50 Words of Heather and Harold

Summary: A Total Drama Island/Action fanfic. Fifty short romantic prompts about an evil, popular b!tch and a dorky but well-meaning weirdo. Harold/Heather, one-shot. Slight bad language.

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She was an angel. A fallen one, granted, but Harold honestly didn't care too much about that.

Ten thousand rational reasons not to go out with him; maybe a handful of reasons to do it, if she really, really wracked her brain. But somehow, it was still a hard decision.

“…And said ’secret picture’ will remain missing until such time as Harold’s underpants are returned.” Heather smirked wickedly as Duncan seethed. “Any questions?”

Heather removed her tongue from Harold’s mouth as Gwen and Leshawna stared at them, eyes and mouths opened wide.

“Um…heh-heh…okay, let me start off by saying that this is not what it looks like.”

“Ugh…who knew all those stupid allergies of his would wind up giving me so much crap to deal with?” Heather muttered, pulling her knees up to her chest as she sat in the hospital waiting room, waiting for the latest news.

Even though she secretly had fun, and even though he tried to refuse it, Heather forced the money into his hands before storming back into her house. After all, she told herself, she had said she was just hiring him because she couldn’t find anyone else to take her to the dance, and she had meant it.

“DAMN it, Harold! When are you going to just give it up and accept the fact that Leshawna doesn’t like you?! I mean—not that I CARE…”

DJ windmilled his arms. “WHOA—”

He fell to the ground, as Harold sprinted past him, grinning. Yeah, he thought, racing into the building. We’ll see which one of us gets to ask out Heather first.

It had been so much easier with all her other boyfriends. When she dated them, both parties knew it was just for looks and status, that in the end the relationship was doomed. Harold’s stupid apparent sincerity made the chances of heartbreak seem so much more real.

“NO, Harold, I actually DON’T consider it romantic to propose IN KLINGON!”

“Er—wait!” Heather called, running after him. “Maybe—maybe dinner together wouldn’t be so bad…”

“But let’s make one thing clear—just because I get more in my weekly allowance than you could even hope to make in a year, that does not mean we’re going Dutch, got that?! Or that you can take me someplace cheap!”

Heather smirked. The way Harold had managed to trick the other team like that…it always impressed her how downright devious he could be when he wanted to be.

He sighed. “Where else am I going to find a girl like her?”

“Prison,” Gwen said without missing a beat, flipping the page of the magazine she was reading.

It wasn’t until the final season was over that Heather realized: a three-hundred kilometer distance between their hometowns was quite a big larger than she would have liked.

Noah smirked as Harold glared at him. Granted, he knew that “her personality” was not a valid answer to the question “And name one thing wrong about me dating Heather”…but truth be told he was having a hard time coming up with a convincing retort.

As Harold droned on, Heather began to wonder two things: one, how many times would she have to hear him blather on about his orange-juice allergy before he realized he had told this story a million times before, and two, why was she never quite bothered enough to actually tell him?

“No, I am NOT going to call him! It’s HIS job to come crawling back to ME!”

(One hour later…)

“Ahem—Harold? Uh…it’s me…”

Sometimes she wondered: if he had been some popular stud, and she were still a pimply little fatso, would they have still wound up together?

“What the hell kind of anniversary is this? I have to come downstairs for breakfast?!” Heather demanded, as Harold stood by the stove, trying to cook three or four different courses at once (one of which was burnt black while two others burst into flames).

“No, I do not want a sip of your soda!” Heather cried, pushing the can away as Harold drew back in surprise. “GROSS!”

“Aw, what’s the matter?” Cody mocked, winking as he strutted past. “You normally seem happy to share saliva with him, heh-heh…”

“So the annoying geeky kid winds up with the totally popular hot girl?” Chris asked, motioning to the kissing couple and making a face. “But…hasn’t that already been done to death?”

Harold sighed, laying his head on her shoulder. “I can’t even remember what it was like before we were together.”

“I can,” Heather muttered. “There aren’t too many good memories, though…”

“You know, I don’t mind sleeping on the floor, Heather. You can have the bed.”

