AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hi guys! I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, my health really hasn't been so great. Thank you, QueenofDoomydoom for listening to me complain about this chapter for a month and a half, now, and for all of your support in general. I probably would have rage quit half way through this chapter, without you, haha!
Wheatley groaned, stretching a bit and slowly opening his eyes. Light had filtered through the curtains, and he whined, squinting his eyes to keep some of the light out. He reached over to his nightstand, letting out a confused sound when his hand went through the air. What? Where was his nightstand? Suddenly he realized that the walls were no longer white, but a pale yellow. Oh, that's right, he was in Chell's room!
He rolled over and looked at her side, seeing that she was gone. Wheatley felt around her nightstand, finding his glasses and slipping them on his face. He stretched out one more time, before climbing out of bed. As he went out in to the hall he could smell pancakes! Oh, he liked those! He smiled, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses and heading downstairs and in to the kitchen. Chell was in front of the wood stove, a bit of pancake batter on her pajamas. "You always seem to be cooking something when I wake up," Wheatley mused.
Chell grinned, flipping one of the pancakes. "I'm not very good at sleeping in," she explained, "plus, I went a pretty long time without eating... when I was there, so I learned how to cook the moment I got out." Wheatley frowned, he'd never actually thought of that. How long had she gone without food? Before he could respond, she changed the subject, "you seem to be enjoying food an awful lot, too."
"That's definitely true," Wheatley admitted, "chewing took some getting used to, I have to admit, as did swallowing... but I can see what all the fuss was about!" Chell flipped four pancakes on to a plate, and three on to another, bringing both to the table and setting the larger one in front of Wheatley. "Thank you," he said, sitting down and immediately reaching for the syrup. He loved the sweet, sugary mess he was pouring on to his plate. The truth was, he loved almost everything he'd tried since becoming human. Wasn't fond of onions, though. Disgusting, those.
Chell sat down with her own pancakes, taking the syrup when he was done and pouring significantly less of it on her plate than he had. By the time she was done pouring her syrup, Wheatley was already half way through his pancakes. Oh yes, he definitely enjoyed food. As he shoveled the delicious, sugary mess in to his mouth he thought back to last night. She'd let him stay in her room, and he didn't take that lightly. He wasn't that stupid, he knew that for the first few months she couldn't even stand to look at him... she never had to speak to tell him that. Wheatley understood the significance of her allowing him to sleep in the same room with her. He finished shoveling the rest of his breakfast in to his mouth, setting his fork down and looking up at her. Wheatley bit down on his lip, before slowly sounding out, "hey, Chell... um." He stuttered, "that is, I wanted to thank you. For last night. For, for letting me stay in your room. I know you're not particularly fond of me being in there... so, you know, thanks. Thanks for that."
She looked shocked for a moment, chewing the bite she had in her mouth, looking thoughtful. "You don't have to thank me, I know what it's like to get nightmares about... there," Chell explained, "and... I don't really mind you in my room as much, anymore. That was a bigger problem for me in the beginning."
Wheatley was a bit surprised by her honesty, but he appreciated it. "Still," he mused, "I'm pretty sure it's a big step to sleep in the same room with someone that's, oh you know, thrown bombs at you."
"Eh, none of them actually hit me..." Chell said, cracking a grin.
He blinked, staring at her for a moment. Was she... was she having a laugh? Like when she'd asked about the pony farm? A small part of him was a little uncomfortable with that, considering the fact that what he'd done was just horrendous. The much bigger part of him, though, thought it was incredibly sweet. Could he joke about it, too? Was that alright? He smiled back at her, uncertainty plain across his face as he said, "well in my defense, you were moving around an awful lot. Not my fault there was conversion gel everywhere." He stopped, thinking for a moment before letting out a nervous chuckle, "nevermind, I did blow that tube up, didn't I?"
Chell stared at him for a moment, before covering her mouth and letting out a loud laugh, followed by a snort. He wasn't sure why, but he rather liked that. He'd never really heard her laugh like that, before. Wheatley was about to try some more of his obviously tremendous humor and wit when suddenly a knock rapped on the door. "Must be Carter and Quinn," Chell observed, shoving the last bite of food in to her mouth before getting up to go answer the door.
Wheatley grabbed the plates off of the table and brought them to the sink. Usually Chell cooked... he was still too afraid he was going to light himself on fire, so he would normally do the dishes. He supposed that would have to wait for now, though, since they had company. Oh God, they had company. This was both scary and exciting!
"Morning!" Carter called out as Chell opened the door, coming straight in and setting multiple bags down on the table.
An older woman looking to be in her mid fifties followed in after him. She had long, brown hair littered with little grey specks, tied back in to a messy bun. "Get in a food fight?" she asked, grinning.
"Oh," Chell chuckled, looking down at her shirt, "just pancake batter, not nearly as exciting." She looked over at Wheatley, explaining, "this is Carter's mom, Quinn."
Wheatley smiled nervously, "hello, hi! I'm Wheatley."
"You're a tall one!" Quinn exclaimed, staring up at him - she came to just below his shoulders.
"Oh, um," he chuckled a little, "yeah, I seem to tower over all the other hu- people, people I've met."
Carter came up behind his mother, interjecting, "Wheatley, I've got something for you. Chris finished your glasses a day early and asked me to give them to you." He pulled a case from his pocket, holding it out to him.
