Fic: Portal - Little Lamb
Title: Little Lamb
Fandom: Portal/Portal 2
Pairings: None - though I guess there's platonic Rattmann/Companion Cube? they are bros forever
Description: another fill. This one is about the possibility of the Companion Cube having an effect on psychic/empathic people, who can hear its thoughts despite its inability to speak.
Rating: G
For the life of him Doug had thought it would be a completely normal morning, if there ever was a normal morning at Aperture Science; he’d gotten to work, rode the elevator down to the engineers’ level, walked into the office and reached his desk, like any other work day. However, most normal work days did not involve him finding a huge roadblock on his desk.
“What the…” Doug’s question turned into a groan as he spotted a Weighted Storage Cube sitting neatly, almost smugly, on his desk and trapping papers. He didn’t quite understand why Henry and his buddies always picked on him, but he’d come to terms with the fact that, yes, Henry and his buddies played jokes exclusively on Doug out of some weird form of platonic affection. Those sorts of friendships were so weird.
However, as Doug neared his desk, he noticed something off about this Cube. Its design was different - on the circular plates on each side was a small pink heart, neatly painted in the center. As he got closer, he noticed that it was playing music as well - “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” if he recognized the tune correctly.
Doug muttered and set his briefcase down on the floor, then stood back up to regard the strange Cube.
hello
He whirled around, suddenly - he’d just heard something very, very faint. Was anyone else here at this hour?
hello?
Again, he whirled around, blue eyes wide. As far as he could tell, no one was in this room, or even the entire engineers’ floor… unbidden, sudden fears about leapt into his head, most notably: Did I take my pills today?
can you hear me?
Dumbstruck, Doug regarded the Cube on his desk. Maybe I did forget, he thought, and his hands began to tremble.
don’t be scared! please don’t! you can hear me!
Well, that was different. Usually his hallucinations weren’t so… hopeful-sounding. Or even voice-sounding. Skeptical, he looked at the Cube.
“…hello?”
put your hand on me, please. you’ll be able to hear me better.
Doug stared at the Cube.
please?
Almost on instinct, Doug’s right hand drew up and stretched out, towards the Cube. It trembled as it moved forward, but continued doing so, even as Doug muttered, “I guess I really am crazy…”
His fingers brushed the Cube’s edge. It was strangely warm.
“Thank you…”
With a small yelp Doug drew his hand away - when had that soft voice suddenly become so much less faint?
“Don’t be scared! Please don’t. They said you might be scared. Please don’t be scared, though - I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not bad.”
Doug’s eyes were locked on the Cube.
“Your name is Doug, right?”
-----
Behind several doors a group of scientists were huddled around a modified Aperture radio, one of whom had his fingers fluttering over the knob, carefully adjusting it every few moments. Little aside from white noise had been heard up to that point, but suddenly the first words came out:
“Thank you…”
“Hah, there he goes! There he goes!” Henry crowed, jumping up from his spot by the radio. “I knew it! I knew it would work!”
“Don’t be scared! Please don’t. They said…”
“Oh, god, listen to it try to comfort him,” another breathed, on the verge of gut-splitting laughter. “Jesus, what I wouldn’t give to be able to see Doug’s face!”
-----
The silence in Aperture was everywhere. Almost oppressive, but not quite - Doug found it rather comforting, actually. Silence was hard to come by for him. He was lying on the floor, scribbling idly with a chunk of charcoal that may have once been wood. He drew long, sweeping curves that jittered off into tiny curlicues, and when he’d put down enough black he’d pick up one of his paintbrushes and add swirls of blue, orange, red - speckles, dots. Graphing points. Points on a bell curve. 99th percentile in tenacity -
“You should go to sleep. You need your rest…” the Companion Cube said softly, sitting a few feet away beside a couple cans of blue and orange gel.
“‘Sleep no more! Rattmann has murdered sleep,’” murmured Rattmann, the hint of a smile on his face as he added a few glowing red eyes to the turrets he’d drawn below the swirling blue sky and pale, omnipresent moon.
“I’m serious. You’ll pass out on your drawing. It looks very nice, by the way.”
“Thanks. I’ll sleep in a bit. Just gotta… finish this sketch…” Drop the red ink pen, grab the charcoal. A few thick, black strokes, and he had a figure standing off from the turrets - a dot of propulsion gel for a head did the trick.
“There.” He turned and scooted over to grab the Companion Cube, pulling it closer to the drawing so that it could see. “What do you think?”
After a moment of pause, his companion said: “It’s lovely.” The Cube’s voice was warm, and it made Rattmann smile. “Now, will you sleep?”
“Yes, yes… now I can sleep.” Rattmann pushed the Cube with him as he went over to a darkened corner, covered with charcoal scribbles. His hands ran over its edges and vertices as he curled up and around the Cube. He hadn’t realized it before, but he was exhausted - within moments his eyelids were drooping down, down, closing like thick curtains. Like the doors to a Relaxation Chamber.
“Goodnight,” he half-mumbled, his head falling down against the top of the Cube, cheek pressed against its curiously warm surface. He’s already asleep by the time the Cube replies:
“Goodnight, Doug.”
