"Oohh, Wheatley! You're so smart, talented, and awesome!" the young Japanese woman sighed. "Arigatou," Wheatley replied, running his hand down her smooth black hair, "You're pretty awesome yourself, luv." The woman blushed. "Don't you have some place to be, Mr. Full-Time Teacher! What do you plan on getting with all the heaps of money you make?" Wheatley sighed and looked around the gold and red room filled with all kinds of things. Things he could only dream of getting. "I'll probably buy another yacht, or… an island perhaps. What do you think?"
She smiled brightly. "I think you-"
"NEED TO GET UP!"
Wheatley's bright blue eyes flashed open, quickly forcing into a glare. He sat up. "What the hell, Rick!"
Rick snickered, "What? You weren't getting up any other times I shouted at you."
"How many times did you shout?"
His smiled widened. "Once. Plus your alarm. Which went off like 10 minutes ago. Don't you have a job today?"
Wheatley turned to the alarm clock to the left of him on a little brown nightstand. 8.40 a.m.
The young man's heart shot up into his throat. "8:40! BRILLIANT!" He snatched up his rectangular glasses, leapt out of bed and began to gather up clothes he'd set the night before on the end of his bed. "This is the first bloody job I get in a month and I'm going to show up LATE!"
"Maybe you should change professions, Mr. Substitute-Teach."
"Maybe you," Wheatley growled, shoving his roommate out of the room, "Should get a profession!" He slammed the door in his stupid adventurous face.
Rick smiled and shook his head. "British people."
"I'm Irish, too you wanker!" Wheatley shouted back pulling on the black slacks.
He made it out the door in another ten minutes with teeth brushed, light brown hair (slightly) combed, and no breakfast. Oh well.
The collage Wheatley Aptur was planning for a subbing job was about three miles away, there goes another ten minutes. He'll be lucky if he makes it in the building five minutes late. The collage was one specifically built for the study of science. All forms of it. Wheatley dabbled in science himself, but only managed to attain a bachelors. The teacher he would be subbing for had a Ph.D, he recalled.
Gulp. Well, it was the money that really counted. Money and experience. There was always that slim chance someone would offer him a job if he did well… If only… If only he wouldn't screw it up in some way. Sometimes Wheatley felt like such a… moron. Well, maybe that was harsh, but he seemed accident prone or something.
Even if everything was good and right, and it looked like nothing bad could happen, Wheatley could find a way, unintentional or not, to mess it up.
That's how Ms. Gladys Apenor's classroom looked. Large, grand, organized, beautiful… and most of all, not completely destroyed. Wheatley had arrived slightly before all the students started piling in. Apparently, this class was the best science class in this whole state area. Maybe the state. All because of the teacher. She was amazing. Like she had a capacity for endless amounts of knowledge. She didn't just teach basic science. Physics, chemistry, biology…
If you wanted to go into the field of science, you go through Apenor first.
And the big cheese herself stood near her desk, bent over, collecting papers.
Don't screw this up Wheats the sub growled to himself, and made his way to the woman.
"Hello, I'm here for that, uh, subbing, job… thing?" Subbing-job-thing. Brilliant, mate.
Gladys looked up, meeting bright blue eyes with cold amberish-yellow eyes. Was that her natural eye color? Intimidating… "Mr. Aptur… Yes," she seemed to size him up, and straightened a bit, "You are late." She met his eyes again. Her hair was platinum blonde (could even look white in some light), cut in an a-line bob, a line of fringe hovering above her eyebrows. Very professional.
"Heh," Wheatley mumbled nervously, "But it won't happen on the job!"
"As of now, you are on the job, Mr. Aptur," Gladys said, expressionless.
"O…kay…" he replied slowly as she continued collecting papers, "Feel free to call me Wheatley, by the way."
"Wheatley…" she parroted, as if mulling over the name.
"My family is a bit kooky, in my opinion, naming me after a grain," Wheatley smiled, "But it grows on you. …Get it. Grows. 'Cause it's a plant-"
"I will stick with Mr. Aptur, thank you," Gladys mused, her voice just above monotone. She sounded like one of those operators you get sent to when you get someone's voicemail. Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice-messaging system…
"Alright then, Ms. Apenor," Wheatley replied, trying to stay as positive as possible.
"Today you will be observing," Gladys began, "To see what we are currently doing and what to expect. Tomorrow will consist of nothing more than a test. You are merely a supervisor. So no need for the use of notes or anything."
"Yes, ma'am," Wheatley replied with a nod.
Gladys eyed him. "I am twenty-seven years old. Ma'am is a term for middle-aged mothers, is it not?"
