A/N: Here it is, a fanfiction pairing your favorite moron and tsundere, homicidal AI. I can't believe I haven't seen this pairing yet. So I decided to do it, because my twisted brain works that way. I mean, haven't you seen those movies or read those books when the worst of enemies become the best of friends? I don't believe that Wheatley is hopelessly stupid, I think he's just a clumsy doof. You can't blame him for going power-crazy, his poor little body couldn't handle the immense responsibility of controlling all of Aperture. He wasn't ever meant to. I personally love Wheatley. And GLaDOS, of course. What would Portal be without those two? Speaking of Portal, whatever my second personality says, I don't own Portal and I never will. I only own this fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it!
Sunlight filtered through the window of Wheatley's bedroom, flickering on his eyelids. He rolled over and groaned, shutting his blue eyes more tightly. But, he knew what today was, and what he had to do. Time to go to work. Those words coursed through his mind as he slowly sat up and stretched. Yawning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretched them one by one, and put his feet into his slippers. Wheatley put on his circle-rimmed glasses, walked to the bathroom, and meticulously brushed his teeth to make sure that they were white and shiny. He picked up his hairbrush and brushed his dirty blond hair down flat, only for the bangs to pop back up into a cowlick. He brushed it back down again, but it refused to stay the way he wanted. Shrugging, he left the bathroom and got dressed, putting on his dark gray slacks, his black button-up shirt, and a gray tuxedo over it. Taking his pajamas, some navy sweatpants covered with happy, grinning sheep and a baggy t-shirt with the Aperture logo on it, he folded them neatly and laid them on his bed. He slid his feet into his black loafers, making sure to tie the laces tightly. About to walk out of the room, he realized he forgot to put on his favorite tie. Wheatley stepped back to the dresser and picked up the dark blue tie he wore to Aperture. Tying it as speedily as if he had done it all his life, he adjusted it, smiled winningly into the mirror, and left his room to fix his daily breakfast.
Breakfast consisted of a bran muffin, a piece of cantaloupe, two pieces of bacon, orange juice, and a bowl of Rice Krispies. Wheatley ate quickly so he wouldn't be late for work. He put his plate in the sink, pushed his chair in, and walked in a stately manner to the door. He started to turn the knob, but that was when he remembered- he had been kicked out of Aperture! I've gone and done it again! He almost banged his head on the door, only to stop because he had bruised his forehead from doing it yesterday. It had been three days since the incident at Aperture, and he was still doing his routine every morning only to get to the door and remember that he was fired. Huffing angrily, he walked stiffly back to the table, yanked his chair out from under the table, sat down, and buried his face into his hands and sighed.
When he was a teen, he lived a life of adventure. He owned a camper van, and traveled a lot. After many years of that life, he felt that he needed to settle down. So, using the money that he had earned working various jobs around Europe, he bought a house and began searching for a job. After a few weeks of searching, a man appeared at his door and asked if he needed a job. He agreed, of course, and the man gave him directions to Aperture. He followed the directions perfectly, he thought, only to get lost in a field of grain. When he finally arrived he was tired, thirsty, and most importantly severely late, but they welcomed him anyway and he got to work. After a year or two of working there, he was promoted to overseeing the rooms of the facility. He was in love with his job. And then the incident happened, and he was fired. His job was his life, and now that he was out of a job, he had no life. He had to get his job back!
But how? He wracked his brain on ways to get back into Aperture. He could steal someone else's uniform and pretend to be that person? No, they would surely recognize him. Maybe he could ask the workers to go on strike until he got his job back? That probably wouldn't work either, they must think it was for the best that he was gone. Wheatley felt terrible about what he had done. Every day, he died a little more inside. This wasn't just about getting his job back. This was about getting his respect and dignity back as well! I need to apologize. That was when it hit him. He should apologize to his co-worker, GLaDOS! Since he had been promoted, they had been working together. He oversaw the rooms, she watched and controlled the tests from a private room. If he apologized to her, he may not get his job back, but he would stop feeling so bad. There was only one problem- Wheatley was not very good at talking to women. And with GLaDOS most likely still angry at him, that could be a problem. He needed advice, and fast, so he called his co-worker, Jerry. Jerry was a ladies' man, so he knew how to win them over.
Wheatley waited as patiently as he could for Jerry to get on the line, and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he did. "Hello? Who is it?" Wheatley made a relived 'YES!' fist-pump and stated his issues. "Hey, Jerry! It's Wheatley. I have a little problem. You see, uh, I was... Fired, for reasons I'm not going to say. And I need to apologize to my friend so I can feel better, at least." Jerry gasped. "You were fired? That's terrible, man! I'll help out. Now, what does your friend like?" Wheatley thought about this for a while. "Hmm, besides testing? Let's see... Cake, I think. She likes cake." Jerry chuckled. "She? You were fired, you say?" Wheatley realized where this was going. "It's not like that," he huffed. "I need my job!" Jerry laughed good-naturedly. "Sorry, man. So, she likes cake, huh? Why don't you bake her one?" Wheatley smiled, and thanked his friend for the idea. "No problem, man," said Jerry. "Women are my niche, you know? And science is yours, I'd guess. Good luck with the cake!" Wheatley said his thanks again and hung up. He was determined to bake a fantastic cake for GLaDOS.
