"Historically science has its roots in peoples' efforts to understand and explain the world and the universe around them of which they are a part. While many observations were made about phenomena here on earth, the heavens were also observed. People wanted to know what was going on and why. Their interest was born of concern and fear as well as curiosity. They wanted to feel some degree of control of their lives or at least be able to explain what was going on and why. Our collective knowledge about our environment, the earth and the sky, came about slowly through observation and interpretation of those observations. Knowledge was accumulated slowly in different societies… Oh god, I am not going to be able to do this!"

Wheatley put his head down on the table and sighed loudly. "Riiiiiiiick… I can't do thiiiiis. Gladys is going to rip her hair out trying to talk to me!"

"Well, you're starting off with hard stuff," Rick mused, trotting over, "You can't just dive into the deep end of the world, bro. You have to start out shallow." He leaned over and turned Wheatley's laptop so it faced him. All Wheatley heard was tapping of a keyboard before he scooted it back to Wheatley.

"There," his roommate declared, "Freaking physical science."

Wheatley lifted his head. "I learned that shit in seventh grade, Rick."

"Exactly," Rick drawled, "Start with the shit you've learned. And go from there."

The assistant sighed. "When did you get so smart."

"I'm not," Rick chuckled, "I just watch way too much television."

#

Within two hours, Wheatley was up to collage type science, some stuff sinking in, most stuff… blowing right over his head. Then again, he was just skimming. But Rick's advice did help a little. Starting from the bottom and moving up to the top. When Wheatley was taking a break and just sitting on the couch watching mindless television with Rick, his phone buzzed.

He took out his phone to see a text from Chell. He smiled.

Wussup, Aptur. Working on sciencey stuff?

Wheatley replied. Just got done doing a mini-cram session, but im pretty sure it didn't help much.

"Texting whats-her-butt again?" Rick grinned Wheatley's way.

"Yeah," Wheatley smiled and set his phone down.

Rick narrowed his eyes at his roommate. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That."

"What?"

Rick cocked an eyebrow. "That smile. Yeah? Yeeeaaaahhhh…"

Wheatley rolled his blue eyes. "Whatever, mate. Think what you want but she's just a friend."

"She better be. I don't want you getting murdered or something."

"What?"

"From what you tell me about this Gladys woman, she sounds pretty hardcore," Rick explained, "And I bet if you broke her heart, she'd definitely murder you."

"I'm not going to-"

"Dead."

Wheatley sighed. "I'm not going to break her heart." His phone buzzed.

Well I wouldn't expect it to. Want to meet up and maybe I could show you a few things?

Wheatley smiled again. Yeah sure! That'd be great. Much appreciated.

"What'd she say?" Rick asked leaning over to catch a peak.

Wheatley exited from the conversation and set his phone down. "Will you butt out?"

"What did she say?"

Wheatley rolled his eyes again. "She wants to get together sometime. To help me study."

"Riiiiiiight."

Wheatley shoved him. "Whatever! She's not like that. Besides, she knows I'm taken and she's way too nice to do anything. So butt out."

"Mmhm."

"Ugh."

Chell replied, Wheatley read. Cool. Tomorrow at lunch? I know a really awesome place. I go there all the time.

Wheatley answered. Sounds like a plan!

#

"Where are you going?"

Wheatley froze and turned. "Just… out to lunch."

"You never go out to lunch," Gladys pointed out, hands on her hips.

"I don't?"

"No," Gladys mused.

"Oh," Wheatley scratched his head. Why did he need to keep this a secret? Yeah. They were just friends! Friends having lunch together. "Well I'm making an exception for a friend."

"A friend."

"Yes."

Gladys smiled a little and tilted her head to the side. "You don't have friends, Aptur."

Wheatley pursed his lips and glared. "I do too! Why does everyone assume I'm forever alone or something?"

"Because you are," she purred.

Wheatley rolled his eyes. "Right."

"Right."

He continued to glare into those deep amber eyes, wishing he wasn't so… attracted to them. He broke the eye contact with a blink and turned for the door. "I'll be back in an hour."

Wheatley could almost feel the glare burning a hole in the back of his head.

#

"Hey," Wheatley smiled at Chell once he found her at the small café just outside the collage.

She returned the smile and waved.

"So this is the place?" he mused, sitting down across from her.

Chell nodded and leaned over to her backpack on the ground. She pulled out two large (and fairly intimidating) books and a notebook (also very large and intimidating).

Wheatley's eyebrows raised. "You carry all this? Daily?"

