Chell did not know that Wheatley had "overheard" her conversation with Michael, but she did know that he had been acting strange and pouty all week and something was wrong. Usually when Wheatley found himself in trouble (which he did quite often) telling Chell about it was the first thing he would do, but after the seventh day of this strange behavior it was becoming clear that he was hiding something from her.

Meanwhile Wheatley thought he was doing an excellent job of being secretive. Chell had not questioned him once all week, and since the week was nearly over he figured he had (somehow) made it into the clear. It wasn't that Wheatley enjoyed keeping secrets; he was usually absolute rubbish at it as he was such a chatterbox, and he hated keeping things from Chell (especially considering how well things had been going between them in the last few weeks), but for some reason Wheatley felt that keeping this particular secret from Chell was important, for both their sakes.

There was something about Michael that brought out the worst in Wheatley. He had only seen the man once, yet after that brief encounter his mind was stuck on how close he had been to Chell, how teasing his voice had sounded when he spoke to her, and how, for some reason, Chell didn't mind any of it nearly as much as Wheatley did. It made something inside his mind burn. He knew what it was: that was why he didn't want to tell Chell. If she found out what Wheatley already knew, then all the rules would be reinforced, she would probably stop talking to him, and they would be back to square one. All the progress they had spent months making would be for nothing. Besides, even when he tried to tell Chell he got all hot and fidgety and his words wouldn't come out (a problem he had never had before). For some reason it felt like telling her about this meant telling her about a lot of other things too.

Chell watched him as she entered the living room with two steaming hot cups in her hands. This was a nice little ritual they had taken up since the weather had turned colder: in the evenings she would make herself a mug of hot chocolate and Wheatley a cup of tea, and they would cuddle together on the couch and watch tv reruns or talk.

Chell already knew which one they would be doing tonight.
"What's wrong?" She asked softly as she handed him his drink and her fingers brushed his.

"What?" Wheatley started so badly nearly spilled his tea in his lap.

"You've been awfully quiet lately," She smirked, "What did you break?"

"I didn't- break anything?" Wheatley sat up a little straighter, nervous. He was not very good at lying, and he had a feeling he would need to very soon. "I haven't broken anything. I'm just, I've been quiet. What's wrong with being quiet? I thought you liked quiet."

She smiled into her hot chocolate. "Quiet doesn't suit you."

"So you don't like me?" Wheatley snorted, a teasing tone creeping into his voice.

Chell chuckled. "I like you most of the time."

"Yeah? And what about the rest of the time?"

"The rest of the time you're acting like this." Chell said bluntly, poking him square in the chest with her free hand. "Self loathing, and brooding, and quiet. You've been like this all week. That's how I can tell that something is wrong." She shot him one of her determined, I'm-being-serious-and-you-better-not-lie-to-me looks for good measure.

Wheatley quickly averted eyes to his tea. "Nothing is wrong, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Chell asked skeptically.

"Maybe." He squeaked.

"Maybe?" Chell echoed.

"You'll," Wheatley shifted away from Chell while looking down at her uneasily. Maybe it was her imagination but it looked as though his face was turning pink. "You'll get mad at me, if I tell you. You'll be annoyed."

Chell shook her head, offering a small smile. "I'll live."

Wheatley swallowed hard. Obviously he was going to have to tell her something, but he didn't want to lie and he was afraid of her reaction to the truth. He decided to tell her the cause of his problem and hoped she could figure the rest out for herself. Perhaps if she did she could let him in on it.

"I... When I woke up the other morning I heard you... talking to someone."
"And?" Her expression and her voice were morphing into something a little bit harder- more skeptical- and Wheatley could tell that she was expecting what he said next.

"And... I may or may not have listened to your entire conversation after that." He offered a sheepish smile but Chell would have none of it.

"Wheatley." Her shoulders bounced microscopically as she gave an annoyed huff of laughter.

"Well! In my defense you left the window open. It's not like I snuck out on the porch or went out of my way to listen to you, I was sitting in bed." His face turned pink as she shot him another questioning look which he quickly remembered he deserved. "Erm," Wheatley chuckled, looking down into his tea for guidance and not finding any. "Or at least, I was sitting in bed until I decided to get up and sit by the window so I could ... Um... watch, too."

"Wheatley." The two syllables were laced with utter disappointment and he flinched at hearing them. "Here I am trying to convince someone that you're trustworthy, and meanwhile you're sitting there spying on us." Chell suddenly sounded very tired. "Do you not trust me?"

Wheatley flailed so violently he nearly spilled his tea for the second time that night.

"Of course I trust you!" He scoffed, looking down at her as dubiously as if she'd grown a second head. The last thing he wanted to do was make Chell feel bad, that's why he had wanted to keep this to himself to begin with. "You're not the problem! He is!"

