Notice:
Everything from here on out occurs after Pieces of Christmas (including the parts of Pieces of Christmas that haven't yet been written/published). So if you haven't read Pieces of Christmas, you might want to do that first (excluding the parts of Pieces of Christmas that haven't yet been written/published XD). This chapter occurs a few months after the last one.
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Time passed.
Winter came just as Chell said it would and before Wheatley knew it, Christmas had come and gone. The holiday introduced a few new elements into Wheatley's cozy life, including cold weather, sickness and a better understanding of the neighbors.
Right around Christmas the weather became so cold that Chell closed off the bedrooms and resolved to keep the fire going as often as she could, apparently disappointed with the performance of the furnace. Of course Wheatley didn't mind this at all: ever since he 'confessed', Chell had banished him back to his own lonely room (no cuddles for Wheatley), but them now practically living in the kitchen and living room meant that Chell had (reluctantly) granted him permission to sleep on the pull out couch with her. Which gave him a free pass to cuddle with Chell, in front of a cozy fire and under a mountain of blankets, on a nightly basis.
He had no complaints.
Unfortunately for both of them Chell was sick during Christmas Eve and Christmas, which meant she had to stay home. Whatever Chell had come down with wasn't serious, but it was stubborn: it took her about a week to fight it off, during which Wheatley called Sam (the doctor in town) every single day asking if she would be okay and if was she dying. When Chell finally recovered she wasn't sure who was more relieved.
Wheatley tried his best to give Chell a happy holiday despite her not feeling well, and if he did say so himself, he thought he did a pretty good job. Though he hadn't done it alone.
The people of Horizon absolutely loved Chell. The moment they'd learned they could help her they were ready and willing (especially that Michael fellow. Maybe he wasn't completely terrible after all...), and while Wheatley wouldn't say what the exact result of their collaboration had been (that was a story for another time), it had made Chell very happy. It had also taught Wheatley that the neighbors were willing to help him whenever he needed it, not just Chell. That was a useful bit of information to have on hand.
As for their own relationship, Chell had said to give it time, and time had seemed to help quite a bit.
There seemed to be something much more genuine about their relationship now. Before there had been more than a few layers of ice between them- mistrust, and fear, and resentment- but as those melted, they grew closer. In Wheatley's opinion things had never really been bad between them, but things were so much better now than they'd ever been before.
Thanks to a few months worth of work, they had slipped into a new routine in which Wheatley was able to help Chell with just about everything. If she was cooking he would scurry about gathering up everything she would need or fiddling with the counter top radio until he found something for them to listen to. If she was tidying up the house he would clean windows, or dust the furniture, or knock down cobwebs (or, to put it a bit more bluntly, tackle whatever she was too short to reach). If Chell needed to make a trip into town, Wheatley would tag along and help her carry everything.
This was a brilliant little system because not only did Wheatley finally get to be useful, he was also able to spend more time with Chell. And he couldn't help but notice that ever since he'd devoted more of his time to assisting her (and less of his time staring at her) Chell had spent more of her time smiling at him and laughing with him. Her faith in him seemed to be growing too, because every time he successfully completed one task she would offer him another (if he was up to it, of course).
Soon after they settled into their new routine Christmas came and went, leaving Wheatley feeling warm and fuzzy and excited for the New Year. Everyone else in town kept going on and on about these 'New Year resolution' things, and as soon as Wheatley figured out what they were he decided on his: From here on out his sole concern was improving his relationship- his friendship- with Chell. No more 'I love you' nonsense- because it was nonsense.
What right did he have to try and declare his feelings when he didn't understand them himself?
When Chell finally started to warm up to him had been elated, instantly forgetting one very important detail: he had literally no idea what he was doing.
Who was he to go around declaring emotions to someone like her, he was lucky he had gotten away with it that as easily as he had before. No, Wheatley only wanted to make Chell feel as though she could trust him again. When she was with him he wanted her to feel nothing but safe and happy. And if he could do those things then he would certainly be improving himself along the way.
So far his plan had worked wonderfully.
Once they were finished with chores for the day the two of them would crawl into bed (the comfy pull out couch in the living room) and watch television or talk for a little while before going to sleep.
