Chell breathed heavily out her nose as she shut the bathroom door behind her, she had to be at work in a few hours and had gotten no sleep.
She stepped over the coffee table and fell on the couch, she sunk into the worn yet comfortable gray cushions and fell asleep the second her eyes closed, the sound of splashing water, Rattmann's voice, and a cat fight on the television in her head.
"Now take off your pants." Wheatley looked down at the orange trousers on his legs. "How? Not the same way as the shirt I hope." Doug blinked. "Er. No. Um... just... slide them down." Doug turned around and covered his eyes.
"Don't worry I won't look. When you get them off, take off your uh.. under pants and get in." A light blush covered Doug's face at Wheatley's closeness. Wheatley was puzzled, "why cover your eyes? And why wear so many clothes? A jacket, a shirt, under shirt, under pants, pants, socks, shoes, why not just wear one of each? It seems like a hassle to wear so many clothes." Wheatley did as he was told, though became worried as he saw... he shrugged it off and only hoped it was normal for people to have THAT. Wheatley stood in the bath, ready to be instructed on how to bathe, he assumed he should stand, the roof wasn't too far away, but getting up from that sitting thing is harder than it looks. "...Are you in the bath?"
Wheatley grabbed onto the shower curtain as he almost slipped, "yes." Doug looked up, unprepared for what he saw and stared. "... huge." Wheatley became worried. "I knew it wasn't normal!" Doug shook his head and laughed, "don't worry about it, you need to sit down though, aren't you cold?" Wheatley shook his head, Doug rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the rubber duck from the corner of the bath and put it in the water. Wheatley backed up into the corner of the bath. "What's wrong? Its just a rubber du-" Wheatley panicked and threw the duck out of the bath and at the door.
"BIRD! BIRD! GET AWAY FROM ME!" Doug sighed as he remembered all robots were programmed to be frightened of birds so they wouldn't get at the wires thinking they were worms. The intelligence dampening sphere was no exception, but why was he so content with water? "Get your hair wet so you don't catch a cold and then get that purple thing and rub it all over yourself, I'll be right back so don't get out." Wheatley nodded and Doug left, the door clicking behind him. Wheatley attempted to lay back in the back and hit his knee on the frozen tap. "BLIMEY WANKER GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!"
He cursed through gritted teeth. He held his knee and sniveled silently as he lay back in the warm water in the fetal position, something in his head told him that those curses were just not him and he should refrain from saying them at all times. His hair now wet, he grabbed the purple stick and began rubbing it into his face, it stung his eyes and he yelped "BLEEDING KNOB!" he cursed again, feeling a sense of right in the world, (though he didn't know why) and rubbed his eyes with the shower curtain. He proceeded to rubbing the rest of his body, (especially under his arms and feet, and in between his legs just because it felt so good) and looked at the muggy sudsy water.
Doug walked in the bathroom, a towel and clothes in his hands.
Putting them on the sink he kneeled beside Wheatley, who was staring but silent, and grabbed a black plastic bottle with blue writing from the edge of the bath. He clicked it open and dumped a little dab of smelly blue gel in his hand. "This is shampoo, this is what you use to make your hair clean, but don't use the red bottle, that's Chell's." Doug began roughly rubbing the goop into Wheatley's head, "Chell? Is that her name? Oh my- you know. I've been calling her lady all this time, and I feel like such a idiot." Doug yawned as Wheatley's hair became nothing but a blob of blue suds. "And what's your name, if I may ask, mister hairy face?" Doug blinked tiredly as he filled a cup with water and dumped it over Wheatley's head. "Its Rattmann. Doug Rattmann." Wheatley thought, "that's a very long name, isn't there something else I could call you? Like mister hairy face? Or man? Or ratty?" Doug sighed, worn out from the events of the day and ready for sleep.
"Doug. Just Doug." Doug stood after he had gotten the shampoo out and put the towel on the closed toilet. "Get out and dry yourself off good with the towel, if you don't you'll freeze, then put on the clothes, they're mine so they might be a little big on you, the smaller ones go on first, then the others. Tomorrow Chell and I have work but I'll be home in the morning and Chell will be here at night. Go to the room on the left when you get out. That's where you'll sleep. I'll be in there." Doug yawned again and walked out, Wheatley used the handle used to hold the soap and got out.
He dried himself quickly and had little difficulty with the little white pants and big purple soft ones, but the shirt... His head got stuck in the sleeves twice, and just when he thought he got it right, a white slip of paper attacked his nose, he turned the shirt around, realizing what went wrong and left the bathroom rubbing his hair with a towel, he smiled slightly as he saw the delicate form on the couch, remote in hand. "...Chell." he didn't know what it was, or why, but his smile grew a little brighter.
The apparatus on his back sparked, but he thought it was just the friction from the soft woolly stuff on his skin. He went into the room Doug had told him to go to and tripped over the sleeping man, coiled around a companion cube on the floor, Wheatley had fell onto the mattress and figured he might as well power down for the night. He shut his eyes, but when he opened them Doug was still laying under his legs, maybe his processors weren't working correctly...
He tried again, and this time he stayed asleep, unaware of the world around him, and for the first time, a sense of actual happiness, (not the fake kind they programmed into him), enveloped him like the overwhelming stench of lavender and peppermint that clung to his skin.
AN: I do not own Portal
But I do own a copy of both games.
Next chapter: Doug teaches Wheatley a valuable lesson, then Chell makes cake. Maybe.