Author's notes: First of all, thanks to my beta ZephyrCamida from the bottom of my heart as well as everyone who read, commented and favourited my previous fics − it's been a while.
I can only say: obligatory post-SIK fic follows. Enjoy.
The Intimacy Dilemma
The swaying movements of the train car and the scenery passing him by in a slow blurred motion lulled Sheldon into a false sense of security. He was like a fetus in a steel-caged womb; most of all, he felt at peace. Connected as one in that closed habitat.
Looking at the same scenery from the locomotive, instead, turned his point of view on itself. It advanced towards him like giant pieces of domino falling down one by one. It was exciting.
What his mind had yet to process was how brushing Amy's skin with the tip of his nose felt like. How his breath condensed on her glasses. How body parts touching could be this mind-boggling. And yet, his brain had all the answers; the information stored in it had explanations. Formulas. Charts. Rules. Answers. He knew − not theoretically − how his body reacted when he thought of her, what responding to it caused. A release of oxytocin, prolactin and endorphines followed by a sticky and tired hand.
He really didn't want to be this involved.
Sheldon's brain had stored what he experienced during those 11 seconds. White noise. A swirling motion. The vast universe. A rush of blood so intense his face was burning hot for exactly 14 minutes after the fact. It was certainly different, but orgasms on their own didn't have this particular connotation to them. No refractory period. No need to clean yourself after. No irritating feeling of being alone − this one creeped up on him when he started thinking about Amy while masturbating. Didn't happen before.
He was confused. Happily confused − and that scared him.
In that moment − or when all things Amy came up − his mind was his biggest enemy. And she was his biggest problem.
No-one asked for his opinion nor consent, but they ended up at the hotel bar with Wolowitz and Bernadette anyway after they had parted ways with Eric and the conductor promised to show him how he plays the banjo with his nine fingers later that night.
Sitting next to him, Amy was lost in her own thoughts as much as he was. As soon as the two couples rejoined, the blonde had tried to take her aside for a moment and her husband was equally as irritating and pushy, but his girlfriend cut the commotion short. She then asked how the glass roof was.
Bernadette took a seat facing them, Howard joining her on her side. "It was beautiful." She then eyed Sheldon. "You should have joined us" she said.
He ignored her. "We went to the engine room. It was magical" he simply stated.
"Oh I'm sure" remarked Howard, but was stunned when Amy added: "It was" nodding a couple of times to herself, looking down.
They were sitting at a small round table which reminded him of his apartment. The bar was illuminated as if it was day. It was mostly empty, with only a few other people exchanging romantic gestures of questionable taste − public displays of affection didn't bother him that much anymore after everything he had to witness between Leonard and Penny, but French kissing or − even worse − helping each other drink with arms placed in convoluted ways around each other was overly excessive. Every romantic stereotype was in that room. But the ultimate horror was jazz music playing in the background − the least he could do was trying to turn it off.
His girlfriend and him had ordered chamomile tea, while the married couple asked for a bottle of champagne with strawberries. As an afterthought, Sheldon ordered a brownie and shared it with Amy. She took it from his hand.
As their teas were getting colder and the champagne was losing its bubbles, he checked his pocket watch. It was getting late. Idle conversation was tumbling down into nothingness.
After one particularly long silence, Howard got up: "Well, kids, we'll be taking this..." he grabbed the half-empty bottle.
"...and these..." Bernadette took the plate of fruit.
"...and we'll be heading to our private celebration" he declared with a smirk on his face.
"Howard!" She lightly hit him on the arm.
They went away stumbling over their steps, giggling and shushing each other. And giggling some more.
Sheldon watched them go knowing full well what that meant. He put his cup of tea a bit too forcefully on the table, causing a loud thud. His other hand, resting on his knee, was joined by Amy's own, laying on top of his. Her cold fingertips touched his knee through the fabric.
"I should have brought my tiara" she said, out of the blue.
Her touch was soft and her hand was slightly trembling. His little lady could go from one extreme to the other − he had learned to enjoy her secure boa constrictor hugs just as the delicate way her hand wrapped around him.
"I mean, you have your pocket watch. They match" she added.
He remembered the previous year's Valentine's Day. He could hear her cries on his shoulder as if it was yesterday. How his hands laid awkwardly between them while she hugged him so strong her arms were shaking. Everything, every detail permanently burned in his memory.