She nodded again, giving an expression as if to say, plus more.

"Wow," he chuckled and paused before saying, "I've been meaning to ask. Why are you so quiet all the time? I don't think I've ever heard your voice, actually."

Chell smiled and lifted her hands, moving them to form shapes and with her hands and fingers…

Sign language?

"Are you deaf?" Wheatley asked, trying not to sound shocked.

Chell shook her head and reached for the notebook. She whipped out a pencil and wrote. I'm mute.

Wheatley's eyebrows came together. "Really? That can happen to people?"

She nodded and wrote. I was just that one percent, you know? Vocal cord junk.

Wheatley nodded. "Oh, well I've heard from the other students that you can talk to Gladys with ease."

Chell wrote. She can read lips very easily. And she knows sign language.

"I've never seen you sign though."

She shrugged. It's a personal thing. I don't want people thinking I'm deaf. So I just mouth.

"Oh," Wheatley deflated a bit, "Sorry, I didn't mean to assume-"

Chell shook her head and smiled, mouthing It's fine.

"Well alright then," Wheatley laughed, "Learn things every day, right?"

Chell grinned and wrote. Yup! Let's get started shall we?

#

Throughout the rest of the week, Wheatley spent all of his lunch times with Chell. The first couple days were a time for studying… but on Friday, they were just eating and talking, mostly. Well, Wheatley did all the talking, Chell wrote or mouthed. Or signed, because Wheatley asked and wanted to learn.

All the while, Gladys sat at her desk wondering what he saw in her.

#

"You're wearing that?"

"Shut up," Wheatley snapped, "I like this shirt. Now answer my question."

"No tie, dude," Rick brushed off, "Ties are lame."

"I'm wearing a tie."

"Don't do it."

"Why not?" Wheatley mused, "That's what swag stands for, you know. She Wants A Gentleman."

A moment of silence passed and they both cracked up. "That," Rick laughed, "Just made my week. Thank you."

"Chell told me that yesterday," Wheatley chuckled back, "She has a great sense of humor."

"Heyyy," Rick warned.

"Oh, stuff a sock in it," Wheatley sighed.

"You've been spending a lot of time with her lately," Rick drawled, leaning against his roommate's door frame, "Time you could be spending with Gladie."

"Stop calling her that."

"Make me."

Wheatley turned and glared, but then sighed. "You're an asshole."

"You're just mad because you know I can beat the shit outta you."

"Maybe."

They both laughed again.

"Anyway," Rick said, "Lose the tie."

"I'm keeping the damned tie."

"So then it's decided that you're not getting laid tonight."

Wheatley rolled his eyes and turned to face his green-eyed roommate. "No, Rick. Remember? I told her we needed to take a break from physical stuff. So, yeah. No sex until next week."

Rick facepalmed. "I still can't believe you did that."

"It's for a functional relationship-"

"One of you two is gunna cave tonight," Rick interrupted, "She's gunna wear some low-cut shirt, you're gunna… do whatever it is you did to get this chick in the first place-"

"Be awesome, you mean," Wheatley grinned and made eye contact with himself in the mirror, messing up his hair a little, "And ridiculously irresistible."

"…You keep telling yourself that," Rick said with an eye roll.

"Well if anyone's going to cave, it's her," Wheatley mused, straightening his shirt.

"Uh-huh."

"It will! And I'll have to beat her off with a stick. Because I'm me."

"Right."

"Right!" Wheatley declared, "Off I go!"

"You're fly is down."

"After one moment!"

#

Gladys tucked her hair behind her ear as she waited out front of one of her favorite Italian restaurants. Of course, she didn't tell him it was one of her favorites, but still, she adored the food here and the service and atmosphere was nice.

Timely, peaceful, and controlled.

Unlike her date who was two minutes late now.

She sighed and brushed hair out of her bright eyes, wondering where he was.

Oh, stop it Gladys. He's probably just being a moron who thinks that being fashionably late will earn him points.

She rubbed her arms. Kind of cold outside…

Considering that she wore a sleeveless turtle neck dress that was questionable in length, she had reason to be a little chilly. However she did love the way the all blackness of the dress itself contrasted with the yellow trim on the bottom.

Finally, Gladys saw his car pass by and she fixed her bangs so they drooped just a little over her eyes. When she saw him walking up, she ran her tongue over the upper row of her teeth and folded her arms.

"Glad to see you actually showed up," Gladys mused, moving her weight to one leg.

