"Penny, sing me soft kitty."
Penny sighed, rolling her eyes, as she sat on the end of Sheldon's bed for yet another rendition of the song.
"Okay, but after this I have to get home, sweetie." She smiled at him through her teeth.
Sheldon was unresponsive, as ever. Penny checked her watch. She had some time before her shift. Fidgeting on the bed, she began to sing the first line. "Soft kitty, warm kitty…"
As penny sung, Sheldon felt like he was sinking further and further into his bed. His mother had always sung this song to him, but it felt different when Penny sang it. In fact, he felt very different with Penny at the end of his bed, suddenly uncomfortably aware of her body heat against his cold feet. He stiffened.
Penny felt Sheldon's body tense, but kept singing. When she reached the last line, she smiled. "Purr, purr, purr." Patting the bed next to Sheldon's arm, she spoke: "I hope you feel better soon." Beginning to rise to leave, she felt an unexpected hand on hers.
"Penny…"
Her eyes widened as she turned, a strange blush creeping up her neck. Swivelling slowly on her heels, her eyes focussed on the long-fingered hand which covered her own, travelling up the arm, following the outline of the shoulder, then the neck, then the face of its owner. Her eyes settled on his.
"Sheldon?" Her voice cracked, rising on the last syllable. She was visibly flustered, although she could not quantify it herself.
He was cooler, although not his usual, detached self.
"Please stay."
Penny dithered, indecisive, strangely drawn by the human glint in his impassive, clear eyes, yet also very aware of herself and her general opinion of him.
"I'll miss my shift…"
Something clicked within Sheldon's eyes; the human glint retreated, as if to some dark recess of his psyche, deep within that unfathomable head of his, which was a law unto itself.
"Of course." His frosty words bit at Penny, who felt a cold chill on her neck, feeling oddly ashamed, although she had nothing to be ashamed of. She muttered some inadequate response, blushing profusely and scrambling for the door.
Sheldon lay, staring through the darkness at the white door of his room. It felt emptier, quieter, than he was used to.
No matter. What is life without whimsy?