Hey, it's me again! So, while browsing the Portal section of this site and DA, I've come to notice that there is a growing influx of Chelley; which pleases me greatly. I've often asked myself: "Did I do this?" but then I realize that there have been other people who have seen the Chelley and that train of thought is rather egotistical. But that's just my thoughts and they have NOTHING to do with this little drabble series. Oh, an if any of you have any promts/requests for me, post them in the reviews and I'll try and get around to writing them. All righty, cheers~
1. Home
They had always said "home was where the heart was," Chell felt like that saying could be best applied to her. Orphaned at birth, raised in a tiny little house as a member of a family of three who always seemed to have financial difficulties. Even though the roof leaked sometimes, the paint was starting to peel away, and the furniture was decades old, Chell had always felt that it was her home. As silly as it sounded, her new house in Cleveland, Ohio didn't start to really feel like home until Wheatley started visiting everyday after work.
2. Family
Wheatley came from a big, happy family, as was evidenced by the photo album filled to the brim of pictures. It must have been nice, Chell thought to herself as she flipped another of the plastic-protected pages, to have brothers and sisters. Wheatley was the middle child in a family of five; two older sisters and two younger brothers, all of them –much to Chell's amusement- had hair of some shade of orange or red or light brown.
"It wasn't as fun as you would imagine," Wheatley began a light frown on his face as he looked at the glossy pages. "My brothers were just fine and dandy because, you know, I was their big brother. But my sisters," he said, tapping a finger on a picture of two identical strawberry-blonde haired girls, each with matching smiles and a matching face full of freckles. The only noticeable difference between the two was that the girl on the left had short hair, and the one on the right had long. "They were nasty when they wanted to be. They were only sweet abooouuuttt…. Fifty percent of the time."
"That has got to be an exaggeration," Chell said with an unbelieving expression.
"Okay, okay… sixty percent of the time. You wanna know the first thing they did whenever we actually got snow in Bristol?"
"What?"
"Dumped snow on all of our heads in the morning, the only time they tried to get up earlier than the rest of us and- stop laughing! It's not funny!"
"Oh, I don't think so." Chell said in between her (failed to be) suppressed giggles, she swore to God that Wheatley actually huffed when he turned his head away from her.
"But you know… regardless of how immature they acted; I wouldn't trade my sisters for the world." Wheatley admitted, pulling the photo album from Chell's lap and placing it in his own, smiling fondly at the picture of the two twin girls.
3. Name
Chell had never voiced the question out loud, but it had always been hovering in the back of her mind: what did "S.M." stand for, anyway? The only people who would know were Glados (like she would tell), his family (she didn't even know their number), and of course Wheatley himself. She had asked Gordon once, but was surprised when even he didn't know.
"I never brought it up," Gordon explained with a light shrug. "I was just fine with calling him 'S.M.' or just 'Wheatley,' didn't matter to him."
She didn't know why the question was bothering her so much; maybe she was listening to P too much. The overly-excited orange-eyed woman had said something about there not being enough "trust" in their relationship because Wheatley wouldn't tell what his first name was. Of course Chell had pointed out that P hadn't told her what the "P" in her name stood for, which caused the other technician to wave her hands frantically and sputter out that it was a stupid name and wasn't important. Of course at that moment Atlas happened to walk by the two and, in a tone so calm it seemed to be put up just to annoy P, answered:
"Her name is Prunella."
"Shhhhh!"
"Oh, what? She already heard me, she's not deaf Pruney."
"Oooooh, that's it. Come here!" Chell blinked when P launched herself at Atlas, the blue eyed male blowing a raspberry back at her as he ran from her wrath. She shook her head and went out to look for schematics for a new machine that Aperture was having her department work on. Some sort of "inter-dimensional-hole-making-gun" (that was actually how Mr. Johnson described it when he demanded it be made).
4. Helpless
There were very few times Chell actually felt helpless, in fact she couldn't even remember the last time she had felt as inexplicitly helpless as she did when she walked into Wheatley's small kitchen to find him with his face buried in his arms on the table, muffled sobs coming from his trembling form.
"Wheatley…?" she attempted, reaching out a hand to touch his back, he had snapped his head up and looked at her like he had been shocked. Wheatley crying was not a pretty sight. Seeing him upset was unnatural, alien, as naïve as the idea was Chell saw Wheatley as someone who could never cry. He didn't say a word to her as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, burying his face in her belly as his body shook with dry sobs.
