Amy has learned about Sheldon's secret storage unit. But what, she has always wondered, does he keep in the small drawers of the library card catalogue in his apartment? A little one-shot about the sustenance of ephemera. Pure, unfiltered Shamy fluff.
The Card Catalogue Accumulation
While many claimed that the smell of old books was the best, Amy preferred the smell of brand new books. That slightly sweet, inky, heady aroma of promises yet fulfilled, hopes still alive, dreams still burning bright. The first page of a brand new book was an uncharted map to one's soul.
Turning the page, she took another deep breath of the scent at the same time that she almost - but not quite - unconsciously leaned a little closer to Sheldon, the warmth of his bicep seeping through his tee shirts. Another heady sensation. Not quite sure when it had started, when she had first dared to cast her shadow upon his spot and lean one millimeter toward her left, she now often found herself tilted completely into him. It was never spoken of between them, and yet her body was never nudged away.
"Amy, are you unwell?" he asked suddenly.
"Huh? Oh." Amy lowered her new book and looked over at him, which, sadly, resulted in the break of some of their physical contact. "No, I feel perfectly fine. Why?"
"You've taken so many deep breaths it seemed that perhaps you were having difficulty with your respiratory system." He was so handsome when he was concerned.
"No." Amy shook her head and looked down at the blue cover as she angled her tome. The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend. "I was trying to smell this book. It's brand new - I stopped and bought it on the way here - and I love the smell of new books."
"So you're not languishing under the power of its prose?"
She chuckled. "No. But I am enjoying it, if that's what you mean."
"What's it about?" Sheldon asked, turning slightly, putting down his own comic book. "Orcs? Time travel? Vampires? Would I like it?"
Still smiling, Amy said. "No. It's about two woman who are pen pals that write back and forth about books and then they decide to meet. What happens after that."
"Pen pals?" Sheldon's eyebrows went up. "How silly. Who has pen pals in this day and age?"
"Well, I think it sounds lovely. When you write a composed note, it takes more effort. You used to email me quite frequently when we first met . . ."
"That was different. We had already met. And -" He was interrupted by the chime of his phone in his pocket. "7:50!"
At some point, it had become their ritual to have dinner on Mondays and then read together until Supergirl started. It was one television show they agreed upon, although Amy secretly preferred the scenes in which Kara Danvers was just a smart girl in a cardigan and glasses building her career over the superhero fight scenes that Sheldon preferred. But it was an excuse to spend time together and, especially, to lean into him. And it had become the norm for Leonard and Penny to spend the evening and the night across the hallway, resulting in quiet privacy.
Her new book was forgotten as he pulled away from her to reach for the remote control on the coffee table. Frowning at the loss of his heat, Amy leaned forward herself to pick up the receipt she had put on the coffee table when she first cracked the spine.
"Where's your bookmark?" Sheldon asked.
Amy shrugged. "I forgot one. It's fine, I'll just use this receipt until I get home."
He nodded slightly and lifted his arm to press the power button. Nothing happened. He pressed again, Amy noticing the flex of his thumb tendon with the increased pressure. Still the television screen stayed dark.
"What's wrong?" Sheldon said.
"Let me try," Amy offered, reaching for the remote.
"But it's 7:51 now and I still have to go to the bathroom before it starts!" His voice was starting to acquire its slightly hysterical tone as it did when something did not go according to plan.
"It's fine. I'm sure it's just the batteries -"
"Batteries!" Sheldon was up suddenly, his long legs making quick work of the short walk toward the old library card catalog that sat in the corner of their landing.
Amy had always been intrigued by that particular piece of furniture. Being a reader, the appeal was obvious to her. But she never understand its function in the apartment or how it came to be there. Others may like the smell of old books, but a musty library didn't seem like somewhere Sheldon would enjoy. He once cringed at the sight of mystery stain in the margin of a textbook, and he could never open it again. So the idea of his long fingers flicking through the cards of a much-used card catalog, looking for the perfect novel, while strongly erotic, did not seem very likely to occur.
Curious, she got up and followed him as he opened a little drawer. Peering around his arm, she noticed the drawer was full of . . . AA batteries. How . . . disappointing.
"I've always wondered what you keep in these tiny drawers," she said.
"They hold more than you think. Second row, third from the left can hold two LED lightbulbs if you place them correctly," Sheldon explained, opening the cover of the remote.
"So you use them to store all the small but necessary ephemera of daily life?"
