God I love Portal 2...and Wheatley...and ChellxWheatley. So I decided to do this- Minor [Human] Discomfort, a collection of one or two-shot drabbles of Chell and Wheatley living together and trying to survive on the post-apocalyptic Earth. Many (if not most) of the chapters will be about Wheatley adjusting to being a human and dealing with everyday things (like the cold, flu, heat, snow, eating, bathing...). His backstory (of how he got back from space and then how he was transferred into his old human body which was kept in stasis) is a lengthy one that I might tell. Later. For now you can make one up!
So...yeah. First chapter: Cold. It's actually in two parts, this being the first.
Disclaimer: Portal nor its characters are mine.
It was hard for Chell not to become annoyed at the former personality core beside her. For once she had thought he would actually keep quiet that night. But oh no, even in his human body he was still Wheatley. Naive, loud, and compulsively chatty Wheatley. It was now that she realized that it was impossible for Wheatley to keep quite on his own.
"Really cold." Sighing Chell turned over, resisting the urge to glare at him.
What do you want me to do?
"I'm cold," he repeated, rubbing his prickling arms, his predicament seeming more pathetic as he then shivered violently. Feeling the spark of annoyance flicker out at the sight Chell realized just how cold it had become. Sure she had gotten used to the increasingly low temperatures at night during her two months away from Aperture but Wheatley had only been away from the heat regulated facility for a mere week. Even a slight chill would create discomfort, especially with the new body he possessed.
In the dark she could see him open his mouth again to speak though he quickly snapped it shut when she jabbed him hard.
In the ribs.
With her nail.
"Ow!" He rubbed the throbbing skin with one bony hand. "What was that for?"
For being loud and obnoxious at night, she thought one dark eyebrow arched. When he didn't seem to get the message Chell placed one finger to her lips hoping that he would at least understand that.
Be. Quite. NOW Wheatley.
"Oh…ooooooh… Sorry, love. I'll be quiet, so quiet you won't even know I am here, so you can go back to your sleep and…uh…nightmares." She kicked him. "Sorry," he grimaced, "sorry. Your dreams. Back to…those girly things." Now cradling a newly bruised knee and whispering a collection of apologies, promises of silence and noises of pain, Chell saw her work was done. She hadn't solved his discomfort (more like added to it) but she had been promised silence and with that she was content.
And for sixty-three seconds, to be exact (she counted them), Wheatley was comment-less and the worn room was silent.
On the sixty-fourth however, her paradise was shattered.
"I'm still cold."
If it had been anyone else Chell swore she would have punched their lights out. Heck if anyone else had been sharing a room and bed with her she would have kicked them out while screaming something around the lines of "find your own damn apartment!" But it wasn't anyone else (and as far as she knew, there wasn't another human on the still rotating rock she lived on)-it was Wheatley.
So she didn't knock out his lights.
Or hit him.
She didn't even jab his side again.
Instead, after another moment of silent contemplation she again rolled over to face him. This time, however, she moved much closer to him, close enough that her face was inches from his.
"Uh..l-love…what…what are you doing?"
The close proximity in which she was to him started an unknown buzz in Wheatley's head, his human mind malfunctioning (this he insisted) as it could only think of the three inches that separated them and think of how easy it would be to just lean in and kiss like he had seen others do in those human movies. The buzz, though unusual, was not painful like the ringing the persisted after blowing an "air horn", as Chell called it, a tad too close to his ears. No, this one was almost…pleasant.
"Love?" She didn't speak, merely gave him a quizzical look.
Isn't this what you wanted-to get warm?
"Oh-right, yes I do. I would like to very much. Get warm you know. And I didn't mean anything weird by that! Nonono I wouldn't pull anything on you. And even if I were I wouldn't tell you and wouldn't try it when you're awake-butI'! So yeah…just warmth. I just want that….that's all."
And truth be told, by the time he finished rambling, he did feel warmer. Much warmer. Well, his face felt much warmer. It seemed all the heat decided to concentrate up there and burn his cheeks and neck.
"Well-uh-good news love. I am warmer, though it's all in my face. That's the bad news I suppose. Is that a human thing? Only warming the face? Or does it just start there and kind of move down the body? But whatever you are doing is working so you should probably continue. Just don't get any closer cause it's kind of uncomfortab-mygodwhatareyoudoing?"
Whatever barrier of personal space Wheatley possessed (as if he knew what it was) was broken quite swuddenly by Chell as she pulled him close after wrapping both arms around his thin torso. "What are you doing? If this is punishment for what I said earlier I'm sorry! I really am! Please don't do anything-I don't know why I said that stuff-I just want to get warmmmpfh!"
During his second frantic speech in five minutes Wheatley had somewhat removed himself from her embrace (iron grip is what he insists) and had turned to face her. Also during said time, in which Chell had been only half listening to his increasingly loud rambling, she had noted the fact that he seemed to have warmed up.
But he still had yet to be quiet.
And she was just about done.
Chell created many choices for herself in that instance; she was still clever even with her supposed brain damage. Many of them were lengthy and all but one seemed like more complicated than they should. So taking the last option, desperately hoping it would work, she closed her eyes and bit back a shred of nervousness.
Why was she getting nervous of this little thing anyway?
"Oh great now you're mad. Or tired? Are you going to hit me? I said I was sorry! Really really sorry! Love-"
Suddenly and quite unexpectedly Chell broke through the thick wall of tension Wheatley had unintentionally created and kissed the mousy haired boy. It was nothing passionate or very lengthy-no spit swapping whatsoever-it was merely her way of making him shut up.
With that Chell smiled, shushed the boy once more, turned over and moved no more-leaving a very dazed Wheatley smiling at the dark ceiling. Whatever buzzing his head had contained before had traveled to even the tip of his smallest toes when she has kissed him. That same pleasant fizzy feeling lingered even after the burnet had moved away to rest.
"Thanks love," he whispered once he was sure she was asleep. Then, still feeling as if the words weren't enough, he leaned over and left a soft kiss on her cheek. As quick as hers had been and just as sweet.
Chill free, filled with a bubbly happiness, and comfortable with the how the night had gone, Wheatley slipped easily into unconsciousness (fine, fine sleep). Though just before he did, he swore he heard a whisper.
And most of the time, Chell will mute. Unless I want her to talk and even then the sentences will be nothing like Wheatley's. As for new chapters, I already have some ideas but I would also like for you guys to suggest prompts. Anything is fine-just nothing that would be above a T rating.
Remember, the cake is a lie.