"Oh! Fantastic!" Wheatley exclaimed, taking the case, "thanks for bringing them, mate." He opened the case, looking in awe at his new glasses. These were much nicer than his current scratched and beat up ones. They were a beautiful light blue, with a bit of a matte finish. His old ones were a bit more oval shaped, but these were more rectangular, with rounded corners. He took off his glasses, setting them on the table and pulling the new glasses out. He unfolded them, putting them on and looking at Chell, "how do they look?"
Chell grinned, "they look great, Wheatley." She'd sure been smiling at him a lot, lately. He wondered why... not that he was complaining.
"Chris wants you to come in and see him the next time you're in town, so he can check in on how they're working," Carter explained.
"Hey, got anywhere I can put this thing down?" Quinn asked, nodding at the machine she was holding in her arms. Wheatley kind of recognized it... seemed to be an engine. He'd seen designs similar to it at Aperture... though the ones at Aperture were far more complicated, and probably not very cost efficient. Chell reached out, taking the machine from her. "This house have a water boiler?" Quinn asked.
Chell nodded, "yeah, but God only knows how old it is..."
"That's alright, let me take a look at it," Quinn explained, gesturing for the younger woman to lead the way. Chell nodded, heading down the hall to one of the back rooms.
As the two of them went off, Wheatley looked over at Carter awkwardly, not sure what to say or do. To be honest, Carter looked like he felt just as awkward. Wheatley coughed, before saying, "I'm going to go put some normal clothes on, you know... get out of my pajamas."
"Right," Carter said, nodding, "I'll be here, I guess."
Wheatley hurried upstairs to his room, shutting the door. He went to his dresser, looking through all of his outfits... there weren't many of them. He only had a few... it had been difficult for Chell to find things in town that were his size. He eventually decided on some jeans, a white t-shirt, and a blue over-shirt. He left the outer shirt unbuttoned, looking himself over in the mirror - he didn't look half bad! He'd purposely tried to match things with his new glasses, he was extremely happy with them. Today would be a good day, he hoped. He grabbed his brush, hastily running it through his hair before setting it back down on his nightstand and heading back out of the room and downstairs.
He could see Carter sticking his head in the boiler room, so he did as well. All he could hear from Quinn were things like 'power generator' and 'power inverter'... followed by 'thermal energy' and 'combined heat and power'. For a former machine, he knew remarkably little about his former body, or any other mechanical things - probably why he was so bad at hacking. Wheatley felt like he'd just be in the way, here, so he went out to the living room, plopping down on to the couch. Carter followed out after him rather quickly, sitting down as well. Odd, he looked nervous.
"You're awfully good with machines, I assume... don't they need your help?" Wheatley asked.
Carter shook his head, "nah, mom's got it covered. Plus, it's a tiny room... not a lot of room."
"Right," Wheatley said, awkwardly looking down at his hands in his lap and then around the room, "I'm sorry, I've never had company before. I... I don't really know what we should do."
"That's alright," Carter said, getting to his feet and heading in to the kitchen. Wheatley got up to follow him, not knowing what else to do. "I brought some things for you guys," he explained, pulling some boxes from the bags on the table, "nothing special, just a few board games Chris gave me when I was a kid. They're like... seventy years old, but I figured you guys could get more use out of them than us, right now."
Wheatley looked at all of the new forms of entertainment, eyes wide. "You sure about that, mate? You've had these games quite a while," he quarried.
For a split second, Wheatley thought he saw something strange flash in Carter's eyes. He wasn't sure what it was, but he didn't think he liked it. Maybe it was all in his head, though, because Carter put on a grin, saying, "I'm sure, you guys don't have a lot of people around out here, like I do. Plus, I've played these games a million times, by now." He picked up three boxes, grinning and asking, "want to give some a try?"
Wheatley hesitated for a moment, looking a bit concerned. He wasn't very good at new things. Still, though, what else were they going to do? Who knew how long Chell and Quinn would be working. "Sure, yeah," he finally answered, "why not! Can't promise I'll be any good, though, I'm afraid."
"It's just a game, you don't have to be good at it," Carter promised, carrying the games in to the living room and setting them on the floor next to the coffee table. He spread them out a bit, and Wheatley leaned in to read them. Mouse Trap, Trouble, and Sorry!. They all seemed like odd names for games, but he supposed he didn't really know much about human... anything. Carter picked up the game Mouse Trap, asking, "this sound good?"
Wheatley nodded, sitting down on one of the couches and watching Carter set up the game. Over the next three hours, Wheatley had many questions and comments about the different games they were playing.
"Do mice really even eat cheese?"
"Why does the trap have to be so complicated?"
"Wait... so the entire game is just us building this huge, elaborate trap... and then the trap doesn't even bloody work?"
"What exactly is the point of this... bubble thing? Couldn't we just roll the dice?"
"Come on, I've popped the bubble thing like twenty times now and still no six! You're half way around the board... this is hardly fair..."
"Well if I drew a two, then how come I can't move a second space?"
"If I can be moved out of a safety zone with a ten, then it's not really bloody well a safety zone, is it mate?"
"Stop saying sorry, you're not sorry!"
Wheatley looked up in shock when he heard Carter suddenly snap, "yeah, well neither are you."
It took a moment for Wheatley to register just exactly what Carter was insinuating. All of the sudden, it all clicked. Oh, no. "You... you know," he stuttered, eyes averted, suddenly unable to look at him. Something else hit him suddenly, like he'd only just realized exactly what the other man had said. "Wait... what, what do you mean, neither am I?" he demanded.
"That was stupid, sorry," Carter hurried, sounding a bit unsure and also angry, "I shouldn't have said anything."
"No," Wheatley started, shaking his head, "no no no no no, a little late for that, mate-"
"Stop calling me mate, I'm not your mate," Carter snapped quietly, "and... and I meant what I said exactly how I said it."
