ChellxWheatley: Late Nights

Click. Clickclickclicklick.

Chell paused in her rapid typing to tuck a renegade strand of charcoal colored hair behind her ear before returning to her work. The digital clock on the bottom right corner of her screen blinked 4:17 AM at her, not that she was really paying attention to it. Honestly she should have gone to be hours ago, but Glados had made it incredibly clear that Chell get her newest report in by Monday morning. It was Saturday night... well, more accurately, Sunday morning, although at the moment the days could matter less to Chell; she just wanted to get this done.

Shouldn't the head of the Technology department be working on this? While it was true that the concept of transferring a person's intelligence and personality into a computer interested the woman, it seemed like quite a leap to bring her to AI/Brain Mapping theories from her previous position as one of the turret designers and testers. Her eyes were beginning to burn from staring at a screen almost non-stop for hours, and the light bulb of her desk lamp was beginning to dull; but Chell, being the so-called "work-a-holic Queen," wouldn't rest until her assignment was done.

Somewhere outside the confines of her office, she heard something, someone, shift their weight. Ever since their (well, her) confession Wheatley had been visiting her more and more often. Offering to take her places that they both knew he couldn't afford or offer to buy her things that they both knew she didn't need, all and all trying way too hard to make her happy. Chell was a simple woman with simple tastes; growing up in a less than financially well-off family had taught her to value smaller, simpler things in life. She had shaped their fledgling relationship around that fact, and Wheatley was happy to comply with her wishes, because of this Chell doubted that anyone at work even knew they were together. A brush of the hand here, a light, shy little kiss on the lips when no one was around there, and embraces as they passed each other in between. It was a nice little system they shared. The only time Wheatley more strongly hinted they were together was when Rick, one of the new interns, would attempt to flirt with her (a black belt in the bedroom? What did Rick take her for?).

A thump came from about half a yard away from her office door. "Ah! Bloody 'ell!" She heard Wheatley curse, tiredness thickening his accent slightly. No doubt he had stumbled his way out of the guest bedroom he was staying in (he would always turn down her offer for him to sleep in her bed, in typical studdering nervous-Wheatley fashion. She would never tell him that she found the way he would walk out of her room, red as a tomato, with an incredibly shy "good night" as adorable as it was entertaining). Shortly after three light, almost hesitant knocks came from the other side of the door

"Yeah," Chell called back, still not tearing cool-gray eyes away from the screen as she hastily re-read what she had typed, checking for any misspelled words from her fingers slipping somewhere.

"Mornin', "Wheatley greeted weakley from the cracked open door, disheveled head poking into the office, reddish-brown hair even messier than normal because of actual bedhead, eyes half-lidded and clouded over with fatigue with his glasses half-way down his nose. The British man blinked slowly, before speaking. "You 'aven't gone to sleep at all, 'ave you, luv?" He assumed, yawning around the last two words.

"That's not true," Chell argued, turning her swivel chair around lightly to face the taller male. "I've taken little naps here and there," more like she fell asleep at her computer, but she wasn't about to admit that. "I'll be done in a little while. Go back to sleep." She insisted gently, turning back to her computer.

"... I'll put the coffee on." Wheatley said after a brief pause, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as he withdrew his head, not bothering to close the office door all the way. She should have expected him to not listen to her during a situation like this, although his genuine concern for her well being was actually rather touching. God knew that the Biologist had fretted about Chell's... questionable sleeping patters ever since she had been assigned this task ("Do you know what sleep deprivation can do to the body? I-I mean it's crazy! Before I actually learned about it, I never would have guessed that sleep deprivation could make you more likely to get something like diabetes! I tell ya, I stopped doing late-night cram sessions when I heard that. My immune system is already crap, I don't need heart disease or diabetes to be piled on top of it!").

A few minutes later there was the almost heavenly smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting in from the living room, black Kona brand coffee; Chell's absolute favorite kind. "Coffee break time luv," Wheatley chimed from the door, obviously more awake than he had been previously. "I'm not bringing your mug to you; you're going to have to come out here. I mean, that document of yours will be there in fifteen minutes. Besides, if you sit in the dark for much longer you'll ruin your eyes and let me tell you: having to wear glasses isn't as glorious as people say it is.

"So you say," Chell replied, typing in control-save before standing and stretching her arms high up above her head, frowning when the rather unpleasant tingling sensation of the muscles in her legs waking up. "But unlike I would, you actually make glasses look good." she glanced over her shoulder, smirking at the tinge of pink that came to the red-head's face at the compliment.