After searching for an hour, he finally found a dusty cookbook and searched for a cake recipe. There was a very nice-looking simple one on page sixty-five, a vanilla cake with chocolate icing and chocolate chips. Once he wrote down the ingredients, he left his house in his car, a burgundy Ford Flex, and drove off to the nearest Walmart to buy the ingredients for the cake. "Let's see here. Four eggs, a pound of flour, three cups of sugar, two cups of milk, a teaspoon of vanilla flavoring, chocolate icing and- Two pounds of chocolate chips?! Oh, for the love of..." He walked all over Walmart, picking up all the ingredients. He was slightly disappointed that bags of chocolate chips don't come in pounds, so he had to buy four bags, each a half pound. Each of them cost five dollars. Sighing, he paid for his burden, left for home, and got to work.
He successfully poured the flour in the bowl, but spilled some milk on the floor. Grumbling, he wiped it up and continued to mix the concoction. As the recipe said, he poured a pound and a half of chocolate chips into the batter, for the rest was going to go on top of the cake after it was finished. He cracked the eggs and mixed the yolks in with the batter, along with the vanilla flavoring. After Wheatley felt they were mixed together properly, he poured them into the cake mold, put it in the oven, set the oven to "bake" and closed the door. For a while he stood there, watching it bake. He felt very proud of himself, so he decided to go into the living room and watch some television.
Wheatley had been sitting there for forty minutes, watching "Rin Tin Tin" and contemplating the old days, when he heard some ominous clicking from the direction of the kitchen. He concluded that there was no need to investigate the noise just when an ear-shattering boom sounded in the kitchen. "What the bloody-" His curse was cut off as he ran into the kitchen and stopped dead at the scene. The oven door had burst open, and jet-black smoke was rising out of it. Looking closer, he saw that the oven was on fire! Panicking, he grabbed the fire extinguisher that was hanging near the sink and sprayed the foam all over the kitchen.
He stared in shock, breathing heavily, as the flames dissipated. After making sure the fire was completely out, he hung the fire extinguisher on the wall and took a hanky out of his pocket to wipe off his foam-spattered glasses. Luckily, nothing else was covered in foam but his shoes. He walked into the bathroom, shined his shoes, and walked back into the kitchen to check the state of his cake. Once he had cleaned off the foam, he saw that the cake was only a charred pile of smoking ash. He grabbed the mold that the cake was in, and dropped it hastily because it seared his palm. Glaring at the pan hotly, he stuck his hand in his mouth and searched for something to hold it with. He soon armed himself with a faded oven mitt shaped like a whale and gingerly picked up the burning-hot cake mold and soaked in in cold water. Wheatley took good care to scrub the sticky, melted chocolate out of the pan so he could use it again. There was no giving up now, even if he didn't have an oven. Or a kitchen, for that matter. He sighed and walked out to his car. Time to buy two more pounds of chocolate chips.
After Wheatley's laborious ordeal of relocating the chocolate chips, he drove to his neighbor's house. He was positive that Chell would let him borrow her oven. She was the only woman he could talk to without feeling as awkward, mainly because she didn't talk much. Carefully arranging the ingredients in the mixing bowl so none of them would get ruined, he parked his car next to her driveway and clumsily made his way out. He almost tripped on the step while watching his burden to make sure none of the ingredients fell, but he successfully made it to her door. He knocked on the door, rang the doorbell for good measure, and waited. Chell finally came, her deep green eyes blinking with confusion until she realized that it was Wheatley. "Uh, hi, Chell. Can I use your oven, maybe?" Chell nodded in assent, her light brown hair swiping past his face as she ushered him in.
When they got to the kitchen, she looked up at him with narrowed eyes and fingered his tie. "Oh, yes, the tie. A bit too formal, eh? Well, today I was getting dressed for work at Aperture, but I had forgotten that I was, well, fired." Chell gasped, her eyes widening. Wheatley remembered that she wouldn't know about his predicament, so he explained why he was baking the cake. "You see, I wasn't paying attention and my oven, uh, exploded. That's why need to use yours," he finished. Chell chuckled and patted his shoulder sympathetically. She knew that Wheatley was a bit of a klutz, so blowing up an oven was a regular on his list of slip-ups. Wheatley started to mix the cake batter, with Chell flitting around him cleaning up the spills. Once he had finished mixing, he allowed her to taste it. Chell stuck her finger in the bowl, then put it in her mouth and sucked on it. She nodded and gave him a thumbs-up with her free hand. He carefully poured the batter in the cake mold, making sure not to spill any. Smiling all the while, he opened the oven door and stuck the soon-to-be-cake into the oven. "Heh, maybe you could watch the oven, Chell? I'm afraid I'm not very good with them," said Wheatley, only half joking. Chell laughed and pulled two chairs out from under her dainty kitchen table so they could both watch it bake.