Wheatley stared at him in disbelief for a moment, feeling something build up in his chest. Anger. He jumped to his feet, saying very seriously, "no, no you're wrong! I am!" He wasn't necessarily angry that Carter was angry at him for what he did... but he didn't like being told he wasn't sorry. Honestly, there was nothing he'd ever been more sorry for in his entire life... and to be fair, he'd been alive quite a while and made quite a lot of stupid, ridiculous mistakes. None of them even came close to comparing to what he'd put Chell through.
"No," Carter said, voice beginning to show a bit more anger now as he also got to his feet, "you're just sorry she stopped you, you're sorry you got caught." Wheatley felt a lump in his throat... it was a painful mix of guilt and anger. He clenched his fists at his sides, backing up a bit as Carter came around the coffee table to get closer. "I want to trust her judgement, but I don't think I can. To be honest, I don't even know why she lets you stay here," Carter said, voice steely and gaze harsh. This was a far cry from the laid back, kind man he'd met just a few days prior.
Well, they were in agreement, there... it still shocked Wheatley every day that she let him stay here. Still, he couldn't help himself from trying to defend himself, as well as Chell's actions. "What was she supposed to do, leave me out in the snow?" he asked, voice getting lower.
"I don't know, maybe?" Carter said, almost whispering, "I swear to God, if you ever hurt her-"
Wheatley immediately butt in, "I would never even bloody consider trying to hurt her!"
"Well, you'll have to forgive me if I find that hard to believe!" Carter said, crossing his arms, "Jesus, Wheatley, you tried to kill her how many times?"
"I..." Wheatley sighed, looking down at his feet. He couldn't finish his answer - he'd lost count of the amount of times he'd tried to kill her.
"That's what I thought," Wheatley heard Carter say, and also heard the boiler room door open. He could hear Chell and Quinn talking, a bit. If he could just hang on a little longer, Chell would be back... and she'd fix everything. She always did. "She'd never say it, but the only reason you're here right now is because she pities the homicidal moron she sent to the moon," Carter said, voice bitter.
Wheatley felt something rush through him... adrenaline. Of course he didn't know that, though. All he knew was that he couldn't think very well, all he could think about were three words - moon, moron... pity. His fists shook, and before he knew it he was lunging forward, shouting, "you're wrong!" He didn't even realize he'd lifted his fist until it was around five inches from Carter's face.
Suddenly Carter was on the floor, clutching his nose, and Chell was screaming, "Wheatley!" She ran out to the living room, inserting herself between Wheatley and Carter. Quinn wasn't far behind Chell, immediately kneeling down on the floor next to her son and inspecting his face. Chell looked over her shoulder at Carter, looking like she was trying to gauge his condition, before turning back to the former core and demanding, "what do you think you're doing?!"
"I wasn't trying to... I, I wasn't... I didn't..." Wheatley tried desperately to find his words. As Carter finally got to his feet with his mother's help, Wheatley frowned deeply. He hadn't meant to hurt him, it all happened so fast, which was terrifying. It almost felt like the anger he'd felt while in the chassis, though less severe. As he thought about it, he suddenly started shaking with anger and general upset, talking a million miles an hour as he tried to explain. "He, h-he thinks I'm dangerous, and... and a moron! Said, said I wasn't really sorry. Said I'm just sorry I got caught and... and that's not true! You believe me, right? That I'm sorry?" he asked, voice shaking. Before she could answer, he asked a new question, "you're not... you're not just letting me stay here out of pity like he said, right? R-right...?'
Something dangerous flashed in Chell's eyes, face still oddly stoic. He knew those eyes, though - he didn't like those eyes one bit. The icy cold eyes of the test subject that had once taken Her down... and they were staring right at him. This was it, she was going to take back her forgiveness and kick him out of the house. Just as he was about to plead his case, she turned on her heel and faced Carter, voice dangerously calm as she asked, "is that true? Did you say all of that?"
Carter looked at Wheatley for a moment, before he looked at Chell and said, "I'm sorry, I know you said he's safe, but I don't think I can just believe that with you living under the same roof as him." Wheatley saw Chell cross her arms as she stared up at Carter - she appeared to be waiting for him to say more. Carter seemed to shrink under her glare - oh, good... he wasn't the only person easily intimidated by Chell. Carter sighed, throwing his arms out to the side and saying sadly, "Chell, you're a good person, I know you couldn't just let him die. Should he really be living with you, though? The weather's better, you don't have to keep him here just because you feel bad for him."
Wheatley was still shaking from the adrenaline, anger and fear building up in his chest as he mentioned pity again. His eyes widened a bit as Chell took a step back toward him, almost as if she was trying to shield him from Carter. Wasn't working, though... she was rather small, compared to him. He appreciated the sentiment, though. Chell rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration for a moment, taking a deep breath and saying, "I don't know exactly what I'm feeling, Carter... but it's not pity." She looked back up at him, "one thing I do know, though, is that you need to leave."
Carter stared at her in shock for a moment, looking over at Wheatley nervously and then back at her. "Chell..." he said in disbelief, still clutching his nose as a small amount of blood dripped from underneath his hand.
"I'm too angry to talk right now," Chell stated bluntly, before her face softened just a bit, "plus, you should have a doctor look at your nose, just in case."
She looked to Quinn for some kind of confirmation that he'd get checked out, and Quinn gave her a little nod. The older woman patted Carter's back, "she's right, kid. We gotta get you in to see Dr. Kennedy."
