Logarithmic Curves (of Her Backside)
He'd heard all the comments. He'd heard all the jokes. He'd heard (damn his Vulcan hearing) the theory of Thai-food-induced mitosis. And – while that actually did sound like a logical methodology, could he put it into practice – Sheldon knew that none of it was true.
He'd given this question quite a bit of thought, on account of the fact that it kept recurring and disrupting the lives of those around him, as if sexuality was that truth on which all things were built on, rather than anything actually having to do with logic, such as his own fascinating, and no doubt Nobel Prize worthy, study of heterotic string theory. And in the end, he had come to one solid, fact-based conclusion: he just wasn't interested in people, period.
At least, not usually. But all developments to the contrary had been rather late ones in his life to date, a result of him coming to the conclusion that his social ineptitude might be limiting his life in some way – a theory he had still not proven to his satisfaction, though at very least it was more stimulating to play video games with actual human players, even it is most certainly wasn't more challenging (he always set the games to the greatest level of difficulty, even when that meant that the AI would be able to cheat).
Still, he liked to think that he had made good progress since the day when he posted up his roommate wanted sign (no whistlers need apply). It had taken a lot of adjustment but he'd managed to accustom himself and his schedule to this newly shared space. He'd been able to handle other people in his space (as long as they weren't in his spot). First Leonard and then, as time went by and Leonard made friends, Wolowitz and Koothrappali changed from invaders to people he could co-exist with; maybe even appreciate from time to time. Yes, all the evidence suggested that his social skills had developed exponentially.
At least, so he had thought. And then something happened that changed what he had anticipated being an exponential curve into a lowly, downright pathetic logarithm.
He met Penny.
Having only barely managed to come to terms with the daily dealings of his male counterparts, Sheldon had not been prepared to deal with Penny; not even close. Initially, he hadn't anticipated it being so different and quite frankly he still didn't understand why mostly internal sex organs and promoted breast development during puberty was such a big deal but all the evidence showed that it most certainly was. An even larger factor, at least so he thought, was the difference in education, the difference in interest, the difference in…well, the difference in everything. She might as well have been a member of some alien race as far as he was concerned – and he wasn't talking Vulcans here, he knew he'd have no trouble dealing with them, heck, he'd probably feel more at home with them than anyone on this planet.
At least, for once, he wasn't the only one. Wolowitz was his usual self, never getting the effect he desired – of course, what else could one expect of an engineer without even a Ph. D after his name. Koothrappali couldn't even speak to her unless he was intoxicated. And then there was Leonard and he was by far the worst, even Sheldon could tell that. Penny only had to look at him, to smile at him, to merely say his name and Leonard was tripping over his own feet to appease her every whim in order to win her favour. Despite the fact that it was eventually successful, Sheldon had to look down on this notion as beneath someone of his intellect, beneath even someone of Leonard's intellect. The more he thought about it, the more shocked and appalled he was.
However allthree reactions were something he'd seen before and they had more to do with the fact that Penny was female, rather than the fact that Penny was Penny. Sheldon's own, however, was undeniably a result of just that fact.
It would not be inaccurate to describe the first reaction as dislike; the term might be a bit plebeian for his tastes but it summed it up quite nicely. This was a feeling that appeared to him to be completely mutual. Like so many others, she stuck around to be friends with Leonard, whose company she enjoyed enough that an inconvenient roommate could be tolerated.
And Sheldon was quite fine with this. He was more than fine, actually; he'd always appreciated when he could categorize his life so easily, all black and white with no shades of grey (the only place he needed that was in his television shows, please and thank you). It made it simpler to navigate. But then something happened that changed everything. She stuck around.
No woman – besides his mother and sister and they certainly didn't count when it came to these types of things – had ever spent as much time with him as Penny did. And the more time they spent together, the more Sheldon found himself actually enjoying her company. She was different from his other friends, in ways much more profound than simple genitalia. She was stubborn, like him. She challenged him in ways the others never did – or if they once had, it was something that had long been given up on. And she also knew him well enough to know what not to challenge, at least not on purpose (he still swore there was a greenish tinge on the couch cushion but he could admit, if only to himself, that it had been an accident and not some nefarious plot on her behalf…unless of course he was seriously underestimating the potential of her inner super villainess).
And so it was that at some point – and he was still trying to determine when exactly this point was though he suspected it was somewhere around the second verse of "Soft Kitty" – that initial dislike was replaced by growing common ground, and later replaced by what he would have to call friendship (though she would call it that first).
And Sheldon was quite fine with this as well. It made her easier to live with and that in turn made his life easier.
Except for the times when it didn't. Like right now, when instead of enjoying a fresh delivered meal of Thai food and working on his latest project of Nobel worthy brilliance, he was standing in Penny's bedroom, going through her drawers and trying to find an outfit she would deem appropriate.
For Sheldon, getting dressed, like everything else, was all a matter of habits and schedules. He knew what to wear what day of the week and for what social function. And he knew exactly where every item of clothing he owned went and how to launder and fold it as well.
For Penny, it took a debate to get her to agree to wear underpants, despite the high probability that they would have to be pulled out of a car crash with the Jaws of Life later this evening. And then, while not being particular about his choice as to her undergarments, she rejected his choices not once, not twice, but three times. He was serious when he told her they should get the hospital to check for a concussion, a suggestion she barely even noticed – was that another sign, perhaps? Or just another Penny-ism, like lying about community college?
