I wrote a Shamy first time scene in my story The Exhalation Combustion Investigation, and I swore I'd never write another. Until I see it happening differently on my television screen, nothing will ever convince me that it would happen any other way. I'm just that romantic.

However, sometimes my romanticism is unrealistic. So this missing chapter is more realistic.

As promised . . .

Sheldon sat in his spot in silence, not watching television or a movie, not reading a comic book, not playing a game. Instead, he was rocking slightly and intermittently wringing his hands or taking a deep, ragged breath. He looked down at his watch.

7:51 p.m. Less than ten minutes.

He stood up abruptly and walked to his bedroom. He made sure the blind was fully pulled down. He straightened the pillows. He toyed with lighting; over head? too harsh; bed lamp? better; which sitting? the first? too dim? maybe, maybe not. He surveyed the collection of supplies he had gathered on his bedside table and wondered if he should add a water bottle. Or two? No matter how much I think I know about this, I know nothing about this.

He was already regretting so many things. Maybe he should have taken Amy out for dinner first. Or spent all day with her. He thought he would be too nervous, not good company, but now he wondered if that were a mistake, if it displayed a lack of respect. Anything but the interminable hours he had spent pacing and sighing and shuffling and panicking and anticipating. He thought he had foreseen every possible need, but now he was only a bundle of doubts.

Earlier that week he had taken an uncomfortable trip to Target by himself, even braving the bus because he did not want to ask Leonard, for Leonard to know what he was buying and why. He had agonized in the sheet aisle. Red? too passionate; white? too clinical. Pale blue? yes, that would be relaxing. It was the first time in his life the words thread count had even crossed his mind. And there had been that other aisle, the one near the pharmacy. He walked up and down it six times, coming away with nothing. He had to trust Amy, he did trust Amy, if she told him she was taking the appropriate measures, that she had been for months for an unrelated purpose, if she set an alarm on her phone so that she would do this the exact same time every day, well . . . he trusted Amy. But could one ever be too careful? He looked down at his watch again.

7:57 p.m. Less than five minutes.

He went next door, to the bathroom, and peeked inside. Two brand new sets of towels stacked carefully (pale blue, high thread count, this was after the sheet aisle). A new toothbrush, just in case. He frowned. Maybe he should have bought some bubble bath. Or some flowery-smelling soap. Maybe bar soap wasn't what Amy liked to use. There were aisles and aisles at Target devoted to female bathing rituals. He looked down at his watch one more time.

7:59 p.m. Less than one minute.

He walked to the living room and stood directly in front of the door. His living room looked bare and plain, he thought as he walked through. Perhaps he should have given in to the clichés. Maybe flowers? candles? choc-

The knock at the door, right on time, the one he had been waiting almost thirty-five years for, the one he knew was coming for months, ricocheted through him like a bullet.

6:15 p.m. Less than two hours.

Amy lowered herself into the bath, waiting in vain for the hot water to relax and sooth her. She mentally ran through her preparations again. Her bag was packed. It had been packed and unpacked and repacked four times that day.

Amy had not slept well the night before. Friday night at Sheldon's, with all their friends there, had felt like a dream. She couldn't remember any of the conversations. She had woken too early this morning. She had tried to stay busy, to clean her apartment, but she found herself meandering from one half-finished task to another in no logical sequence. She tried to read a book, but she kept reading the same paragraph over and over again without comprehension. She had tried to eat, thought she ought to eat, but instead she had only munched on a few baby carrots until they turned into a tasteless pulp in her mouth, and she had to force herself to swallow them.

She thought about getting out her old friend Gerard, just to relieve some tension, because, being reasonable, it was unlikely . . . No, it had felt wrong, somehow.

She wondered if this is why people used to do this on their wedding night. So they were occupied all day with dresses and flowers and photographers. No time to think about it.

6:45 p.m. Less than an hour and a half.

