The Locomotive Manipulation Deduction

Disclaimer: I don't own The Big Bang Theory or any of its fabulous characters. Duh.

Warning: If you haven't seen the latest episode of The Big Bang Theory entitled "The Locomotive Manipulation," you should not read this. You have been warned. I am writing this because I can't get it out of my head and it is affecting my ability to write on my other stories. Sheesh. Hopefully, this will work.

"Why are you still here?"

Sheldon had always known Amy had a blunt, directness to her speech. No beating around the bush with this one. Leonard, Penny, and the others amongst their circle of friends had often complained this characteristic was offensive and unseemly. But, for Sheldon, it was this specific trait—along with Amy's unabashed love of monkeys—that he'd always found particularly appealing in having her as his companion. After all, one always knew where they stood with her. This, in his mind, was a good thing.

However, hearing his girlfriend speak so brusquely to his new friend, Eric, one of the only people Sheldon had ever come across who might actually love trains more than he did—was that even possible?—he was starting to understand how being so direct could be considered offensive. Because it was. Why was she trying to ruin what was turning out to be the best Valentine's Day he'd ever had?

"Excuse me?" Sheldon said. "I think you're being a little rude."

Amy looked taken aback by this. "I'm being rude? You've been rude to me this entire evening."

What? "How is that possible? I've hardly spoken to you since we got on the train."

"I'm detecting a little friction between you two." This came from Eric, reminding Sheldon his new friend was bearing witness to this little public altercation. "I don't want to be a third rail."

Sheldon heard that and bit back a laugh. Now wasn't the time. He was in the middle of making a point, after all.

Eric turned to stare at him. "Get it?"

Sheldon gave in to his humor. How could he not? The man's use of train puns was hilarious. "I get it," he said, with a quieted chuckle.

This, however, only served to make Amy behave more direct than ever. She glared at Eric and snapped, "Leave!"

Eric jolted at her tone and scampered. This cannot be allowed to continue. Sheldon knew it was time, as his father would say, to put his foot down. While he'd never been one to particularly agree with his father's sayings, he could certainly understand the need for this one. "What is your problem?"

"It's Valentine's Day. We're supposed to be having a romantic weekend."

"Oh really? Because I remember you saying that this trip was going to be something that we could both enjoy. Did you mean that or were you just trying to trick me?"

He didn't need her to answer. It was as if someone had pulled the shades off a window. Suddenly, he could see exactly what was going on here as well as Amy's part in it. He couldn't say he was terribly surprised to know that his girlfriend had lied and manipulated to get them here, but he was disappointed that she'd felt she needed to do so. Why did it always have to be her way? Why did she always have to push at him? Why couldn't things just stay the way they were?

"Fine. It's true," she said. "I … deserve romance and I didn't know how else to make it happen."

It felt like she slapped him. Certainly she wasn't going to try to make this his fault? Sure, ordinary couples like Leonard and Penny and Howard and Bernadette needed things like romance and such to keep their relationships running. But, he'd always liked that he and Amy were different. They had cerebral pursuits and a genuine fondness for each other's company to keep them stimulated. Didn't she understand that? Why would she need more? Why wasn't this enough? Why wasn't he enough?

But he wasn't enough. That much was clear. An anger like he'd never experienced before rolled though him, pushing him forward. "Well, if you want romance, then let's have romance!" He looked around for inspiration. Spotting their table with its half-drank glasses of wine, he said, "Oh, look! There's wine. Mmmm."

He snatched up her glass and swallowed a sip, grimacing and jerking as it seared his throat. Why did people like this stuff? "Grape juice that burns!" he pronounced, hoping she was happy now. Not only had he ingested alcohol because of her, but he'd broken his cardinal rule of never drinking after someone else.

But he was on a roll and nothing was going to stop him now. What's next? What else equals romance to every other ordinary person out there? "Now let's gaze into each other's eyes." He jerked forward, staring directly into her face. She blinked and frowned. "You blinked. I win," he said. "Let's see what's next."

"Sheldon—" she began.

He ignored that. What is next? He wanted something to really drive home his point, something that would make her truly sorry she ever tried to do this to him. Something that would make her understand that being ordinary was not something to strive for. They were more. They would always be more.

Then, it came to him. The one way to make this all go away. Once he did this, she'd never want romance again. He'd guarantee it. She'd see how ridiculous she was being. "Oh, kissing's romantic." Before she could reply or he could honestly think about what he was doing, he swooped down and placed his mouth on top of hers.

At first, it was an odd sensation. Her lips against his. They were warm and soft yet firm. Then, everything changed. He didn't understand what. He only knew something had. More, he wanted more of this … whatever this was. She'd kissed him before, of course. But those had been quick, unexpected pecks of her mouth against his. This was … This was … more.

Sheldon edged in closer to her, extending the kiss so he could move his lips slightly against hers. That was nice. So nice. It was like he was a passenger in his own body. Something else was controlling him and, for once, he didn't mind at all. He just kept kissing her. His hand slid onto her waist so he could hold her in place.

Then, it was over. He was pulling back and looking down at her. He felt like someone had knocked him down, like all the air had been shoved out of his lungs. But, in a good way. Amy, as far as he could tell, seemed to be in the same mindset.

Sheldon leaned back, trying to give her space even as he fought the urge to kiss her again. What was she thinking? Was this all right? Too much? He'd invaded her personal space, had kissed her, touched her without her permission. The anger that had guided him into ignoring these considerations before was gone now, leaving him with nothing but the gobsmacked feeling and slight uncertainty.

One of her hands was held out into the air, palm flattened and up. Was she going to hit him or did that mean something else? He stared down at her, waiting for her to speak. Right now, he needed her blunt directness more than anything else.

"That was nice," she said.

Relief washed over him. "Good," he murmured. She liked it. She'd liked it as much as he did. That was good. That was so good. He licked his lips, tasting the brownie she'd had from dessert. "Umm …" Sheldon scanned his brain for something to say, anything to keep this good feeling going. "The conductor said if I come back to the engine room, he'd show me how to bring the train through a crossing."

Amy stared up at him. His heart swelled in his chest. He wasn't sure why. He just knew he liked the feeling. He was heady with it. Was this why ordinary people gazed into each other's eyes?

She nodded quickly. "OK," she said. "Have fun."

Something inside of him protested parting from her right now. Amy was his companion. She should be with him. "Do you wanna come with me?"

"Really?" she asked.

How could she ever think otherwise? She belongs with me. He nodded.

"I do," she said.

He nodded again and moved around her to lead the way. She followed behind. After a few steps, he looked back at her. She caught his gaze and smiled. He smiled back. His heart swelled again. Was this romance? He didn't know. He only knew he liked it. He liked it a lot. As they made it through the next car and towards the engine room, he reached down and slipped his hand over hers. She accepted this as directly and without ceremony as she did everything else.

Blunt directness. He smiled to himself. Yes, he thought, that is certainly Amy's best trait.