"The average LED lightbulb lasts for 50,000 hours, so they cannot be ephemera, which is, by definition, only enjoyed for a short time." Sheldon flipped the remote over and shook it. "Why won't this come out? Now it's bound to be 7:53 and I should have gone to the bathroom two minutes ago!"
"Here, give it to me. I'll change the batteries, you go to the bathroom." Amy put her hand out. Sheldon hesitated and she huffed, "I know how to change a battery, Sheldon. And I have smaller hands."
"Very well." He handed it over and then rushed away toward the bathroom, leaving Amy smiling at his back.
One battery was stuck, but she was able to use her fingernail to pry it loose and the others easily followed. After she replaced the batteries and the cover, she sat the used batteries on the top of the cabinet. Would Sheldon save these, too, she wondered with a frown? Perhaps she could use this as the first step to help him with his secret hoarding habit, by applying the logic of science, the warnings about heavy metals and toxic chemicals and the need to recycle.
Looking down, she ran her fingers along the front of the cabinet, the deep bronze tarnished pulls and empty label slots. Was it really all batteries and lightbulbs? She started at the top, pulling the drawers out. One for AAA batteries, one for AA, one for C batteries, one for D, even one for 9-volt batteries, all mostly full. When did he decide to refill? Was there a repurchase line she couldn't see? Well, he was certainly well-stocked. And, indeed, the drawer in the second row, third from the left, did contain two LED lightbulbs, their narrower ends meeting in the middle of the drawer. She pulled out a few more and smiled at the stash of those miniature sample size dental flosses one always received from the dentist.
Then, on the third row, there were only empty drawers. So even Sheldon couldn't find enough small ephemera to fill them all. Even though she agreed with Sheldon's point on a strictly linguistic level, all these bits and bobs were ephemera in their own way. A mere fleeting thought across one's mind, only when they were needed, and then they were forgotten and taken for granted. Even though the rest appeared to be empty, Amy bent down to pull out one drawer on the bottom row, just to confirm -
- What was this?
She bent down further, frowning and almost squinting. Was this a drawer of . . . trash? Even now that she knew her boyfriend's darkest secret, this didn't seem like him. His secret hoard in the storage space was carefully sorted and arranged, even if it was all useless.
"Amy!"
She jumped. "Sheldon!"
They looked at each other a moment and then, on delay, her heart started pounding. Had she crossed a line? Technically, she had been snooping. Her mouth drying, she stammered, "I'm sorry, Sheldon. I was just curious about the light bulbs and . . . things. I shouldn't have looked in your other drawers."
Sheldon swallowed. "I guess it's not anything you didn't already know. You're welcome in my drawers anytime now."
Biting her lip, because now was not, she thought, the time to point out the humor in that line, Amy said, "Is this . . . trash?"
"Trash!" He actually looked more upset than when he'd caught her, bent over his secret stash of little papers. "Amy, that's all yours!"
"Mine?"
"Yes, look -" a quick step close to her as he pulled the whole drawer out and sat it top, next to the spent batteries and forgotten remote "- here's the receipt from the coffee shop where we meet -" he pulled out a slip of white paper from the very front before replacing it "- and here's a drink coaster from the restaurant where we had our first date with Penny, remember?" A square of cardboard with a picture of a fruity cocktail on it appeared. "And this is -"
"Sheldon, you saved all of this?" Amy whispered. "And you know where every piece is?" Now that the drawer was at her eye level, she could see it wasn't haphazardly thrown together at all; each piece of paper was filed carefully. It was just that they were all different sizes and colors and types of paper that made it looked so disorganized.
"They're in chronological order. This one, for example -" and then his long fingers flicked through the papers in the much-used card catalog, looking for the perfect sheet, and it was just as erotic as Amy imagined. She gripped the edge of the cabinet for support. "- is the label tag from the tea bag you used the first time we had tea together here. And this one -" more shuffling "- is the movie ticket I was required to purchase just to ask you to be my girlfriend. Really, some businesses now have no sense of romance and they won't even let you ask the most wonderful girl in the world to be yours for free."
"Romance?" Amy squeaked out.
He looked over, surprise clearly on his face. "I think so. Don't you?" Then, just as quickly, he looked away. "Oh, you'll like this one, it's the last one that fit in this drawer. Don't worry there's a second one, too." He pulled out a larger sheet of paper and unfolded it for her, handing it over with a small smile.
