Sheldon

Alas, it's another night of callous morons and cold mi krop. Wolowitz is deep in a ludicrous conversation with a drunken Koothrappali, both insensitive to the fact that I could care less about the tenets of the religious belief Foundationism from the still-stupid space opera Babylon 5. I can't even seem to find solace in my food, as Penny was tardy in fulfilling her hot delivery obligations. A traffic jam is no excuse for wintry provisions.

To make matters worse, Bernadette and Amy Farrah Fowler are here. Currently, all of the womenfolk cluster together in the kitchen and talk in low murmurs. Once again, I find myself excluded from certain divisions of our social group simply because A, I am not an idiot, and B, I am not female. Oh, the woes of being Sheldon Cooper. Times like these make me more inclined to crave Leonard's presence.

Leonard. The name itself causes my stomach to squirm in a most unbecoming manner. Until only recently, I thought these reactions were due to my discomfort at Leonard's absence. Now, however, I am given to understand that my digestive distress is in direct correlation with something that lesser beings more often experience than I: guilt. As much as I "miss" Leonard, I shrink from the idea of his return, for I know I will be unable to keep my secret amorous warmth towards Penny from him. Perhaps Penny was right in refusing to sign my contract. I inwardly grunt to display my frustration at these strenuous human emotions.

"You alright there, Sheldon?"

I glance up from the ice pit that is my Thai food to see Penny peering at me with one eyebrow aloft. Apparently, my inward grunt was more outward in nature. Everyone is staring at me.

"I apologize for my animalistic behavior," I say finally. They all stare at me for a few seconds longer before returning to their conversations.

I sigh in what appears to be relief, as I have no intention in discussing my internal turmoil. My gaze always seems to seek out Penny when my thoughts run astray. She stands with one hand on the counter and the other curled around the stem of a wine glass. Her mouth is curved into a smile as she talks with animation about something or the other. I strain my ears to listen. "…they were on sale, so I bought four pairs in different colors. Can you believe that?"

I am bored already. I find my fondness for Penny fascinating simply because I fail to relate to her on any discernible level. I don't care about the sales she stumbles upon at the mall, nor do I care about anything else she has to say. Yet, I am drawn to her. The situation reminds me of Pluto's relationship to the sun. Pluto, which I maintain is still a planet, is gravitationally inclined to orbit our native star despite the distance and overall incompatibility the two bodies share. What does Pluto have in common with the sun? Nothing. They are polar opposites in terms of size, temperature, and structure. The sun has a forcefully attracting personality. Pluto prefers solitude. They share no hobbies. For example, where Pluto takes pleasure in model trains, monkeys, 3D chess, and comic books, the hydrogen and helium headed sun prefers spending money on alcohol and frivolous merchandise. As I am unsure as to whether or not I've made myself perfectly clear, I am Pluto, and Penny is the sun. I'm glad we've established this.

Penny, my sphere of hot plasma, laughs loudly and breaks my concentration. She touches Amy Farrah Fowler's shoulder – a gesture of camaraderie. Penny does not seem to be experiencing guilt with Amy Farrah Fowler in a way akin to that of my situation with Leonard. Despite Penny's indisputable brainlessness, I find myself curious to know what she's thinking.

xxxxx

Penny

Get me out of here. Why would I think inviting Amy was a good idea? She sees right through me. I'm trying to use wine and obnoxious laughter to hide my anxiousness. I tell myself that Amy wouldn't mind – she was always complaining about Sheldon anyway. But as soon as I feel Sheldon's eyes on me, I want to disappear. I force myself not to look at him too much because every time I do, I'm assaulted by a memory of soft lips and an overpowering smell of cleanness.

"Has Sheldon said anything about me?" Amy asks.

My mouth runs dry. Am I hearing his name just because I've been thinking about him, or is Amy really asking me about him? I decide to go with my safest reply. "Huh?"

"Sheldon. Has he said anything about me since, you know, we terminated our relationship?"