Carter looked like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to stay and protect Chell from Wheatley... but when he looked back at Chell his gaze fell to the floor. "Alright," he conceded, "I'll... see you when I see you, then."
Chell nodded, before softening her face again and looking at Quinn and attempting a smile, "thank you for helping us, today. I'll make sure to start planting your vegetables tomorrow. I'm... I'm sorry."
Quinn just grinned, picking up her toolbox and saying, "don't worry about it. You just come get me if you get any problems, and come see me soon and tell me how it's working." Suddenly, without another word to Chell, Quinn put a hand on Carter's back and gently shoved him toward the door. As they headed out the door, Wheatley could distantly hear Quinn telling Carter off, something about starting fights in another person's house.
The door closed behind them, and there was a long, awkward silence. Chell finally turned around to face him, and Wheatley's gaze immediately dropped to the floor. This was it. He was convinced this was when she was going to tell him to leave, too.
"You tried to show him you weren't dangerous... by punching him?" he heard her ask, voice laced with disbelief.
Wheatley winced a bit, shutting his eyes tightly before finally taking a chance and looking up at her face. Her arms were crossed over her chest, looking at him expectantly. She didn't look happy at all, oh, this was it, it was all over. He bit down on his lip to keep it from trembling for a moment, before saying quietly, "n-now that you put it that way, I... I suppose it wasn't the smartest decision..."
Chell's eyebrows drew together, and her frown deepened. "You could have seriously hurt him!" she exclaimed, not quite yelling, but definitely not speaking normally, either.
Could have? Did that mean Carter would be okay? Well, that was good, he supposed. "I... I wasn't trying to hurt him, it, it just happened so fast, and he called me, called me a moron! Told m-me I wasn't actually sorry and I... I don't know what happened, I don't know why I did that, I..." Wheatley bit back down on his lip, vision beginning to go blurry. He looked down at his feet again and opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled sound that seemed to stick inside his throat. Oh God, he'd really messed up. He finally forced words out, though his voice seemed strained. "I'm s-sorry, I-I..." his voice cracked and big, hot tears spilled down his face as he finally looked back up at her, "do I... do I h-have to leave, too...?" His entire body was shaking violently, adrenaline still pumping through his veins and fear coursing through him.
Suddenly something changed in Chell's posture. He blinked, trying to clear some of the tears from his eyes so he could see her face. It was softer, somehow, filled with less fear and anger than he'd expected. She slowly made her way over to him, and he immediately dropped his gaze back to the floor. "Wheatley, look at me," she commanded gently. He shook his head, not thinking he could stand to look in her eyes as she told him he had to go. His shoulders shook harder, every muscle in his body tensing up. Wheatley flinched as he felt her grab his hands, but relaxed just a bit when he noticed how gentle she was being. He looked down at her hands holding his, tears falling faster, now. Oh, he didn't know what he'd do if he lost his only real friend. She ran her thumbs over his hands softly, coaxing again, "look at me." He bit down harder on his lip, finally chancing looking up. He couldn't see terribly well through the tears, but he could vaguely make out her face. Chell squeezed his hands a bit more firmly, before saying with complete confidence, "you don't have to go anywhere."
Wheatley felt the lump in his throat finally begin to dissolve. For some reason he let out a tiny sob, legs feeling a bit weak. Why was he crying? He was so relieved, but for some reason he was crying. Humans made no sense... he made no sense. Wheatley let out another sob, trying to hold his eyes on her as he asked, "are you s-sure?"
Chell nodded, squeezing his hands again, "I'm sure." Wheatley sniffled, nodding hesitantly, body still trembling. She ran her thumbs over his hands again, instructing, "you're going to be fine, take some deep breaths." Now that he was no longer worried about having to leave, calming down was a lot easier. Wheatley did as she said, taking several long, deep breaths, breath occasionally hitching as he tried to regain control. He looked down at his hands, noticing that they were no longer shaking. He could no longer feel his heart completely thumping out of his chest, and the lightheaded, floating sensation he'd been feeling had finally ebbed. Chell lifted his right wrist, inspecting his knuckles. She pursed her lips, asking, "does your hand hurt?"
Wheatley flexed his fingers slowly, grimacing just a bit and saying, "n-no, no, it's fine. Alright, it hurts maybe just a bit... but, but I think it's fine, just a bit bruised, I'm sure." He was more concerned about Carter's face.
Chell took one more look at his knuckles as Wheatley finished getting his breathing and heart rate under control. "Does that feel better?" she asked gently, looking up at him and seeming to closely inspect his eyes.
"Yes, much... much better, thank you," Wheatley said quietly, taking one of his hands from her grip to wipe under his glasses.
"Good," Chell said, grabbing his wrist and leading him up the stairs, "we need to talk about what just happened."
Wheatley followed willingly, still rubbing at his eyes and twittering, "yes, I... I suppose we should. I-" He paused when he realized they were in his bedroom. Oh. He shrunk a bit, looking at her and swallowing, "this... this isn't a normal talk, is it?"
Chell shook her head, leading him over to his bed and grabbing the pillows from the headboard, setting them up near the center to support her back, like the last time. He swallowed, hurrying to say, "is, is this really necessary?" He knew he could say no, but there wasn't a single part of him that wanted to. What he wanted was to trust Chell, since he felt so much better after the last spanking... but this was a very different situation than the last time.
"Yes, it is," Chell said bluntly, getting up on to the bed, resting her back against the pillows. "I need to make sure this doesn't happen again, and that means several things," she explained, voice calm.
