I didn't proofread this so please spare me, I hope it all makes sense and I didn't leave my credit card number or something in the middle! I do plan on continuing this too with more chapters, so if you're interested in more maybe leave a review :)
Chell hunches over her radiating cup of cinnamon tea, sapping its heat through her fingers which cradle and entwine the dark grey mug. The dishes and utensils are already neatly hand washed and stashed away for tomorrow morning's breakfast, and the two sit in comfortable silence, sipping on their respective selection of tea. Wheatley takes a swig of his ginger and lemon tea himself, gazing pensively into his own drink, and on cue (before he's silent for over a minute god forbid) a passing thought shakes him out of his reverie. "Oh, I almost forgot I promised you a session after supper! Bloody hell, I'm out of it here revelling in my tea while you're probably waiting so patiently for me to get to the point here ey? It's not like we sit here in silence normally, you're obviously waiting for me to hold up my end of this exchange, you teach me to cook, I teach you to sing."
It was true, they don't usually sit in a reflective silence after dinner, they've found a habit of staying nearby yet diverting attention to their own tasks and hobbies, Wheatley often sinking into the couch encapsulated by the television, Chell finding it more her speed to curl up on the other end of the couch, nose in book and book in hand. What's not true however, is that she's only sticking around for the humming session. She quickly flicks her pointer finger up in a universal one moment gesture, before mouthing the word 'shower' at the man.
Before she gets into the session she has some mental housekeeping to take care of, since things as of late are simply not sitting right. A piece of the puzzle is not quite matching up in regards to Wheatley's demeanour, and he's a fairly open book in general. She turns the faucet for the shower, finding the washroom still slightly humid and warm from his shower not long before.
After her slightly embarrassing epiphany that oh shit oh no oh shucks she really loves him, she now finds it odd that Wheatley has spent the last day and a half erasing her confidence in her knowledge that if one thing's constant with the man, it's his craving for physical reassurance. Be it a simple hand hold, a pat on the back, a light poke on his shoulder, or especially a hug, he almost always reacts positively. Albeit, at first and every now and then he seems slightly flustered by the gesture, but she writes it off as surprise and his previous lack of any physical contact of the sort.
The water needs no time to warm up to a satisfactory temperature, although she nudges the faucet a little warmer for herself, she finds her routine quickly with washing her long deep brown hair and scrubbing her skin clean with several passes of soap. If Chell is one thing still since leaving Aperture, it's efficient. Although she relishes in the luxuries of the life she fought so hard to finally live out, she doesn't find much joy in standing under the shower head for the rest of eternity. Not only is it a burden to her financially with water waste, but she finds she could better spend her time on a good book, listening to music, or talking (really more so listening) to Wheatley.
She twists the tap off and purposefully steps out of the shower, grabbing her towel and swiping at the foggy mirror in one swift motion. She folds the towel neatly around her chest and lets it drape all the way to her mid thighs, her attention now drawn to the slightly matted and frizzy locks of hair that seem to have a mind of their own. She presses her palms to the basin and leans in towards the mirror, pondering the predicament. Typically she tries to tame her hair through blow drying and straightening it into submission, and even in Aperture, despite her very active and sweaty lifestyle, her hair was far too filthy and damaged to be anything but limp and straight. Now, peeking through her wet frizz and overgrown fringe at the assortment of hair products on the shelf beside the mirror, Chell narrows her eyes in intrigue.
Maybe if Wheatley wants to be close to her, she should give him the opportunity to do so at his own pace and comfort considering his recent reluctance. She has a feeling that despite the tremendous help he has been with teaching her to hum, he might still feel somewhat like a burden seeing how much he relies on her, and yet how independent Chell seems. Yet despite all this, she thinks as she approaches the washroom door, she finds she doesn't really want to live so independently anymore. That was the testament to her survival back there, and yet she finds it not so fruitful to simply just get by anymore.
