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The Anniversary Evolution

Year Two


It was her mother, as it so often had been her entire life, that put the seed of doubt into Amy's head. Amy was engaged in her obligatory monthly Skype call. Sheldon had already left the room after lying about how good it was to see his mother-in-law and saying, as he always did, "I'll leave you two ladies to catch up," before running away.

"Your anniversary is coming up. Have your selected your gift yet?" Mother asked.

"No. Sheldon and I haven't discussed if we're exchanging gifts," Amy replied. She was considering suggesting no gifts to him. He hated presents; and, after the wonderful gift Sheldon had given her last year, she thought she may never need another gift from him as long as she lived.

"Do you have any ideas? Do you need my help again this year?"

Amy frowned. That was not how it had happened. She already knew what she was getting Sheldon last year when she told her mother about it - and then only because she was grasping for topics of conversation - and her mother had disagreed on the engraving. "Just a series of numbers? That's too obscure. The average person will not understand that."

"This is not a gift for an average person, Mother. This is a gift for Sheldon," Amy had rebutted, and that had been end of the discussion.

"No, thank you, I'll think of something," Amy quickly replied this year.

"Let's think about this. I believe that the second anniversary is cotton or china. What could you get that is cotton or china?" her mother persisted.

"Mother, even if we do exchange gifts, we're not going to adhere to the traditional anniversary gift schedule."

"But you already have. You gave him a watch, which is really a small clock, and what was it he gave you, dear? A book or something? You were vague. Anyway, it was paper, was it not?"

"Yes, I suppose it was," Amy mumbled.

"Oh, I know just the thing! Nordstrom has the most lovely 800 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Very high quality, you could use them forever. You could have a set embroidered with your monogram." Then her mother paused and frowned. "But you refused to change your name, so I'm not sure what your monogram would look like."

That was not how that had happened either. But Amy was tired of telling her mother that she had not refused to change her name. She just hadn't, because neither she or Sheldon saw the need. And the idea of giving Sheldon something with "their monogram" on it almost made her laugh. Instead, she took drink of tea to otherwise engage her mouth.

"Well, it doesn't matter. After two years, you're officially not newlyweds anymore, so perhaps the sheets aren't important."

Amy almost spit out her tea. "What?"

"Really, dear, you should not drink tea while hunched over like that. It seems I will forever be reminding you to sit up straighter. I was just pointing out that sheets are not so important after the second anniversary, when the . . . newlywed . . . phase has passed."

A smart retort on her tongue, Amy bit it back. (How would you know anything about marriage? But that would be going too far, the wound would be too deep.) More concerning, though, Amy could not decide which was worse: that her mother had just referenced her sex life, however obliquely, or that her mother thought it would be drying up like a prune. And why did it bother her so much that she officially wouldn't be a newlywed anymore?


She heard him coming down the hall, which made her realize she was frowning, and she quickly changed her expression. At first, she was pleased to see them arranged on her side of the island in a perfect square, thrilled with what appeared to be a new tradition:

"I love you more than Henry loved Cat."
"I love you more than Darcy loved Elizabeth."
"I love you more than Le Petit Prince loved his rose."
"I love you more than Dorian Gray loved himself."
"I love you more than Richard loved Elise."
"I love you more than Paul loved dignity."

But then, without her consent or desire, her mother's words came back to her. Why are they in a square this year? Why are they not scattered through the apartment, in a sort of savager hunt? Did Sheldon think their love life would turn out to be square? Was it no longer a treasure worth seeking?

No, no, I am being ridiculous. I should not let my mother get to me like this. I am reading too much into this sweet gesture of love. Obviously Sheldon couldn't mean anything by it; I didn't even tell him about that part of the conversation. I should be thrilled. Sheldon used to hate Valentine's Day, now he does this for me. Books, Valentine's Day, his love . . . what more could I ask for?

"Amy?" Sheldon's voice shattered her bubble.

"Oh, good morning. Thank you for my notes," she smiled at him.

"What's wrong? Did I get one wrong?" he asked, his face covered in confusion.

"Nothing's wrong. I just . . . I don't remember us using the word dignity when we discussed The Green Mile," she said quickly.

"I thought of it later, when I was analyzing Book Club in my mind. Maybe I should have brought it up again."

"I like that you ruminate on Book Club even after its over." This time her smile was sincere, and Sheldon smiled back.

"Of course I ruminate on it. You always say something interesting I haven't thought of before, and I need to give your ideas my full consideration."

Amy reached up for his face, and he met her halfway. Their lips brushed softly together, and then Amy thought about brushing the rest of his skin, and she pulled him in deeper. He allowed it for a bit, but then he broke away.

"If you keep that up, we'll be late for work," he said.

"That was the point. We were late last Valentine's Day . . ." she murmured softly.

"Oh, no, little lady, I've got important things to do today." He broke away from her to get the box of Honey Nut Cheerios. "Besides, we're not sex crazed newlyweds anymore."

It was like a thunder clap in her brain.


There was strange kicking sound at the door, and Amy opened it to find Sheldon's arms full with a box, the rest of the mail perched on top.

"Thanks," he said. "It looks like it's from your mother."

Amy sighed. "It's sheets."

"How do you know?" Sheldon asked, sitting the box down on the coffee table.

"I just do," Amy took the scissors he offered and carefully opened the package. She was right. A set of pristine white sheets. She took out a pillow case. Her mother was right: these were the softest sheets she had ever felt.

"What's this?" Sheldon asked, reaching out for the opposite end.

"Oh, no," Amy groaned. "Let me guess: ACS in a swirly font."