Having scrubbed until her skin glowed pink and having shaved, trimmed, and groomed every inch of herself, Amy dried herself off. Maybe she should have suggested they go out for dinner first. Or spend the day at the zoo. But, no, there was no way she would have been good company. And dinner would have been a waste of money. She wondered if Sheldon felt the same. Had he suspected that, is that why he hadn't offered? Somehow she thought maybe so.

She took her hair down from its clip and shook it out. She had washed it that morning, to ensure it would be completely dry. She brushed and brushed and brushed until it shone. Yes, that'll do. She dressed with care.

7:40 p.m. Less than half an hour.

She turned the key in the ignition and took a deep breath, glancing at her bag on the passenger seat next to her. She turned out of her parking lot. No turning back now. Not that she wanted to. She drove with her usual precision and care, but she didn't remember a second of her journey. She parked at 2311 North Los Robles. She took her bag. She climbed four flights of stairs. She took a deep breath. She raised her fist and knocked on the door.

8:00 p.m. As agreed.

She looked exactly the same as she always did. He didn't know why that surprised him, but for a split second, it did.

"Hello, Amy."

"Hello, Sheldon."

"Please come in."

"Thank you."

He didn't notice it until she stepped inside his apartment. He expected it, but seeing it made everything very real. Amy's bag. He reached behind her to lock the door, and then he reached for her bag.

"Here. I'll just take this to the . . ." He swallowed, unable to bring himself to say it. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you."

Walking into the bedroom, he wondered where he should put it. It wasn't a quandary he had ever experienced before. Looking around and debating, he decided to set the bag on the foot of the bed. Returning the living room, he thought about how fragile Amy looked sitting there, her posture perfect, her back ramrod straight in her spot.

"Tea?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, thank you."

Good, he didn't want tea, either, that hot liquid boiling and churning in his stomach. "Water?"

"Yes, please."

He took two bottles out of the refrigerator and walked toward her. Handing her a bottle, he sat down next to her. She barely glanced at him, she was looking straight ahead, so he did the same.

"Thank you." She took it.

The cracking of the plastic rings were the only sounds in the room. They each took a sip.

"How as your day?" Sip together.

"Fine. And yours?" Sip together.

"Fine. Did you do laundry this morning?" Sip together.

"Yes. What did you do?" Sip together.

"Cleaned. Read." Sip together.

"Do you want to watch something?" Sip together.

"No, thank you." Sip together.

Silence. Sip together.

"Sheldon, I've been thinking that there are really two ways to go about this." Amy sipped but Sheldon started, his bottle almost touching his lips.

"Two ways?" Sip together.

"Yes. Either we could-" he swore he could hear her blush even though he was staring straight ahead "- undress each other as, um, you know, foreplay. Or one us could undress in the bedroom and the other one could undress in the bathroom, and, um, come in later. In a robe."

"Which do you want?" Sheldon asked. Sip together.

"I think . . . maybe the latter might be easier." Sip together.

Sheldon nodded, pleased that Amy had thought of and chosen something to make this easier. "I'll let you have the bedroom."

Amy nodded. Sip together.

She sat her bottle bottle down on the coffee table, and she reached for his hand. Sheldon turned to look at her. "Sheldon? We don't have to do this tonight."

His heart thundered. Was Amy getting cold feet? Not that he could blame her. His sparkling wit and dialogue clearly weren't up to his usual standards. She was giving him a way out. Except, he knew, he didn't want it.

"I want to do this, Amy. Do you?"

"Of course I do. I love you." She smiled.

"I love you, too." He leaned in and kissed her, very gently. He pulled away and they just stared at each other, holding hands. "Would you like the bathroom before I go in there to, uh, change?"

"I think so." Amy let go and stood up.

He waited on the sofa until her heard the bathroom door shut. Then he went to his room and took his robe off its hook and folded it in his arms. He returned to the living room and shut off the lights. Then he sat on a stool at the island, in the dim light from the hallway, and clutched his bathrobe like it was a life preserver.