Amy took it, breathless, and looked down at the pamphlet for the Napa Valley Wine Train. "Oh . . . " She raised her palm up to her chest and felt her eyes start to sting. "Is it . . . everything?"
His dark head of hair dipped as he trailed the tip of his index finger over the carefully filed bits. "As much as I could tuck into my pocket without you noticing. Museum tickets, movie stubs, lots of receipts . . ."
She felt her heart thump-thumping beneath her palm. "Why here?"
"What do you mean?" Sheldon asked, bending to replace the drawer.
"Why not . . . why not in your storage space?"
"Oh." Sheldon stood and shrugged as he licked his lips. "I guess I like these things closer. There have been . . . times . . . that I needed to look at them again."
There were no more words, even in all the books in all the card catalogues in the world, for the feeling in her marrow, and all she could do was shoot her heart out of her chest like a cannon, and let that drive her into Sheldon, where she landed with a "Mmmphhhhfff" from both of them.
"Amy?" Sheldon asked from above her head, her eyes squeezed tight as her cheek settled into his tee shirt. "Are you okay?"
"You saved it all, Sheldon," she whispered. "Even though you didn't need to, because I know you remember it all."
"See, I told you it wasn't ephemera," he said softly.
The sob she'd been holding in broke through like a hiccup, and he wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry I made you sad somehow."
She shook her head against him. "Not sad. I've never been so happy."
A few tears of joy fell as he rubbed her back, and then she finally lifted herself away, wiping her face. "I'm sorry. We've missed the beginning of Supergirl."
"No, I always DVR it anyway. We can start is now."
Amy gave a breathy laugh at the the memory of how hysterical he was to miss the start of Supergirl and yet he'd being recording it all along. "Okay," she nodded and started to step away.
"Wait," Sheldon said softly. "Will you stay?"
"For Supergirl? Of course. It's what we do." Amy wrinkled her brow.
"No. Tonight."
"Amy?"
"Mmmnnnnn."
"Amy, wake up."
"What?" Amy's eyes snapped open. Oh, yes, Sheldon's bedroom.
"You should get up and shower," Sheldon said behind her back.
"What time is it?" she moaned.
"Early. You'll need to go home and change clothes before work."
She groaned again. Why did he have to be so aggressively logical first thing in the morning?
"I'll let you have the shower first, and I'll make you breakfast, if you like. It's oatmeal day."
Rubbing her eyes, Amy rolled over on her back and looked up at her boyfriend looking down at her. "I hate getting up early."
"I know." Sheldon paused and took a deep breath. "If you like, you can bring a change of clothes here. Maybe some personal hygiene products. I'll . . . I'll clear out a drawer for you."
She took sharp breath. "Really?"
"I told you that you're welcome in my drawers anytime now."
This time Amy grinned and sat upright, letting the cool morning air hit her bare skin as the blankets fell. "And what magnificent drawers they are," she murmured, leaning over to kiss him softly.
Then, while he still looked confused, she scrambled out of bed, grabbing his plaid robe off it's hook - "Hey, that's mine!" - and ran to the bathroom. After she'd showered, she put back on the same clothes she wore the day before. While she did not, of course, like putting dirty clothing on her clean body, she was forced to admit she felt a sliver of illicient pleasure at the idea she would finally get to partake in the walk of shame.
By the time she'd emerged, Sheldon was sitting two bowels of oatmeal on the kitchen island, wearing another of his bathrobes. He looked over and said, "You know you've upset my entire pajama rotation for the week. What happened to all your emergency sleepover packs?"
"As I recall, I didn't need a nightgown last night," she smirked. "And I'll bring a robe of my own over, if that's okay."
"Of course." Sheldon turned toward the refrigerator. "Juice or milk? Or hot tea?"
"Juice is fine," Amy said absent-mindedly, going to pick up her forgotten book on the sofa to put it by her purse. She really was enjoying it, and she didn't want to leave it behind. She picked it up with a frown. "Sheldon, did you see what happened to my book mar -"
But he never looked up from pouring the juice, because she didn't need him to. Instead, Amy's eyes traveled to the card catalogue and she smiled. Of course he knew exactly where her receipt-turned-temporary-book-mark was. It was from the night he showed her one drawer and offered her another.
Just a simple receipt for a book, a delicate piece of ephemera. A sweet, heady reminder of promises fulfilled, hopes kept alive with love, dreams that burned brightest at his side. He had charted a map to her soul, there behind the tarnished bronze pull of her heart.
Silly, I know. Thank you in advance for your reviews!