"No," Sheldon lifted it up for her to see. "FC" in, she was pleased to see, Copperplate.

"It's our monogram. I'm sorry," she said.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because it's a monogram. You, especially, are not a monogram person."

Sheldon shrugged. "But your mother is. It's not so bad. At least it's a practical gift. Not like last year's."

Oh, last year's gift. Just as expensive, just as proper, but, yes, completely useless. Who had all their photos printed into 4x6 prints anymore? She had only printed Raj's wedding photo to put on her desk. And, of course, Sheldon never took photos. So the expensive leather bound photo album with gold gilt lettering sat empty on their bookshelf, never opened.

"Here," Sheldon said. "Give them to me. I'll put them in the hamper for Laundry Night. Your mother will kill you if you don't write a thank-you card right away."

Amy sighed once more before going to her desk and taking out the notecards with her monogram on the front. A gift from her mother. Of course.


She shifted on the sofa, her neck bothering her, not wanting to move Sheldon's arm. But it was too much, and he took his arm away. Then he picked up the remote and paused the movie.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. I'm fine. I just can't get comfortable," Amy answered.

"I meant in general. Did you change your mind? Do you really want to get dressed up and go out to that French restaurant Raj told us about?"

"No, I'm fine. You would have hated it," she said.

"Amy, I would not have hated it. Not aloud. It's our second anniversary. It doesn't seem fair to you to stay in and watch a movie; especially since we just did this for Valentine's Day. You love going out to eat at fancy places."

"We already ate. It's fine," she looked away.

He sat up straighter. "In my two years of marriage, I have learned that when you say something is fine it is most certainly not fine. What's going on? Something has been bothering you all week. You even said you didn't want an anniversary present! Are you still mad about the sheets your mother sent? I told you, I don't mind the monogram. Tell me what's wrong. This is supposed to be a happy day."

"I'm worried that we're not newlyweds anymore, that the spark will go out," Amy blurted. "There, I said it, it's stupid, you can mock me now."

Sheldon turned off the television and turned on the sofa. "What are you talking about? What spark? Why should I mock you?"

"Traditionally, a couple is only considered to be newlyweds the first two years of marriage. So the honeymoon is over."

"Say's who?"

"My mother," she mumbled. Then, just as Sheldon's face was contorting into anger, she added, "And, well, you said it the other morning."

His mouth gaped open, and she saw his mental playback. "Oh . . . Amy . . . I . . . I didn't mean it. I was trying to be funny."

"I know! That's the worst part! I know it was just a silly little comment, but it's been bothering me! Because my mother basically said the same thing the day before."

"Let's leave your mother out of this. She knows absolutely nothing about our marriage. I don't care what she thinks. But you . . . I care very much about what you think." He swallowed. "Is this about love or sex?"

Amy shrugged. "I'm not sure."

He cocked his head. "It doesn't matter." He reached for her face. "Listen to me. I love you, Amy. I love you more today than that day we went to the courthouse together. I desire you more today than that day you dropped your Chapstick and I took you to bed. No one will ever change that, will ever take that away from us. Unless we let them. And nobody takes something from Sheldon Cooper without his consent."

Amy leaned in and put her head against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. She felt stupid and foolish. She knew she was the luckiest woman in the world. Not only had the incomparable Sheldon Cooper chosen her to be his mate, but she was always thrilled to find the glimpses of a romantic soul lurking behind his gorgeous blue eyes and deep inside his brilliant mind. "I'm sorry, Sheldon. I've been a fool."

"Shhh, that's enough. Yes, you've been fool, but you're my fool. And it's over." He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. "Well, it's earlier than I planned, but I have a surprise for you."

She sat back. "A surprise?"

"I decided on a gift for you before you said no anniversary presents."

"Oh, Sheldon, I really didn't get you anything. Please, save it for my birthday."

"Don't worry, it's a tiny thing. And," he grinned, "I am definitely not waiting until your birthday." He let go of her. "Wait here." He scrambled off the sofa and down the hallway.

Amy sat and waited. And waited. And waited. "Sheldon?" she called after what she thought had been a very long time.

"It's ready now!" his voice called back.

She waited a couple of more moments. "Where are you? What's going on?"

"Come back here. It's in the bedroom!"

Amy's eyebrows rose, and she was already smirking long before she opened the bedroom door. And then she burst out laughing.

"Don't laugh! I already feel ridiculous! It seemed like a good idea at the time . . ." Sheldon said, grabbing a sheet to cover his naked body. Well, not completely naked; he was wearing a red bowtie around his neck.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," Amy said, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes. "What is this?"

He shrugged and blushed. "You like it when I wear bow ties. And I looked it up, year two is fabric. This is the bowtie I wore when I went as the The Doctor for Halloween. And there's James Bond . . . you always like him."

"I do, I do. I just didn't expect that! At first, I thought you looked like a Chippendale," she giggled again at the thought.

"You thought I looked like one of the chipmunks in Rescue Rangers?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

She laughed again, and then jumped on the bed over him. "I love laughing with you, Sheldon."

"It felt more like laughing at me," he said, but she saw the glint in his eyes.

Amy kissed him, and it quickly deepened. Her lips left his and she left a trail of kisses on the way to his ear, where she said, "Nothing will ever take this from us." Then she whispered for the second time in a week, "I love you and you make me glow with incandescence and you are an unsolvable puzzle and I cannot resist that and I want to unlock you every day for the rest of my life . . ."

Then she took him there, in that ludicrous bowtie, on those expensive monogramed sheets, brushing his skin with such ferocity it surprised even her.


AN: Thank you for your reviews!