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thepacifistrouter · 4 months

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Chelley week, day 6: Heartbeat

Okay, I was excited about this day and category, it was the first one I actually did, but I didn't feel like I could convey it in drawings (or that it would take me too long if I did it with that), so I turned it into a short-fic

I know it probably won't be well received for that reason, but it was something I really wanted to do, so… well, here it goes.

Thump

It was a cold, but mostly calm winter night, the wind was blowing outside Eaden's bakery, it wasn't especially strong, but it managed to generate howls and the trees to move enough for their wood to make a crackling sound from time to time.

The place, like most of the town, was mostly made of wood, but firmly and solidly built, even though until not long ago, they had to remodel a little inside, mostly the room in which its inhabitants slept - After all, since the second of them arrived, or rather, since they started sleeping together, it had become a necessity to make the ceiling a bit or two higher.

Yeah, a lot of changes had happened in that place, how it had turned from a place of tension, of banging on the wall and night terrors, to not only having an adequate roof so that anyone could stand without crashing or hitting or needing another bandage in his head, it also has a proper window, normal curtains, furniture, and decorations. It was a completely different place. Just like the people sleeping in it.

One of them, the one with the shortest stature, opens her eyes slightly, having woken up, with the weather - or rather the wind - being the main cause, along with a slight drop in temperature. When she was alone, she usually didn’t notice the presence of those stimuli due to being busy with her own nightmares, which either woke her up or kept her distracted. It could also happen that, if she manages to sleep with no nightmares or no dreaming at all, if she noticed them, than the sound plus the cold would bring back bad memories of unpleasant, cold places with hollow sounds on a smaller scale -usually that involved a short walk to the kitchen for a warm milk cup. and a re-reflection on her life and the events surrounding her until she could fall asleep again.

Things are different now. She had managed to get used to it, to feel those signals that reminded everyone that there was still a long time before winter left and spring take place, to stop associating every small unpleasant and cold noise with That place. But of course, as with any person, there could be exceptions, it could happen to anyone that the seasons could wake you up with the weather in the middle of the night, always something inopportune. The main difference was that, in the current time, she had other, new tools to deal with them and, her untold favourite, involved the person who slept a few centimetres from her.

A tall, too-tall, skinny, gawky blonde man who was fast asleep facing her. He was also the main person responsible for the vast majority of changes that both her house and her life had undergone. The mere presence of him there had been and had had a couple of changes.

Not that she was complaining at all, au contraire, having him there, next to her every night, was nothing less than welcome. In fact, at times like this, it was exactly what she needed.

Moving stealthily and carefully (never a problem for her) so that she becomes attached to him. That, at first instance, fixes the problem of the cold, probably for both of them, she knew he could have woken up at some point because of the same reason, neither of them were very fond of the cold after all- but of course, this was not just about the cold, if it was, being like that would have been enough or she could just have gotten up quickly and stealthily, as only she could, to get a blanket and come back and problem solved. No, this was different and required a small specification in her movements. And that was to put her head right at the height of his chest, so she could carefully rest her ear on it, close her eyes and just pay attention.

*Thump-thump*

She smiled.

There it was.

*Thump-thump*

The sound she was looking for.

*Thump-thump*

It wasn't a necessity, but it was something she liked to do from time to time, if the opportunity and circumstances presented themselves (like in this moment) - it was something more like an habit, perhaps? She didn't know, she just knew that for her it was almost like that feeling that comes from the sound of rain and a crackling fireplace on calm nights. Maybe even better. It was simply something that brought her peace.

And it wasn't just because of how she felt about him, although that was an important reason, but she knew it wasn't the only one. It was complicated, after all, it was, on a small scale, a vague reminder of everything they had experienced, but somehow... in a good way.

*Thump-thump*

It made her remember different related moments. How, the first time she saw him in a human form, that prototype avatar of solid light that they had made, was just that, an almost perfect, almost empty mirage, it wasn't real... it wasn't alive, Wheatley was the one that, while being awake, gave it life. Remembering, also, how, watching him asleep (or well, in sleep mode), if she hadn't known, and anyone who didn't know, she would have thought he was dead.

*Thump-thump*

Then, that time on the hill, when she leaned her face as she was doing now, but back then, there was nothing, just something similar to the noise of the LED light in a kitchen or the hard light bridges in That place. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling... even sad, it made her think about what they did to him, what they took from him and that his whole being, in fact, was actually in something not much bigger than a pen with lights and a lot of unnecessarily complicated Aperture technology.