Stepping out of the bathroom, her teeth freshly brushed, she saw him sitting there, his knuckles white around what she presumed was his bathrobe.

"All yours." He nodded back at her, and they passed like ships in the hallway.

After she had shut his bedroom door she leaned back against, putting her palm on her chest. She scanned the room in front of her. She had never been in here alone before. So many toys and comic books, but everything so orderly and neat. The bedside lamp was on, casting a warm glow. She didn't change a thing, certain Sheldon had already determined this was the best.

She walked to her bag, returned her toothbrush to it, and started to undress. It felt surreal, to be undressing in Sheldon's bedroom. She had thought of this plan earlier in the day. Honestly, she was embarrassed for Sheldon to see her naked. And, well, despite her scientific knowledge and curiosity, she was nervous to see him that way, too. She was terrified of all the awkward moments that could happen: his belt buckle, her bra clasp, and, try as she might, she could not think there was a sexy way to remove one's socks or tights. And, somehow, she thought Sheldon would prefer this, as well.

They had decided, last week, in another timid conversation, that they would cross all these boundaries at once. Amy had been surprised, thrilled, frightened, when Sheldon had told her he could not just keep making out with her. He wanted more.

"Are you saying you want to round the bases, as the saying goes?" she had asked. "Because I'm okay with that."

"No, I don't think so."

"No? I'm confused. You just said you want more."

"Amy, I want . . . I can only give this once. As can you. I want to give it you. All of it. And I want all of you."

Well, color me astounded. Sheldon Cooper is a romantic.

She ran her hands down her side, brushing her new underwear. Just in case she was wrong. A matching set, not to risqué, pale pink, a bit of lace trim. She considered leaving them on, an extra layer under the sheets. Sheldon might leave his on, under his robe. Somehow, she knew he wouldn't. She would wear the underwear another time. She folded her dirty clothes and put them on the opposite of her small case as her clean clothes. She removed her robe, sat it on the bed, and zipped the bag shut. Looking around, she decided to set it out of the way, in the corner of the room.

Debating which side of the bed, she noticed his collection on one bed side table and smiled. Nothing left to chance. Except everything. She sat her robe on the opposite end table with her glasses and slid between the sheets. They were crisp and soft and smelled good, like fabric softener. Of course. Sheldon would have washed them today.

She waited.

Should he brush his teeth? He had brushed them before Amy came, but he knew she had brushed her teeth again even though he had smelled the toothpaste on her breath when he kissed her on the sofa. He brushed his teeth.

Should he urinate? He didn't really need to, but he had heard the toilet flush when Amy was in here. And they had drank water.

He undressed slowly, tried not to think about Amy in the next room, but it was useless. Just the thought of her, of what they were going to do, excited him. He folded his clothes precisely, putting them on top of the cabinet by the door, where he put his clothes while he was in the shower.

On impulse, he combed his hair. He looked at himself in the mirror. Did he look paler than normal? He splashed cold water on his face, then dried it carefully. Unable to delay any longer, he tightened the knot on his robe and walked to the hallway, brushing the light switch, plunging himself into darkness.

He stood in front of his bedroom door and gulped.

He knocked nine times and whispered her name thrice.

"Come in."

He stood in the doorway, blurry without her glasses, and she grabbed the sheet tighter to her bosom. He seemed unable to move, so she patted the bed next to her. "Is this your side?"

"I don't know. I usually sleep in the middle."

"Oh, of course."

Her gaffe made them smile, and he came to stand by the edge of the bed. He reached down for the tie of his robe.

Amy spoke in a rush. "You can leave it on for now. Until you're comfortable. And I'll stay under here."

He nodded and sat down, using his arm to pull himself next to her, sitting with their backs against the headboard. She took his hand and leaned against his shoulder. I'm in bed with Sheldon!

