The St. Valentine's Day Commemoration
The train sped through Geneva, and Sheldon Lee Cooper gazed at the moving view through the window, his blue eyes twinkling. "Isn't it marvelous? Trains are truly the best mode of transportation when acquainting oneself with a new city."
Amy Farrah Fowler smiled, infected by his enthusiasm. With his face and hands pressed against the glass, he displayed the innocent rapture of a little boy staring through a pet shop window. He had worn the same expression when they were taken by their hosts to see the Large Hadron Collider that morning, and his high looked like it would last the whole day.
Propping her elbows on her knees, she cupped her chin in her hands and gazed at him.
After a few minutes, he finally noticed her staring and asked: "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing. I was simply enthralled by the fire of your passion."
Cheeks flushed, he stammered: "Um, anyway, we should alight at the next stop… I've been informed that there's a charming little restaurant that serves excellent cheese fondue, prepared in the traditional fashion."
He helped her down the train; Amy was pleasantly surprised that he didn't let go of her hand as they walked the street.
"Ah, here we are." He led her inside a cozy establishment.
The elderly couple who appeared to be the owners didn't speak English, but Sheldon pulled out a French phrase book and, thankfully not attempting to read them, pointed at the appropriate phrases instead. They were shown a table for two beside the fireplace, with the seats side-by-side.
"Finally… this feels great!" She extended her hands closer to the hearth and sighed. "How did you find out about this restaurant?"
"When Leonard and Raj came here, one of their hosts recommended this establishment. But of course, they weren't able to come here, since Leonard is lactose-intolerant."
A steaming pot of cheese fondue was placed on their table. He speared a piece of bread with the long-stemmed fork, but she stayed his hand, remembering something. "Sheldon… did you order one without wine in the recipe?" She didn't think the kindly-looking owners would appreciate the sight of her tipsy boyfriend attempting to ravish her.
He blushed furiously. "Of course, I wouldn't overlook that."
"Alright." She relaxed. He placed the first morsel on her plate. "Thank you, Sheldon."
Savoring the combination of perfectly crusty bread and delicately melted cheese, they ate in silence for a while. She saw him look around and purposefully pick up a piece from his plate with his dinner fork, offering it to her.
She raised an eyebrow questioningly.
He coughed. "It appears to be expected behavior from pairbonded individuals."
She glanced around the restaurant. Giddy, giggly couples were feeding each other. "But… that's your fork," she pointed out reluctantly. He nodded. "And you're going to put it in my mouth?"
"Logically speaking, I have come in contact with your mouth far too often to be squeamish about that," he muttered.
She took the proffered bite, smiling thankfully. She speared a piece of bread with the dipping fork, intending to reciprocate, but when she tried pulling it out of the pot, it was gone.
The elderly couple clapped their hands, crowing: "Baiser!" They gestured encouragingly with their hands. She tilted her head, confused.
Sheldon exhaled and licked his lips. "It's a tradition… if a lady drops her bread in the fondue pot, she's compelled to kiss the person next to her."
"Oh." She observed him fidgeting. "Perhaps being visitors in a foreign land, they might allow us to bend the tradition this once—"
"No!" He protested, nudging at the direction of the next table. "If you don't give me that kiss, one of those fellows might claim it."
A group of young men and women were watching them with interest, talking in rapid French amongst themselves. Amy lightly grazed her lips upon Sheldon's, nearly dropping the fork when he pushed his lips resolutely against hers. She shivered as he pulled away. He continued eating fondue as if nothing had happened, although his ears were slightly red.
"Young man, it doesn't take a doctorate in Physics to predict the structural failure of that snow fort." Sheldon remarked.
As if on cue, the snow fort crashed, and the children poked their heads out of the piles of snow. "We tried many times," one blond boy with a splash of freckles across his nose said in accented English. "But it always falls."
"Help please," the smallest girl with chestnut braids and bright blue eyes pleaded.
Sheldon started to say that he was busy, but Amy said: "Certainly. He excels in many things, he'll be able to help you with this one." She clapped his back.
"… Very well."
And that was how Sheldon ended up spending the afternoon directing his girlfriend and a group of Swiss children building a snow fort in a public park. Though in reality, it was him and the older set, especially the blond boy whom he started calling his right-hand man, who built the fort; Amy and the younger ones built a snowman to stand guard.
In between giving instructions and inspecting the structure, he glanced at Amy. She was listening to the little brunette telling a legend about a snow child that came to life. "That sounds highly unlikely," she commented. "But if sci-fi and fantasy stories are to be believed, stranger things can happen." Finishing the snowman, Amy lifted the child so she can put a knitted cap on its head.
"Acceptable work, young builders," Sheldon said. They were now putting the final touches to the fort, including a corner tower with a turret.