*Thump-thump*

Even more, at this point, it was… almost hard to believe that he didn't always look like that. Human. Even though, he always acted like one. Who knows how long he was in his little spherical body. She was sure that even now he must feel, at least in part, as if he still is in some level. She knew that at least he still didn't stop completely feeling like a machine and she had her doubts than that would ever change - if it could, there was still plenty of time for that and it was fine, she didn't mind giving him time to adjust to things, it could be annoying, yes, but it was even sweet to see when he made progress on something, how happy he was and how, truly, he kept trying after failing and learned from what he did - achieved or not. Little by little he had begun to stop pretending so often that he knew or could do things that he really didn't, to quick so fast, and start to actually try, to practice and learn despite failing till he gets it and finally being able to do it. Frustration could still become an issue for him, depending on the situation, he could still seek responsibility or blame in others (or things) while failing - fortunately that was something that had also been slowly decreasing over time. Probably, knowing that no one would harm him or throw him up if he failed, specially not her, was a great help on his progress (Plus, the enthusiasm and shine in his eyes when he finally managed to do something well was priceless)

*Thump-thump*

Then, she also remembered the first time she heard that beat, that last time they stepped into That horrible place never to return. He was naked and soaked in a slimy, stinky, gross substance, but in that moment she felt such a relief to see him, she couldn't have cared less about any of it -he was there, he was alive and he seemed to be fine, that was all that mattered -she just needed to go check him and make sure of the “being fine” part. It was in the middle of a hug when she heard it. She was so excited to see him alive that she had overlooked it, distracted by so many emotions and sensations, but being who she was, it didn't take her long to react and, after a small check, It didn't take her long to solve the puzzle. That was not a mirage or an artificial body, it was his actual body, this was real. He had his human body back.

*Thump-thump*

Of course, at that moment there wasn't much time to process it, they were a little more worried about getting back to town all in one piece.

*Thump-thump*

Someone would think that after a couple of 101 lessons on being human and relearning how to use their organic body, everything should have gone fine, but the truth is that they would still have to go through one or two more big Aperture Science Labs headache, but at least this one wouldn't involve the "labs" part, so, by comparison, they weren't that big… but still.

*Thump-thump*

At first it was just a couple of colds, flu, stomach pains, allergies (luckily they taught him not to take too many medicines at the same time to get better sooner because it doesn't work like that), his forehead testing all the edges of 2 meters or less of the town. A lot of unpleasant stuff, but nothing particularly bad - who knows how many decades in suspended animation without even contact with air wreak havoc on anyone's immune system and physical condition -at least he managed to cover his mouth by reflex when sneezing or coughing... most of the time.

The real problem came later, a couple of months later and it started with what seemed to be another case of the flu, but accompanied by a lack of appetite and more and more noticeable fatigue, among other things. He was trying to hide the seriousness of the matter, trying to make it seem like just the flu, saying from time to time that he was starting to feel better and finding ways to make it seem that way. But there was no way to continue the attempt of a theatre once she saw him fall passed out, burning with fever while he tried to go down the stairs (luckily it was almost halfway). The scare plus her own instinct helped her react quickly enough and effectively to first check that there were no serious injuries and then go find help.

The details of what happened are long, complicated, almost worthy of an adventure, but at that moment, Chell could only especially remembered being there, in Dr. Dillon's guest/patient room, him asleep in the bed and her in a chair next to the bed. She went there when she could to check on his progress, changing wet towels and checking him, his temperature, his breathing...and his pulse. Since she checked him after the fall, she could feel how his heart took on such irregular rhythms, sometimes almost at the level of tachycardia... and sometimes so low... without a doubt they were days of worry and discomfort for everyone, including fear for them both. It was an absolute relief when things finally became normal and she could see him acting with the same energy as always, having regular breathing, and being like this, in that very moment, while she was listening to that sound in the rhythm it should.

*Thump-thump*

Of course, not all were bad memories, you could say that a third and final part of what makes this pleasant for her is what that sound transmits to her, his heartbeat could become as much or more communicative than his voice-which is saying a lot, especially on those... private occasions, planned or not. Like that first time, when she found him in the bathroom naked, confused and scared by a part of his own body's functioning that he knew nothing about, so she helped him to... clear up the misunderstanding… by using the empirical method.

She discovered 2 things that night: First, that she liked to feel how, at that moment, the most obvious part of his body was not the only one that showed emotion when they were that close, it was as if they had disconnected his mouth so they could say almost everything that needed to be said.