"Sheldon?" she called.
She shivered from the cold and it hit him too like an electric current.
"Would you like another brownie?" he asked.
"You're not listening to me."
"Wear it on Date Night, next time."
She gave him a small smile. "These brownies are really nice."
"I agree."
They ordered another one and agreed it was a drying. The day was coming to a close.
Holding the keys to their rooms in their hands, they stepped out of the elevator; the sounds made by their footsteps muffled by the carpet. The floor expanded in two directions into two equally narrow corridors.
"Wasn't he delightful?" Sheldon said, a light in his eyes.
"I never thought I'd say that of a banjo player, but yes."
"A banjo player and a train conductor. What a life" he said, sighing dramatically.
They were speaking quietly. It was past midnight and they didn't want to disturb anyone. For all they knew, the rooms could be either empty or occupied. He did, however, check how many keys were missing when the concierge gave them theirs: on their floor, ten. Including the one where Wolowitz and Bernadette were sleeping.
His train of thought was interrupted by a moan coming from behind a door.
Both Amy and Sheldon did a double take. He thought that he disliked Valentine's Day for one reason above the others: that whole holiday was devoted to reminding him things he didn't want nor need to be. He thought about those enough each passing day.
"Howard would have liked it, too" she stuttered her way through her sentence.
Sheldon was about to ask why, but then he remember: "Oh, right, you asked him to play Neil Diamond" he said his name with a hint of condescension.
"Girl, You'll Be A Woman soon is one of my favourites. It's so..." she stopped, looking for the right word.
"Romantic?" Sheldon asked mockingly.
"...sexy." she cleared her throat.
"Oh."
"I practiced it on my harp, too."
After a moment of silence, he said: "Why would you say it's sexy?"
She tilted her head to the left. "What do you mean?"
"I don't find a man pining over a woman's virginity sexy."
She raised her eyebrows. "That's one interpretation of the song I never heard."
"It's the right one" he stressed. "How crass. I for one never thought that way of−" the words died in his mouth.
An excessively manly groan came from that same room as before.
Amy responded quickly: "I agree, though. It's... it's not sex that makes you a grown up. Nor it makes a relationship."
He let that phrase sink in.
"Is it taking care of someone else's needs other than your own? A relationship, I mean."
"Well, yes..." she said, hesitant.
"But I consider individuality important as well."
"Perhaps it's a balance between the two."
She looked at him straight in the eyes.
"That's the problem, there's no formula." No certainty, he wanted to add.
They walked closer to their rooms, which were inconveniently placed close to the one where the noisy, loud and obnoxious sex noises came from.
"We have communicating rooms?" he asked.
"Do you mind?"
"No... not at all."
They stopped at Amy's door. Everything that happened that day was slowly catching up to them like a dark cloud full of rain. Sheldon was finally able to think of the word kiss without having to forcefully erase it from his mental white board, four hours and sixteen minutes after it happened. That was one calculating error he didn't predict. Of course, he remembered when Amy kissed him almost three years earlier. He still thought of that kiss as fascinating. As fascinating as finding out something new on an encyclopedia as a child. The second kiss just took him by surprise and was over before he had time to react to it - he was happy to still be in a relationship with Amy. That was all. He couldn't exactly reconnect with this kiss yet. From a primordial standpoint, he could simply accept the fact that this was another bonding experience with his mate. But his brain actually had a simpler answer to that: it was bland, the whole world knew what that was.
Amy had inserted the key in the lock. He was waiting for her to go in before leaving as any gentleman would do. After toying with the key without opening the door, she turned to him.
"Can... can you close your eyes?" she said, looking at him from the corner of the eye.
"Why?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
He raised his hands. «All right, I'll close them» He did. «Done.»
He trusted her.
Keeping his eyes closed with Amy in the same place as he was made him think of her lips and their brownie acquired taste - and that's exactly what he felt again after what seemed like a very long wait of 43 seconds. On his cheek. As she moved slowly away from him, he recognized the chocolate in her breath.
He opened his eyes. The thought occurred to him before he could stop it, but he wanted more.
"Goodnight, Sheldon."
"Goodnight, Amy."
Even after she had closed the door behind her, Sheldon stood there looking at the knob for a while before retiring into his room.