She allowed him to stay like that for a while, offhandedly running her fingers through his hair in some attempt to calm him down. When he finally did, he looked up at Chell with the most pitiful expression she had ever seen on his face.
"Mum called… my-my dad's…he… he died about an hour ago…" As soon as he finished his sentence he buried his face against her again, hands fisting into the material of her shirt even tighter. "I don't get it… the doctors sah-…said he would be fine. Why did they lie?" Chell didn't respond, how could she? She had never experienced the loss of a family member; her parents were still happy and healthy back in upper-Michigan.
Helplessness was such an ugly emotion, one that she never wanted to feel again. Especially if Wheatley was somehow involved.
5. Suggestion
They had been an official couple for the past six months, and Wheatley was prattling on and on about what they should do to celebrate that day during their break. At least his suggestions weren't as out there as they had been when his first started throwing them out there (although he did insist for a good long while that he should take her to the English countryside or to Bristol. Places like London weren't even mentioned), now they were talking about places to go that were actually in the state.
"We could take a holiday to Cuyahoga Falls or Lake Eerie; I mean it's completely up to you. Heck, we can even go up to Lake Michigan, maybe even visit your folks! Again, entirely up to you."
"I have an even better idea!" P exclaimed from behind Wheatley, making the poor man jump what was probably an inch out of his seat. The silver-blonde haired woman got a wicked smirk on her face as she lent forward, placing one of her hands on the table to look at the ginger's profile. "Propose to Chell." She said, pointing at the glasses-wearing man to accentuate her point.
"E-e-e-excuse me?" Wheatley sputtered once he remembered that he had a voice, looking up at the technician like her head had just turned into a dragon's and she was spewing fire everywhere.
"Propose! You know, pop the question, tie the knot, make the ultimate commitment-"
"Yes. Yes I know what you meant."
Chell cleared her throat audibly, turning P's attention from Wheatley to her fellow technician.
"Don't you think it's a little… soon for that?"
"Not really," P replied, standing up straight to twirl a lock of hair around her finger idly. "I mean, Wheat's been in love with you for… pretty much ever. Rick's still making moves on you even though you guys are together; he'll shut up if you show him a nice, shiny ring on your finger!" P explained, nodding to herself in approval and letting the curled lock of hair fall back into place.
Chell sighed exasperatingly; she really needed new friends.
6. Rain
Wheatley frowned and looked out the window, watching as large, fat rain drops pattered against the windows mercilessly. When he was a boy he didn't mind the rain, but after living in a city that got rain all year-round the phenomenon was just a bother. You couldn't go outside for very long when it was raining, not without an umbrella or a coat, and the wind blowing just made the falling water even colder.
"Glaring isn't going to make it stop raining, you know." Chell pointed out, looking at her lover of six months over the top of the book she was only half-engrossed in.
"I know it won't; I'm not a moron." Wheatley replied, "But I'm allowed to glare at something I don't like, aren't I? You do it all the time."
"I never said you were," Chell began, licking the tip of her finger before pressing it to the paper and flicking to the next page. "And you are, but one would think you'd be used to the rain after growing up in England."
"I am, trust me I am, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Besides, the rain here is so cold compared to rain in Bristol!"
"We do get hail here almost every year."
"Thanks for proving my point, luv." Wheatley said and turned his glare away from the window, propping his elbow up on the arm of the couch and placing his chin in his palm. "There just… isn't anything to do when it rains. And it's a Saturday night, so there won't be anything good on the telly." He glanced quickly at Chell and spoke again, eager to fill the empty space that came with her questioning look. "Not-not-not-not that spending time with you isn't good enough! No-no, far from it! Y'know, if I was ever trapped on a desert island, you're the person I'd wanna spend that time with."
"That's a touching thought," Chell began with a chuckle, folding the top corner of her book and shutting it with a dull thump. "But I have an idea what we can do. Here's a hint: You plus me plus my bedroom equals… what?"
Wheatley swore to God above he could hear the dog all the way at the other end of the street bark it was so quiet. He tried to speak, small little sounds coming out of his mouth every time he tried, even after clearing his throat several times in an attempt to remind his voice box he could speak. Sure they had done… those things before, of course they did (despite him being an emotionally and romantically awkward man and she a stern, down-to-earth woman, they still had desires like any normal healthy couple)! "I meant just cuddling, Wheats." Chell cut in with a high, airy laugh.