"..quite," Wheatley began nervously, absently adjusting the frames of his glasses. "But there are other people who look better in them than I do..."

"To other women maybe, not to me." Chell said as she walked towards him, flicking his nose lightly as she passed by.

"... Do you enjoy making me embarrassed like this? I'm starting to think that you actually get some sort of joy in making me blush so much."

"Now why would you say that?" The raven haired woman teased; her smirk widening as she looked at her easily flustered lover with an amused expression.

"... You are an evil woman." Wheatley remarked with a light sigh, nudging the office door behind him close with a foot.

"No, no that would be Glados for assigning me this project right at the last second. I only work part-time, for God's sake!" Chell frowned, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest. Honestly, one minute their supervisor was telling her she couldn't get a raise because she worked part time; next she had shoveled a huge assignment onto Chell's shoulders. Did Glados have it out for her or something? It certainly seemed that way,

"Well, let's be honest now," Wheatley began, taking Chell by the arm and leading her to the couch, two steaming cups of coffee waiting for them on the table. "Most of the blokes in your department are incompetents. Along with half the staff at Aperture, if I'm honest…" Wheatley trailed off, patting an empty cushion on the couch next to him.

"As true as that is," Chell began as she sat down, instantly reaching for the hot mug, taking a second to relish in the warmth seeping through the ceramic mug. "I'm 'unqualified' according to her." Chell snorted before taking a slow sip, the hot bitter liquid chasing away the fatigue she had been holding off for the past few hours. At least for the moment.

"What is she making you slave over, anyway?" Wheatley asked, dropping a few sugar cubes into his light caramel colored coffee ("a few" in the British man's language meant about three or four. As if the cream he poured into every cup of coffee he had ever made for himself didn't make the supposed-to-be bitter drink sweet enough).

"The probability of success in transferring a person's intellect, personality, and memories onto a computer chip; or into the computer itself without anything becoming corrupt," Chell responded automatically, looking out of the corner of her eye as Wheatley stirred and sipped his coffee, frowned lightly, and added another sugar cube. "The concept isn't completely out there, in theory it is possible to create an AI from the brain scan of a living person. The problem is that technology might not be advanced enough for it to be air-tight…" She glanced at her companion, who was looking over the rims of his glasses at her his expression clearly saying that the he was trying to comprehend all that had been said in his little Biologists mind. Give him something that had to do with a living creature and he would fly with it; technology on the other hand flew right over his head. It wasn't a hard concept to comprehend, really, but that could have been Chell's Technician mind at work. "In laymen's terms: The idea is possible, but we don't know if it would completely work."

"I-I knew that!" Wheatley claimed, desperate to defend his intelligence, he turned his head away slightly and sipped at his coffee. "You just explain it better than I ever could; that's it!"

"Of course," Chell laughed lightly

"I see staying up until four in the bloody morning hasn't effected your teasing streak any." Wheatley huffed

"Nothing is ever going to effect that~"

"Again: evil, evil lady."
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Their morning had, for the most part, gone in a similar way. Chell's document was all but forgotten in the pleasant exchange of stories and joking commentaries on early morning infomercials that came on as Wheatley idly flipped through the television channels. The dark haired woman yawned widely, rubbing at her eyes tiredly before slumping sideways onto her lover who, as expected, turned a light shade of pink once he felt her head land on his shoulder. "Finally tired are we?" Chell nodded lightly, scooting closer to the red-head absently. "Alright, let's get you to bed then. Come on, up, up." Chell only blinked tiredly up at him wordlessly. "What, do you want me to carry you or something?"

"…Wouldn't complain if you did." She replied with another yawn, "or we could just sleep here, I don't even care at this point." She scooted closer to her British lover (was that even possible?) tossing an arm around his midsection, drawing socked feet onto the cushions.

"Your bed if much more comfortable than I could ever be," Wheatley began, "I-I have bony shoulders, luv, they'll jab you in the throat the entire time you're out; you'll hardly get any rest at all."

"I think it's fine." Chell murmured, tightening her grip around the bespectacled man as if to make her point.

"You're going cling to me like I'm your favorite stuffie no matter what I say, aren't you?" He didn't get a response, and looking down he saw that Chell was already comfortably asleep, warm, light breaths brushing against the column of his neck. Even when she was asleep Wheatley couldn't win, could he? Sighing in defeat he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, careful not to wake the sleeping woman on him, before taking off his glasses and depositing them on the coffee table. "Sleep well." And just for good measure he kissed her forehead lightly, maybe it was just because he was tired, or because he wasn't wearing glasses, but he swore he saw Chell smile.