"Sorry," Wheatley smiled, "Saturday night, lots of people going out."

"Mm, makes sense," Gladys nodded. She ran her eyes down his body. Light blue shirt, figures, he really loves blue (and he looked good in it), black tie, black pants. Casual, yet formal. Nice.

He stuck out his elbow to her. "Shall we?"

Gladys pursed her lips together, a small smile forming as she hooked her arm in with his. "We shall."

The restaurant was packed, which Wheatley expected, however, he had made a reservation. Like a boss.

With the table name under Aptur, for two, they sat down in a quiet part of the establishment, with a window view of the outside part of the restaurant.

"Charming," Gladys smiled when Wheatley pulled out her seat for her.

"I try to be," he smiled back. After taking his seat, a waiter, a tall man with more-red-than-orange hair came up to their table.

"Here are your menus," he said as he handed them the hard black folders, "Anything to drink?"

"A glass of white wine, please," Gladys purred, "The brand doesn't matter."

"I think I'll have some white wine as well," Wheatley answered.

"Molto bene, very good," he smiled and walked off.

Amber met blue, then. "So, why here?" Gladys asked.

Wheatley shrugged. "Drove past it. And a friend recommended it."

"A friend."

Wheatley grinned. "Yes, I have those."

"Mm."

"You look nice tonight, by the way," he complimented.

"Thank you."

"So black, white, and yellow," Wheatley smiled, "They suit you." He just noticed the dark grayish-red lipstick she wore. Deep and somber; it suited her.

"As blue to you," she smirked back, "Keep wearing that color and I'll begin to question the vastness of your wardrobe."

Wheatley chuckled. "Well considering I'm a man, you'd think one would be confused to see if I had a vast wardrobe."

"Nonsense, I know men who have large wardrobes."

"Are they gay?"

Gladys smiled. "Touché."

Wheatley returned the sweet smile.

The waiter came back with two wine glasses of clear-yellowish liquid and set them in front of the couple. "Have we decided?"

"Oh, uh-" Wheatley stumbled.

"Ah, yes," Gladys mused, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a sip, "I'll have your famous Italian torte and the sir will have your shiitake angel hair pasta."

Wheatley cocked an eyebrow at her. The sir. Well then.

"Sí, good selection," the waiter smiled and walked off after collecting their menus.

Gladys took another sip of her wine.

"Please tell me what you got for me is good," Wheatley grinned, adjusting his glasses.

"It is," Gladys purred, "This place has fantastic cuisine. One of my favorites actually."

"Really?"

"Really."

Wheatley chuckled. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged softly. "The length of my talkativeness leaves something to be desired." She kept her voice low and smooth, almost never leaving eye contact with her date. "Try the wine, it's lovely."

Wheatley brushed a few hairs out of his eyes and picked up the glass. Taking a sip, he closed his eyes for a second, breaking Gladys' seductive hold on his eyes. Well, the wine was good. But was she actually flirting? That's a new one. Was this about the whole him-spending-so-much-time-with-Chell thing? Maybe she was jealous. Ha. That, right there, is hilarious.

Maybe she was going to cave tonight.

"So?" Gladys prompted.

"Oh, um, yeah- yes," Wheatley nodded, "Good. Haha, not used to all this fanciness, I suppose."

"Don't get the chance to dine out, much?"

"Not really," Wheatley smiled, "I'll get the occasional request from my friend Rick, but those are normally pubs n' stuff. Nothing like this," he paused, "Do you come here often?" Oh, geeze. He just used the oldest one in the book. Smooth. "Heh."

Gladys just smiled. "As often as I can," she sighed, "But I'm always wrapped up in other things."

"Yeah, I get that."

"Do you like Italian?"

"I eat it when I can," Wheatley answered, "Not high up on the list. I bet you eat like a queen all the time."

"I have a very controlled diet," Gladys replied, "Eating what I need before small pleasures."

"Such as?"

"I adore chocolate," she smiled, "White, dark, milk. Especially mousse. With raspberries," her closed-mouth smile widened and she closed her eyes for a second and took a sip of her wine, as if she was imagining it right in front of her, "To die for."

Wheatley grinned at her. "Nice."

"And yourself?"

Wheatley tried to think of something different because the first thing that came to his mind was his mother's cookies. How lame is that. "I am a huge fan of pastries, frankly." And that was true. What he wouldn't give for a maple bar right now.

"Like danishes?"

"More like doughnuts," he chuckled, "Like the mini powdered ones at the circus?"

Gladys grimaced a little.