"Oh, I didn't mean-" Wheatley stuttered, "I'm twenty-five, I was just-"
"I did not ask for your age," Gladys purred coldly, as the bing from the announcer speaker in the wall next to the door when off, signaling the start of class, "Take a seat next to Chell," she pointed behind him, "She is my best student. A senior here. A year younger than you, since we appear to be sharing ages here."
"I, uh, heh-"
"Go."
Wheatley spun on his heels to see rows after rows of students. All the seats filled except for one in the front, next to a girl with long brown hair. Wheatley slowly made his way to the young woman, sitting next to her, folding his hands in his lap sheepishly. "Chell" paid him no mind.
He turned to her. "Are you Chell?" he asked.
The girl looked to him and silently nodded.
"I'm Wheatley," he beamed, reaching out, "I'm the ol' bloke taking the place of Ms. Apenor up there."
Another nod, and the silent girl looked up to Gladys as she began her lecture.
Wheatley shrank and put his hand back in his lap. Wow, good thing he was only supervising, because he was pretty sure they ran idiots out of town with pitch forks and torches if they tried to teach.
#
"The place is just so damn clean!" Wheatley ranted, "Not a spec'a dust! Anywhere! I'm afraid if I touch anything, it'll burst into flames!"
"Sounds pretty adventurous," Rick replied, stuffing more pop corn into mouth.
"And the teacher! She's a robot!" Wheatley laughed.
"Is she hot?"
Wheatley thought for a second. She was pale skinned, practically white hair, orange eyes… "She was statuesque, kind of flawless, really," Wheatley thought out loud.
"Not like a poet you dumbfuck," Rick sighed, "Tall? Fat? Skinny? Boobs?
"Ehh…" Wheatley shrugged, "'Hot' isn't the right word, mate."
"Whatever, man," Rick took of swig of his beer and sighed, "Just pay the rent so I don't have to take ten minute showers."
"What the hell do you even do in the shower?" Wheatley inquired.
"My hair is too thick and luxurious for ten minutes."
Wheatley starred at him for a few seconds as his roommate watch the basketball game.
"You're full of shit, you bloody wanker."
#
The next day, Gladys wasn't there, as expected, and Wheatley showed up ten minutes early. Take that Ms. Apenor…
Wheatley settled down at the desk. Nothing on it but a lamp, and a cup of pens. Everything was so neat! He bet Gladys had a serious case of OCD. Very serious, because even the pens in the cup seemed to be fanned out in a certain order.
Only a couple students were already there. "Hello, mates," Wheatley called out, "Ready for this test?"
A petite asian girl looked up from the third row and smiled. "Yeah, maybe. If GLaDOS didn't make it ridiculously hard again. I almost C-d the last one."
"GLaDOS?" Wheatley echoed.
"Yeah, that's just a kind of… school nick name? I guess. For Gladys."
"Sounds like a computer program," Wheatley chuckled.
"Well, she sure sounds like one, if you ask me," the girl smiled, "But she's a great teacher. Our GLaDOS."
"GLaDOS," Wheatley echoed again to himself.
"I know right?" A blonde boy said from the back, "Hey, sub, any chance we could get the answer key?"
The kids in the room chuckled quietly.
Wheatley smiled, "Sorry, no can do," he paused, "So how long has 'GLaDOS' been teaching here?"
"Almost six years, I think," the asian girl replied, "Her skills have just been so blown up, everyone who wants to major in science flock to her."
"She's so young, though."
"She got into collage when she was like fifteen, passed the SATs, ACTs with flying colors."
"Huh. Smart."
"Extremely," the blonde boy snickered, "I heard her thesis on matter was flawless. Her little teacher's pet is down in front there."
Wheatley looked down, surprised to see Chell, sitting in her seat from yesterday, quietly studying. "Oh, I didn't even notice her."
"Yeah, Chell's quiet," another boy with black hair and round glasses mused, "Real quiet. Only time she really talks is to ask a question or something. And even then we can barely hear her. But for some reason GLaDOS can always answer her."
"Spooky," Wheatley chuckled, looking to Chell who hadn't given the slightest reply.
The class came and went, Wheatley passing out and collecting tests. He didn't know what exactly to do with them, so he just sat them in a neat pile on GLaD- er, Gladys' desk. Sheesh, that was catching on. Nice ring to it. Rolls off the tongue.
GLaDOS.
GLLLLLaaaaaaDOOOOOOSSSSSSS….
"Ah, Mr. Aptur."
Wheatley looked up to see GLaDO- damn it, Gladys walking towards him, holding a white binder. She set it down on the desk, and looked at him. She was about an inch taller, thanks to her knee-high black boots. She wore a black turtle neck shirt and white slacks, tucked into her boots, with a white lab coat. "Ms, um, Apenor," Wheatley replied, "How was, uh, wherever you were?"