She peeks the door slightly ajar and knocks her knuckles gently against the door frame three times to draw his attention. "Huh? Love-uh I mean lady is that you? Sorry on my way, hope everythings alright. Didn't cut your chin too with the razor? No that'd be silly what am I on about you obviously know what you're doing- wait you don't even need to anyway right-"
He stops in the doorway slightly dishevelled to see her in just a large towel, the same towel he wore an hour earlier he notes, as Chell retreats into the washroom to assemble a few basic products and combs. Cocking his head to the side like a confused dog, he scans the room and doesn't see anything he usually can help her with needing to be done, she seems perfectly capable of even reaching many of the products she cradles in her arms as she stares at him expectantly, and she realises he's lost in thought before he snaps out of it. He already missed her mouthing the word help?, but he would have been equally as confused even if it were a multiple choice question anyway. "Oh sorry, you seem to have figured out whatever it is you needed, haven't you? Don't really need me in here anyway, especially what with privacy and all that jazz you go on about, good to see you have this all figured out-"
But before he can stumble back out the door, Chell lightly grazes his hand with hers, a small gesture translating to him as meaning stay?. He stammers. "Um- uh I'm not always the best at mind reading unfortunately, if I had a list of talents- which to be completely honest with you I could probably count on one hand, maybe one finger- telepathy probably wouldn't top the list, what is it that you are asking of me exactly?"
She gingerly places the products and wide tooth comb on the basin to her right, gesticulating towards her hair and the bottles, tubs, and cans on the bench, with an expectant and slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She can visibly see the gears turning in his head, the smoke emanating from his right ear at the wordless question, and he hazards a guess. "Oh, are you missing something exactly? I haven't touched any of those things, not since I unknowingly doused my hair in a leave-in conditioner and quickly learnt it undid the whole process of having a shower… oh I'm really trying lady don't laugh". She chuckles at his well meaning and fairly good guess nonetheless, but she shakes her head, finding it probably better to explain by shutting the door, handing him a wide tooth comb, and positioning him behind her. Wheatley inhales sharply at the sudden movement.
"Oh-look, listen, I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing here, sure it's finally clicked in this empty little skull of mine, but it's not like I have any idea what you do between getting your hair from this fuzzy stage to sleek and straight- not that this looks bad or anything, it's just different from how you wear it, although it does suit you I must say- um… anyway whatever it is though I have a feeling you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself. I'll just be out there with the metronome ready-". She grasps his hand seriously this time, then her glare softens as she's got his attention once more. A gaze meaning 'I wont be mad if it's not perfect' occupies the space the previous 'I'll do whatever it takes to drag you back here if you leave' look was in moments before. He swallows and concedes, mumbling slightly under his breath about not blaming him if the brush gets caught or it's so unmanageable she can't leave the house, but all she can do is affectionately poke his shoulder in a gesture to tell him to lighten up.
"So do I just-"
Despite being a clumsy cluster of awkward limbs, Wheatley is surprisingly gentle when handling her hair, taking small chunks and raking his long fingers through the fuzzy curls. "If I'm hurting you at all feel free to yank a chunk of my hair out, I'd certainly deserve that" he mutters with a tone of hesitance and unease creeping in. He decides to part her hair into three large sections to detangle, and Chell passes the gel back to him, signalling this to be step one after it's unknotted.
Chell glances up into the mirror from time to time, seeing Wheatley's face morph overtime whilst detangling from apprehension, to curiosity, and finally settling on a mix of his own look of determination and subtle adoration as the sleek curls ribbon around his fingers. He catches her staring through the mirror, as he himself has been playing the same game and observing her expression periodically, although despite being as close to an expert Chell reader one can be, her expression is blank for the most part, clearly deep in thought. She chucks him what she hopes to be a warm yet shy smile, although his gaze filters around the room nervously before he even thinks of returning it. His hand softly rests on her jawline (and Chell checks the mirror to ensure she's not as red as she thinks), and he guides her face to twist towards the right, giving him access to the final segment of her hair he tossed over her shoulder prior. "Am I doing a good job? You aren't hurt are you, I'd hope not because for me at least this is quite… What's the word I'm looking for? It's on the tip of my tongue. Is it calming? I guess I'll go with that, final answer-"
She gives his idle hand that rests on her left shoulder a gentle squeeze of reassurance, although her smile hasn't quite got the memo to wrap it up just yet, and he catches her openly serene face in the mirror again.