He didn't have time to dwell because suddenly she needed even more from him and he was faced with the task which had confounded heroes for thousands of years: to peek or not to peek. He explained this challenge to Penny as he did his best to assist her in dressing but, as was often the case, she did not seem very receptive to his mythology lesson. Of course that had never stopped him before and so he decided to continue on and give her more context and– oh…
Oh.
He knew immediately that his hand had slipped somewhere it shouldn't, touching soft, smooth flesh instead of the harder, more stable biceps brachii. He didn't need Penny to point this out, though she did it anyway. He had no idea what the correct protocol was to fix this and so, instead of doing anything, he froze.
"Then maybe you should let it go."
He pulled his hands back, breaking off all contact. They stood in silence for a moment, which relieved Sheldon a bit since it meant that Penny also didn't know the correct protocol and thus, for once, they were experiencing the same degree of social awkwardness.
"Okay, whatever, it's fine," she finally said. "Let's try this again."
The second attempt was more successful, as Sheldon put into practice the lessons learned from his previous mistakes. Once her shirt was successfully on, Penny decided that she would manage to get the bottoms – including clean underpants – on by herself. This left him standing near the doorway with nothing to do but think and suddenly his mind turned back to the great myths and the even greater question: peek or don't peek.
Temptation. A strong desire to have or do something even though you know you should not. Despite the fact that Sheldon was known for his controlling ways – at least that's what Leonard always told him – resisting temptation was not something he was overly good at. It's why he had cleaned Penny's apartment that night, why he had to help maximize the production of Penny Blossoms, why he-
"Damn it!"
"Penny? Are you all right?"
"No, Sheldon, I'm not 'all right.' I fell over trying to get these panties on."
"Do you need my assist-"
"No!"
"…All right then."
To peek or not to peek. That was the question that had destroyed so many great heroes. It sounded so easy but, in practice, was so difficult. Even Batman, Sheldon was sure, wouldn't be able to overcome such a test. No, he would look and so Sheldon did too, just for a moment.
She was lying on the bed, her back towards him – clearly a sign that the mythological gods of the ancients were on his side in this risky endeavour and he hadn't even had to sacrifice any livestock to ensure it. The underpants were around her ankles but she had not yet gotten them further up her legs. His eyes followed the line of her legs up further up and further until…soup.
Soup?
Why would Penny get the Chinese character for soup tattooed on her right buttock? Not that Sheldon understood the desire to insert indelible ink into the layers of skin to change the pigment for decorative reasons but this seemed a particularly unusual choice to make. He was still wondering when she began to roll over and quickly he closed his eyes, just barely avoiding detection.
It had definitely said soup; Sheldon knew his Mandarin, traditional or simplified (no thanks to Wolowitz and his "lessons"). He couldn't recall Penny ever eating soup in his presence but clearly there were many meals that he had missed during the course of her lifetime. Perhaps one such meal had included a soup of life changing proportions. Given the fact that she could get excited over the most mundane things, this seemed quite probable.
He was still thinking about soup and what exactly it all meant by the time Penny had finished getting dressed and he was able to open his eyes again. Once he'd done so, he found his gaze running up and down her body, over the outfit he'd picked out, and noticing more than ever before.
He'd always known that Penny was attractive – he had told her as much, back when everyone had first discovered her innate Halo abilities – but he had never thought about this fact much. Yet now, for reasons he did not completely understand, he couldn't stop thinking about it. And all the while, he had to remind himself that this was Leonard's girlfriend and he probably shouldn't be so fascinated by how her breast felt under his hand. Or what shape the curve of her leg had made and how tanned her skin had been (even worse, he should not be considering what methodology she employed to avoid tan lines).
But clearly this was the result of some residual guilt over having peeked. Yes, yes, he told himself, that must be it. Things wouldn't be right until there were consequences for his transgression, like the return of Eurydice to the shadows of the Underworld – though this situation would not warrant anything quite so drastic...at least Sheldon hoped it wouldn't.
And so he admitted what he had done. And not only did he not get any answers as to the origin of the tattoo but it also didn't stop his mind from replaying the moments of this evening over and over and over again, like some temporal loop that existed solely inside his head.
Somehow they got to the hospital and back in one piece (and without ever ending up on any floor of the Glendale Galleria). And, after singing far too many rounds of "Soft Kitty", Sheldon was finally able to retreat once more to the relative safety of his apartment. It was definitely past his bedtime and so he quickly got changed and lay down under his sheets. It was then that he finally had the time and peace and quiet to review this strange series of events and contemplated how to fit it into his overall theory of social interaction.
In the end, the results were essentially the same. He wasn't interested in people. No, he mentally scratched out that conclusion and wrote another, modified one. He wasn't interested in most people. But he certainly did care about his family, though admittedly some more than others (he'd always be Moon-pie). And his friends, though again, some more than others (especially the acquaintance).
And he wasn't interested in women, in getting involved with their busybody ways or dealing with their histrionic attacks, in having anything to do with them socially or, God forbid, anything more than that. But this rule, like so many of his others, didn't seem to apply to Penny. Not only did she defy them but he let her. Because she was different, because she was special. She was a friend.
She was his friend in a different way than anyone else. And that was a terrifying thing but probably, he had to admit, a good thing. Because even when she was driving him crazy, even when she disrupted every little piece of his carefully established order, she made his world a better place.
Not that he'd ever tell her.