She reached a hand out for his, which was different than what had happened the last time... though he was certainly grateful she wasn't pulling on his ear. He stared at her hand hesitantly - while the after effects were extremely helpful, the process hadn't exactly been pleasant. Still... he raised his hand, placing it in hers - he trusted her, he had no reason not to. For a moment he thought he saw surprise flash behind her eyes, followed by something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It looked good, though, he thought. Over the past six months, he thought he'd gotten rather decent at reading her eyes. He'd had to. Wheatley allowed her to guide him up on to the center of the bed, getting on to his knees next to her and looking down worriedly at her lap. She put a hand between his shoulder blades, very gently pressing forward. He sighed, slowly lowering himself down and over her lap, tensing a bit. Part of him wondered why he was so willing to put himself back in to this position, and yet the other part of him thought that doing so felt almost frighteningly natural. Trusting Chell came naturally - she always seemed to know what to do, and all the right things to say, despite the fact that speaking to him was very new for her. She could solve anything, he knew she could.
Wheatley hadn't even realized that he was still rigid over her lap, muscles tense, until he felt her smooth her hand over his back. He couldn't help but slowly relax his muscles, not thinking his body knew how else to respond to that amazingly gentle touch. Why was she being so kind? He'd just punched her only friend in the face... one would think that gentle would be one of the last things she'd be, at the moment. Yet here she was, always surprising and confusing him, it seemed.
"Do you want to give me your glasses now?" Chell asked, still running her hand up and down his back. Wheatley didn't even have to think about that - he really didn't want to break these new glasses, he was very fond of them. He nodded and reached up to his face, slipping the glasses off and slowly handing them back to her. Wheatley felt them slip from his fingers, and heard her set them on the nightstand. Good, they were safe.
He waited, expecting her hand to come down, but it didn't. Instead it rubbed his lower back in slow circles. "You don't understand why you punched him, do you?" Chell asked, voice even.
"No... no, I swear I never planned on doing it... I don't know what happened," Wheatley rushed, wanting to make sure she understood his intentions. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he's dangerous.
He felt her smooth her hand over his back, causing his muscles to relax even further. "What you felt was a rush of adrenaline," Chell explained.
There was a long silence, before Wheatley exclaimed in surprise, "that's what adrenaline feels like?" He'd heard of adrenaline of course, before... after all, they had stores of adrenal vapor in Aperture. Wheatley had no earthly idea that it could be that strong, though.
"Yeah, it can sneak up on you," Chell said, patting his back gently, "but it's not something you can't control. That's why we're doing this, you understand? I need to make sure you slow down and think before acting on it, if this happens again."
Wheatley took a moment to try to digest what she was saying. He could control it? It wasn't like the anger from the testing withdrawals? It had felt so similar. He was hesitant to believe her, but it was Chell, plain and simple. Plus, she'd been human much longer than him. He knew she'd definitely experienced adrenaline, thanks to Her. Maybe he could try... for her. Wheatley didn't know if he'd succeed, but he'd try. He slowly nodded his head, gently gripping the covers beneath him, "o-okay." Okay? Was that really all he had to say? His brain was always such a jumbled mess, causing him to ramble and try to fill the space with his words. It seemed that both times he found himself over her lap, things in his mind became a lot more simple. It was like he didn't have to fill that empty space, right now. Chell had everything covered.
He felt Chell gently pat his lower back, before looking back in confusion as she reached underneath him and began unbuttoning his jeans. She'd waited a while to do this, last time. He paled just a bit, remembering how it had definitely hurt more when she'd taken his pants down before. "Is, is that really necessary, love? This isn't how you did it last time and I felt it just fine, really," Wheatley tried, voice sounding just the slightest bit panicked, muscles tensing.
"This is a different situation," Chell explained, pulling her hands out from underneath him for a moment to rub small circles in his back, seeming to have noticed the panic in his voice. "You're going to be okay," she promised, voice dropping to a soothing tone.
Wheatley's muscles slowly started to relax again as he focused on her voice and the hand rubbing his back. She sounded so sure, but he was afraid... of many things. The spanking, how she actually felt, if he'd seriously hurt Carter, and most of all... if he was turning back in to a monster.
Chell reached back underneath him, finishing with unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. Wheatley screwed his eyes shut as she carefully wrestled his pants down to his knees, knowing that this was going to be extremely unpleasant. He tensed up again, though that didn't last long as he felt her arm snake around his waist, pulling him in closer against her. That was oddly comforting - secure. Wheatley gasped, jolting forward and grabbing on to the covers as he felt Chell land the first swat. That most definitely stung! He buried his face in to the covers, whimpering just a bit.
He felt her arm squeeze his waist briefly, before her hand came down again, followed by several more quick, sharp smacks. Wheatley gasped again, biting down on his lip and hanging on to the covers. "Now, let me make something very clear," Chell finally said, not relenting with the spanking as she spoke, "you are not living here out of pity."
Wheatley whimpered under his breath, unable to help but already begin squirming his hips slightly. It was a lot harder to hold still this time around. He bit down on his lip at her words, asking in a small voice, "are... are you sure...? 'Cause I wouldn't honestly blame you..."
"I won't lie, pity was the reason you got through the front door," Chell said, ever blunt as usual, before amending, "but it's not why you've stayed."
There was a bit of a long pause, before Wheatley finally got enough courage to ask, "...why have you let me stay?" It was something he'd been wanting to ask for quite some time, now, yet never had the fortitude to ask. "Carter was right, you've taught me to eat and drink, and it's not winter anymore," he pointed out.