Wheatley informed Chell of the whims of Aperture, and Chell listened intently, as she was inclined to do. He then started to vent to her about his day, and was about to go into a long explanation concerning his journey to the chocolate chips when Chell stopped him and motioned to the oven. The cake was finally done! Carefully opening the door, he slid on his oven mitt and grabbed the cake. It was a beautiful golden color, and smelled delicious. He set it down on the table to cool for a while, then started to apply the icing. With help from Chell, slowly but surely, they soon had covered the cake with icing. Wheatley expertly sprinkled the last half-pound of chocolate chips on the top of the cake and beamed. He had finally completed his masterpiece! Then, he realized- he didn't have a platter to put it on. Chell examined the scene and hastily opened a cabinet and handed him a silver platter and lid. Wheatley carefully slid the cake onto the platter, put the lid over it, and proceeded to feel very confident in himself. There was only one more step to the mission left: bring the cake to GLaDOS and apologize. He felt his confidence slowly drain. He had no idea what to say to her. Turning to Chell, he asked, "What'll I say to GLaDOS when I get there?" Then, while guiding him to the door, Chell spoke for the first time during his visit: "Just tell her that you feel really bad about what happened, and that you want to make it up to her by baking her a cake. Keep your composure. Make eye contact and small talk. And, whatever you do, do not tell her that this was her fault. Even if it was, telling her that this was her fault will ruin it." She opened the door, gently pushed him out with a pat on the back, said, "Good luck!" and winked before she closed it.
What was that all about? Staring blankly into space in confusion, he walked to his car, and set the cake down in the empty front seat. As he drove to GLaDOS' house, he thought of things he could say to her. Hello, GLaDOS. No, too formal. Hey, GLaDOS! Nah, that makes me sound like a news reporter. 'Hey there,' maybe? Yes, that sounds about right. Not too formal, not too dorky, just right. You can do this, Wheatley! You've got it all under control. He finished his little pep talk by the time he was in GLaDOS' driveway. Making sure not to lose hold of the cake, he made his way to her door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked. He heard a groan from inside the house. Soon, GLaDOS finally answered the door. She was wearing an Aperture t-shirt that conformed to her slender shape perfectly, some dark skinny-jeans, and black high-heeled boots. Her eyes were a bright yellow, and her shoulder-length, straight hair was so dark that to the human eye, it seemed as black as night. "Look, little girl," she said, looking down at the ground, "You've been to my house three times this hour, and I've told you each time, I don't want any cookies! So scr-" She looked up in surprise, her eyes narrowing when she saw Wheatley. "Oh. It's you." She glared at Wheatley in such a cold fashion that it could've frozen water. Wheatley's mind went totally blank. "Uhh... Erm, hello..." GLaDOS smirked. "You're lucky, I just got back from work. I spent the whole day picking up broken glass. By myself. But you can come in." She opened the door, saying, "After you," and bowed sarcastically.
Wheatley walked stiffly in, setting his cake down on a large coffee table in the middle of a ring of yellow furniture. There were pictures of Aperture hanging on the wall, some of them the whole building from the outside, some of them the testing rooms. There were a few pictures of the whole team, and there was one picture of GLaDOS and him standing in front of the Aperture logo. That picture was taken when we became co-workers! It was also the first time that I saw her smile. Her smile, though very rare, could brighten any moment. Mostly because she wasn't very happy most of the time. GLaDOS then walked in, watching him stand there. "You can sit down," she said, almost impatiently. He found an armchair and plopped down. She sat down in a similar chair on the other end of the coffee table. Wheatley tried his best to remember Chell's words. Make eye contact and small talk. He looked into her eyes, but then found himself to be staring. Looking away quickly, he said, "Uh, nice wheather we're having, am I right?"
