Hey there, !
As my Christmas present to you, I present to you all three chapters of my very first Portal fanfic! Yay!
This fic plays with the theories that the Personality Cores were once actually people, namely, who Wheatley was before he became a Core.
Also, no worries for younger readers, this should be no worse than the games, aside from one drinking reference later on.
Hope You Enjoy!

Alexander Wheatley was exactly nobody.

He lived in a tiny flat over an Indian takeaway place on Downshire Hill, which made everything in the house smell like Saffron or sandalwood or whatever Indian takeaway smells like, which he not-so-secretly despised.

Every day, he would take the tube to the small insurance firm in Knightsbridge while reading the Guardian's football section, hoping for some good news about the West Ham match. If he felt brave that day, he'd look up and smile at the cute girl who was always on her way to some kind of scientist job in her long, white labcoat. If he felt lucky, he'd still be looking to see her smile back.

But what Alexander Wheatley didn't know was that this would be the day that would change his life.

"Hey, hey! It's the Wheatface!" a voice shouted at him in the lobby.

"What's up, Spaceman Spiff? Have fun at last night's trivia game at the Russian Lady? Plenty of space-y questions for you to dominate at?" Wheatley called back as they exchanged high-fives.

Patrick was always an odd fellow, one of the out-casts of the office. He'd always wanted to be an astronaut or an astronomer or something, he could talk about space and stars and planets for hours if you'd let him. His entire cubicle was papered with a star chart or a high-resolution image of a nebula or something else equally celestial, depending on what week it was. This obsession earned him the nickname, "Spaceman Spiff", which, unfortunately, he wore with pride like a badge.

"I am the best at space, all space, all the time! Can you believe it's my last day here? Gonna miss me, kiddo?" he asked as he followed into the elevator.

Wheatley was taken aback, "Last day? What are you talking about?"

"Remember last month when we were at the pub watching West Ham getting their asses handed to them?"

"You know my football team, that's hardly an uncommon occurrence, mate."

"Well, I was telling you then that me, Rick and Craig got picked up by this science lab in America, they have this astronomical claim rate, and they needed some people to work things out between them and their insurance company. They're paying almost ten times as much as this place! Too bad they don't need an HR flunky!"

Wheatley laughed, "Yeah, right!"

The doors opened in Spiff's floor.

"See you at the going-away party, Wheatface?"

"I don't know, not sure if I'd be exactly welcome there, you know how the guys can be, kinda mean not exactly pleasant to be around. Not exactly my cup of tea, those guys are, not a cup at all," he shrugged.

"It's not like you have anything better to do, right? See you there!"

Wheatley sighed.

He hated to admit it, but having Spiff around was like some kind of protection. As long as there was someone odder, freakier than him, Wheatley was safe. Now, he would be the bottom of the office barrel, with "Space Freak", "The Smart Ass" and "Indiana Jones" were gone.

Could retire now, he thought to himself, 31 is not too young! Go on holiday to Aruba or Cancun or the Maldives or something of the sort. Maybe pick up a job there as a caddy. People like caddies. They tend to get tipped well.

The reception area of the Human Resource offices was a madhouse. One younger girl, blonde and tiny was sobbing, flanked by two older women who told her that she was "a strong woman" and that she "doesn't need to put up with that", two huge guys who looked more at home in an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie than a pastel-colored company polo argued loudly, yelling about whose turn it was to get takeaway or who pushed over whose cubicle walls to steal more space or something equally inane and one scrawny young kid curled himself up into a corner, mumbling something about Christmas bonuses. Wheatley sighed again. It was about to be a long day.

A/N: So, what'd you kids think? I kinda liked making Wheatley a sort of Arthur Dent-like character!
Also, his flat is a real place! Google it!