"Amy, I want you to know we can stop at any time."

"I know."

He let go of her hand, put his arm around her, and his palm touched the bare skin of her back, hot and trembling. He froze.

"It's okay. You can . . . touch me where ever you want, remember? Do you want to turn the light off?"

"Do you? I thought I might like to see your face."

Amy felt herself blush with pleasure. "No, I like it on."

She snuggled in a little tighter, and Sheldon's hand started caressing her back, slow and steady. It was soothing and sensual at the same time. She closed her eyes and tired to enjoy every sensation, reveling in the care he applying to her.

"So soft," he whispered. It was the whispering that did it. She tilted her head up, he took her chin, and brought his mouth to hers. It progressed in increments. First gentle and soft, and then faster, stronger, deeper.

Sheldon pulled her in closer, and she felt the sheet slip slightly. She didn't even think about catching it, as she brought her arms around him. He kept kissing her until she thought she might die for the lack of air, and she pulled away slightly. Hs lips traced down her chin and half-way down her neck before halting. She opened her eyes to see him, breathless, pupils dilated, staring. Looking down, she saw that one of her breasts had become exposed.

Last week, Sheldon's hand had unexpectedly ended up over her cardigan. Through so many layers, it was the idea of his hand there that was more exciting than the reality. Before one or both of them lost their nerve, she took his hand and guided it to her. He licked his lips.

"You can touch me anywhere."

His blue eye flicked to her and she nodded, giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Sheldon gave an experimental squeeze, which was . . . okay. And then he did it again, a little harder. She put her hand over his. "Like this."

She helped him run his palm over her nipple. Always a quick learner, he rubbed her softly twice more, before running just his thumb about her nipple. It hardened further at his touch, and a shudder went through her. Amy exhaled softly. "Like that."

Lips on lips, flesh on flesh, Sheldon kissing, caressing, slowly bowing her back down, down, down until her head rested on the pillow. He pulled away so suddenly she feared something was wrong, but he was untying his robe. He got up and stood by the edge of the bed again, holding his robe closed while he pulled down the blankets. She felt the cool air on her skin, but he left her covered. He paused, biting his lip, looking down. Amy reached her hand out toward him and shut her eyes. Just after she heard the robe drop, he took her hand, and she felt his weight as he slid in next to her once again. He did not quite touch her, but his was close enough she could feel the heat from his body.

"Thank you," he whispered, kissing her hand. She opened her eyes slowly.

I am naked. He is naked.

Amy reached out to touch him, realizing the feel of his skin, his bare skin that she had only occasionally felt the edges of when she lifted his tee shirts up. She ran her hand down his chest, gathering up pieces of him, the patch of spare hair over his breastbone, his own small nipples, an occasional mole, the softness of his stomach and the way it shied away from her touch. "Does that tickle?"

"A little."

"Sorry."

"No, I - I kind of liked it." He blushed.

It's the blush that did. Unable to resist him any longer, she pulled him toward her and he came. He pressed in harder as he kissed her, and she could feel it against her thigh. Not that she hasn't felt it before, been aware of it, but she could feel the heat radiating off of it. She had always ignored it for Sheldon, to spare him embarrassment, but it could no longer be ignored. Melting into his mouth, his scent, she slid her hand down to his bottom and cupped it gently. He squeezed momentarily closer to her. One of his hands came to her breast again, and he toyed with her breast for moment before breaking the kiss, looking at her, taking a deep breath and leaning down to kiss her breast. The feel of his hot mouth, his soft lips, his wet tongue as it made contact with her nipple caused her buck toward him.

"Are you okay?"

"That's a good thing, Sheldon. It's my body's way of showing you it wants you."

Another blush! Amy thought she would die from those blushes, the way his skin turned such a rosy shade in the dim light. He brought his mouth back down, kissed, licking flicking, sucking. She had to grip his hair to maintain some semblance of control. "Like this?" he murmured between just before a twirl, her other breast being caressed by his hand.