"Oh, don't knock it till you try it Ms. Health-Nut."

Gladys smiled and rolled her eyes. And then, as if on cue, the waiter showed up with their dishes.

"Torte for la signora and shiitake pasta for l'uomo," the waiter smiled, handing the dishes to them, "buon appetio!" And like a ghost, he was gone.

Wheatley looked down at his food. "Wow, this looks amazing."

"It's strange," Gladys mused, picking up her utensils, "In foreign countries, presentation is everything, right up there with taste. Food is valued very highly. In France, meal time is almost sacred. But here in America," she cut a piece of the torte, "It is about quantity, and business. Not quality," she put the small piece in her mouth and smiled as she chewed and swallowed, "Part of the reason I prefer foreign food. So much more attention and hard work. Time an effort. The pursuit of perfection."

Wheatley smiled at her, loving the lustrous sound of her voice.

"Well, don't just sit there and let it get cold."

"Oh, uh, sorry. Heh," he drew up all the things his parents ever taught him about eating pasta. Cut. Twirl with a large spoon. Chew with your mouth closed. With that, he eyed the larger spoon off to the side and cut some of the thin noodles, twirled them up in the spoon, and careful to avoid dangling noodles, he placed the fork in his mouth, allowing the flavor to spill over his tongue.

Gladys smirked at him with approval, and continued eating

Success!

Now just to do that about forty more times. "Mmhm," Wheatley mumbled before swallowing, "That's delicious!"

Gladys nodded softly and took dainty bites between sips of wine.

Geeze, she had manners.

She was like one of those crazy women you only see in movies who have regular dinner dates with the queen of England. Sheesh.

The rest of the dinner was somewhat silent, Wheatley making small conversation between bites. The waiter only came by again to refill their glasses and left. When they were both finished, around the same time, the waiter soundlessly taking their plates and walking off to god-knows-where.

"Well, that was lovely," Wheatley grinned.

Gladys gave him a small smile in return and raised her glass to him. "Indeed."

He raised his glass to her in return. They tapped their glasses with a small tink and drank. Gladys gave him a half-eyed smile and sat back. "So-"

The waiter reappeared, like the ghost he was. "Will we be having any dessert tonight? We have some nice gelato and cake."

Wheatley looked to Gladys who shrugged. Wheatley looked up to the waiter. "Do you happen to have any chocolate mousse?"

"As a matter of fact, we do," he nodded.

Wheatley looked to Gladys. "Would you like to share."

Gladys smiled at him. "Why not."

"One serving of chocolate mousse, coming up," the waiter announced, "Would you like something with it? Chocolate shavings, gelato, fruit…"

"Do you have raspberries?" asked Wheatley.

"Yes we do," the waiter grinned, "I'll be back in a flash." And he was off.

"Whaddya know," Wheatley drawled.

"Thank you," Gladys said, tucking hair behind her ear, "You did not have to."

"Hey," Wheatley mused at her, "No need to thank. Just me having a good memory."

"I told you about my chocolate love just thirty minutes ago."

"My good thirty-minute memory."

Gladys chuckled quietly.

"It's a miracle," Wheatley smiled, "she's laughing again, ladies and gentleman."

"Oh, shut it."

"Pfft. Never."

"Here you are," the waiter said, trotting back up to their table. He set the small dish with fluffy whipped chocolate on the table. It was covered in raspberries as well. "Buon appetio! Also, here is your check; thank you for dining here tonight." The man gave one last smile and walked off to tend to another table.

"Ooh, quaint," Gladys mused, picking up her spoon.

Wheatley glanced down at the check. Mm. Not as bad as he'd thought it was going to be. He is paying for it all, but he planned for it costing more. Sweet.

Gladys scooped up some of the fluffy dessert along with a decadent raspberry and placed the spoon in her mouth, and pulling it out with a smile on her dark lips. "Oh, my god," she sighed loudly, "I can't tell you how long it's been since I've had chocolate mousse with raspberries."

"Glad you like it," Wheatley laughed.

"I love it."

Wheatley chuckled at her and took a spoonful himself. He didn't think he'd ever had chocolate mousse before…

"Holy crap!"

"I know!"

"So good."

"Ridiculously good."

They both laughed at their rambling. "See," Wheatley smiled brightly at her, "Not that much of a moron."

Gladys smiled back at him, "Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Pfft," Wheatley scoffed, "So what were you saying earlier?"

"Hm?"

