It was all Chell's fault.
He had a plan. A timeline. Goals.
And now they were ruined... and it was all her fault
It was Friday night and he had made dinner reservations at a nice restaurant for them, to show he could be a proper boyfriend.
He had it all worked out. He would get home, clean up his mess from breakfast while he waited for Chell to arrive, she would come home, he would greet her, they would both change and then be out the door well on time to make their reservation.
He had just finished loading the dishwasher when Chell came in. He met her at the door as she was kicking off her shoes and leaned down to kiss her.
It started out as a simple, quick kiss. Just a nice "welcome home" between boyfriend and girlfriend.
But then she had pressed herself against him and, seemingly of their own accord, his hands dropped to cup her arse, encouraging her to continue.
And then her hands where in his hair and she knew what that did to him.
There was no other way to describe it, their kiss turned hungry. Suddenly it wasn't enough to feel the heat of her body through their clothes. He needed as much of her naked flesh as possible against his. From Chell's frantic attack on his belt buckle he knew she felt the same.
They missed their dinner reservation.
In fact, they almost missed the couch.
Now late in the evening, they were lounging intertwined on the cushions – Wheatley in only his boxers and Chell in just his shirt, the grey one with faded Union Jack on the front - polishing off a frozen home pizza and watching a movie.
His original date night plans had been destroyed and really it was her fault. But as Chell nuzzled against him, he was glad they were ruined. Not even the most expensive meal in the fanciest restaurant in the world could have compared to the evening they had.
Nope, Wheatley thought as he snuggled closer to Chell. This had been perfection.