a/n

this was supposed to be a oneshot and i am taking the living form of the knife emoji bc now it...isn't. i hate giant pieces of exposition so i didn't do that so here it is: basically in this universe what happened in ha! hasn't happened & arnold grew up somewhere else. that's basically all you need to know. this general idea has been floating around the internet for half of ever, and i would link it if i could but ff hates links & smiley faces for some reason so basically google thanksgiving craigslist & you'll get the gist. it's just such a shortaki au i couldn't resist. just a warning: i do not recommend actually pulling this stunt. nor do i recommend trying 90% of the things in my fics...theyre all generally bad ideas.

without further ado:

"Phoebe," Helga used her foot to slam shut her refrigerator door. "I really, like, genuinely," she shoved the slice of pizza she retrieved in her mouth, being careful not to drop the can of beer cradled in the crook of her arm, "appreciate the offer…"

"No, no-" Helga stopped walking to refute her best friend, "no, I am not being sarcastic, no that was not snide-"

"Tell me, then," Phoebe stopped Helga mid-sentence. Helga took the time to meander back around the corner to her couch. She flopped over sideways onto it, making a mental note to wait to open the beer. "What were you gonna say next?"

"…nothing." Helga mumbled, chewing loudly.

"Helg-"

"Okay, fine, maybe I was gonna tell you that I'd literally rather take the the contents of Weird Gary's freezer and thaw them out while simultaneously marinating them in mustard and then blend it up and drink it at Rhonda's engagement party than go with you to Gerald's for Christmas, but I didn't actually say it, did I?"

"Helga, you just said i-"

"What is this, a murder investigation?" Helga set her beer on the table, staring at whatever she was streaming through ChromeCast…currently, it was season two of Degrassi. She didn't know why- she just liked the colors.

"What? Ugh-" Phoebe groaned. Helga grinned, a small one, because Phoebe couldn't actually see her, and took another bite of pizza.

"Stop grinning," Phoebe told her flatly, and Helga grinned harder. "And be nice to me, because I am just worried about your patterns of socialization since moving to Seattle, because you aren't exactly-"

"a charmer?" Helga snorted, chewing loudly.

"No!" Phoebe insisted, "Outgoing."

"Please Phoebs," she cracked open her beer, "I'm a regular social butterfly." She switched up the volume of Degrassi on her T.V. "See?" She took another sip, "I've got friends over right now."

"Helga, do you remember we binge watched Degrassi together one summer before binge-watching was even a thing? We didn't leave my basement for three weeks! And I'd know that episode anywhere."

Her roommate then chose to bust open through her front door. Becky had her hair piled on top of her head, and boots that went over her knees. She was also wearing an outfit that could resemble Marilyn Monroe's iconic look, if Marilyn Monroe was a prostitute who got lost in Cabo.

Helga raised her eyebrows at her, "rough night?" she mouthed at Becky.

Becky, the former stripper with two porcupines, one named Watson and the other Roberta, held up a middle finger and stomped her way to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Helga laughed. She picked her to live with as a laugh and to annoy her parents and she was still just as funny.

"Helga, have you even been listening to me?"

"Yes, baby." She drawled into her phone as if Phoebe were her girlfriend. Which- she wasn't but she kind of was. They were just a little bit married, no big deal.

"So you'll do it?"

"Yes, I will. I promise." Just as married people did, she made a promise she had no intention of keeping.

"Okay- but I'm serious, by next week or I will buy you a ticket. I have to go now because Gerald's poking me, and he sends his love, so I will talk to you-"

"Tell him to shove his love up his-"

"I am hanging up now bye!"

"Gerald she's chEATING ON YOU WITH A SWAGGERING GOLDFISH NAM-" Helga shouted into the receiver until the clear buzz that the call ended came through. Which was a damn shame she got cut off, because the goldfish's name was Jezebel.

"HELGA-" a large bang on her wall, "SHUT THE FUCK UP," Helga turned around and saw that Becky had thrown a vintage candelabra at her. Where she even got that, Helga had no idea.