Fandom: Portal/Portal 2
Pairings: None - though I guess there's platonic Rattmann/Companion Cube? they are bros forever
Description: another fill. This one is about the possibility of the Companion Cube having an effect on psychic/empathic people, who can hear its thoughts despite its inability to speak.
Rating: G
For the life of him Doug had thought it would be a completely normal morning, if there ever was a normal morning at Aperture Science; he’d gotten to work, rode the elevator down to the engineers’ level, walked into the office and reached his desk, like any other work day. However, most normal work days did not involve him finding a huge roadblock on his desk.
“What the…” Doug’s question turned into a groan as he spotted a Weighted Storage Cube sitting neatly, almost smugly, on his desk and trapping papers. He didn’t quite understand why Henry and his buddies always picked on him, but he’d come to terms with the fact that, yes, Henry and his buddies played jokes exclusively on Doug out of some weird form of platonic affection. Those sorts of friendships were so weird.
However, as Doug neared his desk, he noticed something off about this Cube. Its design was different - on the circular plates on each side was a small pink heart, neatly painted in the center. As he got closer, he noticed that it was playing music as well - “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” if he recognized the tune correctly.
Doug muttered and set his briefcase down on the floor, then stood back up to regard the strange Cube.
hello
He whirled around, suddenly - he’d just heard something very, very faint. Was anyone else here at this hour?
hello?
Again, he whirled around, blue eyes wide. As far as he could tell, no one was in this room, or even the entire engineers’ floor… unbidden, sudden fears about leapt into his head, most notably: Did I take my pills today?
can you hear me?
Dumbstruck, Doug regarded the Cube on his desk. Maybe I did forget, he thought, and his hands began to tremble.
don’t be scared! please don’t! you can hear me!
Well, that was different. Usually his hallucinations weren’t so… hopeful-sounding. Or even voice-sounding. Skeptical, he looked at the Cube.
“…hello?”
put your hand on me, please. you’ll be able to hear me better.
Doug stared at the Cube.
please?
Almost on instinct, Doug’s right hand drew up and stretched out, towards the Cube. It trembled as it moved forward, but continued doing so, even as Doug muttered, “I guess I really am crazy…”
His fingers brushed the Cube’s edge. It was strangely warm.
“Thank you…”
With a small yelp Doug drew his hand away - when had that soft voice suddenly become so much less faint?
“Don’t be scared! Please don’t. They said you might be scared. Please don’t be scared, though - I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not bad.”
Doug’s eyes were locked on the Cube.
“Your name is Doug, right?”
-----
Behind several doors a group of scientists were huddled around a modified Aperture radio, one of whom had his fingers fluttering over the knob, carefully adjusting it every few moments. Little aside from white noise had been heard up to that point, but suddenly the first words came out:
“Thank you…”
“Hah, there he goes! There he goes!” Henry crowed, jumping up from his spot by the radio. “I knew it! I knew it would work!”
“Don’t be scared! Please don’t. They said…”
“Oh, god, listen to it try to comfort him,” another breathed, on the verge of gut-splitting laughter. “Jesus, what I wouldn’t give to be able to see Doug’s face!”
-----
The silence in Aperture was everywhere. Almost oppressive, but not quite - Doug found it rather comforting, actually. Silence was hard to come by for him. He was lying on the floor, scribbling idly with a chunk of charcoal that may have once been wood. He drew long, sweeping curves that jittered off into tiny curlicues, and when he’d put down enough black he’d pick up one of his paintbrushes and add swirls of blue, orange, red - speckles, dots. Graphing points. Points on a bell curve. 99th percentile in tenacity -
“You should go to sleep. You need your rest…” the Companion Cube said softly, sitting a few feet away beside a couple cans of blue and orange gel.
“‘Sleep no more! Rattmann has murdered sleep,’” murmured Rattmann, the hint of a smile on his face as he added a few glowing red eyes to the turrets he’d drawn below the swirling blue sky and pale, omnipresent moon.
“I’m serious. You’ll pass out on your drawing. It looks very nice, by the way.”
“Thanks. I’ll sleep in a bit. Just gotta… finish this sketch…” Drop the red ink pen, grab the charcoal. A few thick, black strokes, and he had a figure standing off from the turrets - a dot of propulsion gel for a head did the trick.
“There.” He turned and scooted over to grab the Companion Cube, pulling it closer to the drawing so that it could see. “What do you think?”
After a moment of pause, his companion said: “It’s lovely.” The Cube’s voice was warm, and it made Rattmann smile. “Now, will you sleep?”
“Yes, yes… now I can sleep.” Rattmann pushed the Cube with him as he went over to a darkened corner, covered with charcoal scribbles. His hands ran over its edges and vertices as he curled up and around the Cube. He hadn’t realized it before, but he was exhausted - within moments his eyelids were drooping down, down, closing like thick curtains. Like the doors to a Relaxation Chamber.
“Goodnight,” he half-mumbled, his head falling down against the top of the Cube, cheek pressed against its curiously warm surface. He’s already asleep by the time the Cube replies:
“Goodnight, Doug.”