"Oh, yes," she arched of the bed. She felt the wetness between her legs, the aching throbbing there. Without asking, only needing, she brought her hand to his manhood touching it tentatively. Sheldon froze, his face buried between her breasts. She whispered, "Is this okay?"

He nodded into her chest. Wrapping her hand around him, feeling his girth, a bolt of fear ran through her. She had no idea if that was a normal size, but she had not expected it to feel so large in diameter. Although she did not know what she expected, that was not it. It occurred to her that this could be very unpleasant. Sheldon's face was still hovering in her bosom. "Amy?"

She heard the fear in his voice. No, Sheldon would never purposely hurt her. She knew he would be as gentle as he could, and that he was trying to take his time for her. Without reply, she moved her hand up his manhood.

"Ohhhhhh, Amy," he moaned, thrusting toward her. He lifted his head and looked at her through half-closed eyes. She repeated the action, and he brought his mouth crashing down onto her, thrusting with his tongue at the same time. Twice more, the thrust with his hips and the thrust with his tongue, before the uproar.

"No, no, no, Amy, no." He struggled away from her, clamoring to his side of the bed, suddenly sitting there, his back to her.

"Sheldon?" she sat up, too, scared. She saw his head dip down, into his hands. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No. I just need a minute."

"Do you want to stop?"

"For a little bit."

"Sheldon, did you . . .?" She cannot bring herself to say the words, wondering if he is cowering in shame. She didn't think so, she hadn't felt anything, but it all happened so fast.

"No, I just . . . I thought I was going to," he whispered.

She reached out to touch his back. He jerked. "I'm going to lay down. And when you're ready you can lay down. And we can either continue or we can just go to sleep. It's up to you."

Amy took her hand away and turned over, facing away from him, pulling the blankets back up to cover herself. For the second time that night, she waited, hoping it was the right thing to have said. She heard the ticking of clock somewhere. The shallow sounds of Sheldon breathing. The beating of her own heart. A siren passed outside.

The sheets rustled as Sheldon laid down behind her.

"Amy?"

"Sheldon?"

She thought, perhaps, that was the end of it. Maybe it was too much all at once, after all, too ambitious for a single night. She was both disappointed and not. A part of her had thought this might happen. She knew what a Herculean task this was for Sheldon, and, no matter how strong she thought he was becoming, he just might not be ready for this yet. Determined to enjoy what gifts he has given her already, she closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to take her.

Until Sheldon kissed her shoulder.

Amy's eyes popped open as he brushed her hair way from her back. His kisses were soft, barely present. His arm wrapped around her waist pulling her close to him. She noticed that, despite her fears, he had lost none of his excitement. He slowly rolled her over. Kissing her on the lips now, wet and sloppy but soft, his hand traced its way down her body before stopping, perched on the bottom edge of her stomach. The kisses stopped. She opened her eyes to see him looking at her. "It's okay. I told you that you can touch me anywhere you want."

He swallowed, hard, but then he nodded. His hand still didn't move, so Amy steered him there. He explored her, gently, which was a pleasurable sensation, and she lifted her head up to kiss him again. Halfway through the kiss, she felt the jolt and groaned.

"Amy?"

"That's it," she groaned. She sank her head into the pillow and closed her eyes. Yes, that was defiantly it. She tried to relax and savor it and not think about it too analytically. If they did this again (and the way this felt she desperately hoped they would do this again), she would help him. But she would let him explore on his own. Except, wow, he wasn't bad at this. She heard her periodic inhalations, felt the contractions of her stomach muscles, and she was surprised at how much faster her breath was already coming to her. She tried to calm her expectations. No, it wasn't likely, it wasn't realistic, it was all too new to him -

Ohhhhhh, yes. Yes, yes, yes! "Yes!"

