Chapter Text
Wheatley never loved anyone, anyone like he loved his children. Chell, though the love of his life, didn’t compare in the slightest to the deep, profound, unadulterated love he felt for his four children. They were his entire world.
When Sophie came along, a girl with sandy hair and electric blue eyes just like his, there was nothing but joy in his heart. She was strong and healthy, a talented baker, just like her mother, but a playful girl who got on well with anyone she met. Wheatley admired her grace and her hard work.
The youngest two, the twins, Maya and Luis were like polar opposite wonders of the world, forever glued to each other at the hip.
Maya was far more like her mother, both in appearance and personality. Silent and reserved. Thoughtful. She had a technical mind and found Uncle Garrett to be her best friend. She was his little henchman as the two of them improved and fiddled with Foxglove in the odd hours of the night. Wheatley was forever in awe of her intelligence.
Luis was a leader. Quick as a wip, pragmatic, empathetic. He seemed to lack doubt in his heart, mind and soul. Aaron taught him the art of settling arguments and mindful distribution, and it was apparent by the time he was thirteen that he might take up the torch of the de facto leader of Eaden. Wheatley only wished he could have been as strong and charismatic as him.
He would never admit to having a favorite, because really, he loved all of his children equally, but however absolutely madly in awe of his other three children he was, it was obvious that the one he was most amazed by was his second child, Rafael.
Rafael was born with that same mid-olive skin as their mother, and eyes that he was told were like his - however steel grey they were. They smiled like him. They laughed like him. The edges of their eyes crinkled in that same upward little way, full of mirth and joy. They were strong and lean, like their mother, and with that same otherworldly grace Wheatley had only ever seen Below. They were weightless.
Wheatley was absolutely in love, the moment he laid eyes on them.
Wheatley wasn’t good at soccer, but the local children loved to play, his included, and they begged him to be their goalie. He was basically dragged by a team of five of them as soon as he left the schoolhouse, half of his ungraded tests underneath his other arm.
“What, no fair!” Ellie cried, as she saw them coming from over the hill. She’d really come out of her shell since Sophie was born. “He’s like a million feet tall, he covers half of the goal just by existing!”
It was true, the cheap, fabric-and-plastic goals the children had staked down in the field were not exceptionally large, and Wheatley blocked a significant amount of it just by simply being there.
“You can go get Chell to play your goalie,” Max helpfully pointed out, as he sat at the sidelines with Sophie, ready to watch the action, “And to be fair, she could probably score on Wheatley from across the field.”
“Hey!” Wheatley said, with a minor amount of actual offense, “I’m not that bad!”
Sophie punched Max without looking up from her book, “Don’t talk about my dad like that.”
“Thank you.” He said, slightly triumphantly.
“You know he’s probably right, Dad,” She said, flatly.
“Hey- I can still ground you, young lady.”
Luis sat down in the grass and sighed heavily. Though Maya wasn’t nearly so vocal as either Rafael or Luis, she crossed her arms and drummed her fingers against her forearms. Impatient.
Luis, however, had not the first problem with complaining. “Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, who cares if it’s not fair?” He whined, “I just wanna kick your asses-”
“Mind your language!” Wheatley shouted, still not even at the goal.
“-Sorry! Kick your butts already. Dad can go sit on the sidelines and we can play no-goalie if you want.”
“Yeah, let’s do that!” Ellie said.
Wheatley was one-part relieved he didn’t have to dodge assault-from-soccer-ball for the next hour or two before sunset, but almost a little disappointed. He stood at the apex of the hill, contemplating going home or staying, and gazed down at Max and Sophie who were giggling among themselves slightly conspiratorially.
Sophie was much younger than Max and Jason, but they loved her since she could talk. There was always trouble for the three of them to get into. Wheatley smiled fondly as they turned around, noticed they were being watched, and suddenly scooted away from each other, and almost made a point of pretending like they weren’t talking just a second ago.
Suspicious little beasties.
He turned around to leave the field, but Raf called after him. “Wait! Dad! Stay and watch! Watch me beat Ellie!”
“Oh I don’t know, Raf, I have work to-”
Luis seemed to jump on the guilt-trip bandwagon, “Oh come on dad, puh-leaseeee- ”
“ Pleaseeeeeeee-” Raf continued.
“Yeah, Dad!” Sophie contributed.
“Alright, alright fine! Man alive, you guys are persistent,” Wheatley said, as he came walked just slightly down the hill and sat next to Sophie and Max. He sighed a fond little sigh, though he was certain that these kids were all far too old to be pulling these stunts, he was willing to let it slide.
He pulled out the papers left for him to grade and a green pen - he hated using red, there was something angry and mean about a red mark on a paper, something polite and lovely about a gentle correction in green. He went through and slowly began grading. He was told by the board a time or two that he was too lenient of a grader, but wrong wasn’t always wrong, per se…
He’d gotten lost in the reflexive act of going through each step, effectively ignoring the game as he tried, at least somewhat, to finish grading against his knee.
An hour must’ve passed when Rafael poked his shoulder. “Uh… Dad?”
“Hmm?” He was only sort of paying attention.
“Dad, I fell and my knee is bleeding like… A lot.”
Wheatley looked up, expecting a minor skin. Though admittedly, when he first saw a skinned knee he just about fainted, he quickly learned what was worth panicking and what wasn’t.
The little cut was basically gushing blood, red lines trickled down Rafael’s exposed leg, and Wheatley’s eyes went wide, looking up at their face and then down at their small scrape.
“Oh my holy- okay okay, come on- Sorry kids! Game’s over. Sophie, help them clean up, I’m taking Raf back.”
Wheatley haphazardly shoved his stuff back into his bag, putting his pen between his teeth, and grabbing their hand to walk them home. As they got up the hill, he asked, “How bad does it hurt? How long ago did you cut your knee?”
“It doesn’t really hurt, but I cut it awhile ago. When Luis cuts his knee it usually stops bleeding way sooner than this…”
“Hm…” Wheatley was thinking of if Chell would have a minute to help him dress the wound, he never had a skill for putting on bandages. “Well as long as you aren’t in a lot of pain.”
They shrugged. “It’s fine.”