Wheatley stared across the room at his coworker. She was very beautiful, very mute, and very used to him staring at her, although lately she'd taken to slapping him across the face at random intervals. He hated that.

There she was, just typing away, taking a sip of coffee every now and then, not even noticing him. Never noticing him, except of course for when she caught him staring. A bright blush would color her cheeks, but she'd stare back, would stare until he'd have to look away, and when he'd look back up she'd be typing again like nothing had happened.

God. Always with the bloody typing.

And there he was, staring again, when a song began playing on the radio. They were the only two people in the office, so the sound resonated, funneling its way into Wheatley's head.

"She don't say a word, and she won't say a word, until you kiss the girl…"

He got an idea at that moment, and even he had to admit that it was probably a pretty terrible idea, but he was known for his terrible ideas.

What if all she needs is a kiss?

Wheatley stood up and made his way across the room. She looked up and raised her eyebrows at him when he didn't say anything. Having seen her do it often enough, he knew it was her way of asking, "What?"

In place of an answer, he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the lips, then straightened back up, still looking at her. She stood up and after a moment's consideration, opened her mouth, placed a hand on his shoulder, looked him dead in the eyes, and—

Slap.

"Ow!" Wheatley cried, jerking backwards and pressing a hand to his stinging cheek. "Bloody hell! That hurt!"

He stared at her, expecting some sort of reply, but she was already sitting down again, back to typing. If he'd looked closer, he would have seen the small smile curving the corners of her mouth, but instead he retreated to his desk. He supposed he'd have to be content with simply staring.

For now.