Helga was laying on her bedspread, laptop on her tummy and doritos crumbs…everywhere. She knew Phoebe was somewhat right- plans for Christmas certainly couldn't hurt. She certainly didn't actually have the funds to fly home, and Phoebe's parents paying for it would be mortifying. And she had convinced her own parents she build an empire off of Vine so they'd leave her the hell alone and also stop inviting her to piano recitals. All piano songs sounded the same, in fact, she wasn't entirely convinced Olga hadn't learned like…12 thirty second pieces and just played them in different patterns. No one would be the wiser- certainly not Helga, anyway.

But really, plans wouldn't be that awful. Not that Thanksgiving wasn't a real hoot, watching the Real Housewives and then going to the bar at Midnight for an opening shift of watching rich men drink away the sorrows of whatever damage their wife was doing to their credit card bills.

She could have a date if she really wanted a date, but that felt a little bit like letting Phoebe win. So, she groaned, and continued to watch the Housewives tear down one of the daughter's new boyfriends. He had a tattoo, which basically meant she plucked him off the mean streets of Detroit. Helga rolled her eyes- the horror of abnormality in suburban America, God forbid.

And then she had the idea.

It's Christmas. Want to skip that long, insulting conversation about how youre still single? About how your parents really want more grand children? Well, look no further!

I am a 24 year old felon with pink hair, and a dirty old truck one year younger than me painted with a guns n roses theme done by 16 year olds. i have a tattoo under my tit & can be as trashy as you want & can play anywhere between the ages of 20 and 29 depending on eyeliner. if you give enough notice, i might be able to get the unibrow to grow in. I'm a technical writer and work late nights at a bar. If you'd like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Christmas, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I'm game.

I can do these things, at your request:

openly hit on other male (or female, its 2016, amirite?) guests while you act like you dont notice.

start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion.

propose to you in front of everyone.

pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, i dont drink, but i used to. alot. too much in fact. i know the drill).

Start an actual, physical catfight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see.

I require no pay but the free meal i will receive as a guest!

Helga honestly didn't know what she expected posting the ad with her phone number on Craigslist but she felt like she was winning at a game of some sort.

A game she was maybe playing with herself, but a game nonetheless.

It wasn't as if she actually expected anything to come of it. She might just take the opening shift at the bar and take a pic with some guy and send it and a screenshot to Phoebe so she could get mad and call and yell at her.

That sounded kind of funny.

Helga sighed, laying backwards over her couch. She had no idea what to do with her life at the moment, as she had a solid four friends and had already texted them all. She wasn't exactly in the mood to write or paint or do anything particularly so she blankly stared at the television as the next episode of Chopped queued up.

She hoped it wouldn't be another round with kids, as watching them get all worked up just stressed her out and not in the fun way.

Her phone jangled a familiar tune and she blinked at it, hoping it would be Gerald reaction to the bizarre Blu Ivy meme she texted him.

It was a completely unfamiliar number, certainly not Hillwood, judging by the area code.

Hi!
I saw your craigslist ad.
I'm not sure if you were kidding, but if you weren't, well…
Can i buy you a cup of coffee?

She snorted, squinting at the text while shaking her head. She knew she was playing with fire, as ever DARE course about internet safety she had ever taken screamed at her from the back of her mind. Especially because the guy, or girl, who knows, typed like it was 2007. They were probably old enough to be her dad.

But, they, whoever they may be, had tested fate and texted her when she was bored out of her mind, so they were going to deal with the repercussions of it.

sure.
but it has to be somewhere with outside seating so my tiny horse can come.
his name is sebastian.
he drinks his coffee with cream, no sugar. tan, like his glorious coat.

She thought that was weird enough to sufficiently scare off her suitor, but her phone was buzzing before she could even put it back on her coffee table.

is he, by chance,…lil?
are there, by chance,…
5000 candles in the wind?

accompanied by a smiling emoji sticking it's tongue out.

Helga squinted at the phone. She hadn't even realized that she had completely stolen that joke from Parks and Recreation when she typed it. She had half a mind to be annoyed at getting called out for it, but she was more amused by the turn of the conversation.

if, by chance,

She typed smugly, playing whoever was on the other side's fiddle for them,

i agreed to meet you at a coffee place with plentiful accommodation for house horses.

A moment passed and then a tentative reply buzzed in.

Yes?

She gripped her phone harder than necessary for sitting on her couch.

would it be a bright place?
busy?
with lots of people?
and probably no knives?

She paused for half a second, but then continued

and also could you bring a house horse because lil sebastian isn't feeling well?