*Thump-thump*

Second thing was, deep down, she liked having that kind of control over him. Perhaps because he was someone so vulnerable and at the same time so paradoxically unpredictable and predictable at the same time. Having that level of control over him and the circumstances around at such an intimate level was an extremely satisfying delight, almost irresistible to her so, of course, when she managed to prepare, from time to time, very occasionally, she would gladly take advantage of her position. During those encounters, she even learned that there was difference when the heart races out of fear, out of happiness, or out of pleasure.

*Thump-thump*

And now this.

Moments like this, in some certain different way, also counts as a private, intimate moment, but instead of hot, they are warm.

These moments not only allow her to feel his more honest and vulnerable side, but also allows her herself to be openly vulnerable, knowing she would be safe by being it, even if it was just for a bit of a time.

*Thump-thump*

Someone could say, in summary, that these moments, taking the time to listen and/or feel carefully, from time to time, was something that, in some way, for her defined very well his presence in her life and himself, a reminder of what he went through - what they both went through to get here, of who he was and what she liked about him, his fragility, his spontaneity, and that strange paradoxical strength that he himself doesn't seem to realize, but it does seem to be based in that cheerful endless optimism. He made her feel warm inside and happy to have him there with her, alive and in peace. Maybe it wasn't all always joy and happy and fun, but right now, there was no way she could ever say that she regretted it.

*Thump-thump*

It didn't take long for her to begin to fall asleep again, without separating a single centimetre from his chest, from his heartbeat, as if it were a little coo just for her.

*Thump-thump*

Shortly before she completely falls back in the Morpheus arms, she gives herself the small luxury of carefully wrapping one of her arms around him.

*Thump-thump*

To her surprise, somehow he, unconsciously -because she was very sure he was still asleep- seemed to realize this and, in response, slowly and clumsily moved his own arm to lightly puts it around her in the same way.

After that slight initial surprise and a quick processing, she simply smiled - without moving from where she was, without taking her face off his chest, she closed her eyes again and, letting herself be carried away by the calm, but somehow cheerful way of his heartbeat, she finally fell asleep.

*Thump-thump*

#wheatley #portal #portal2 #chell #blue sky #chelley #waffleguppies #wafflestories #portal 2 #chelley week 2024 #day 6 #heartbeat #my writting #chell portal

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crimefighter-bae-b · 7 years

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I found this Fallout Nick Valentine OC stuff on my computer and figured I should share it. It’s been sitting there long enough.

Fallout 4 Nick Valentine/OC Unfinished

______________________

Ray grimaced, twisting his mouth into a thin quavering line. His eyes, big and bright, roved over Nick’s face and it was then that Ray kissed him.

Nick shoved him hard- harder than he meant to, and Ray collapsed on the debris at his back, his limbs limp like a marionette with cut strings. The swinging bulbs above them did nothing for Ray’s face, tired and gormless, nothing on it but a blank stare at a far wall.

Nick’s mouth still burned from the contact, his hands tightened into fists even as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Embarrassed and deeply betrayed, he thought of that smile, Ray’s smile, and imagined what it must have looked like when he figured out what made the clockwork dick tick.

‘You’re angry.’

‘Of course I’m angry,’ Nick ground out. ‘I’m mad as hell, but it doesn’t matter.’ And then as if he had come to some sort of conclusion, he said: ‘None of it matters.’

‘I love you.’

‘That especially doesn’t matter.’

The light swung above their heads, the shadows slipped and slid against the walls like a ship on the high sea, but Nick and Ray were motionless. The thrum of the generator from the roof was a bleary noise, muddled by the scrap walls of Home Plate.

Ray was leaving damp tear tracks across his own skin, but his face was still, pale and blank. He lay there like a meager fountain, dripping on the canvas covered boxes underneath him.

‘You always think--,’ Nick started, ‘--you always think you know exactly what to say, how to get anything out of anyone if you really want to. Is it all just a game to you? The way you play with Preston… he calls you General and he means it, but I see it- don’t think I don’t! I see the look you get when he does. It’s a joke to you. Am I a joke to you?’

For the first time Ray’s head did move, a sharp flick of his eyes, watery with the lashes clumped together from the wet.

‘No… Nick, you’re not.’

He had never doubted that voice before, but suddenly it felt one shade off of believable.

‘Nice. I bet you practice that in the mirror. You know you’re a real piece of work? Could probably charm your way out of a nuclear blast. Come to think of it, you probably did.’ He wasn’t being fair, he knew, but it was hard to be when he felt like his heart had just been kicked over. ‘And anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about me or about Preston. I came here to talk to you about Shaun.’

