A/N: Woo I'm on a roll! I can't really explain this one for now unless I want to spoil the read for you, so let's just say I hope you enjoy this little one shot :)

"Thank you for such a magical evening, Amy."

A hint of something that Sheldon could not identify flickered in her eyes, but before he had time to say anything or to even think about it, it was gone.

"I do enjoy a silent and calm night with my boyfriend", she said, and Sheldon completely missed the irony in her tone.

"I know, right?" he chirped, a wide smile spreading on his face.

Amy's lips formed a brief smile that definitely didn't reach her ears before saying:

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow with the rest of the gang?"

"As usual. Thanks for driving me home."

"As usual."

And with that, Sheldon exited his girlfriend's car, not looking back at her when she turned the engine on again to drive back to Glendale. Hands in his pocket, Sheldon lazily walked towards the building entrance. He had no desire to come back to his apartment for his roommate and his annoying antics would surely be there to ruin the lovely evening he had just spent with Amy Farrah Fowler.

He pushed the entrance door, catching a glimpse of his smiling reflection in the clean glass. He really had had a nice evening, and not only because the religious silence in which they'd spent it allowed him to make some significant progress in his research.

He loved spending time with Amy. Talking with her was actually one of his favourite things in the world, somewhere up there with trains, his Mee-Maw, Stephen Hawking's work and his Mother's pecan pies. Unlike all the other people he knew, Amy was truly gifted. Her intelligence nearly matched his own and her outlook on the world around them was the same as his. In more ways than he could count, and to quote his mother, they truly were a match made in Heaven.

And that night, he had realised something he had been suspecting for a few months now was actually true.

Walking up the stairs to the fourth floor and his shared apartment, Sheldon's memory went back to nearly three decades earlier. As a child, he was always talking. Always, always. It had brought him more trouble than he could count, for most people, other children and adults alike, had hated his big mouth.

"Shut the fuck up", had said his father more than once. "No one cares about your fucking atoms."

His mother had always been prompt to scold his father on his language, but she also never forgot to remind Sheldon that knowing stuff about atoms actually had virtually zero application when trying to bake an apple pie or a chocolate brownie.

Sheldon had never understood. Knowing "stuff" about atoms was actually pretty darn handy when baking pies, for cooking was nothing more than chemistry and atoms reacting to other atoms and changes of temperature to form into something else. Besides, even if someone actually didn't cook and had no desire to do so, knowing about atoms was still rather important for atoms are everything in this world.

Of course, his religious mother had been quick to answer "Let's agree to disagree, Shelly" and Sheldon had eventually learnt to watch his mouth in both of his parents' presence.

However, he had not been able to remain silent with most people, from the neighbours' kids to the lady who sold candies by the school, from his Uncle Henry's Mexican gardener to the hobo who lived on his favourite park bench. He had tried. He honestly had. For a few months in when he was eight, he had not uttered more words than were necessary to live his daily life without too much trouble. Missy and George had said they were relieved, and so had most people he knew. But Sheldon had been feeling really unwell, until a visit from his Mee-Maw had opened his eyes on something.

He had told her about his dilemma, about his resolution to remain silent and not say anything that normal, common people would not understand and about the difficulty he had.

"It makes me so ill-at-ease, Mee-Maw", he had complained, and Mee-Maw had smiled.

"I propose an experiment, Moon Pie", she had said, and Sheldon had been eager to participate, for he positively loved experiments.

"We're going to stay in the same room for a few hours, you and I, and we won't be talking at all. We'll just be doing our stuff, and see how that makes you feel."

Sheldon had answered that he already knew it, that he was going to feel unwell, and had not wanted to follow through, but then his Mee-Maw had promised him a new action figure if he went through with the experiment, so Sheldon had eventually agreed.

The afternoon had been nothing short of incredible.

Sheldon had realised that he didn't mind being in complete silence with Mee-Maw, and he had been positively surprised. He had shared his bewilderment to his grandmother, and she had smiled before explaining.

"When you feel truly well with someone, you know it because silences between you and them are never awkward. They're always full of something that doesn't need words to be conveyed, because this person makes you feel safe and you don't need to cover up your insecurities with jibber-jabber."

Sheldon had known right away that it was true, for his Mee-Maw had always been his favourite person in the world.

It had taken him a few more years to achieve the same thing with his Mom, but by the time he had finished university, he could stay with her for hours in complete silence.

The sight of his door brought Sheldon back to the present. Putting memories of Mee-Maw aside, he entered his apartment. The living room was plunged in darkness – Leonard had gone to bed already. Sheldon considered a moment waking him up to tell him what he had realised about Amy, but he eventually decided to keep it to himself. It was probably a bit too personal, and besides, he wasn't sure Leonard would truly understand what it would mean when Sheldon would say "I've spent six and a half hours of the most comfortable silence ever with Amy Farrah Fowler tonight."

A/N: So yeah, basically, my own way to know when someone went from "acquaintance" to "friend" is when we're comfortable enough that our silence are never awkward and we can spend a few hours in the same room without talking (let's just say I don't have a lot of friends SIGH). So the first time I saw The Weekend Vortex, the particular line I used as the summary for this piece standed out and has stuck with me as yet another reason why Shamy is so perfect I can't even.

I hope you liked this, feedback is always welcome!