GLaDOS and Me

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

It was one of those days where Wheatley wondered if getting out of bed was worth it.

He stared dully up at the ceiling, mouth agape, wanting nothing more than to ignore his blaring alarm clock and curl up into a ball again, but there was a problem: he had to go to work. And he badly wanted to phone in and tell them he was sick, because his nose was well and thoroughly stuffed up and his throat sore and swollen, but he was reluctant to do so over a cold. Even if his head was pounding and his eyes hurt.

Groaning, he threw off the blanket and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, a hacking cough coming up out of his lungs. Great. If only GLaDOS could catch colds, he'd have had an excuse to stay home, but unfortunately he did not happen to have a computer virus. He tried to imagine what she might look like if she had a computer cold of sorts, but couldn't. Oh well. Best time to get going, then.

Somehow he made it to work without incident, even though he was pretty sure his eyes weren't open for most of the trip, and accidentally drove his car over the concrete block marking his parking spot. He got out of the car and looked disinterestedly at the tilted vehicle, kicking at the front fender half-heartedly as if that would move it back, then shrugged and retrieved his box, closing the door with his elbow. He had no idea whether it was stuck or not. He'd managed to get it off the last time he'd done that, so he decided to leave it for now and hope he was motivated enough to do something about it later. Else he was going to have to call the towing company again, which he only did as a last resort. He was pretty sure they were upping his charge every time he called them, but he wasn't confident enough to call them out on it and he always forgot to ask for a receipt.

He walked slowly into GLaDOS's chamber, sniffing every second and a half or so, wondering if she would mind if he left early. He felt simply awful, and he hadn't worked out what they were going to do next. He also didn't have the energy to think of a plan. Between yesterday's headache and the hour or so he'd spent sitting in his car, he should have recognised he was coming down with something and planned accordingly. But Wheatley's plans never went accordingly anyway, so he supposed it didn't really matter.

"'allo," he said hoarsely, and GLaDOS looked up quickly from her little robot, which she appeared to be carefully arranging into a sitting position. "Look, I –"

All of a sudden she'd whirled on him, knocking him over and pinning him by the waist to the glass with one of her maintenance arms, and bent so low over him that her body was almost pressed to his. He raised his arms helplessly, staring at her with eyes wide in terror, but she only lowered her core to the side of his face and started... she was... nuzzling him. He had no idea where she'd got that idea from, or the whole trapping him underneath her bit, but after a few moments she backed off and let him up. His heart was pounding away painfully in his chest, and he gasped a little and brushed at his shirt. Well, at least he could breathe now; the fright had cleared out his nose.

"Had... had a good night there did you?" he asked breathlessly, as she looked at him a bit curiously, and she nodded enthusiastically and tapped her core. His brow furrowed. She'd had another dream? But... how could that be a good thing?

When he asked her, she poked him in the chest. "Me?" he said faintly, face screwing up even more. "You had... a dream about me?" He felt strangely flattered to hear that she'd dreamt about him and it had put her in such a good mood. She waved in the general direction of herself and then tapped the box.

"We were playing with the toys?" he asked. She nodded once and then turned her attention to the box, inspecting the latches closely and flipping them open without too much trouble. He was honestly baffled at her control of the maintenance arms, and he was outright stunned when she opened the rear door of the truck as if she did it every day. You're not going to need me for too much longer, he thought, sadness coming over him, and he sank into a sitting position, rubbing at his now stuffed up nose. "GLaDOS," he said, now glad he'd left Henry's box of Kleenex in the box of toys, "you can do whatever you like today. I'm not feeling well. Got a bad cold, see. Don't really want to do anything. You can just play, and I'll just, I'll just watch."