"Before the waiter came you were like, So…"

"Oh, right," she swallowed, "So, I was wondering if I could see your home."

Wheatley almost choked on a raspberry. "What?"

"You've seen mine, I see it only fit."

"Gladys-"

"Wheatley." She raised an eyebrow at him.

He swallowed. "Uhm."

She leaned over the table a little, pushing out her lips just slightly giving her a tenebrous, pouty, yet kind of intimidating-pissed off look. "It's been a week."

"I said two weeks," Wheatley replied, pinching his arm to keep from blushing. It wasn't helping. It normally helped. Fuck.

She dropped her lower lip just a little bit.

Wheatley broke her breath-taking gaze and scratched the back of his head. God damn it, Rick was right. "Gladys…" he sighed quietly.

"Don't make me go home and do it myself," she purred so quietly he almost didn't catch it.

Oh god. Image. Fuck. He didn't dare meet her eyes. "Uhh, heh. Um."

She chuckled darkly. "I'll follow your car."

"A-alright."

They stood and Wheatley pulled out his wallet with un-steady hands.

Gladys stepped towards him, leaning close to his ear. "Thank you for dinner, by the way. Very… gentlemanly of you."

Wheatley nodded softly, feeling her hot breath on his neck. She pecked his cheek and sauntered out, perfect hips swaying. Wheatley smiled to himself and took out some cash to pay for the meal plus a tip for the speedy waiter.

Well, Rick's gotta be right some of the time.

Even if it is most of the time…

Wait, what?

Never mind.

Wheatley left the restaurant for his car.

When he sat down he sighed. Guess the tie worked.

Then his phone buzzed. "Huh?"

Taking it out, he found that Rick, of-fucking-course, texted him.

So how'd it go, tie boy?

SIGH. Send.

Wheatley pulled out, and drove down the small parking lot onto the street. Then he saw in his rear-view mirror a white car following him. Probably Gladys.

Oh geeze.

He didn't even clean his room.

It's probably a disaster. Underwear everywhere, dishes with old food on them, unmade bed…

Oh man, his apartment is going to look like a shit-hole, compared to her house.

Her bed smelled like vanilla and roses! His probably smells like angst and… more angst.

Stupid Gladys. Stupid Gladys and her stupid… gorgeous seductive tone. Her deep eyes and… god those lips…

Wheatley shook his head. Let's not crash before we get home, hm? Death is definitely a turn off.

His house was only about a mile and a half from the restaurant, so it was only a little while before he-they- made it back to his home.

"Fuck," Wheatley cursed just remembering. He didn't want Gladys to meet Rick. Oh god. She'll probably leave him for him! Mother fucker. This was just fabulous. His phone then buzzed in his pocket as he-they- pulled into his apartment parking lot.

Gladys took the liberty of parking right next to him and promptly got out. Wheatley stayed in his car for a second to quickly text Rick.

He had said lol that bad?

Wheatley replied. Get out of the house. I mean it.

Send.

Then he got out of his car to find Gladys leaning against it. "Ready?"

"Uh," Wheatley stammered, "Yeah, sure."

"So this is where you live?" she asked as they walked up together.

"Y-yea- yes," Wheatley chuckled nervously.

Gladys smiled at him. "Something wrong?"

"Uh, nope," Wheatley smiled back at her, "It's just my apartment is a mess and my roommate is… a mess as well." He pulled out his key to the doors, opening them, and leading Gladys to the elevator.

"Ooh, fancy," Gladys mused, "So your roommate… The man who called when-"

"Yes."

"Ah."

Wheatley's phone buzzed. He turned and pulled it out so Gladys didn't have a chance of reading. She's totally with you isn't she. Ohmygod, I was right. Sooooo right. Yeah, I'm not going anywhere.

Wheatley quickly texted back. I haaaaaaate you.

"Texting?" Gladys leaned against him.

"Yeah," Wheatley replied softly and thought to himself. Seems a little off… Obviously not full on drunk- it was only two cups of wine.

"Is it my star pupil?" she drawled, star pupil not being said in the happiest of tones.

"Nah," Wheatley replied truthfully, "Just another friend. A stupid, stupid friend."

She chuckled.

Two more floors to go…

She began to nuzzle into his neck when they hit his floor. "Here we are," he declared, stepping away from his mildly-intoxicated boss.

"Oh, lovely," she said, cocking an eyebrow.

He could hear the sarcasm in her voice. "I'm just down the hall. Allons-y. Heh." The only bit of French he knew.

"Allons-y," Gladys smiled, "Oui, mon petit imbecile."