Amy was no stranger to orgasms. There was no denying what had just happened. She had had stronger ones, longer ones, orgasms that crashed on top of another, orgasms that left her hoarse, orgasms that made it hard to move afterwards. This one wasn't even close to her most intense. Opening her eyes and seeing Sheldon's blue eyes, she smiled. No, it was the best.

His eyes were questioning her. She nodded, and he grinned at her, his crazy, silly, lopsided grin; and she didn't just want him, her entire body cried out for him and would not be denied another second. She reached for his biceps and tried to pull him over her, and, after a startled pause, he allowed himself to be led. Oh, God, he is so close to me. He is right there!

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

"Yes."

She had wanted to keep her eyes open, to memorize the look on his face when he came into her. She had wanted to be swept away by the feeling of this finally happening to her, of finally being with Sheldon this way. But, instead, she gripped the sheets on either side of her and squeezed her eyes shut. Jesus, that hurts! She had not expected that, not really. Everything had been done correctly, even better than she thought it would be. There had been plenty of foreplay, she had even had an orgasm which contributed to how wet she was. Even though she knew he thought going slowly would be better, she almost cried out with relief when he finally stopped moving inside of her.

"Oh, Amy, oh, Amy," Sheldon moaned and kissed the side of her face softly. Well, that's good, at least Sheldon is enjoying it. "I'm so sorry."

Her eyes opened. He wasn't looking at her with pleasure, he was looking at her with concern. He started to pull back. "We'll stop. I'll just -"

"No." She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his waist. She was determined to see this through.

"But it's hurting you."

"Are you able to just give me a minute? Like this?"

He nodded, breathing heavily.

"It's better now." And, indeed it was. The burning had mostly subsided, and now she was left of feeling of fullness. It was strange and foreign but not, in itself, unpleasant. Sheldon started to softly kiss her face again. It was getting more pleasant by the minute. Curious, she flexed her pubococcygeus muscle. Sheldon's head snapped up. Oh, yes, he can feel that, too. She smiled at his astonished face.

"Okay, I'm ready. Can you try to go slowly?" she asked.

He pulled back, and then, even slower than the first time, thrust into her again. He stopped again, questioning her. Okay, that wasn't bad. A little uncomfortable, but not much. She nodded to him. "You don't haven't to stop if . . . it feels better not to. I'm okay."

Third thrust. No discomfort at all, just the lingering strangeness of it all. Fourth thrust, no pause between. It was starting to feel good, actually. Sheldon's breath was rattling now, he was staring at her with so much intensity she thought she might catch fire. Fifth thrust. Wow, that felt really, really good. She didn't even realized she was doing it, but half-way through the six thrust, her head tilted back, her hips lifted, and she involuntarily moaned, "Oh, Sheldon, yes . . ."

Suddenly, Sheldon stopped moving, lowered his head, and groaned in her ear. He kept his head at the side of her face, his breath pounding in her ear. She squeezed his waist, unsure if she should say something. Or would telling him that it didn't matter that it was over, that it was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her, just embarrass and patronize him? They lay there, still connected, although Amy could feel how much less of him there was now. Finally, he pulled out of her, leaving behind a sticky, wet situation.

He rolled over next to her, and she rolled on her side to look at him. He was staring at her again, his eyes never so blue, even in the dim light. She brought her hand up to his cheek, wanting to tell him a thousand and one things and not knowing the words for any of them.

Sheldon wanted to tell her a thousand and one things, and he didn't know the words for any of them. Seconds before, he had been so embarrassed. But now, seeing the way she was looking at him, the feel of her palm on his cheek, he realized it didn't matter to her. It would be better, longer, next time. Next time.

He wondered how she felt, physically. It had obviously been painful at first, the way she bit her lip and hissed. For a split second, he thought it was over. Because of him. But, no, his body had not betrayed him. And then he almost wished it had, because at least then he wouldn't have to . . . take care of it himself if she wanted to stop. When she flexed around him, wow, that was . . . Nothing, though, compared to end. Just as he had imagined it for the past week, only better. Not just the hot, whispered words, Oh, Sheldon, yes, but the way her neck arched and her body came to meet his. It had been his undoing.

