So, ever since I thought of one Portal fanfic idea, dozens more have just been rushing into my brain. However, I've discovered that I'm a very bad note-taker when it comes to jotting down story ideas xD I tend to write out every detail of the story, but very blandly. However, since the entire story is already there, a small writers block forms and I can't think of ways to spice up what's already written down. Sigh.
Anyway, this was my original Portal fanfic idea, but I wound up writing "Ice Cream" and "Some Of My Best Friends Are Orphans" before this one. So, I have some free time now, and I decided to finally write this =P Enjoy =)
-CheckItOutGirl=)
A/N: 3rd person. Check out my profile for updates, polls, important info, etc. So, I recently moved, and since I know absolutely nobody, I built myself a model of Wheatley. And I talk to it. Is that bad? Yeah, I didn't think so either. Also, my story titles are becoming increasingly boring. I apologize for my laziness. And as for the title, OpenOffice says "sleeptalker" isn't a word. But darnit, I'm making it one. When life gives you two words, don't separate them! Make life take the two words back! Get mad! I don't want these damn two words, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give CheckItOutGirl two words! Do you know who I am? I'm the person who's gonna combine these two words...as a TITLE! (Thank you, Cave Johnson, for being my life coach.)
. . .
Sleeptalker
For Wheatley, being with Chell was a constant string of mind games and guessing.
They were like two halves of a lost whole. He was the ever-talkative chatterbox and curious inquirer, while she was the mute, calculating, logical thinker. When one was happy, the other was happy. When one was angry about something, the other was mad about it too, no questions asked—well, not literally; Wheatley was never one to stay quiet for long.
And when one was troubled, the other one was too.
The day had gone as normal as what normal had become for the unusual pair; Chell cleaned, cooked, shopped, and took Wheatley out on their daily walk, while Wheatley entertained and kept up her spirits with jokes, stories, and his general charismatic bumbling.
As the sun fell under the sherbert horizon and the moon rose on navy waters, Chell read a book as usual while Wheatley struggled to stay silent long enough for her to at least read a few sentences. And if she read any excerpts aloud for him, the core spoke his innocent thoughts, usually resulting in Chell's mute laughter, a sound he held dear and cherished often.
But once the events of the day were over with and they'd both settled in for the night—Chell on her beaten-up twin bed, Wheatley perched on a nightstand pushed close against it—something changed.
Wheatley's shutters drooped shut in a false slumber, in hopes that he'd at least drift off into a mild sleep mode. Chell was already fast asleep, lost in the world of dreams as soon as her head hit the pillow. He envied her ability to dream.
She envied his ability to stay awake.
Wheatley opened his shutters again with a quiet sigh, his nightly hope dashed when he realized he'd never be able to sleep like she could. Giving up once again, he grew content with watching Chell do it.
Suddenly, her calm form stirred, tossing and turning on the mattress. Her previously tranquil face twisted up in expressions of pain and fear, her brows pulling together as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Wheatley, feeling helpless and getting anxious, watched with concern.
"No..."
His shutters flew open as far as they'd go in shock at the small sound emitted from the mute girl.
"Um, sorry, what? Di-did you just speak, luv?" he asked tentatively, his voice awestruck.
"No...no..." she mumbled, still unconscious.
"Oh, well, alright then."
A moment of silence passed by as Wheatley continued to watch her. "Please, don't...don't fire..."
"See, I knew you said something!" Wheatley exclaimed, his bottom shutter drawing up in a triumphant expression. "I was thinking for a moment there, 'Nope, you didn't say anything, you couldn't've.' But you did! Just right now!" But his handles and shutters pulled together in thought as he reviewed the words she'd just uttered. "Wait, 'don't fire'? There's no fire, mate."
"Caroline...no..."
"Who the bloody hell is Caroline, mate? You're talking pure nonsense."
In desperation and confusion, he shuffled through his database of information—granted it wasn't as extensive as he'd like it to be—and pulled up an article on something called "sleep talking" in humans, applying to all of Chell's strange symptoms.