That was easily Wheatley's favorite part of the day.
Chell had most recently taken to reading before bed. Occasionally she would become so enveloped with what she was reading that she would stay up well into the night trying to finish it, and though Wheatley would always complain (cuddling with her wasn't exactly easy when she was trying to read) and try to stay up as late as she did, he always fell asleep before she turned the lights out.
Stubborn.
At the moment he wasn't tired enough to sleep (though he was too tired to fuss over her bizarre sleeping habits), so instead he chose to sit with Chell and watch her read: his right arm around her waist to hold her in place (he would not be abandoned for reading light, thank you very much) and his head resting on her shoulder.
As he surveyed the living room Wheatley thought that winter must've been the coziest time of the year. The fire kept the house warm, and filled the air with a smoky sort of wood scent that made him want to sleep. The light it provided cast a soft glow over the room, bathing the scene in warm orange light that made shadows flicker across the walls. Outside the window it was constantly snowing, leaving everything either covered in a smooth white blanket or encased in ice.
After taking a moment to appreciate his surroundings, Wheatley returned his attention to Chell.
"What are you reading?" He asked through a yawn.
Chell peered over at him, giving him a warm smirk. They both knew full well that he was reading everything she was. Chell suspected that Wheatley was only asking because he wanted to break the silence.
"Poetry." She replied, taking a grain of satisfaction in giving him the shortest possible answer to his question. Wheatley didn't seem to notice.
"Poetry?" He echoed, squirming next to her, "I think I used to know a poetry core. Very confusing." His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to remember what poetry was. "Isn't that... Sappy, confusing, depressing writing? That rhymes?"
Chell laughed. That was certainly one way to look at it. "Not necessarily. Poetry can be uplifting. It can be deep and beautiful and enlightening."
Wheatley thought she probably said something else too, but he was too busy admiring the contrast of the fire in the ice of her eyes to pay much attention. For some reason he always found it fairly easy to get distracted whenever she was around.
"Really?" Wheatley asked, trying far too hard not to grin like an idiot.
She smirked, nudging him in an attempt to bring him back to earth.
"Really."
This was yet another lovely little change their relationship had undertaken: Over half of their conversations were now nothing but playful banter.
He nodded down at the book she was holding, nudging her back and copying her smirk. "Oh yeah? If this poetry stuff is so brilliant, then you shouldn't have any problem finding me a happy poem in that book of yours? Should you?"
Chell's smirk transformed into something brilliant, the spark in her eyes igniting into a blaze as she detected the challenge he was offering. She was easily the most competitive person he had ever met, almost fiercely so. She wouldn't just beat you; Chell annihilated her opponents. It seemed that competition was one of the few remaining outlets for the (extreme) skills she had acquired in Aperture. Wheately didn't mind her competitive streak at all; it was good for her and it was fun to watch. That was honestly the best part about challenging Chell to anything: Wheatley won just by watching her compete. And she didn't even know it.
"That's easy," Chell scoffed, already thumbing through the book, likely to some pre-memorized page number. "But you won't just take my word for it?"
His eyes glinted devilishly as a half sly, half reluctant grin tugged at his lips.
"Say apple."
Chell managed to laugh and look insulted at the same time. She jerked away, swatting at him (lightly but) viciously. "No fair!"
"Tell me about it." He snickered. "Ow!" He buried his face in the crook of her neck as she tried (and failed) to swat him away. "In my defense, I've been reading over your shoulder for a little while, and that last poem was- wasn't it?- about a man who spent every night sleeping in the tomb of his wife? Next to her dead body?" Blue eyes peered up at her nervously. "Isn't that- that's a bit, a bit creepy, isn't it?"
"That was a poem about obsession." Chell said, as if that somehow revealed a crystal clear connection.
"Alright..."
"I'll explain it later." Chell smiled, sitting up a little straighter. "Here is one of my favorite, happy, cheerful poems."
Wheatley rolled his eyes.
"Hope is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I've heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me."
Chell took a moment to enjoy the silence before she looked up at Wheatley, waiting for his deep, unique analysis.