He didn't have to speak French to get what that meant.

When they got to his apartment, Wheatley took in a breath before opening the door.

"Heyyy!" Rick welcomed, "Welcome to our little abode!"

"Hello," Gladys mused, "You must be Rick."

"Indeed I am," he gave a charming grin, "And you Gladys?"

She nodded. "Does Wheatley talk about me much or something?"

"More than you know," he replied between his teeth.

"Alright!" Wheatley interrupted and took his employers arm, "This is my living room, not as… tidy as it could be," he just remembered his room, "Hold it riiiight there." And with that, he dashed down the hall and entered his room. Oh, god, it was a disaster. Alright, speed cleaning time.

Dirty clothes- under the bed. Closet doors- shut. Bed- semi-made. Dirty dishes- stacked.

He straightened up a little bit more before gathering up the dishes (thankfully there were only like three) and dashed back out into the hallway to find Rick still flirting up a storm with Gladys.

God damn it, Rick.

Wheatley quickly set the dishes on the kitchen counter and walked over to Gladys, his heart pounding. "Alright, heh."

Gladys smiled at him. "I don't know why you speak so poorly of him, your roommate is quite charming."

Rick grinned. "Why thank you. You're not so bad yourself-"

"Fantabulous to know that you guys are getting along."

"I'll be seeing you I guess…" Gladys drawled.

"Mmhm."

She slowly walked down the hall.

Wheatley angrily whispered to Rick. "What the fuck?"

"What?"

"Stop flirting!"

"Can't help it."

"I hate yo-"

"Oh," he whispered more quietly, "I slipped a condom into your nightstand."

He blushed. "You're leaving, right."

"Nnnnope."

"That's really gross bro."

"Yeah, I know."

"You better not be fucking, wanking it or something out here."

"Whatthefuck? No, of course not. That's messed up."

"You are the embodiment of messed up."

"Just go and get some," Rick whispered harshly, "I'm going to watch a pirated Avengers, thank you very much."

"What! I've wanted to see that movie for ages!"

"Sucks for you."

"Wheatley," Gladys interrupted.

The two arguing roommates looked over to see an impatient Gladys standing in Wheatley's door way.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Wheatley said sheepishly before leaning back into Rick, "Watch something else!"
"Nope!"

"Fuck you!"

"No thanks. I thought you were with Gladie."

"UGH."

Wheatley gave up on his obnoxious friend and walked off to join Gladys who had since walked into his room. He walked in and slowly shut the door. "So, uh, this is my room-"

"Did he call me Gladie?" she said plainly.

"Uhhh," Wheatley hesitated, "Yes…? But I don't call you that. Just saying." Think about the knife; she probably has one concealed. Like a secret agent.

"My parents were the only ones who called me Gladie," she said in a quiet tone, her heels clicking on the hardwood flooring of his bedroom.

"Cute nickname."

"Don't you dare start calling me Gladie."

Wheatley waved his hands in front of himself. "I won't, I won't. Wouldn't even dream of it. Heh."

"Good," Gladys mused and looked around, "Cute room. Small, window view of the city. How much do you pay for rent?"

"It's not that bad, just a couple hundred."

"Lovely," she nodded, "Anyway, sit down," she pointed to his bed.

He swallowed for the billionth time that night and walked over to sit on the edge of his bed. She walked over to his door and flicked off the lights and then took a moment to take off her heels. She shrunk about two inches, then. Wheatley cleared his throat as quietly as he could and removed his shoes as well.

Gladys smoothly sauntered over to him. "Your roommate seems like quite the lady-killer."

Wheatley rolled his eyes. "He's a player, but he's my best friend."

"Cute," she seemed to growl under her breath as she stood in front of her assistant.

"I guess," Wheatley smiled.

She then proceeded to hike up her dress a little and straddle him, scooting close so their chests touched. Wheatley took in the smell of her neck. Like vanilla, or some other probably ridiculously expensive perfume. But it wasn't too heavy. Just right.

"So does this mean you're caving?" Wheatley asked quietly as she began to intertwine her fingers in his hair, "Because that means you get all my work for two weeks."

"I'm used to doing a lot of paper work, dear," she said, brushing her lips over his temple. She then removed his glasses from behind his ears and set them off to the side.

"I think you mean, luv," he chuckled.

"Sure," she mused before tugging at his hair, forcing his head up a bit so she could meet her lips with his, "luv." She over emphasized the l and ran her tongue over his lower lip, followed by locking their mouths together.