His question was followed by silence, as well as a cessation of the spanking, though he was sure that was temporary. She seemed to be thinking very hard on that answer. "At first I wasn't sure why," Chell admitted, "but the truth is, you're my friend."
"That..." Wheatley whispered, before trying to say a bit louder, "your friend?"
"You sound surprised," Chell said, rubbing his back.
Wheatley thought for a moment, before saying quietly, "wouldn't you be?" Sure, he saw her as his friend, but he'd never actually considered that she saw him as her friend, as well. He'd kind of just assumed she saw him as an acquaintance that she no longer hated.
She took a deep breath like she was about to argue, but paused. It seemed she was considering his point. "Alright, maybe a bit," Chell admitted, "but it's the truth." She pulled her hand back and landed it firmly over one of his undercurves, causing him to yelp and jolt forward a bit, letting out a high pitched whine. "If I didn't think of you as a friend, we wouldn't be doing this right now," she explained, voice softening a bit before she said, "nothing Carter said is true."
"Are... are you sure?" Wheatley asked uneasily, hanging on to the blankets in front of him, "he said, said you just pity the... moron you sent to the moon, and I-"
"He mentioned the moon?" Chell asked, voice hardening a bit and body tensing beneath him.
She didn't sound, or feel for that matter, very happy. Did he say something wrong? "U-Um, yeah," Wheatley said in a small voice, not sure what he'd said wrong.
Suddenly he felt her hand gently clasp over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Wheatley," Chell said, voice quiet, "he should have never brought up the moon, or called you a moron. And he certainly shouldn't have been speaking for me. You're not here out of pity, and I don't think you're a moron. You understand?"
Wheatley was silent, taking a moment to absorb what she'd just said. She was... sorry? He'd honestly expected this entire thing to be all about him punching Carter in the face, yet here she was, apologizing for her friend. He felt something twist in his chest, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Chell wanted him here. He hung on tighter to the blankets for a moment, hesitating, before nodding slowly. He understood - maybe he didn't understand why she felt that way, but he was grateful she did.
"Good," Chell said, rubbing his back softly for a second before taking a deep breath. She seemed to be hesitating. That was odd, she hadn't hesitated the last time. Suddenly he felt her hook her fingers in the waistband of his boxers and begin to slide them down.
Wheatley's eyes flew open and he began stuttering, "w-what are you doing? I thought, I mean, you don't want to see that do you?" The last time Chell had seen that part of him, she'd almost taken his head off. Of course, that was six months ago... but he assumed she still felt the same way. He really didn't want to make her uncomfortable, he'd done that enough in the first few months.
Chell suddenly stopped, seeming to notice the concern in his voice. "Some things have a time and a place," she explained, rubbing her hand over his back.
He pursed his lips for a moment, trying to understand her logic. In the end, Wheatley just really didn't want to offend her, or make her more uncomfortable than he already had on multiple occasions, he was sure. He sighed, taking a deep breath and nodding, "a-alright, if you say so." Chell had yet to lie to him, and if she said it was okay, then maybe it was. With that, she reached for the waistband again, tugging his boxers down to meet his jeans at his knees. Suddenly, something dawned on Wheatley - if getting spanked over his underwear was worse than over his pants, then this was bound to be even worse. Oh, oh no. That's why she was doing this! "But, but is that really necessary, love? I, I mean, I was feeling it just fine before..."
"I'm sorry, Wheatley," Chell murmured, rubbing his back briefly. She actually sounded genuinely sorry, huh. Before he could think too much on it, her hand fell down against his backside, and it was definitely more painful than before. Wheatley yelped loudly, jolting forward and hanging on tighter to the blankets. "I need to make sure this doesn't happen again," she explained, bringing her hand down repetitively. "Like I said... there's a time and a place. There's times when punching someone is justifiable, but this was not one of those times. Are we clear?" she asked, voice firm.
Wheatley swallowed, shrinking down a bit at her unyielding voice. This wasn't like when his bosses would tell him off in the past when he'd inevitably mess something up, this was different. He gasped at the new, painful sensation of no longer having any protection, hips shuffling involuntarily. "A-Ah! Yes, yes we," he stuttered, gasping and yanking on the covers, "we're clear! I, I'm s-sorry I... I never meant for it to happen...!"
He felt Chell wrap her arm securely around his waist, giving him a small squeeze. "I know you didn't," she said gently before beginning to move the swats further downward. As her hand crashed down against his sensitive undercurves, Wheatley yelped again and let out a short whine, squirming a bit more. She tightened her hold on his waist, spanking a bit faster as she spoke, "but now that you know what adrenaline is, I'm going to make sure you know to think before you act on it, next time. You're not a small man, Wheatley... you could end up really hurting someone, or worse... and I know you don't want that to happen. Or you could end up getting hurt, yourself, and I know that I don't want that to happen." Something twisted in his chest when he heard her say she didn't want him to get hurt. He hadn't actually even considered that he could get hurt, yet somehow she had.
After what felt like forever, the spanking stopped. Wheatley breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath. Chell rubbed circles in to his back and he almost immediately melted. He felt her shift a bit, like she was reaching for something, before she explained gently, "I'm going to show you a little bit of what's going to happen if this happens again." He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but it didn't sound good. He froze when he felt something cold and flat tap against his bottom. Before he could respond he felt a sharp, harsh pain connect with his backside and heard a loud noise echo throughout the room. Wheatley yelped loudly and bucked forward, legs kicking instinctively. He whined, turning his head to look back, wanting to know just what she'd done. She was holding his wooden hairbrush, oh... that explained so much.