"Brilliant, must be doing okay then I'd hope. Although I've got a silly question for you, I guess you can't really respond in your current state without a pen but it's a worthwhile question anyway, or I guess it's a few questions huh? So- uh firstly, why does your hair go all spirally and bouncy when mine just sorta flops dead straight? It's almost like it's got a life of its own, but I know it's not living, but then how does it know to spring back up again and not just fall flat? And secondly- and I think I'll keep it at this love I won't overwhelm you- but why don't you leave it like this when it's dry? Not that I don't think it looks nice when straight too, because I do… think it looks nice that is. I guess it could be maintenance or something that's stopping you, which is fair enough this seems like a long process, but yeah, I just wonder why you don't like it all bouncy and coily?"
Truth is that Chell has just never known how to manage and deal with her curls. It's why she thought to call Wheatley in to help out, as it's probably going to have a similar outcome either way if she decided to do it herself. This way at least it's a bit of a bonding session between the two after the slight tension over the past couple of days, and besides, Chell finds she quite likes people playing with her hair, especially with how considerate and tender he handles her long hair. He grabs a dash of gel from the tub, rubbing it into his palms, and then rakes it through each segment of hair. "I'm not going to put so much in your hair, believe it or not I can learn from my leave-in-conditioner mistakes," he chuckles to her, but he trails off as she shakes her head and slathers even more gel into the palm of his hand. "Wha- are you sure you need more? I guess you know best huh love, it is your hair after all, just thought it might get a bit greasy is all. What even is this stuff for anyway?"
He evenly distributes the gel as best as he can through her thick damp hair, then he pauses, his hands hovering mid air and eyes darting between her hair and her face in the reflection expectantly. She cups her hands and curls her fingers into fists in a demonstration of scrunching, and with a nervous giggle Wheatley replicates it. "Ah- oh bloody brilliant I went and made a mess! Sorry love that wasn't my intention, let's hope this doesn't make the floor sticky like when I spilled my tea on the carpet- Oh let's just get that towel on the floor over here and it's like it never happened…". He pats the floor dry with the towel and his foot, then turns back to continue scrunching and wringing her hair dry.
Wheatley gently isolates a few long pieces of hair, marvelling at how perfectly the gentle curve of the strands fit his finger perfectly like a snug ring. He twirls them around his index finger from root to tip and carefully releases them, making sure not to pull or tangle the beautiful and diverse patterns around her head. As soon as they hold their shape he moves onto the next strand that misbehaves, working his way around until he's curling her long fringe pieces. He braves darting his eyes up into the mirror at this point, and she's already gazing at him with eyes intent on calculating his next move. It's a somewhat guarded look yet again, but he thinks he spies traces of reverence in her slate grey eyes still, although he could be projecting a bit given the unabashed one he gives her back. His cheeks and ear tips flush red yet again but Chell can tell he isn't present enough to actively hide it.
"Well, as far as I can tell that seems to be all you want from me right? Unless you want to use this too- what is this, moose? Like the big silly horse-tree-hybrids, how would you fit that in a can? No- They don't fit in a can? Oh, no you mean that's not what this is, copy that love." His eyes drift down to her shoulders and his hands unknowingly follow, but he doesn't seem to care to filter his movements anymore. He mindlessly strokes her shoulders with his thumbs, meekly stammering "you- uh your hair looks lovely by the way, not to play my own trumpet or anything hah. That was quite enjoyable though, really; it makes me wish mine was as pretty and bouncy as yours, love." He smirks down at his hands which are still kneading like a cat's paws at her skin softly, and he's startled when she lifts her hand to ruffle his loose wavy blonde hair. Her hand lingers, entangled in his hair a few moments longer, and his heart leaps at the pause, no matter its brevity. "Right, sorry I'll be off now so you can get changed and ready for our little humming session. I've got a nice surprise ready for it if you're interested…"
"Personally I'm pretty chuffed with whatever you want to do, but Thomas was clearing out old sheet music and I wanted to give you first pick over a new song to get started on!" Wheatley's leg bounces with anticipation and excitement over his little surprise as he hands Chell the old manuscript book to flick through. She combs through it while settling into the couch cushions; many seem to have accompaniment sheet music below or above depending on whether it's a piano staff or guitar chords she notes to herself. Many pieces are in different languages, some older, some shorter, some faded, and others with different symbols denoting the clef. She recognises the alto clef but ultimately steers clear of those, in favour of the treble clef from some strange familiarity with the pattern of hashes- accidentals she recalls- at the start of many pieces.