Only now did Wheatley remember how much he'd missed the taste of her lips, and kissed her back with abandon, wishing her just that much closer. Gladys pulled at his hair again, turning his head just a little to slide her tongue into his mouth. He sighed, sliding his tongue over hers, beginning to feel almost light headed.

Well, he concluded there's no blood going to my head, now. Jesus.

Gladys began to lean on him a little bit more and she broke her heavy kisses, a line of saliva still connecting their lips. "Would you be a dear and get my dress for me?" she said and pecked his lips.

"Sure," he almost whispered back. He felt his way up her back to her neck where he found the zipper to her black turtle-neck dress. Zipping down, he dragged his fingers over her smooth skin, brushing over her bra at the center of her back, and down to her lower back where he could feel the hem of her most-likely lacey panties.

"Thank you," she purred and pushed him, encouraging him to scoot back. He did, moving back all the way to the head board where he watched Gladys strip down to only black underwear. He reached up to his tie, loosened it, and took it off, dropping it the floor without a word. Gladys crawled her way back up to Wheatley, "That feels so much better. Tight dresses are so restricting, you know?"

"Uhm, heh, no," he grinned at her, "I don't have that much experience in tight dresses, luv."

"I suppose that's a good thing," she chuckled at him, "Scoot down."

Knowing what she meant on the spot, he scooted down and laid flat down on his back, allowing Gladys to straddle him once more. She reached up and began to unbutton his shirt. "Blue button down shirts," she seemed to talk to herself, "They seem to be your trademark."

Wheatley smiled faintly at her, "Copyright 1987."

"When you were born?"

"Yeah, that's kinda what I was itching at there…"

She finished unbuttoning and leaned up and over him, her hair brushing his cheeks. "Ha. Ha. Ha," she patronized robotically. She ran her right hand down his chest only to come back up and intertwine with Wheatley's left hand, pinning it to the bed. She ran her free hand through his hair. "God, I love your hair," she sighed.

"I've noticed," he replied with a smirk.

"Don't ever cut it."

"I won't."

"I mean it."

Wheatley smiled at her. She rolled her eyes and leaned down to kiss him feverishly, rubbing her thumb over his temple. Then, without warning, she adjusted her position so she had a leg in-between her assistants' and ground up against him, slowly picking up a rhythm.

Wheatley broke the kisses with a heavy sigh.

Gladys smiled and began placing open mouthed kisses over his neck, listening to his frequent quiet sighs and moans.

"Fuuck," he cursed off to the side, groping the bed with his free hand for something to grip.

"You're a little bitch, you know that?" she hissed into his ear before running her tongue over the shell, "Holding out for a week- you're insane."

"Ahh…"

"I should've just gone home," she purred ever so smoothly before grading her teeth over the skin of his throat.

"Haahh.."

She fought back sounds of her own when he began rubbing up against her as well. "But I'm just way too nice to let you go home alooohne," she choked up a bit and sighed into his neck.

Wheatley licked his lips and turned his head breathing hard into the sheets.

"Gladys…"he whimpered quietly.

He immediately regretted the whiney exhale when Gladys abruptly slowed down and met his glassy lust-filled eyes. "Mr. Aptur…" she breathed with a smirk.

He felt the hot blush all over his body and broke the eye contact by closing his half-open eyes and weakly laughing. She leaned down and began kissing him hungrily, darting her tongue in and out of his mouth with turns of her head.

"Mmhph," Wheatley mumbled against her lips. She lifted her head just a little. "What?" she growled in a low tone. "C-can I…?" he tugged at the belt on his pants.

She slowly at up and released his left hand. When he went to undo his pants she batted his hands away and began undoing them herself. "You," she undid his belt and unzipped the fly, "are one of a kind."

"Thanks…?" Wheatley breathed, trying not to stare at his boss' cleavage.

"I mean that," she smiled, pulling down his pants, "I don't think anyone has ever called out my name during sex."

Wheatley didn't think it was possible, but he blushed harder. "Uhm."

Gladys grinned at him, perfect teeth gleaming in the moonlight pouring in from his window. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you," she pulled his pants over his feet, "…much."

"Heh."

Well this isn't embarrassing at all.

He sat up, suddenly remembering the condom. "Wait."

"What?" she replied placing her hand on the side of his face, leaning in to kiss him. He kissed back, but pulled away after a few seconds. "Uh, heh. I have a…"

Her lips fell to his neck, licking and kissing the skin she found there. He could feel her smile. "A condom?" she continued her ministrations.