"Uh, n-no," I splutter. I get my cool back. "Not that I know of, anyway." I glance at Sheldon; he's watching me a calm look of indifference. I blink a little too much before turning my attention back to Amy.

"Are you over him?" Bernadette asks Amy.

"I'd like to think so," Amy replies in monotone. She lowers her voice. "However, there are some things I miss about him."

"Like what?" Bernadette leans in for some juiciness.

"For one," says Amy, "his tight butt."

I choke on a gulp of wine. "His wh-what?" Out of the corner of my eye, Sheldon cocks his head to the side.

"Remarkable, I know. As Sheldon refuses all forms of physical exercise, his glutes are surprisingly in-shape."

I want to die. Right now, if possible. I know Sheldon's listening in with his supernatural hearing; he's probably interested in my thoughts on his ass as well. I pick my words carefully. "Sheldon's butt aside, how would you feel if you found out that he has moved on to someone else?"

Amy frowns. "To defend my honor, I would be forced to initiate a duel with this other woman." Her eyebrows knit together. "Why? What do you know?"

I know not to tell her the truth, that's for sure. "Nothing. It was a hypothetical question." I see Raj get up from the couch to go to the bathroom. Howard, apparently not wanting to be alone with Sheldon, also gets up. He joins us in the kitchen. "Excuse me," I tell Amy and Bernadette. I take Raj's spot and sit down next to Sheldon. "Did you hear all of that?" I whisper.

He shifts in his seat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do, you nutcase. What are we gonna do? Amy and Leonard will kill us." I bury my face in my hands.

"Fear not, Penny. Take comfort in the notion that when Leonard and Amy Farrah Fowler do, in fact, slaughter us, we will no longer be subject to the guilt of our betrayal."

"Your betrayal," I hiss. "This is your fault."

Sheldon scoffs. "In what universe is this my fault? You with your soft hair and female witchery…If I didn't know any better, I'd accuse you of drugging me with the scientific equivalency of a love potion. And yes, I'm still feeling ill. Thanks for asking." His tone is bitter.

Howard is laughing in the kitchen, reminding me that our friends are only a few feet away. I lower my voice. "You so started it with your brainiac sexiness. Oh, yeah, as soon as Leonard's gone it's all turn on the charm with Dr. Cooper. Is this your revenge for Leonard leaving you? Steal his ex-girlfriend so he comes crawling back when he finds out? It's pathetic."

"Excuse me," Sheldon says heatedly, "but I've done nothing of the sort. I am sincere in my conquest, if not delusional."

"Delusional. That's the most sincere thing I've heard all night. You're delusional if you think any of this is going to work out."

There's an uncomfortable silence between us that is only filled by Howard making a sixty-nine joke in the kitchen. "By 'this,' you mean…" Sheldon trails off and raises his eyebrows.

"Us. You and me."

Sheldon stares at me a few moments before responding. "You think I'm sexy?"

What? That's what he's managed to get from this conversation? Whackadoodle. "Sheldon, don't change the subject."

"I'm sorry, I was just employing a technique in which I bring up a reason why you appreciate my existence in order to alleviate your disagreeable behavior. Attempt failed. Duly noted. Please, by all means, continue to assail me with your womanly stridence." He cups a hand beneath his chin and watches me with rapt attention.

I hate him. I hate him so much. "Sheldon," I say softly, "I want you to do something for me."

"Yes, Penny?"

"You know that Relationship Agreement thingy?"

"Yes."

"Rip it up." I get up from the couch and leave him sitting in silence. I go to the kitchen and pour myself another glass of wine. Before, I couldn't wait for everyone to leave. Now, I dread being left alone with Sheldon. I glance at him against better judgment. He's not looking at me as he slowly rises from the couch. He stands there awkwardly, staring at the dinner leftovers, before abandoning the mess to escape to the depths of his Batcave.

xxxxx

A/N: The unlucky thirteenth chapter. Sad face.