Who am I kidding? Amy has been my undoing all along.

He smiled, and she smiled back. No, the only thing that mattered was that she had allowed him to share this with her, that she had given him this gift. Not the awkwardness, not the discomfort, not the prematurity.

He was wrong. There are only a thousand things he didn't know the words for. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Sheldon."

He wanted to stay here, looking at her, having her touch him, forever. Except, well, parts of him were starting to itch. He tried to ignore it as long as he could, but he twitched before he could stop himself.

"It's okay, Sheldon, you can go take a shower," Amy said, removing her hand.

"Do you . . . do you want to go first?" he asked.

She smiled again. "No. But thank you for asking. I couldn't help but notice your collection. I'll just, uh, clean up here. If that's okay."

"Of course." He slid over to the end of the bed and paused. He hoped Amy didn't notice. She had been so understanding, earlier. He cursed himself. What did it matter now? He gritted his teeth and threw the covers off and walked, as naked as he could be, to the bathroom. He was too frightened to turn around to see if Amy was watching. He would rush through his shower so he could be with her longer. I love her so much.

Amy watched him leave, long and lean and so handsome, before flopping her head back with a smile. I just had sex with Sheldon Cooper. Smartest man on the planet. And it was . . . better than I thought it would be.

She hoped he wouldn't be long. Well, long enough. She sat up and rolled down the blankets. Good, no blood. She didn't know how Sheldon would deal with that. Surveying Sheldon's bedside table, she smiled again, thinking how much effort he had put into into tonight. Grabbing some wipes, she cleaned herself up, looked around for the trash can, and smiled yet again when she saw he had moved it next to the bed. I love him so much.

Should she put a night gown on? Would Sheldon put on pajamas? He didn't seem like the type to sleep in the nude. But what if he didn't, what would he think if he came back and she was dressed? And where should she lay? There was a wet spot on her side of the bed now. Would that freak Sheldon out? As much as she wanted to cuddle with him all night long, neither one of them were used to sleeping next to someone else. Would it be hard to sleep? Should she -

Sheldon suddenly walked in the room, still naked!, and she yelped as she instinctively pulled the blankets back up to cover herself.

"Oh, sorry!" He put his hand over his eyes and continued to walk slowly toward the bed.

"No, I'm sorry." She felt herself grow hot. "I was just surprised. I thought you'd be gone longer."

He slid into bed next to her and reached for the light. He paused, his arm still outstretched. "May I turn this off?"

"Yes," Amy said. Sheldon stretched out on the bed, but she stayed sitting up, still clutching the sheet. He was looking up at the ceiling, and she wondered what he was thinking. She felt foolish. Why had she reacted that way? What did it matter now? If Sheldon was willing to be naked around her, why couldn't she just let him see her?

"Sheldon, I'm sorry I screamed. If you want to see me -"

He turned his head. "Next time."

Amy wished she hadn't let him turn out the light, so that he would see her smiling. She thought, maybe, it sounded like he was smiling. "Next time," she repeated back to him.

"Amy, isn't the standard post-coital activity cuddling?"

In spite of herself, she giggled. She was so gloriously happy. She laid down and put her head on his chest and snuggled in closer as his arm came around her. She could smell the soap on his skin, and vague dampness. He had rushed back to her. I love him so much.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Yes," she whispered back. "Just different. It's not painful. I'm just more aware of . . . it's hard to explain."

"Good." He yawned. "Mmmm, I'm sleepy."

"It's the dopamine and oxycotin flooding your system." She found herself yawning also. "Mmmm, me too."

They fell asleep.

I hope you enjoyed it. And, if it's not romantic enough for you, you know where to read my other version. Thank you for your reviews!