"Why is your favorite poem about birds?" He asked, frowning.
"It isn't." Chell smirked, closing the book and tapping him with it gently, pretending to hit him with it. "It's a metaphor."
He smiled, puzzled. "What's that?"
Chell remembered a time when Wheatley would quickly become embarrassed if he didn't know something. Before, he would carefully examine the carpet, or turn bright pink, or try to talk his way around the subject as fast as he possibly could. Now whenever he didn't know something, or he realized he was wrong, he became curious. He wanted to learn. And Chell was happy to help whenever she could.
"It's a comparison that doesn't say it's a comparison. In the poem the author is comparing hope to a bird by saying that hope is a bird."
"So it's a poem about hope?" Wheatley asked carefully.
"Yes."
"Oh. Well that makes more sense."
As far as Chell was concerned metaphors existed in real life: Things that people did or said usually meant more than they appeared to. She thought about explaining that to Wheatley too, but stopped when she realized that a prime example was sitting right in front of them.
This- contact- used to bother her.
Their first few nights under the same roof had been... Stressful. Chell remembered that on one of the first nights Wheatley had spent in Horizon, in a fit of guilt, he had a bit of a breakdown. He was miserable, and tired, and no doubt frightened after everything he had been through, and she had been helpless to do anything but listen to him berate himself. At the time he truly believed that she hated him, and though Chell didn't she wouldn't speak to tell him otherwise.
In an attempt to calm him, and perhaps to clarify a few things, Chell offered what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. Even to her, her hand felt cold and heavy as stone. Inhuman. That peace offering meant to make them both feel better made her wonder if their relationship was truly beyond repair.
On another night, about a month later, he had sat beside her, taken her hands, and her voice had dropped like lead into some deep forgotten part of herself where she could no longer reach it. In that case contact lead to them getting in a bit of a nasty argument (though of course Wheatley was the only one capable of doing any actual arguing).
That what contact had felt like, what they had felt like together: cold and strained, broken, inhuman. That's how she felt around him for at least the first month.
Felt. Past tense.
Now- Chell actually chuckled to herself as she watched Wheatley, felt him leaning into her, over her, as he strained to read the book settled in her lap. Now they were here.
Now they spent every night curled up in a nest of blankets, tangled limbs, and warmth. Reading books, watching television, drinking hot chocolate, laughing. Now he spent the day holding her hand, or running his fingers through her hair, or holding her. Now he slept curled around her like a human cocoon, and made her feel happy and safe. Things were better between them now than shehad ever expected them to be.
"It's actually quite pretty when you read it like that." Wheatley said thoughtfully. "Do you think you can read a little more?"
Chell snuggled into his side as she picked the book back off of her lap. Maybe she understood metaphors a bit better than she should.
Author's Note:
*hurls at readers* TAKE THIS CHAPTER AWAY FROM ME!
I sincerely apologize that this is so late. I think I'm gonna ditch the updating schedule because life is getting crazy again. I may also end Pieces early so I only have to write about 20(ish) more chapters instead of 40(ish) because I have some other projects I want to work on and I can't. We'll see what happens.
Here we have kind of a (recap) chapter to show some character growth! Yea happy babies!
In case you didn't read the little notice at the top of the chapter (though if you didn't read it I doubt you'll read this XD) this chapter and everything after it takes place after Pieces of Christmas. I gave away a few very minor spoilers for this year's chapters (because, yes, I've already decided on all four prompts). I went ahead and mentioned that fic here to give it a location in the timeline and move things along a little for Pieces.
Tumblr is always complaining that the Portal fandom doesn't have enough core ocs, well, I call the poetry core! XD She was designed to make GLaDOS think deep philosophical thoughts, and now that she's decommissioned she drives everyone insane with her ramblings. And you thought Rick was dramatic.
I have also started a book called Drabbles which are extra chelley/Pieces snippets that this fic won't allow me to squeeze in. Follow that for more chelley!
Since you I know guys love Michael so much (I'm talking to you, guest user L on FFN) you might get to see some more of him soon(ish). Including some Wheatley interaction. Oooooh.
Please comment/review! Thank you! You're amazing!