you what, Phebes, I'll plan it for you!"

"What?" Phoebe looked up, excitement apparent in her face. "That's sweet, Helga, but you don't need to – "

"Save it, Phebes. You planned my wedding, so now's my chance to return the favor. Besides," she smiled, "what else could I do for my best friend?"

"Oh, thank you, Helga!" Phoebe fiercely hugged Helga, who awkwardly patted her on the back. "That's wonderful!"

"Hey, don't mention it. Just leave it all to me."

Those words, simply spoken, would come back to haunt her. Planning a wedding took a lot more time than she had been expecting, and the tension was increasing. Phoebe and Gerald took on a lot of the responsibilities, and Arnold helped when he could – but Phoebe was busy in the hospital, Gerald had his hands full with the high school boys he coached, and Arnold was wrapping up his own residency and studying for the licensing exam. Most had sad it was madness to get married before he finished his schooling, but the two of them had made it work, and they were now awaiting the results of the examination. All that meant was that Helga had been hampered with most of the details. She had been doing well, but with the wedding in just three weeks the strain was starting to tell.

Helga shook her head as she looked down at the hotel reservations in front of her on the table. "This would have been a lot less difficult if Phoebe hadn't been so dumb."

"Dumb?" Arnold laughed, "You do realize that you're talking about our valedictorian?"

Helga shrugged and grinned, "Well, how else do you explain having the wedding one week before Christmas?"

"She wanted to give everyone the opportunity to make it that lives out of town."

"It also means that it was nearly impossible to get hall reservations. And don't even get me started on hotel rooms…"

"Helga." Helga looked up at him. "It's nearly done. Why are you so worried?"

She shrugged. "I don't know – I guess I'm just afraid that I'm going to mess it up."

Arnold raised an eyebrow and then brought his chair over next to hers. Gently, he guided her onto his lap and began rubbing her back soothingly. She relaxed at the touch and smiled up at him – the loving, compassionate look in his eyes nearly made her melt. "You can do it, Helga," he said in a tone both bracing and gentle, "you can do anything."

She sighed and leaned against his chest, "You're still annoyingly optimistic, Arnold."

Arnold chuckled. "I know," he leaned down and kissed her forehead, "but that's what you love about me, right?"

She smiled up at him, arching one eyebrow. "Well, not exactly…"

He chuckled again, sending pleasant shivers down her spine. "Well, how about this?"

Arnold gently tilted her head towards his and kissed her. She turned to better face him and wound her arms around his neck. They sat in this thoroughly enjoyable fashion for several moments before a loud honk from the street interrupted them. Arnold looked out the window to see the mailman leaning out of his truck window, waving a bundle of letters towards the window.

"That's weird," Arnold puzzled, "he's never done that before."

"Are you going to go out, then?"

Arnold sighed, "I'd better. He's blocking traffic where he is – I guess I'll see what the fuss is about." He gave her lips another affectionate touch before easing her back onto her chair and standing up. With long strides he left the kitchen and Helga heard the front door slam.

She was about to look outside, where a great deal of traffic was building around the small mail truck that had somehow taken up the better part of two lanes, when her cell phone rang. She quickly picked it up and looked at the caller ID. "Hey Phoebe. Got off early today?"

There was a silence. "Well, that's good. So, what's up?"

"Free time? Yeah, I'm getting nowhere on the book. Want me to go to your house, or you want to come here?"

The door closed, and Helga looked up to see Arnold walking into the kitchen with the wad of letters clutched in his hands like they were a lifeline. He was staring down at the envelopes as though they were about to burst into flames. "Phebes, let me call you back." She ended the call, and put the phone back on the table. "Arnold, what is it?"

He numbly sat down at the table and let all the letters slip to the tabletop except for the top one which remained tightly held in his fingers. "The exam results are in. The mailman stopped especially to get them here fast."

"Oh Arnold, that's great!" Helga smiled, but then frowned slightly at his unchanging expression. "Isn't it?"

The envelope shook slightly. "I thought so. But…what if I didn't pass, what are we going to do? I'll have to take it again and who knows how long that would take?"

"I'm sure you did fine, Arnold." Now she was the one scooting close and rubbing his shoulders reassuringly.

"But what if I didn't? This isn't the kind of first Christmas together I wanted for you – you deserve better."

"I don't deserve better – I have you. That's all I need. And this is all pointless because you passed, Football Head!"

The use of the old nickname made him laugh. "Now who's being overly optimistic?"

"It comes from being married to you. Just open it!"

Arnold took a deep breath, and then slit the envelope open. He quickly read the letter's contents and then slumped back into his chair, although it was impossible to tell from his face whether it was from relief or dejection.

"Arnold?" Helga ventured tentatively, "Are you okay?"

"No." He said in a flat voice.

"Oh, Arnold…" She moved to hug him, but was suddenly unable to.

Quicker than she thought he could move, Arnold had jumped up and swept her into his arms. "I'm fantastic! I passed, Helga, I passed!" He began spinning her around and soon her relieved laughter blended with his ecstatic yells of joy. "I did it!"

"I knew you could!" Helga yelled back, laughing, but then sobered her voice enough to say, "But could you put me down? I'm getting dizzy."

He obliged, and she turned to kiss him soundly on the lips. "This calls for a celebration. Should we call the others? Have a big party?"

Arnold smiled down at her. "Not just now. Could we celebrate tonight, just the two of us?"

"Why not? Could you go pick up some stuff at the butcher's? I'll make a special dinner."

"Sounds good to me. What should I get?"

"Hold on a minute." She quickly grabbed a pencil and scribbled some instructions on a notepad before folding it and handing it to Arnold. "Just give this to Harold and he'll get what I need. Don't peek – it's a surprise."

Arnold grinned, "Okay. I warn you, though, it may take a while – I don't know if I can keep this under wraps."

"Then don't, Football Head. This is something to proud of, so you can stop being so painfully modest for once and brag about it, at least a little!"

He laughed. "Fine. See you in a little bit." He hurried over to the door and went outside.

Helga picked up the phone and made a call. "Phoebe, I'm back. You want to come over to talk about the plans? Arnold's gone out, and there's something I need to talk with you about that he can't hear." She laughed, "Well, I don't want to spill the secret just yet. Come on over."

She hung up the phone and smiled to herself. Not too much longer, and she would be able to tell Arnold everything. It was only three weeks until Christmas…she just hoped she could last that long.

A/N: Ooh, what secret? You'll have to wait and see.

Anyway, that's the end of the first chapter. I hope that you enjoyed it!

Thanks for reading, and now please review! (Also, I am looking for suggestions for Arnold's congratulatory meal...I am still not sure what it should be - it's as much a surprise to me as it is to him right now!)