Wheatley leaned his head against hers with a sigh, her kisses sending shivers down his spine. "Yeah," he breathed into her hair.

"Charming," she mused, lifting her head to kiss his jaw.

"So I need to…"

"Uh huh."

Wheatley began to move over to his nightstand, Gladys adjusted her position, moving around him to his back, attacking the other side of his neck.

"It's really hard-"

"I know."

"…to focus with you doing that…"

"..I know."

Wheatley blushed at smiled at her. "Yeah."

Gladys smiled against his skin, rubbing his arms and listening to him fumble with the small package. "Jesus, it's been a while since I used one of these."

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Nice," she whispered.

"Thanks," he said and turned around, "Alright."

She glanced down and looked back up at him, smiling and biting her lip.

Wheatley rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

Gladys kept smiling began laughing quietly. Wheatley grinned at her and leaned forward to kiss her slowly. She continued her chuckling against his lips as he pushed her down onto her back. He dragged his hands down her face, over her breasts and down to her hips, hooking his thumbs under her underwear. Gladys raised her arms over her head and sighed as he began to pull her last bit of clothing down her legs. He tossed them aside and leaned up and over her again, kissing her stomach in the process.

Wheatley looked over Gladys, her eyes practically glowing, she smiled at him.

He smiled back at her. "You are beautiful, you know that right?"

At that moment, he thought he saw a tinge on red on her cheeks. "Thank you."

Wheatley leaned down and pecked her lips. "Like, legitimately, gorgeous."

She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. "Thank you."

He smiled at her and leaned down, kissing her leisurely, one hand on her hip, the other up at her head, caressing her forehead. Gladys sighed as he pressed his tongue into her mouth. He tasted her, felt her, wanted her.

Gladys gasped when he entered her, gripping his hair, and moving her hips up and against his.

"Ah," he breathed into the air. Gladys began allowing sounds escape from her with every movement. At this moment, Wheatley wished Rick heard them. Fucking asshole deserves it.

In picking up a quick rhythm, the bed creaked, and Gladys pulled on Wheatley's hair harder as she finally came. He came shortly afterwards, leaning down to shakily kiss her lips before rolling over with a sigh.

"Haaah…" he breathed, wiping sweat off his brow. He sat up and scratched his head. Looking over at Gladys he reached over and ran his hand down her smooth hair.

She gave him a small smile and sat up, retrieving her panties and slipped them on.

Wheatley turned around, and scooted off the bed, to retrieve his robe to go to the bathroom.

"Be back in a second," he leaned down and pecked her mouth before walking out.

Gladys rolled over onto her stomach and sighed. God, what was she doing with this man… he was so nice and sweet… but she wasn't sure if she was ready for anything… serious. She hadn't had a serious relationship since collage… Maybe it was one of those situations where she thought she wasn't ready, but was and didn't want to accept it. Why hasn't she scheduled another appointment with her therapist? Stupid Wheatley, stupid great sex, stupid nice dinner…

She suddenly felt very sleepy and crawled up to the head of the bed, lifting and sliding underneath the covers. She snuggled down in the sheets, inhaling the smell of him. It was a unique scent, one that she loved. She tucked her almost-white hair behind her ear and nuzzled her face down in one of the pillows.

After a minute, she found herself drifting off when the door opened and shut quietly. "Rick," Wheatley mused, crawling back onto the bed after pulling his boxers back on, "is completely knocked out. Heh."

"Too tired to do it again," she groaned, stuffing her face further into the pillow.

Wheatley chuckled and climbed into bed with her. "I wasn't suggesting, but alright."

"Mmhm."

"What? I wasn't"

"Mmmm…"

He smiled at her and wrapped an arm around her head. She responded by lifting her head, eyes still closed, and nuzzling up in his neck, intertwining their legs. He placed a hand on her hip and pressed close.

Gladys exhaled into his neck. "I'm sorry I called you a bitch."

Wheatley bit back a laugh. "Ha, it's fine. I kind of deserved it."

She smiled against his skin. "Still pretty hot though, that whole thing."

Wheatley blushed and rested his head on hers. "Yeah."

Gladys closed her eyes and took a deep breath, taking in his intoxicating scent. "You really think I'm beautiful?"

Wheatley smiled. "Absolutly."

She brushed her hand through his hair and kissed his jaw. "Thanks."

He closed his eyes and sighed against her head, hoping, praying, he wasn't actually falling for his boss.