"You're in Amy's spot."
"Sheldon, I'm nowhere near- wait, what?"
The statement is so ludicrously absurd, albeit so Sheldon, that Leonard is, for a moment, rendered incoherent. He squints up at his room-mate-it's a stretch even at this point to call him a friend; he is, after all, dictating where Leonard can sit in his own apartment-and deduces that no, he isn't joking. Sheldon hovers over him, brows raised in his typically stern expression.
"As per our Relationship Agreement, Section Two: Routines, the spot to the immediate right of myself is now, and for the duration for which the relationship lasts, "Amy's spot"."
"Relationship?" Leonard repeats, dubiously regarding Sheldon. "Like our Friendship Rider?" Please, Newton, say yes.
There it is, the scoff that he notes is forming before it's even auditory: the rolling of the eyes, the motion of Sheldon's hands flung up in his frustration. When he speaks, Leonard finds himself matching the exasperated tone at the back of his mind, just half a beat away from miming the words along with him.
"No, Leonard, relationship." The condescension is oddly welcome in the sea of uncertainty. Leonard notes that it's a sign of living with Sheldon Cooper for far too long that he's grown to treat change with aversion. "Given your experience, however brief, in the field, I would have thought that you would have been able to fill in the blanks, as it were, for yourself, but I see I still have to spell everything out for you." There's another scoff: another rock to cling to. "Amy is my girlfriend."
The revelation that washes over him had been suspected all along, but it doesn't prevent the wave from tossing him off-guard completely. Leonard gawks up at Sheldon, who in turn merely stares back, expectantly, probably expecting him to shift out his damn spot. Sorry, Amy's spot. There's concessions for girlfriends in their own agreement, but neither of the physicists had any intention of ever having to take such sections into consideration, not least for Sheldon. Leonard recalls commenting that the pair of them obtaining super-powers was more likely, because, heck, radiation was a valid concern, whereas females who were willing to sleep with official nerds-they had membership cards to the Justice League, for crying out loud-and not expect payment at the end were in (sadly) short supply. Sheldon had heartily agreed.
After the briefest of silences, Leonard decides that, above all, he's happy for his friend - and slightly relieved. He cracks a grin.
"Hey, good for you. Didn't I say that you had feelings for her?"
The withering glance that Sheldon offers him is a life-raft. "Yes, how droll. Feelings constitutes anything from loathing to admiration. However, if you're referring to the fact that I have an attachment to Amy Farrah Fowler beyond our previously agreed boy/girl/friend paradigm, then yes, I suppose you were correct." It almost pains him to admit it - the observation that Leonard had actually said something of note.
"Well, whatever." Leonard breezes past it. "I'm happy for you. When Amy comes over, I'll move." It's the wrong thing to say. He winces at the realisation.
Through clenched teeth, Sheldon sucks in an irritable breath. "If traffic is on her side and that infernal monkey hasn't feasted on her flesh in its nicotine-addled state, then she should be here in ten minutes. Thank you," he hastily adds as the spot in question is vacated. Sheldon beams. "In my original draft, Amy's spot-" Leonard imagines it as a proper noun, framed in capitals for all its reverence. "Amy's spot was to the immediate left of my own, in accordance with the traditional wedding arrangements, in which the woman stands to the left of the man to symbolise that he has accepted her love and in return gives his heart to her, but after further consideration, the thought of entertaining the erroneous myth that the heart is on the left side of the body was of complete repugnance to me."
"It's also currently occupied by the lamp, which you would have had to move."
"I hadn't considered that. By that degree, the light source that make my spot so desirable would have moved, rendering the entire consideration moot. Good job, Leonard, you're two for two today!"
Leonard knows that he's well within his rights to be irritated-in the Leonard Agreement, that is, his unwritten and yet personally revered pact thats consulted far more on his part than that stupid Roommate Agreement-but, as he regards his friend with a look native to any single person that considers Sheldon mid-way one of his diatribes, he notices the rare smile, the tiny quirk of the lips, that indicates Sheldon's true happiness. Its not the weird and quite frankly terrifying leer that he adopted for their ill-advised foray into supporting Raj's ego-trip, but the slightest hoist upwards of the lips that's ordinarily reserved for trains. Or Meemaw.
There's ten minutes to kill before Sheldon 2.0 arrives and Leonard feels that petty revenge for the countless times that Sheldon himself has made him squirm is imperative, if a little juvenile. The other man is bustling around the kitchen now, satisfied that his point has been made, and Leonard gravitates closer. He cants his hip against the centre island and smirks.
"So, when did you ask her out?"
Sheldon is currently buried in the fridge, but his shoulders communicate his disapproval of the question by the sudden concave dip they adopt. His voice returns, muffled. "I proposed that we alter the paradigm of our relationship last night during her date with Stuart."
"How am I only just finding out about this?"
The refrigerator is closed with a dull thud and Sheldon regards him another scathing look, clutching a Mountain Dew. "You never asked."
Oh, he's playing this game, is he? Leonard glares, all thoughts of patience banished the moment Sheldon's voice adopted its usual patronising tone. He has to wonder whether he does this on purpose, or if he truly is that oblivious.
"I'm your room-mate." The protest sounds feeble even to Leonard.
"Is it written in the Roommate Agreement that I bestow daily updates upon you?"
It's at that point that Leonard feels compelled to wish Amy luck, rather than congratulations.
A/N: The lack of Shamy off and on screen was making me sad. This is my feeble attempt to make up for it.