Their reply didn't take too long, thank God, because she had started sweating at some point, which was fucking gross and also weird because why was she nervous?

Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
…Hopefully?
& I can certainly try.

A beat, and then..

:-)

Helga grinned, and then put her phone down, and stood up, ready to bash her head into the wall. She took a few heated paces around her living room. Why was she giggling? Flirting with a stranger on the internet? Was she that lonely?

It was completely insane and she glanced at her pink-faced reflection, glad her face hadn't yet reached the tone of her hair. Yet.

She put a hand against her flushed face, and took a deep breath.

This was crazy, this was nuts. She was going to turn around and pick up her phone and block that number as soon as she could stop fucking grinning. Block the number, drink a glass of wine, find a goddamn hobby.

She stormed back over to her phone, picking it up quickly and with abandon.

give me a time and place.

She texted back.

She dropped her phone on the carpet, glancing at herself in the mirror.

"You," she pointed in the mirror that Becky stole from a Tinder date's house because it was squiggly and cool, "are a fucking nut-bag."

"Quit talking to yourself, Helga!" Becky yelled at her from the bathroom.

She felt like a moron, standing in the middle of the coffee shop. She had put on a dress, then hated herself for it and took it off immediately. She had on, instead, a pair of ripped high waisted jeans, and a cropped long sleeve t-shirt with a print of a fried egg on it she made when she got high with Gerald one time in senior year. She ditched her coat, standing awkwardly by the open table she nabbed while she could. The black sleeves fell over her hands, and she fiddled with them. She hoped the buns she had tied her pink hair into on the top of her head were still even, wispy pieces fell into her face.

She felt like a grade a asshat, and she had no idea how to pick him out of the people meandering in and out of the shop. It was cold outside, so the people were lingering by the door, a lady with a baby, and a lady who looked frankly glad to not be the one with a baby. Helga related to her, as Helga also was frankly, glad to not be the one with the baby.

She told him that he'd know who she was by the hair but that wouldn't help him find her at all… and she was suddenly nervous that they wouldn't be able to find each other and this entire thing would be awkward and then someone was grinning at her, right by the entrance.

And it was not what she was expecting and she only could fathom it being him because in his left hand was a small, stuffed horse.

She had half a mind to shove him into the display of cups behind him and make a break for it.

He was tall, with blonde hair falling into green eyes and overall handsome. He was wearing a nice, green plaid shirt and it was tucked in and he had on a nice watch and she wanted to hide under the table or kick herself for not wearing the dress, but most importantly, he was holding a goddamn horse.

He held it out to her. "I did my best," he grinned down at her and she didn't know what to do but she wanted to shove it down his throat or do something because the entire thing was so fucking weird.

"Can I get you a coffee?" He didn't allow for an awkward pause, asking her with a quick glance at the line behind him.

"Yes, black, please." She did her best attempt at a smile, but it felt more like a grimace, and she tentatively took the horse from him. She didn't want to be the crypt creeper, but for some reason being good at basic human mannerisms were completely forsaking her in the moment.

"Be right back." He grinned.

She was sitting with an incredibly good looking boy at a coffee shop who was smart and nice and it was because she was being a dumbass on the internet. And he brought her a horse. A horse.

When he handed her her cup, she downed a quarter of it and didn't even care it burned her mouth everywhere.

"Thirsty, then?" He laughed, setting his own cup down and pulling out his chair to sit across from her.

"I'm Arnold," he held out a hand to her.

"Helga," She took it, ducking her head to cough into her shoulder. "So, Arnold," she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "Who in your family do you hate that badly?" She hadn't meant it to sound so aggressive, but it had, and there they were.

She put her arms back on the table, then inwardly winced because she just wiped her mouth with her sleeve. She didn't know why her soul animal was a 12 year old boy who rarely did anything but play call of duty but she wanted him the fuck out of her soul.

He, thankfully, laughed.

"I don't-" He shook his head. He laughed again, and it was warm and soothing like butter on popcorn and Helga was ready to launch herself out the window. "I was…I was looking for a chair for my apartment on Craigslist when I saw the ad,"

She furrowed her brow, but listing it in chairs didn't sound unlike her. She wasn't a regular craigslist user.

