A/N: This is a silly, irrelevant little story written in response to a prompt on the Portal Kink Meme. The prompt is that "Wheatley gets 'excited' watching Chell use/fix/tinker with a computer." Yep.

"Wh-what are you doing? Should you... should you really be touching that?"

"...I mean, it's a delicate piece of equipment, maybe you should just let it be, yeah? I-I have to be honest, I'm not quite comfortable with the way you're—handling—that thing. Do you even know what you're doing there? We can probably find another one in some other room that actually works. There's no need to disturb this one in particular, and besides, I don't think you have the credentials to fix—"

click

"—AHH! Y-you've opened it, you've opened it up, pulled the cover right off, haven't you? That's fairly dangerous, don't you think? Wow, uhm, that's—that's quite a bit more of a mainframe than I've seen before, that's... you know what, I think I'll just, ah, look away, alright? Probably be rude of me to—to—are you just sticking your hand in there! Come on, mate, have some common decency, would ya?"

Chell threw him a silent glare.

"Don't look at me like that, you're the one who's wrist-deep in—in—oh, now, really, do you have to feel around in there like that? That's just obscene! H-how would you like it if I were to, ah... to get hands, somehow, and then just shove them inside you? Huh? Bet it wouldn't feel too good, now, would it? Think how you're making that poor mainframe feel, rummaging around in there, probably knocking against some fairly sensitive components..."

She pointedly ignored him, peering into the mess of wires and circuits. It was probably something simple, a power source disconnected, some dust accumulated somewhere vital. She reached in deeper, shoving a bundle of cords out of her way, craning her neck to get a better look.

The core watching judgmentally over her shoulder emitted a tiny, affronted noise of disbelief as her other hand joined the first.

"I—you... you can't just touch someone like that, mate, that's really not right. I know you have your fair share of brain damage, but this is just... vile..."

Chell glanced over her shoulder at the sudden shift in tone. The core, suspended not two feet from her shoulder, had paused mid-sentence, inscrutable gaze of his optic trained on the spot where her arms entered the tangle of cords.

Seemingly noting her hesitation, he blinked rapidly, tearing his glowing eye from the sight to glare accusingly down at her.

"D-don't look at me like that, you're the one with her grubby little paws jammed up inside a helpless..."

His optic lifted again to gaze at the exposed mainframe. Chell raised her eyebrow as his voice softened, trailing off. A long moment of silence stretched between them before he sighed heavily.

His voice, still somewhat agitated but now far quieter, rose again.

"I—I suppose... if you've already gotten this far, y—you may as well, ah. Keep going."

She furrowed her brow at him, remaining still.

"...go on, h-have a look. In there. Won't bite."

Shaking her head in exasperation, she returned to her task, trying vainly to ignore the core prattling on behind her.

"If you'll, um, just move your right hand a bit there—yeah, like that—there's a few switches down there you could try."

Chell didn't trust that his advice in this area would turn out any better than it had in all others, but at the same time she knew it was likely that a computer would know more about fixing computers than she would. Leaning in, she shifted her arm, exposing a small panel of switches to her view. Brushing her finger against the one nearest to her, she bit her lip, contemplating which to begin with.

"Y-yeah, that right there, just, ah... just go ahead and flick that, would ya?" the core piped up, his synthesized voice oddly breathless.

With a halfhearted shrug, she did as she was told, the empty click of the movement echoing throughout the mainframe.

"Hnn—mm. Hmmm. Didn't do anything, did it?"

She paused. Did the core just groan? No, more likely she was simply going insane, the forced isolation of 99999... forcing her to personify the (admittedly humanlike) piece of equipment.

"Just keep on going, try another one, y'never know..."

Nodding, she let her finger drift to the next switch, pushing it forward with a resounding click.

"Oooohhkay, that one didn't do anything either—try the next."

Rather demanding, for a robot with nothing more than an increasingly strained voice to convince her with. She sighed and adjusted her arm, pressing further inside to reach the next switch, flicking it with her finger.

"Oh, brilliant! That's—no, that's not brilliant, that's not brilliant at all. Didn't work. Do another."

Pausing, she shifted to glance over her shoulder at the core—but she didn't need to move far, she found, as he had moved closer to her at some point, his rounded hull nearly perched atop her shoulder. Tilting her head to meet his eye, she noticed that the metal shutters surrounding it were nearly closed.

"W-what are you looking at? Get back in there, you have a job to do," the core muttered upon noticing her gaze.

She growled beneath her breath at the imperious tone of the core's voice. Just seconds before he'd been begging her not to attempt to fix the mainframe, and now he was begging her to fix it faster.

"Just try a few more of the switches, will ya?" The AI's synthesized voice softened, and he dipped briefly from his suspension on the guide rail, nudging her shoulder. "...Please?"

Sliding her palm across the panel, she located the next row of switches, pausing to allow her fingertips to linger over them, barely grazing their surface. There really was no point in trying them, she knew—it was more likely to be a problem with the power source than whatever the switches controlled.

Why was he so keen on her testing each and every one?

"C'mon, do it," he urged in a low whine. "J-just do it for old Wheatley, alright?"

She stroked a switch thoughtfully.

How could she convince him that this was entirely the wrong way to go about things? He always seemed so insecure and nervous, he'd probably be offended or hurt, and after all the hospitality he'd shown her—

"Press it—" his voice dropped to a husky whisper as his hull sagged low from its suspension, settling heavily on her shoulder. "Press it, you little tease—"

She spun to look at the core, a shiver running down her spine at the urgent command, the voice of the once-polite AI suddenly deep and ragged with a fairly convincing simulation of all-too-human need—and as she spun her palm flattened against the console, depressing several switches at once.

"O-oohhhyouliketopressthosedon'tyouyoudirtygirl—wait! Where are you going?"

Stalking away from the core and the mainframe, she rubbed her arms with her hands, wishing fervently she knew of a sink she could wash them in, the core's breathy moan still ringing in her ears.

"There are still dozens of switches left, love, you can't just give up now!" he called frantically after her.

Nearing the door, Chell nearly tripped in her haste, righting herself and glaring down at the offending object—a power cord, unplugged, resting plain as day in the middle of the room.

"Alright, I understand, you—you look like you need a bit of a break. I'll just wait here, alright? Til you're done. With your break. Then you can come back and we'll, we'll keep going, yeah?"

Ignoring the core's needy cries, she reached the door, readying herself to step back out onto the catwalk.

"Lady!"

She paused, glancing back.

"When you do get back. Um, from your rest, I mean. Do you think—maybe—well, that is to say... would it be possible for you to... ah, or, would you consider... would you please..."

She raised an eyebrow at the stumbling core.

"...Do me next?"