Wheatley brushed his fingers against Craig's cheek, knowing that the fever heat of his skin wasn't caused by anything he'd done. Yet.

"How you feelin', luv?"

Craig looked up at him, eyes not quite focused behind his glasses. "I'm fine. I told you."

His heart sank just the tiniest bit, but he put on his best smile, cupped the shorter scientist's face in his palms, and kissed him. Slow and gentle, savoring every moment because… just because. He felt hands slide around and up his back, pressing the two of them closer.

"Mmmm…" He broke the kiss, a shiver traveling along his spine as Craig breathed against his neck. "Y-y'know, I've been, uh, thinking."

"Ha. Whenever you think, something somewhere in the facility explodes." Smiling, Craig reached up, tangling his fingers in Wheatley's hair.

It was more distracting than it should've been, for such a trivial action. His eyes fluttered closed and he lowered his head a little more. "Right, right. Very funny, uh, funny guy, but… w-what I was thinking is, y'know, maybe… just maybe you could, ah... " He nuzzled Craig's neck, trying to work up his courage for the next bit. "M-maybe you could go see a doctor?"

Craig stiffened and started to pull away, so he babbled on.

"It- it- it doesn't have to be an Aperture doctor! O-or even a real one, a-although I think that would help, but really, just a quick little check-"

"It would be a waste of time." He bent to scoop up his lab coat and Wheatley caught his arm to steady him, earning a glare. "I'm not sick. And besides, did you know that people who go to see a doctor are three times more likely to get fired than those who don't?"

Wheatley sighed. "Yeah, I- I think I've heard that. And the one about apples. And the others. I just thought-"

Craig pressed his hand against Wheatley's chest. "Stop worrying. Everything will be fine. You'll see."

He stood on his toes, so Wheatley ducked to catch the kiss. And then he was gone. There was still a half hour left before anyone was likely to start asking where he was. He should have kept his mouth shut. Tell Craig to go see a doctor? What a stupid idea! He headed the opposite way from Craig, shoving through a different door and out onto a catwalk. "I'm such a moron!"

The word echoed through the vast open space between buildings, mocking him. He knew how twitchy Craig was about whatever it was that was wrong with him and he still had to open his fat gob. Why?

Well, because he cared, dammit! He cared about this mad little scientist who was so fussy about things needing to be in their proper place and was always able to come up with a fact to fit any situation. He loved the nasally edge to his voice when he was lecturing. And that little crease that formed between his brows when he was exasperated, usually by something Wheatley had done. And there was the way the tension went out of him when they were together, that radiant smile transforming his whole face. He… he loved him. Plain and simple. And if that made him a moron, well, so be it. There were worse things to be. Dead, for instance. On fire, again. Or in space. All that cold, dark emptiness. He glanced out at the void. Yes, definitely not a good place to be. His steps slowed.

"Right… how many doors was it?" He glanced back the way he'd come, but couldn't remember where he'd started, so couldn't count. He did what he did best: guessed.

"Four… five… let's try this one!" He tried the door and it opened. A good sign.

The hall wasn't familiar, but he was sure if he kept walking he'd eventually start recognizing landmarks. Or run into someone who'd take him where he wanted to go, probably with a lot of yelling. He walked, turned a corner, and walked some more. There weren't any doors. Or intersections. That was a little weird, even for this place. Before he could start worrying he saw a door up ahead.

"Ha! Knew it. Right back on track."

He opened the door and found himself in a huge chamber. Clusters of equipment were scattered here and there on the floor. Lots of control-looking things and blinky bits. His attention, however, was caught by the scaffolding and the big mass of wires and cables hanging from the ceiling.

"What's all this, then?" He wandered closer, trying to figure out what it could be. None of the cables seemed to be attached to anything. "A chandelier? Mmm, don't think it worked out so well for that bloke in the mask."

He stretched, poking one of the cables and watching it swing back and forth. "Swing, now, yeah, that'd be pretty brilliant, wouldn't it? Up there, high over everyone…" He paused. "A-although maybe not too high over everyone, swingin' back and forth, them all looking up and being jealous. Of me." He gave the cable another poke.

Of course if it was his swing- and it'd be a big fancy one with lots of safety straps and maybe a little drink holder- if it was his, he might be willing to share it. With a certain someone.

"Excuse me."

"AAAHHH!" Wheatley almost levitated around to face the voice, bouncing into the scaffolding as he did. It gave an ominous rattle, but held.

A severe-looking man in a gray suit was frowning at him. "Are you authorized to be here?"

"What? Me? Yes! O-of course! Fancy you not knowing that." Wheatley gave a watery chuckle, his heart still racing. "A-a-and who might you be, sneaking up on me like that?"

The man, who had gray hair to match the suit, studied him as if he could read the lies right off his brain. "Dr. Gabe Dutcher. And you are?"

Telling himself it absolutely didn't matter and that he was perfectly safe, Wheatley shook the proffered hand. "Uh, Wh-Wheatley. I'm S-"

Dr. Dutcher's eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting into a smile. "Mr. Wheatley? What a remarkable coincidence." His grip tightened. "We've been looking for you."

"Oh, r-really? That's- that's nice." Wheatley tried to retrieve his hand. "Uh, well, it's a pleasure to, to meet you, but, er, I've just remembered I've somewhere else to be…"

"We've taken the liberty of clearing your schedule for the afternoon."

"Oh? That's… oh." Wheatley looked around for help, but they were alone.

Dutcher released his hand but reached up to clamp onto his shoulder, instead. "Why don't we go somewhere and talk?"

"Or… or we could just stay here." Wheatley tried not to wince as he was propelled along. "Stay here and not do anything?"

There was nothing friendly about Dutcher's smile. "I believe you're… acquainted with a Dr. Craig Nolan?"

Wheatley went cold, then hot, then cold again. "Uh…" He tried to stop, but Dutcher wasn't letting him.

"We could go and ask him instead, but we thought we'd come to you, first. See if you were willing to help us with a little project." Grey eyes locked on his. "For Science."

Wheatley looked away, sagging. "Oh. Oh… w-well." He swallowed on a suddenly dry throat. "If- if it's for Science…" He let Dutcher lead him away, hoping he'd get a chance to warn Craig later.

If there was a later...