"And," He wrapped his hands around his cup, obviously enjoying the warmth on his finger tips. It was already a brutal winter. She noticed the flush across his nose and cheeks, and was angry it made him cuter. "I need a date for my parent's house, so…"

"No offense, kiddo-" Helga leaned forward, not buying that story for a second, "but based on evidence I've thus far gathered," She glanced down to the coffee in her hand that he paid for, to his watch, back to his face, "but you don't seem like a guy who's had a rough time getting a date."

"Well," he grinned at her, leaning forward on his arms, "thank you."

She leaned back, for the first time wary of him, of the entire situation, crossing her arms. "What's your game, here?"

"I love my parents," he had his elbows leaned against the table. He had that full-blown grin on his face again, the one that made him look like…sunshine or honey or something equally disgusting. "But, uh," he licked his lips, "look, to be frank…" he leaned forward, and she got the feeling that was a habit of his. Some people were just intense with the eye contact and the interested leans forward, and he was one of them. "I was hoping you'd be more awful?"

She laughed, then, for the first time. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Arnold." She felt the embarrassed flush creep up her neck. More awful. She hadn't called her abhorrent but it still made her want to run even more than him being cute did.

"Okay, no, that came out wrong, you're-"

She laughed over his scrambling and over the teeny tiny crack in her heart he created. She crossed her knees and was trying really really hard not to feel shitty for being so into him. She was wearing a shirt with a goddamn egg on it, and she didn't even have a good reason why.

"My family hates my girlfriends!" He blurted out suddenly, over her laugh. She didn't know what facial expression she was supposed to make then, she had no recollection of a time before this when she was so aware of what her face was doing. She tried to do sincerely interested even though she was already plotting an exit strategy. "Every single one I've ever had! And it's so weird because my mom likes everyone, but they're oddly protective of me because of," he swallowed, "just this stuff that happened when I was little, we were separated until I was five or so," He waved it off dismissively, but Helga desperately wanted to know more. She loved getting involved in business that wasn't her own, it was rather a sick fascination of hers. "So I was hoping if someone," he glanced up at her, "I don't know, was the lowest common denominator…"

"Did you just use math to describe human relationshi-" She tried to laugh again because, okay, that one fucking hurt. And she knew she signed up for this, but Jesus Christ- but he held out a hand, hellbent on finishing his thought.

"Then they'd lay off of whoever came after, but really-" He glanced up at her again, "were you planning on looking this pretty on Christmas?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Her heart did what she could only describe as a flutter. "I mean, ah-" he smacked a hand on his forehead.

YOU ARE CONFUSING ME WITH YOUR MOUTH WORDS she screamed in her mind quickly and she didn't know what face on earth this situation called for as no sitcom had ever prepared her for this. She wanted to go for pretty, cute duck into her palm, but was afraid she landed more in the gaping fish territory.

"You're right, this is stupid," He backed away from her slowly, and she quickly thought that she hadn't said he was stupid, just his math analogies, "what am I even doing?" He spoke to himself, looking down at his hands like they held the secrets to the inner mechanisms of his mind. "My grandpa is just on my back about, well, not really- and you're so, I mean," He blinked at her, "isn't this kind of degrading?" He blanched as she raised an eyebrow, because she had posted the ad, thank you. "I mean, obviously, you can do what you like but, I just never thought a girl like you would need to, not that you need to... god," he smacked a hand on his face again, "nothing I'm saying is working out."

She studied him carefully, realizing she was still far back away from him, as she was the entire time during this terrible, terrible ramble. Her arms were still crossed and she could only imagine how she might appear, intimidating. She was still regretting the shirt with egg on it.

"I'll do it," she said quickly, planting her hands on the table. On the inside, she was kicking herself, knowing that it was only because he was cute except for maybe a strangely shaped head. If he had been any less cute she would have gotten the fuck out of there faster than you can say small fire. Which is likely what she would have set. "Tell me about your family, why do they hate your girls?"

He looked up at her, quickly, blinking. He was almost innocent in that moment. "Did I tell you we have to drive to Seattle?"

She snorted, and picked up her coffee while raising her eyebrows at him, "did I tell you you really have a way with words?"

a/n

*chanting from the sidelines* ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP

i don't know why i was going for palpably awkward energy here but i dont know why i go for most things! or why i'm starting another fic when i have a mountain of WIPS to weed through! whoops!

love you all- thanks for reading. let me know what you think this is a pretty new take on them for me.