Before he knew it words were spilling out of his mouth, "I thought that was for brushing hair!" His voice was coming out far more high pitched and whiney than he'd wanted it to.
Chell sighed softly, landing the brush on to his backside a few more times. Each strike sent him bucking forward and pulled strangled noises from his mouth. His eyes were already watering, both from the pain and from knowing what he'd done. "The next time we go in to town, you're going to apologize to Carter, am I clear?" Chell asked, voice not waning in its intensity.
Wheatley's head nodded up and down quickly, more than willing to apologize... partly because he legitimately felt guilty and partly to get the spanking to end sooner.
"If this happens again, you're going to end up right back here, and I will not hesitate to use this brush again, am I understood?" Chell asked, voice deathly serious as she continued to land the brush over and over on to what was already extremely sore skin.
"Y-Yes! You are completely A-AH! Under... understood! I hear you NG, loud and clear, I promise!" Wheatley rushed to answer with a watery voice, hips squirming wildly, unable to hold his legs still, either.
Chell slowly moved the spanking down to his undercurves again, landing a few sharp smacks. Wheatley yelped and cried out louder as she focused there, reaching out with one hand and hanging on to her ankle. It hurt rather badly, and emotionally he wasn't feeling so stable - he felt like he had to hold on to something. Suddenly he felt her unwrap her left arm from his waist, and then felt her pry his fingers from her ankle. He was about to protest, until she slipped her hand in to his, giving his hand a squeeze. Wheatley immediately latched on to her hand, welcoming the small bit of comfort. She gave his hand another squeeze, pulling back the brush and landing a few more hard smacks to his backside. He yelped, letting out a childish sounding whine and hanging on tighter to her hand.
"You know what won't happen if this happens again?" Chell quarried, swatting a bit harder and faster, now.
Wheatley couldn't hold still, squirming and kicking hard enough to kick his jeans down to his ankles. He let out a small, unintentional whimper, asking, "w-what...?"
Chell clutched his hand in hers, focusing the brush on his undercurves yet again, as if trying to punctuate her words. "You won't lose the forgiveness I gave you for what happened at Aperture," she said, her voice saying that she meant business, "and you won't get kicked out of the house." Her voice softened just a bit, "do you understand? This is your home."
Wheatley cried out as the attention was returned to that extremely sensitive area, bucking forward. It took a moment for him to process what she'd said, but once he had, it felt like something inside of him snapped. He suddenly held still, tightening his grip on her hand, shoulders shaking. Home, he had a home. He held his breath for a short while, before a loud sob ripped out of his throat, followed by a string of more, equally loud sobs. He buried his face in to the blankets to try to muffle the sound, hanging on tightly to her hand, body trembling.
He wasn't really honestly sure when the spanking had ended, but at some point he finally realized it was over. She was gently peeling her hand from his, using both hands to carefully pull his boxers back up to his waist. He winced as he felt the fabric brush across the inflamed skin, still sobbing in to the blankets, holding them tightly against his face. Wheatley whimpered as he felt her trying to pry the blankets away from him, tightening his grip.
Chell kept trying to pry his grip from the blankets, muttering soft words. He was too frantic to really understand her, but she kept murmuring, one hand rubbing gentle circles in to his lower back and the other twining her fingers through his hair. As time went on he began to make out little things, like "it's all over," and "good boy." Wheatley slowly let go of his death grip on the blankets, allowing Chell to pull him up. Oh, he was so fatigued, and he was crying too hard to stay sitting up, so he didn't fight her when she guided him to lay down.
He curled up on his side, trying to avoid putting pressure on his backside. Wheatley was extremely relieved when she laid down next to him. He allowed her to pull him in to her arms, burying his face in to her neck and sobbing harder. "I'm s-sorry!" he cried, weakly hanging on to her shirt, "I'm s-so sorry, didn't, didn't m-mean to!"
Wheatley felt Chell tighten her hold on him with one arm, her fingers gently combing through his hair as she spoke softly, "I know, I know you didn't. It's all over, everything's going to be alright."
The former core hung on tighter to her at her promise. If she said it was going to be alright, then it was going to be alright. Still, though, he felt a strong urge to just purge everything he'd been feeling. He couldn't stop the tears as they spilled down his face, words flying out of his mouth before he even knew it was happening. "A-And I'm still sorry for... for Aperture!" he cried out, tightening his grip a bit on her shirt.
"Oh, Wheatley," Chell sighed sadly, both arms wrapped tightly around him now. She gave him a long squeeze, murmuring, "I know you are... but you don't have to keep apologizing..."
Wheatley whimpered, crying a bit harder and stuttering, "a-are you sure? Because, because it feels like no a-amount of apologizing is enough, I... "
"Shhhh," she cooed, voice quiet and pitched to soothe, "you've apologized more than enough times, Wheatley. I know it's not going to get better over night, but we're not in Aperture anymore. No turrets, no neurotoxin, no chassis, no Her. We're here now, and the best way for you to make up for what happened is to live a good life."
Something in his chest twisted unpleasantly and he buried his face more deeply in to her. He let out a strangled sob, whispering, "but what if I'm no good at that?" More sobs escaped his mouth between every few words as he tried to explain, "I'm already... already not doing the best job. What if I... become... become..." He shook his head, holding his breath for a moment before simply breaking down and bawling, "what if I become a m-monster again? I already h-hurt someone!"
"Wheatley..." Chell murmured gently, voice sounding almost sad, "what happened with Carter doesn't make you a monster, believe it or not it just makes you human." Human? Well, he supposed that was what he was, now... but hearing it was going to take some getting used to. "You're not becoming a monster," she promised softly, "and you won't become one, either. It's not in your nature. Remember what I said, we're not in Aperture anymore... there is no chassis."