"We're putting the flag, the flag!" The little girl cried, her dark braids bouncing as she ran around Amy.
His girlfriend caught the tiny brunette in her arms. "Calm down, they're nearly done."
The child grinned and waved a Swiss flag. "Look, our flag is square, it is different from other flags!"
"It has similar proportions to the flag of Vatican City," Amy informed. When the little ones looked at her questioningly, she traced outlines on the snowy ground. "Vatican City is a state within Italy, a country that borders Switzerland—"
"And it is like a boot!" The child exclaimed.
Amy beamed at her. "It certainly has that shape."
Sheldon's freckled, blond right-hand man set the flag upon the tower. "Thank you for helping."
"You're welcome," he said, his eyes straying towards Amy and the little kids again.
"The lady is your girlfriend?" The boy asked.
"Yes, she is."
"Oh, you are lucky, no? She is nice and smart and pretty."
"I know."
"You are also… cool," the boy said, raising a fist. Sheldon solemnly bumped fists with him. "You should buy a gift today."
"I was planning to buy chocolates, actually…"
"Yes, yes," the boy nodded excitedly, pointing across the street. "Come…"
Seeing that Amy was still preoccupied playing with the smaller children, Sheldon followed him to the chocolate shop.
"Papa comes here to buy gifts for Mama. When it is her birthday, or when she is angry," his right-hand man said, pushing open the door.
Inside were glass cases displaying all sorts of truffles, hearts, rounds, and filled candies, and shelves upon shelves of pre-packed boxes. The selection was overwhelming. For a moment, Sheldon despaired—there was no way he can make exactly the right choice.
"Then… I'll have to make more choices to hit upon the right one," he muttered, taking one of each of the largest boxes. His young friend watched him with round eyes, laughing.
He also grabbed a large bag of individually-wrapped chocolates and handed it to the blond boy. "Here, this is to share with your friends."
"Thank you," the boy said.
Sheldon paid for his purchases and they returned to the snow fort. Every child was now sprawled on their backs, making snow angels, while Amy drew the haloes above their heads.
"Amy."
She looked up at him and gasped when he unloaded the many boxes of chocolates in her arms. "Sheldon!"
"Oooooh," the kids chorused, clapping their hands.
"L'amour!" The little brunette sang exuberantly. "Ils s'aiment!" The blond boy snickered.
Amy glanced at the children, blushing in a most comely manner, and said to him: "Thank you."
Before he could respond, she sneezed. Then sneezed again. He frowned. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," she said. "Just a small tickle."
"I think we should go back to the hotel." He helped her up and wrapped the scarf more snugly around her neck. Carrying the boxes under his arm, he led her away, both of them waving goodbye to their young friends.
"Au revoir!" They pealed in farewell.
Sheldon had suggested staying in the hotel and having room service for dinner, but Amy hadn't wanted to pass up the opportunity to try another highly-recommended local establishment, so they returned to the hotel only after having dinner at an historic chateau.
Now they were both in their pajamas, sitting before the fireplace of their room, and Sheldon was pouring room service hot chocolate in two generously sized mugs. He gave one to Amy, noting with some amusement that her hands barely encircled the container, and took the other one for himself.
He wanted to suggest a round of Counterfactuals, but was unsure how she would respond. She had grown steadily quiet since the afternoon, and he was starting to think that he might have done something wrong. Were the chocolates not enough? Perhaps he should've put some more thought into his gift. Maybe he should've brought her jewelry again…
The sound of her sighing brought him out of his reverie. He gazed down at the woman beside him, so close he could feel her every breath.
The fire reflected in her green eyes, flickering with jade, emerald, and other shades he couldn't name. Her eyelids fell shut and her head dropped against his shoulder.
"Amy… if you're sleepy, you should go to bed."
"Hmm…" she started mumbling incoherently.
"That's it, bedtime." He held her cheek to straighten her up and was alarmed by the heat radiating from her skin. "Amy?"
He examined her flushed cheeks then pressed his forehead to hers, confirming her unusually hot body temperature. He gently shook her. "Amy, why didn't you tell me you were feeling unwell?"
"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "I don't do too well in the cold."
"Don't apologize," he said. "You're sick. I should've noticed." He held her around the shoulders and hooked another arm under her legs. She protested weakly but fell limp in his arms as he lifted her to bed.
Once he had tucked her in snugly, he took some medicine from his travel emergency kit and tilted her head up to help her drink it. He also fetched a cooling patch and placed it over her forehead.
He started rubbing her belly over the comforter, singing: "Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur—"
She opened her eyes and said sternly: "Sheldon please, I'm trying to sleep. Your singing and belly-rubbing is disturbing me."
