Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, doI’m half crazy, all for the love of you.
I found a wonderfully sad fanfic this morning about Doug Rattmann and Wheatley. God, why is everything with Doug so fucking sad?!? :’ ( I love him.
Anyways, my interpretation of a scene from the fic, found HERE. You may not quite understand what’s happening/the gravity of it if you haven’t seen chapters 6 and 7 of Portal 2, as a warning.
gaaaaaahhhhhaawwwghdsf all my creys;_; 
"Machiavelli..." He bit his lip, glancing at the book.

"Ah, The Prince. If you need any help with it, let me know.” 


((you’ve been seeing snippets already but yoU’LL BE SEEING MORE OF THIS REALLY SOON)) 

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"Of course." He smiled.

"Thank you. What are you reading, if I may ask?" 

The boy smiled softly, taking the glasses and putting them on; reading without his glasses gave him such a headache. Then he took the pancakes. "Thanks, dad."

"You’re welcome. May I come sit with you?" 

Right, most knew her as a robot that would shoot them as soon as her eyes were set on them. Staying where she had been, she tried her hardest to urge him out. "It's really okay! I promise not to shoot you. You're not one of the stinky test subjects I'm supposed to shoot at."

She seemed to be talking directly to him, and it only now struck him that she had addressed him by name before. 

Doug crawled out of his hiding hole and placed his palm atop her head. 

Well, she was real, at least. 

"Hello there Mr.Rattmann!" The little turret waved at the human,hoping that she'd not scared him. Intruding on one's office wasn't the best way to not scare someone, but she hadn't spoken with anyone for quite some time.

He immediately went to duck under his desk, but this one didn’t shoot right way and he stuck his hand out to wave at her. 

Wheatley put down the book he had been trying to read, a book far above his reading level. He thought stumbling through it might make him smarter... He jumped out of bed, going to the door.

"Here you go. I hope you feel better." 

The towheaded boy nodded, going to his room. He bit his lip, pulling off his broken glasses. He sighed. The boy looked at his reflection in his bedroom mirror, frowning a bit. The kids at school must be able to tell he's not his dad's son... But how had he been so blind? So... moronic...?

Doug knocked on his door an hour later with a plate of strawberry-covered pancakes and a spare pair of glasses.