"You've only ever seen him one time." Chell said as she pressed a hand to her temple.

"It doesn't matter!" Wheatley cried, "He was touching your hands, and your face, and your arm- at one point he practically had you sitting in his lap! Doesn't he know that you don't like contact like that? How long has he been living in this town?Because I've only been living here for a few months but even I know you don't like-"

Something inside of him turned to ice as he met her eyes. Chell was looking up at him intently as if he were a puzzle she was trying to solve. He could practically see the metaphorical wheels in her head turning as a microscopic smile began to tug at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes sparkled as her expression turned to something caught between alarmed and coy.

"What?" Wheatley asked nervously. His face lit up pink when she didn't reply. "What?"

"Why does that matter?" Chell asked softly.

"I don't know," Wheatley shifted, avoiding her eyes as his faced turned a deeper shade of pink. "I don't, I like contact, but the way he kept shifting and moving around and poking and prodding you, just watching that made me uncomfortable. Fidgety. Like, like I should get up and do something about it instead of just sit there and watch. I'm not sure why, exactly, but I don't like the thought of, of you being uncomfortable. You being uncomfortable makes me uncomfortable."

His face was bright red by the time he finished speaking, but his answer seemed suitable enough for Chell because she stopped looking at him as though she wanted to pry him apart and look inside his head. Though he couldn't help but notice that her little smile remained.

"I appreciate the concern, but everything is fine. Michael wasn't bothering me. He's a friend."

"I'll say," Wheatley snorted under his breath. "He was being awfully friendly."

Apparently he hadn't been quiet enough.

"Wheatley." By this point Chell had traded disappointment for anger. Her eyes were lit up, burning with bright, hot determination, and he knew that he should shut up but he didn't want to.

"What? You can't tell me that didn't bother you one tiny bit. I won't believe you. If I did all that to you you'd probably knock me straight back to the moon, no portals necessary. But he does it and it's fine? Why? What's the difference?"

"I trust him." Chell said calmly. For some reason that made her words sting even more.

"Why don't you trust me?" Wheatley whimpered.

Chell didn't give him a verbal response but Wheatley could tell by her expression that if she spoke she would ask something along the lines of 'Do I really need to answer that?'

"Alright, I know why, but that was such a long time ago, wasn't it?" He tried to take her hand but she wouldn't let him. "I've been here for months now and I've been a perfect angel for all that time." That statement earned him an even more skeptical look from Chell. "Well, maybe not perfect, but you get my point. I haven't done anything horribly wrong, have I?" Maybe it was only his imagination but he swore her expression softened a bit. "I just, I though things were normal between us again. I thought we were friends."

"We are." She said gently. "You're right: you've been back for a long time, and in that time you haven't done anything to hurt my opinion of you. You've actually behaved better than I expected." Chell gave him a small smile. "It's not that I don't trust you; to be honest, I probably trust you more than I should."

"Then what's the difference?" He asked quietly, trying his best not to sound whiny.

"I haven't been able to trust you for very long." Chell said simply. "You have to understand that my relationship with Michael is different than my relationship with you because I've know him longer. I've trusted him longer." Wheatley shifted back and crossed his arms. "I'm ok with him sitting with me and holding my hands and even touching my face because there are years of trust between us. He's earned it."

They sat in silence for a moment before Chell's previous coy expression returned.

"Wheatley," She asked softly, "Are you jealous?"

He instantly turned red.

"Jealous?" He scrambled, "Jealous? Jealous of what? Jealous of him? Why would I be jealous of him?"

"That's a good question." Chell said smoothly.

"I'm not- you're being silly, you are. I'm not jealous of anyone, I'm just trying to take up for you because I care. And then I'm rewarded with a lecture about how that bloke is wonderful and I'm untrustworthy. Jealous." He scoffed, crossing his arms. His face was brighter than she'd ever seen it.

"Was that a no?" Chell smirked, her face still stuck in a smile she knew she shouldn't be boasting.

"Yes!" Wheatley snapped, "Yes to no!"

"That's good." She rose from the couch, collecting their mugs and bringing them into the kitchen. "You really have no reason to worry over Michael, Wheatley."

"What makes you say that?" Wheatley asked weakly.

He couldn't see her face but he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was smiling.

"He's married."

Author's Note:

TO CHELL! :D

Just kidding! XD I was going to make you guys wait for about half the fic to find out that Michael was a married man, but when I rearranged the chapters it came up a lot sooner, obviously.

This was supposed to be cute and fluffy and I don't know what happened. I think Wheatley was being whiny because he's jealous and he killed it. Jealous Wheatley is way too much fun to write.

Thanks for reading! Please review!