“Well of course I get the bed!” Heather raged, rolling her eyes as she threw her suitcase upon it. “Moron!”

“A dork I can actually stand to be around.” Heather paused, quirking an eyebrow. “Wow. Who’d’ve thought?”

“Do I—really have to do this?” Harold pleaded, taking the razor away from his stubbly chin for the tenth time. He blanched as Heather growled in response.

“Whatever! Fine! Go on your little date with Leshawna, then! See if I care!”

“Whatever you do, don’t try to say anything bad about her around Harold,” Duncan said, rubbing his bruised jaw. “He’s decided he has to ’protect her good name’ or some shit…”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing you weren’t looking at that girl,” Heather said, examining her nails as if to mask the growl in her voice, “because if I ever even thought you might be cheating on me…oh, you don‘t even want to know…”

“Hmm…the scrawny, redheaded hero falls in love with a wicked, dark-haired princess.” Noah lowered Harold’s manuscript, quirking an eyebrow. “Why does this sound so familiar?”

“I am not in Kansas anymore,” Heather muttered, crossing her arms almost protectively as she walked with him into her first sci-fi convention.

“Actually, if you take into account the slight difference between the calendar and astrological years, it isn’t our anniversary until 11:30 tonight. So yeah, I technically don’t have to have your gift yet. By the way, what size are you again?”

It was so easy to just slip up on this whole “being nicer” thing, and just give in to the urge to sneer or snarl at whoever was annoying her. But if Heather had learned one thing from Harold, it was that you always had to get up every time you slipped.

Of all the things she hated Leshawna for, being Harold’s first Total Drama crush was probably the least forgivable.

Heather stared at the painting in horror. “THAT’S supposed to be ME?”

“It’s abstract. GAWSH!” Harold snatched back the portrait and stormed away. “Philistine…”

Harold was perfectly willing to overlook her patchy, scraggly hair. And Heather was willing to overlook his scrawniness…and his illnesses…and his geekiness…and his raspy voice…and his—I’m sorry, wh-what were we talking about?

“Let‘s go! Fame and adventure await!” Harold said, grinning broadly as he pulled his startled girlfriend behind him into the woods.

Heather sighed, crossing off another day without Harold on the calendar. Granted, the McGradies were all ridiculously annoying, but maybe she shouldn’t have declined their invitation for the ski trip after all.

She saw a potential servant. He saw a potential angel. Oddly enough, they were both a little right.

“Hey, say what you want about her, but have you ever read Paradise Lost? Even demons can have feelings, you know!”

“Well,” Bridgette said, still giving her a suspicious, sideways look, “if you really want my advice, I’d say that sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith.” A small smile passed her lips. “Don’t worry—I think he’ll be able to catch you.”

“I’m perfectly fine with it,” Courtney said, turning up her nose. “As far as I’m concerned, going out with Heather is exactly the kind of punishment that little cheater deserves.”

“Oh please. I am so over that dork.”

“You’ve said that six times now,” Eva growled, pumping her dumbbell. “You’re not convincing us any more than you are yourself, you know.”

Heather’s eyes narrowed in silent fury. Harold had lied to her. Harold had lied to her, and she was going to rush home and find out what he was up to right now.

Meanwhile, Harold carefully placed the cake on the table, grinning as he stood back to admire his work. “This surprise party is gonna be AWEsome…”

“No, I don’t CARE how loud the storm is, get back in your own bed, you scrawny little PERV!”

“Welcome, m’lady, to Chateau McGrady,” he said, opening the front door with a flourish.

Harold’s brother rolled his eyes. “Dork.”

Heather shot him a look, even as she realized she would have said the exact same thing not so long ago.

“No—ha-ha—STOP!” Heather cried, trying to push him off, but Harold merely grinned, increasing his attack. Who would have thought that Heather would be so darn ticklish?

As she joined him in front of the altar, they both gave each other a sheepish smile, faces turning red. At that moment, each of them thought they were the luckiest person in the entire world.