One piece in particular, slightly tattered and stained from the passage of time, almost demands her attention. Whilst not the shortest of the selection, it seems to have a brief duet part along with guitar accompaniment, not to mention the absence of any accidentals in the key signature. She glances up at Wheatley and catches the dreamy look in his eye before he corrects himself and hides it with an awkward throat clearing cough. Shoving the open book back at him, she smiles warmly and points at the piece, to which he adjusts his glasses and remarks, "oh right, 'Come Wander with Me'? Gonna be honest with you, no idea what that song is, although I guess I don't know any of these songs really, but that one very much doesn't ring a bell. Let's go for it though, I'm sure it can't be that bad, oh- and not to mention quite a good range for the both of us too! Seems like it's A minor and goes no higher than a B. Could be a stretch for me but very much a walk in the park for you I'd imagine love."
He flashes her a saccharine smile before continuing, "okay, now- I'm going to sing a lower than middle C A and you let me know if you can reach that, right love?". She tilts her head to the side, points at the first note, then at Wheatley, confused as to how he knows what exactly an A sounds like from the top of his head, but he simply begins his low droning, the stable resonant hum emanates from his chest, and Chell inhales, exhales, and attempts to match it. As her shaky and breathy alto hums alongside his, Wheatley guides her pitch higher and lower with a flick of his pointer finger as indication. Just before she runs out of breath she feels the hum grow louder, amplifying in volume despite neither of them trying, and before Chell is baffled for long, Wheatley reads her mind. "Oh wonderful love! That's how you know you hit the same note as me, something about it will… well I'd say resonate but I really don't know the science behind it, only the feeling itself, but you know what I mean. Here, I'll demonstrate the first few bars of the song, it seems to repeat throughout, so you join in whenever you feel comfortable."
With a strong attack before the upbeat of the metronome he started a few moments prior, Wheatley begins simultaneously reading and humming the meandering melody of the hauntingly familiar song. Chell knows it for some reason, she knows the melody, she knows the name of it, but she can't recall what it's from or who sings it for the life of her. Just before he starts repeating the bars, Chell prepares herself with a sharp inhale, still shaky on the breath control of singing at this point as she's never had to actively think about planning her breathing to talk since after that place, but nonetheless she timidly joins his melody, eliciting a bashful smile from the man in front of her.
He pauses for a moment and she stops in turn, not wanting to continue on her own just yet and so suddenly. "Sorry, I just wanted to ask if you'd like to skip to bar 82 with me love? Don't you fret, you won't have to sing anything differently it's all the same for you, I'm just curious how this harmony might sound as it's a little lower and more in my range, is that alright do you think?". He affectionately pokes her shoulder as he notices her shrink further back into the pillow behind her to reassure her it's all okay. "Don't worry there, you don't have to get it the first time, it's not like I'll get mad or anything! You can just tune me out and if you absolutely need I can just join your melody again too of course."
She hesitantly hums the anacrusis to lead into the song, and Wheatley joins in with his gentle yet stable harmony. He can't help but think that truly, this is exactly what should be. As he softly weaves his notes above, below, and around her melody- which too grows more confident beat by beat- he knows in this moment that this is a new normal for him, and a turn of events worth fighting for. Thomas was right, unfortunately, he may be infatuated with Chell, but he can't help it now other than to surrender to it. Whilst he has no expectation that she's anywhere near in love with him, he did try and kill her after all and there's no coming back from that, the way she's let him into her home, routine, and now her most guarded and hidden aspects of herself (both her hair and voice), he simply can no longer imagine that she intends to throw him on the streets when she recovers her voice. It used to plague his mind in every long stretch of silence, or lonely night, or slightly too long hot shower, but even if she doesn't love him back ever, he feels content in their current situation. As her humming dies down and she flutters her eyelids open at him, he has no doubt she does too.
Points for anyone who knows this song! And if you enjoyed this (a chelley fic in late 2024 is diabolical, I understand that) please do review and let me know, because Sing Nightingale isn't the most popular chelley fic but man did I feel hollow knowing it was abandoned halfway through, so I just feel I have to give my own twist and input to how I feel their story ends. I have plans for other chelley fics, mostly will be queer platonic as I'm not terribly into romance but anyone can interpret as they'd like, so I guess look out for some possible one shots or continuations of AUs and other fun stuff.