"I was attending a meeting with a few colleges on the topic of curriculum," Gladys mused, "I was hoping you would still be present; in the meeting, the topic of assistant teachers came up."
A slow smile began to creep up on Wheatley's lips.
"And as I looked over your qualifications, and the fact that a few large tests are approaching," Gladys cocked her head to the side a little bit, "Would you like a job Mr. Aptur?"
"God, yes!" Wheatley burst, "Er, I mean, yes. Yes please. Thank you so much!"
"It is a temporary one," Gladys continued, "You would be helping me grade, maybe help with a lesson or two, and the hours are rather long."
"Fine with me!" Wheatley gasped and took her thin hand, shaking it with the utmost gratitude, "How long will it last?"
Gladys raised an eyebrow at her new assistant and took her hand back. Wheatley blushed a little in embarrassment. "Approximately three weeks, just past testing time, so you can help me grade and such," Gladys responded, her voice still hovering above monotone, "The term might stretch due to predicted circumstances, but other than that, three weeks."
"Predicted circumstances?"
"A student might be absent one day, and still need to take the test. They will do it on their own time, but we still need to grade," she replied, "Or I might… give you a permanent position."
Wheatley felt light headed.
"But this will be based on your performance," Gladys warned.
And, light-headedness gone.
"Be here tomorrow at seven a.m. Sharp," she said. Then she walked around him towards another room in the back of the class. On her way in, Wheatley found his eyes trailing down her back to her swaying hips, resting on her…
"You are still here?" she mused, turning around.
Wheatley blinked, his face heating up, "Uh, heh, yeah, um, see you, uh… tomorrow." And then he practically ran out of the room.
What his eyes failed to admire was the sly smile that trickled onto Gladys 'GLaDOS' Apenor's lips.
#
As Wheatley drove home, his mind wandered. A job! Finally! He prayed he wouldn't mess it up- he needed this. He silently thanked Gladys over and over and over again! He would be seeing her almost every day now…
The comment from Rick the other night crept into his head. Is she hot?
Again, hot wasn't the right word.
God damn it, Rick. Wheatley couldn't be hot for teacher. This woman would be his boss. This was like that situation where, you don't really think about something until someone mentions it. Wheatley didn't even pay attention to Gladys' looks until that comment.
Okay, he would have to stay focused!
Focus…
Fooooocussss…..
…Dat. Ass.
God damn it.
#
The next day Wheatley forced Rick to wake him up at the appropriate hour. He spent way too much time on his appearance, which worried him a little, ate a small breakfast and was out the door at 6:30 a.m.
He made it to the collage early, 6:55, and assumed that because of her extreme OCD, that Gladys would be angry if he arrived early, so he waited outside the door for a minute before 7:00, and walked in on the dot.
"Hello!" Wheatley beamed, walking in. He looked to Chell's seat, not surprised to see her there, studying, as always; silently.
Gladys looked up from some papers she was reviewing at her desk, and nodded. "Pricelessly punctual, Mr. Aptur. Today's lesson will consist of the transference of matter in the vacuum space. Astronomy has always been a favorite subject of mine."
"Mmm…" Wheatley replied, "Kind of scares me. Like, what if someone were to get stuck out there?"
"They would explode due to the balance of air-"
"Yes, but like in a space suit," Wheatley interrupted, "what would you even do in space? Just, float around?"
"…In theory, yes," Gladys said with an expression that looked like a glare. Towards Wheatley.
"Ah, space," Wheatley sighed.
"Yes," Gladys practically hissed.
The class day ensued without a hitch, and turned out that Gladys had several more classes throughout the day. Goody.
Wheatley had managed not to screw up the next week, (with the exception of almost breaking a few beakers in her storage room and setting fire to some thankfully unimportant papers), and the assistant teacher went home tired, and happy every night.
#
Gladys Apenor printed out the last essay from her email. Her eyes burned slightly, and her shoulders ached from spending so much time at her desk grading, so she figured she would take a break and draw a nice bath to relax in. With a nice book maybe.
Gladys didn't ask for the brain she had, and on occasion cursed it. She sometimes wondered if all this success was worth sacrificing her social life. She seldom had any friends, not counting some of her colleges, not to mention any form of a romantic relationship. Who has time for that nonsense? Feelings all jumbled up… All they are is reactions to energy pulses from the brain called emotions. She had better things to do.
That is, until she hired Wheatley Aptur. He was a moron, no doubt. He babbled all week long, even giving Gladys a couple headaches. He interrupted her a few times that week, and all she wanted to do slap him- very hard. She might be overreacting; she took that into account. But the issue still stood. Wheatley was a complete an utter moron.