He couldn't help but cry harder when he heard her say that, though his shoulders were loosening in relief. Hearing those words come from her mouth was incredibly overwhelming, but powerfully amazing. Oh, sure, he'd daydreamed of hearing things like that from her, while he was all alone and orbiting the moon... but actually hearing it was even more wonderful than he'd imagined it would be. Wheatley slowly let go of her shirt, wrapping his arms around her waist and repositioning his head to rest on her chest so he could breathe easier. He felt bad when he realized he'd left a puddle of tears and mucus on her neck, but he wasn't willing to let go of her long enough to clean it.
Chell lifted her body enough for him to get his arms around her waist before settling back in to the bed. She held him tightly against her as he sobbed, occasionally making soft, comforting sounds. He suddenly felt her press her lips against his forehead - oh, that was very nice. His entire body melted against her just a bit, crying beginning to wane, albeit slowly. He wasn't sure if he'd imagined it, but it seemed like her heart was beating a little faster than it had been, when she did that. Soon he could hear her humming - it was soft, but he could hear it just fine with his head laying on her chest. He wasn't sure why, but that almost immediately calmed him down a bit more, even though he didn't recognize the song. Everything about Chell's voice was soothing to him - from the humming and comforting, to the simple, every day talking. The fact that she'd allow him to hear her voice was, in itself, amazing.
Wheatley's sobbing had finally died down in to quiet crying. Now that he wasn't frantic anymore, he was beginning to realize the pain in his backside a lot more vividly. He whimpered, unwrapping one arm from around her and slowly reaching back to rub the painful skin. It was incredibly sore, and was warm to the touch, even through his boxers. She gave him a squeeze, saying softly, "I know, I know it hurts... I'm sorry."
He sniffled, hiccuping quietly before finally saying in a raspy voice, "not sure what you're sorry for, love... you're not the one that punched someone in the face."
Chell's chest shook slightly with gentle, silent laughter, "I suppose not... but I'm still sorry you're in pain."
"I'll live, I think," Wheatley murmured, closing his sore eyes and nuzzling in to her shoulder. The crying had mostly come to a stop, other than the occasional hitched breath. Suddenly he felt Chell unwrap one arm to reach for something, and then felt her gently take his chin and carefully turn his face out in to the air. She had tissue in her hand, and before he could say anything she was gently dabbing his face clean. He supposed it was a good thing that roll of toilet paper was still in here from the last spanking. Wheatley closed his eyes, letting her clean his face - he was too tired to do it himself, anyway. That spanking had taken a lot out of him, physically and emotionally. He vaguely noticed her grabbing a new piece of tissue and wiping at her neck, and he wanted to apologize, but he could feel his energy simply sapped from him.
He was absolutely exhausted, and he felt... fuzzy. Almost like he was floating. He wanted to blow his nose, or ask for some water, but he was honestly just too tired. He laid his head back down on her chest, saying quietly, "I'm knackered, love..."
Chell ran her fingers through his hair, saying softly, "then why not take a nap? I'll wake you up in an hour."
Wheatley tried to keep his eyes open, but her fingers began massaging his scalp and he just couldn't fight it anymore. He let his eyes close yet again, relaxing against her, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Sleeping was always so much easier when she was around. Really, everything was easier when she was around. Even in the beginning, when she wouldn't make eye contact with him, things were just easier when she was there. Though, he was glad he didn't have to apologize anymore... it had gotten exhausting.
Wheatley stared at himself in the mirror, pursing his lips and trying to look brave... but he mostly just looked scared. He didn't know why he was planning on trying to do this yet again - it never ended the way he wanted it to. He had to say it, though... something in him told him that he had no choice. He sighed, turning around and heading out of his room and to Chell's door. He took a deep breath, knocking on her door. There was a long pause, before he finally heard the floorboards creaking. The handle jiggled, and the door slowly opened, just enough for Chell to pop her head out.
"Sorry to bother you, love, I just..." Wheatley stuttered, trying to find the right words. He studied her face - not a hint of emotion to be read, as usual. Her eyes, however, said that she wasn't terribly comfortable with him being at her door. They were hard, and inquisitive. He sighed, looking away from those eyes and asking, "can... can I talk to you?"
Chell stayed silent for a while, before sighing and slowly opening the door the rest of the way. She crossed her arms, leaning against the door frame and waiting. Oh, she already bloody knew what he was going to say, didn't she? Of course she did. Why was he even doing this? Even though he knew what was about to happen, he still felt like he had to say it. "I..." he stuttered, slowly looking up from the floor and in to her eyes, "I'm sorry." She didn't look impressed, her eyes almost looked harder. He bit his lip, looking away again as he said, "I know what you're thinking - you're tired of me showing up here, at your door, and saying the same thing over and over and over again. But, but! But I had to say it, because... because I meant it. And... and I just had to make sure you knew."
Wheatley finally looked back up at her, noting that her eyes were closed and her brows were drawn together. After a long while her eyes finally reopened, and she looked up at him expectantly, raising an eyebrow, as if asking him if he was done. He sighed, shoulders slumping and looking back at the ground. "That's all I had to say," he said, voice defeated. There was another long pause, before the door slowly creaked, and then closed. He looked up, seeing that Chell was gone. Wheatley swallowed the lump that was rising in his throat. It was alright... he'd keep trying.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I've got the next few chapters all planned out, just a matter of getting them written down. Thanks for reading!