His jaw dropped. "How can you complain to 'Soft Kitty' when you're sick?"
He held back the rest of his retort when she closed her eyes, assuming the sweet, peaceful look of slumber.
He couldn't sleep.
In the next bed, she was asleep but shivering. No matter how tightly he tucked her in, or how he stoked the fire, she wouldn't stop shivering. She was driving him mad.
He was so worried.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered. He knew what he had to do. He had done it at the North Pole for the sake of survival, surely he could do it for his girlfriend. He grabbed his comforter, tossed it over hers, took a deep breath, and dived under both of them. He was trembling as much as she was.
He rubbed his hands over her goosebumped arms, wondering if he was doing any good.
It wasn't enough, he knew. Before he could change his mind, he stripped off his top and threw it aside. He grasped the waistband of his bottoms and hesitated. No. His hands moved to her top's collar. His shaky hands opened the topmost button, exposing her collarbones. He brushed his fingers over them, breathing erratically, and started working on the next button.
This was wrong.
It would've been acceptable if his sole intention was to share his body heat, strictly for her benefit. But he wanted this intimacy, to uncover the hidden mysteries of Amy Farrah Fowler… his mind flashed back to the Orion's belt formation of tiny moles upon her right inner thigh and his mouth went dry. Yes, that, he wanted more of that.
To go any further would be taking advantage of her.
He fastened the buttons and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her head against his chest. He gingerly threw one leg over both of hers, carefully avoiding her hips, trying to warm her as much as possible without too-dangerous contact.
She instinctively pressed her cold hands on his warmer belly, setting his insides afire, and he moaned. One of her legs slipped between his and twined behind his knee, pulling his hips flush against hers.
"Good loooord," he growled.
It was going to be a long night.
Amy Farrah Fowler awoke to his heartbeat against her ear. She drew away from his chest and whispered: "Sheldon?"
"Oh dear!" Sheldon Lee Cooper cried, hastily untangling his limbs from hers and falling off her bed.
"Sheldon!" She peered over the edge, her breath catching at the sight of his naked upper body.
His hair was tousled and his face rather drawn; he stared at her like a deer caught in headlights. "Amy, last night… that was, body heat you see—I wasn't taking advantage, or I did my best—"
"Sheldon." She put a finger against his lips, silencing him. "Now, tell me what you wanted to say."
"Last night," he croaked, "you were shivering from the cold, I thought to share body heat with you, so that's why…"
"I understand."
"Good." He picked himself off the floor, slipping on his pajama top. "Are you feeling better?"
"Much better."
He pressed a hand against her forehead. "Normal. But let's stay in and keep you under observation."
Sitting up, she said: "Thank you for taking care of me."
"You're welcome," he said, taking her hand.
"Neither one of us is falling off a ledge, or being awarded the Nobel prize, or having a flu shot."
"This could very well be a figurative ledge I'm falling from."
"What do you mean…?"
"I love you," he replied simply.
She gaped. "Wha…?"
He sat on the edge of her bed. "I have suspected it for some time, after all, why was I always so concerned for you, fully willing to do things for your wellbeing with no thought for my personal gain, constantly thinking about you, wanting to make you happy, intent on sharing my life with you—" he turned to her, and she shivered at the intensity of his deep blue gaze. "There is only one logical explanation. I love you."
Tears welled in her eyes and she flung her arms around his neck, nuzzling against his chest. "I love you too."
"Now Amy," he warned, "I hope you didn't say that only because you were pressured to reciprocate."
"No, I've known it for a while. But I was scared to tell you…"
"Scared?" He frowned. "But why?"
"Because I might push you away. I mean, before, when Leonard told Penny that he loved her, she broke up with him."
"Leonard and Penny?" He huffed in indignation. "You're comparing our relationship to that of Leonard and Penny? I'm far too smart to run away from my girlfriend's declaration of love."
She smiled at him impishly. "I know, I know… that was a terrible lapse of judgement, and I'm sorry."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't think you can use your captivating smile every time, now that you're aware of my feelings."
"Okay, Snugglebunny." She tilted her face up to kiss him but he stopped her with a finger to her lips.
"You might still be contagious… here." He held out two fingers.
Laughing despite herself, she touched two fingers to his, reciprocating the "Vulcan kiss."
Author's Notes: It's too fluffeeeeh, I'm gonna die. I was attacked by a fluffy plot bunny that was more fluff than plot, so here's the sequel that I said I wouldn't write. I don't know French, or anything much about Geneva. Shamy plus kids because... well, cuteness. And ILY-bombs because I couldn't get over how the L-word was dropped twice in the latest Shamy scenes. And bed scene teasing because it's about time Sheldon gets a tense, sleepless night due to Amy, instead of the other way around.