And Gladys found herself infuriatingly, and undeniably, attracted to him.
…As she sat naked in a tub filled with hot water, her mind wandered to the possibilities… the chances of… her… and him…
She shook her head. He was an idiot. A moron.
And Gladys Apenor hated morons with every fiber of her being.
#Two Weeks Later#
"So this is your last week?" Rick asked, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
Wheatley nodded, running a hand through his thick hair and collected his things. "Yep. I'm praying for that full time position! I would love to work for GLaDO- er, Gladys, to be her assistant…"
"More like bang-buddy," Rick snickered.
"What!" Wheatley glared, feeling a blush coming on, "You don't know what you're talking about."
"You speak so damn fondly of her," Rick drawled, "GLaDOS this, Gladys that."
"She gave me a job. Money," Wheatley retorted, "I'm grateful."
"So is your dick."
Wheatley opened his mouth to respond, but shut it. Then said, "I'm going to work."
"Let me know if you get any puuuuussssyyyyy~" Rick sang.
"Fuck you!" Wheatley snapped and slammed the door behind him.
#
"Your assignments are due next Tuesday," Gladys said, "Forgetfulness is not an excuse."
"She means you, Simon," Wheatley called out to a young man with chestnut hair who looked back with a smile and rolled his eyes.
Gladys looked back to Wheatley, a shut up kind of look on her face, to which Wheatley responded with a timid smile.
It was the last class of the day, almost 5 o' clock p.m., Wheatley assumed she was a little cranky. She seemed to be cranky a lot lately…
"Mr. Aptur," Gladys said suddenly, "Join me for a trip to Mrs. Kinney's storage room?"
"Um, sure," Wheatley responded and stood, following Gladys out the door. Mrs. Kinney was one of Gladys' many colleges, and Wheatley guessed Gladys just needed some supplies…
She did have a better network connection than her room.
Gladys stopped at a door further down the corridor, a door Wheatley didn't recognize. "Uh, who's room is this?"
Gladys opened the door. "It is a room reserved for storing the larger equipment needed for experiments."
"I thought-"
"Shut up."
And then she grabbed him by the shirt, and yanked him hard into the dark storage room. Wheatley stumbled a bit and quickly looked back as Gladys shut the door. No light made it into the room, no matter how big his pupils got.
First thought: holy shit, she's gunna kill me.
"Gladys?" Wheatley questioned, "What are you-?"
She shoved him up against a wall.
"Gah! What the-!"
And then he felt her lips shove against his.
Second thought: holy shit, she's going to rape me.
"Mmm…" Wheatley mumbled against her mouth. He felt a hand come around his neck and his waist. He wanted to pull away. The little voice in the back of his head he'd named Jiminy Cricket long ago screaming what the hell are you doing?
But then he felt her tongue slide across his bottom lip, ever so slowly…
Oh shit…
Wheatley gave a small sigh and opened for her. Her tongue slid over his, sending shivers down his spine. Oh… God… He closed his wide eyes and began to melt into her.
Gladys kissed him seemingly languidly, deepening them with a turn of her head.
What the hell am I doing?
The kisses picked up after a little bit, followed by Gladys pressing her thumb into his pants…
Wheatley smiled against Gladys' lips, still not exactly processing what was happening. Gladys entangled her fingers in his thick hair, kissing him again, and again, and again… before breaking it off; a line of saliva dragging down Wheatley's chin.
He swallowed, still tasting his employer on his tongue. "Uhm…" he breathed, his voice cracking a little. She immediately attacked his neck, nipping and licking just under his jaw. He tilted his head to the side with a sigh, pressing her closer with a hand on the back of her neck. She then pressed a thigh between his legs.
"Ah…" Wheatley breathed, thankful for the darkness, for he was sure he was as red as a tomato now. With Gladys swirling patterns on his neck with her tongue, and the added pressure and rubbing on his groin, he thought it might be enough to…
Beep, beep, beep.
Gladys pulled away, but not completely, her leg keeping its place. Wheatley licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair, feeling sweat on his brow. "Wh-what's that?"
She pulled out a small rectangular device from her pocket.
"My pager," Gladys said, completely unfazed, "I keep it on me in case of a lab emergency."
"Emergency?" Wheatley exhaled.
"Yes." She pulled away-away this time, leaving Wheatley to slowly cool down from, whatever the hell just happened. Gladys made for the door.
"W-wait!" Wheatley called weakly as she opened the door, "Why-?"
Gladys looked at him for a second, "Ask the office to order more liquid nitrogen. I am going to need it if this is the emergency I am thinking of."
And then she left.
Wheatley stood against the wall, stupefied. "Brilliant."