"Right… I knew that! I totally knew that!"
7. Animals
He had chosen the wrong profession, Chell decided as she watched Wheatley fawn over a glass case of puppies in the front window of a pet shop they were walking by. That wasn't to say that the ginger wasn't a brilliant biologist (probably one of the best in his department), he just seemed to have a general passion for animals as they were rather than how their internal systems worked. After all this was the man who brought in homeless cats and dogs on stormy nights to keep them safe from the elements and tended to the broken wings of birds he found once in a while. Honestly, Chell could see him as a humble veterinarian than a biologist at a science facility pumped out products that did more harm than good eighty-percent of the time (it was a wonder they hadn't been sued yet).
Chell sighed, but smiled all the same, when she noticed that her animal-loving companion for the afternoon had rushed inside the shop and was currently admiring some bird.
8. Chocolate
"You know something I've noticed?" Wheatley asked suddenly after nibbling on the corner of a Hershey bar thoughtfully.
"Hmm?" Chell hummed over her shoulder, opening one of the high cabinets in her kitchen, standing on her toes to sift through the various contents that had been carelessly thrown in.
"American chocolate is really bitter compared to how it is back home." He said as a matter-of-factly, nodding to himself as he broke a square off and popped it in his mouth.
"Are you kidding me?" Chell asked, forgoing her quest to find the extra can of coffee she knew was in the cupboard and look at her bespectacled lover.
"No, no, totally serious." Wheatley replied folding the thin foil back over the partially nibbled-on treat and placing it aside. "English chocolate is much sweeter than this; doubt most Americans could handle it, really." Chell leaned against the counter and rolled her eyes,
"And I suppose you're the expert on chocolate?"
"No, that would be my first younger brother. And I'm just saying what I know, luv."
"Since British chocolate is so sweet, I guess that's why your teeth look less than perfectly white." Chell said jokingly, a joke that sailed right over poor Wheatley's head, since he slapped a hand over his mouth and turned his head away.
9. Glasses
On a whim, Chell took Wheatley's glasses from his nose and held them in front of her eyes, instantly going cross-eyed and holding the accessory nearly arms-length, "Jesus, you really are blind." Wheatley frowned (not huffed, mind you) and held his hand out,
"Yes. Yes I know. Can I have those back now, please?"
10. Accent
Wheatley was a bit of a blabber mouth and there was no two-ways about that. Of course he could be quiet when the situation called for it (he would make some sort of sound in compromise, but still), but he was definitely most comfortable when he was speaking. Sure, he tripped over his own words sometimes and didn't seem to have a "mind-to-mouth" control, but that didn't bother Chell for two reasons:
One. Wheatley was her best friend and lover for eight whole happy months, she had gotten used to his rambling tendencies a long time ago.
Two: That accent. More than once Chell pondered whether or not it was shallow to be as attracted to Wheatley's accent as she was; but she couldn't help it. It wasn't often you heard a English accent in Ohio ("So far across the pond," as Wheatley would say), and his accent was soothing to listen to. Nothing at all like all the badly-emulated, stereotypical English accents that appeared in late-night comedy shows. It was while listening to the Englishman recount what had happened in his department that day, throwing in his own comments every other sentence, that Chell decided that no; being attracted to Wheatley's accent wasn't shallow since it was his.
Notes on stuff:
"Prunella" is an actual name; no joke. Look it up.
Bristol: From what I've read online, Bristol is one of the warmer parts of England... and also the rainiest. It rains all year round and very rarely gets snow. To me it seems rain in Bristol is how the monsoon season is over here in Tucson; it can be pouring rain but still be comfortably warm. Ohio on the other hand actually have risks of getting hail almost every year.
Chocolate: I have read that English chocolate is considerably sweeter than American, I can't remember where though.
Animals: I can totally picture Wheatie being a biiiiiig animal lover as a human. His canon incarnation on the other hand seems to have a problem with birds.
Family: Again, I can picture human!Wheatley coming from a big family, the kind with lots of siblings and lots of cousins. But this could just be my mind wanting to draw a parallel to Chell, who has no siblings or cousins as far as we know