The silence was a ringing, loud silence. It was a deafening silence, like the kind you expect to hear before a catastrophe.

Ray licked his lips unconsciously.

Nick might have been angry, but Ray was pathetic. Sick and drawn, eyes suddenly bulging like someone caught in a horror show. Pathetic.

‘I can’t…’ Ray ground his teeth struggling with his words.

‘Can’t. Won’t. Either way it all amounts to the same thing if you keep up this silent act. I can’t keep coming back here and getting burned like this. We used to be partners. I deserve better than that and so does your son.’

Ray’s mouth twisted for a moment. Nick had said the ‘partners’ thing to hurt. Judging by Ray’s face it had. Then, when Nick was ready to turn away, Ray spoke up.

‘How is he? How’s Shaun?’ His voice croaked.

‘He’s alright. He misses you. Keeps asking when you’re coming back.’’

Ray looked at him again, then put a hand against his face and said: ‘I miss him too.’

It sounded real and painful. Nick was suddenly wrong footed. He looked away, pressed the heel of his hand against his eye socket.

‘You sure don’t act like it.’

‘It’s hard, Nick.’

‘Why? I know it’s not because he’s a synth, we went over this before. But what is it, Ray? What is it about him you can’t deal with?’

‘I… I don’t know. ’

Ray’s answer was hollow, but it was the most coherent conversation they had since the Institute fell. And that was it- the hard, uncrackable nugget that Nick hadn’t been able to wrestle out of him- the Institute. Ray never said a word about it. It was clear that whatever had happened there had involved the human Shaun. And he knew in his gut, the way a detective knows, that Ray was aching over something bigger than not finding him. It was a stab in the dark, but he hadn’t anything left.

Nick dropped his hand.

‘What happened to him, Ray,’ Nick asked. ‘What happened to Shaun?’

To say that Ray’s face crumpled would be like saying a building fell down. It didn’t justify the tragedy of the event.

‘I don’t know, I- Nick, I-’ Rays mouth screwed itself up over his teeth like whatever he was trying to say was choking him. Like an awful, heavy thing was crawling up his throat. And it must have been awful because what he said next was worse than anything Nick had imagined.

‘I killed him,’ he said. Ray was crying in earnest now. His face was a strained mess. ‘Nick, I killed him,’ he said again. ‘I killed my son.’ The agony of it said out loud, probably for the first time, was written in every line of him. He moaned and struggled against his own throat and he looked everywhere except at Nick like he might be able to escape the reality of his own words.

‘Jesus,’ Nick breathed.

Ray was trembling now, looking like he could shake himself to pieces.

Nick’s anger was temporarily forgotten as was the hard set of his jaw.

In sharp, decided motions, Nick pulled him up. Ray’s hands struggled over him. He grasped at Nick’s back and scrabbled for purchase. His grip was hard and desperate like a man gone frantic on a cliff’s edge.

‘He was- he was the best thing I- I ever had, that I ever d-did,’ he said between gasps. He rocked and swayed in grief with his mouth pressed into Nick’s shirt. The enamel of Ray’s teeth was dry and cold and strained the heat of his breath. ‘Sarah!’ He said suddenly. ‘I killed our boy. Oh god, Sarah! I killed our boy!’

They stood together for some time. Nick let Ray ride out his grief in the space between his shoulder and his neck and he thought about what he had said after they watched the institute explode and then crumble under its own decimated waste: It couldn’t have been easy.

Now those words seemed stupid, flimsy.

‘I’m sorry, Nick. I’m sorry for everything.’

‘Well, not all of it’s been bad,’ he teased, then held Ray a bit tighter and closed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry about your boy.’

‘I love him,’ Ray said.

‘I know you do, I know,’ Nick said, just to say. It felt right to say.

He rubbed circles against Ray’s wracking back.

There were still gaps in his understanding about what had happened, but now wasn’t the time for that. The hard, awful details about the past and their present could be sorted out later. Right now, with Ray in his arms, he concentrated on what was important.

He pressed his cheek against Ray’s hair. It was unkempt and oily, but it didn’t matter. Things like that don’t matter when you’re in love.

Eventually Ray gripped Nick’s shoulders indicating he was ready to let go.

Nick didn’t like to think too much on it, but the truth was he was starved for human contact and when he held Ray every point between them felt like a star; like every good thing anyone had ever said about a star.

Finally Nick opened his eyes and reluctantly let him go.

Ray kept his eyes down as his hands trailed over Nick’s shoulders and then dropped to hang uselessly at his sides. He sniffled and brought a hand back up to wipe away the damp.