Wheatley rolled his optic and nodded it as he started to realize what was going on. "OOOOH," he sighed in understanding, "that's why you're behaving so strangely! And why you weren't responding to me before! I was starting to think you didn't like me. Well, as long as you're sleeping..."
Suddenly, Chell's innocent flips and turns elevated into full-blown, violent thrashing, tangling herself in the sheets, a "Noooo!" screaming from her lips, then slowly dying into a choked sort of noise, a single tear running down her cheek.
His optic shrunk in fear at the explosive action, his shutters slamming tightly together in horror, then slowly widening to look at her broken features, more tears leaking from her closed eyes.
Wheatley had no idea what to do. He wanted to wake her, but he had no idea how without it being rather violent—like knocking against the wall enough to make it shake down an item from the shelf above her to land on her—and it said to wake sleeptalkers gently. He wanted even more desperately to comfort her somehow, to give her something stable from the real world to let her know it'd be okay. But all he could do was watch in fright.
"Wheatley," she suddenly cooed, his name a sigh on her lips.
"What, luv?"
"No...Wheatley..." she sighed again, a little louder, with some more of those awful choking sounds following. It sounded as if she was swallowing back sobs.
She's dreaming about me!, Wheatley thought in awe, a foreign feeling warming his core to the brim, his own personal equivalent to blushing madly. She's DREAMING...about ME!
But as Chell tossed and turned some more in her little, springy bed, her face filled with pain, Wheatley's thoughts changed from gushy to guilty in a heartbeat. Poor girl, plagued by bad dreams as soon as she's out of that nightmare of a facility in itself. What he wouldn't give to hold her, to console her.
Suddenly, he got an idea, his optic brightening in hope. Rolling himself a tiny bit forward, Wheatley made sure that his bottom handle was securely on the nightstand; then, with a little bit of effort, he worked his handle along it, scooting himself slowly but surely across the nightstand, onto Chell's bed, and eventually into her side. He continued like that for a while, snuggling himself against her, as he lets his shutters drift shut, comforting her to the best of his ability.
Chell stirred underneath him after a moment or two, feeling an unusual spherical bump nuzzling into her stomach. Realizing what the bump was as she woke up, she shifted herself into a sitting position, legs dangling over the side of the bed, and pulled Wheatley onto her lap, assuming a quizzical look as she stared at him.
He cleared his throat awkwardly, wondering where to begin. "You were, uh...you were having a bad dream, and...and you were screaming, and...well, it looked like you needed to feel better, so I tried to...a-and..." he trailed off, not knowing what else to explain. A groggy smile lit her features, her silent way of thanking him.
"Well, here's the kicker," Wheatley continues, flicking his blue optic around nervously, avoiding her gaze. "You, um...you talked."
Chell's eyes suddenly widened, her cheeks evidently taking on a deep red flush even in the dim light, mouth dropping into a perfect "o" of embarrassment and shock.
"But don't be alarmed! Don't be alarmed, don't worry! No need to worry at all, in fact, because, as it has it, you actually have a quite lovely voice, really. You know, aside from the screaming part...but other than that, it was lovely. Quite a pleasant surprise to hear it."
Her looks had softened again at the core's compliment, and she was now fully, toothily smiling at him, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Lifting him up from her lap, she brought him to her lips, kissing him right on the top of his core. Wheatley sighed happily.
"Wow," he mused quietly, that warm feeling heating his core again from the pleasant action, causing Wheatley's bottom shutter to shift up in his unique smile. Another bout of silence passed between them as Chell left him, for once, speechless.
Quickly recovering, however, he cleared his throat and asked, "Right, so you're alright then?"
She nodded, still smiling hugely at him and his innocent charm.
"Well, good, then. Very good." Wheatley then simulated a yawn, saying, "Well, I think it's about time we hit the old dusty trail, eh? So if you'll, uh, just put me back on the nightstand there..."
Chell emitted one of her silent chuckles as she put him back down, making Wheatley light up again at the sight.
"Goodnight, Chell."
And in response was the sound of laughter from under the sheets.