GLaDOS completely ignored his question. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, Wheatley. What possessed you to take over the facility?" "I d-don't know..." he stammered. His palms were sweating so much that he felt like they were melting. GLaDOS stiffled a chuckle. She would never tell him, but she thought his awkwardness was cute. Wheatley mustered the courage to start his apology. "I came here t-to apologize. I can't quite explain why I did it, but I'm really sorry about what happened." GLaDOS looked like she was waiting for something. Oh! I almost forgot. "Will you, um, forgive me? I even brought you a cake..." GLaDOS sighed. "I can't forgive you yet. Aperture is my life. I could see that it was your life, too. We both love working there. But, then you destroyed it!" Her gaze warmed a bit. "Why, Wheatley? I know you love working there. Why would you destroy the place you love?" Wheatley couldn't meet her eyes. He tried his best to explain. "I've told you, I really don't know. But something happened, and I just felt... Trapped, that's it. I felt like I could never leave. And that scared me."
GLaDOS looked almost annoyed. "That's it? You felt trapped? That's no excuse for taking over Aperture and almost destroying the whole building! Other people are angry besides me, Wheatley. Some of them are still there cleaning up your mess! You should be over there, too, fixing Aperture, but no, you were fired. And you deserve it, too!" That was when Wheatley snapped. He had come here to apologize, and she just wouldn't accept it. The confounded woman isn't listening to a word I say! "Look, Caroline," he started, standing up and pointing an accusing finger. He knew that was her real name, but no one over called her that to her face. "I have had a long, long day. Most of it was trying to bake a cake for you. And it was hard, too. First, I had no idea what to do. Next, the chocolate chips didn't come in pounds, and then my oven exploded!" GLaDOS listened, wide-eyed, as Wheatley continued his tirade. "Has your oven ever exploded? No, of course not, 'cause you've never bothered to bake anyone else a cake! I've worked my arse off to apologize to you. You know that I'm shaky around women. But all you do is deny! You know what? You can keep the bloody cake," he hissed, slamming it down closer to GLaDOS. "It clearly isn't worth the time I wasted baking it. Adios, Caroline." Wheatley stomped to the door, but GLaDOS darted in front of him. A slap echoed through the house.
Wheatley massaged his sore cheek. GLaDOS looked completely indifferent to his pain. "That was for everything you've done," she growled. Then, she visibly softened, her eyes emmiting a warm glow. "And this is for being the moron that you are." Suddenly, she threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. After recovering from the shock, Wheatley hugged her back. He couldn't decide whether he should be terrified or estatic. She looked up at him, smiling widely. To Wheatley, it seemed like the room was suddenly brighter. A smile from GLaDOS was one of the best. It was like concentrated sunshine. One beam could light up the whole room. She quickly unhooked her arms from around his neck. Wheatley let go of her, and they both stepped back. GLaDOS' smile faded into a smirk of embarrassment. Wheatley hoped he hadn't left stains of sweat on the back of her shirt where his palms had rested. GLaDOS looked up at him, the ghost of a smile hovering on her face. "Let's eat some of that cake, idiot."
Wheatley ignored her insult, for she snapped at everyone. They sat at her kitchen table, eating cake and laughing about experiments at Aperture until the evening. When they were done, Wheatley left GLaDOS the cake and walked out, feeling happier than he had in weeks. "Oh, and Wheatley," GLaDOS quickly added, "I'll call the boss and ask if he'll rehire you. No guarantees, but it's a shot!" As Wheatley drove away, GLaDOS stood in her doorway, shaking her head in wonder. "What a moron," she whispered, the smile reviving. Wheatley sighed happily while unlocking his door. He had accomplished his first goal. GLaDOS wasn't angry at him anymore. At this moment, his job didn't matter. He had apologized, and the nagging voice in his head dissipated. GLaDOS liked him again. And she hugged me. Wheatley didn't know what was more surprising, the act of hugging or the fact that he was the person receiving it. He had never seen her hug anyone before. He had never seen her smile that brightly, either. Or so many mood swings in one day. Walking to the kitchen table, he sighed again. He would never understand women. Fixing a quick raman dinner, he sat down to eat it just when the phone rang. He didn't feel like picking it up. "Please leave a message after the tone." He listened intently for the message. "Wheatley." It was his boss! "Your co-worker has convinced me to rehire you. But if you slip up one more time, you'll be fired for good. Report to Aperture for work tomorrow." Wheatley was estatic. He had neer felt so relieved in all his life. Quickly finishing his raman, he got dressed into his pajamas and retired to bed. He needed his sleep for work tomorrow.
Wheatley woke up, more ready for the day than ever. He quickly completed his daily routine and drove to Aperture. When he got there, the doors were still locked. Jerry was standing at the door. He looked over his shoulder and grinned when he saw Wheatley and stretched out his hand. "Hey, man! How'd it go? Actually, I think I know, since you're here." Wheatley accepted the handshake and informed him about his ordeal. "Baking the bloody thing took a lot of effort, and so did apologizing. She kept denying me, and then I snapped. I thought I blew it, but then... She hugged me." Jerry laughed. "Yeah, man. I know how you feel. Y'know, women are like chocolate chips," He mused. 'They're hard when they're cold, but after you heat them up, they melt."