Nick made a cursory sweep of the room. This was Ray’s home, but it never seemed like more than a collection of riff-raff and pinched bobbles. A corner of the noisy shack was littered with duct tape and wires, a screwdriver was carefully balanced atop the nose of a Giddyup Buttercup and a can of paint was tipped over, its contents seeping around the lid to become a tacky puddle against the floor. The bed was dumpy, the crates and burlap were dusty, and in the middle of it was Ray his eyes puffy and his nose leaking against his upper lip. Maybe Ray supposed that was where he belonged- amongst the dirt and junk, packed between garbage and put somewhere dark. ‘Why don’t we get out of here, get you something to eat. Give us a chance to have a proper talk.’ Ray looked up like he was surprised, his eyes were hopeful, but the rest of his face hung a bit closer to the floor. ‘Nick, before we go, I…I’m sorry… about the…’ Ray looked at Nick’s mouth, then away just as fast. He gestured like he didn’t know the word he was looking for. Nick nodded, trying not to sound too disappointed or hurt when he said, ‘Yeah, well, you’ve been under a lot of stress lately and that’s liable to make a man do things. Even crazy things like taking a swing at his partner... granted, never had a man swing at me with his mouth before, but we can omit that if you want.’ ‘It wasn’t like that.’ ‘Wasn’t like what? Look, maybe you took a swing, maybe you didn’t. Maybe I pushed you because god knows everyone thinks you deserve it, or maybe you just fell. It happens sometimes.’ ‘And maybe I said I love you.’ ‘Yeah… maybe you did. Is that the way you want it?’ Ray nodded, swiping a hand under his eyes again. Nick was momentarily fascinated by the flush of Ray’s cheeks and the pores on the end of his nose. Maybe Ray wasn’t beautiful the way you thought of beauty. If the Minutemen ever got around to painting an oil of him they would probably skip his stringy hair, keep his big, dark eyes and forget the bags under them, but the rest of it- the nervous eyebrows and flushed cheeks and open pores- he couldn’t imagine Ray being half as beautiful without them. ‘Come on, I’ve got some caps and Takahashi has a bowl of noodles with your name on it.’ The two of them stepped out into the cool air of twilight and walked slow and silent to the noodle stand where the lights had already been switched on for the evening. The electric light glared brilliantly off of Takahashi’s plexiglass dome which was fogged over with thick, heavy beads of condensation. A handful of other people, couples and some lonesome residents, congregated at the hut and chatted over warm noodles. Their voices made soft and bright rhythms in the near dark. Nick flipped some caps onto the table and a few extra on the top. ‘My friend here’s had a rough day, Takahashi. Maybe fix the kid up something special.’ ‘Nan-ni shimasho-ka? ‘Thanks, you’re a real friend.’ ‘Nan-ni shimasho-ka?’ ‘Yes, please,’ Ray said. He smiled with his mouth and no teeth. ‘Make it two,’ Nick said, two fingers up, then took off his hat and sat next to Ray. He lit up a cigarette and by the time it reached his mouth two bowls of noodles were already in front of them. Ray stared at his food, while Nick let his bowl cool, drawing instead on his cigarette. They sat in silence. ‘I don’t know where to start,’ Ray admitted. ‘Usually you pick up the chopsticks first, then go from there.’ Ray looked at his chopsticks the way a broken man on a raft looks at a distant shoreline. Nick couldn’t help him. He just looked between the kid and the sticks and waited. Slowly Ray slid his hand across the counter and pulled the sticks to him, his head down. ‘I was worried we were going to have to get you a fork.’ ‘Sarah taught me.’ Nick studied his face seriously as Ray fiddled with the sticks like a child, placing them in his hands just so. When he was done, he carefully helped himself to his noodles and Nick finally relaxed, leaning against the counter. ‘Seems like she was a good woman.’ ‘She was,’ Ray agreed. He sighed and stared into his bowl. A thought seemed to suddenly hit him and he teared up again. ‘I lost our wedding ring.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘It’s my own fault,’ he shrugged. Silence drifted heavily over them again and this time Nick wasn’t content to let it rest. ‘Can you tell me what happened at the Institute?’ Ray turned his face to him and Nick could see in the low light and the upward, defiant angle of his jaw that Ray wasn’t keen on it, but his eyes were tired. He looked away, his jaw tilted down and he opened his mouth. ‘I was in a room…’ he said.

#fallout 4 #nick valentine #OC #Ray Goodwin #RP stuff #Waffles #waffleguppies

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