Inspiration is a funny thing. One line of this is something my dear friend and beta said to me (used with her permission, of course!). But most of it was inspired by Tim Gunn on last week's episode of Project Runway Junior, if you'd believe it!

Episode 14: The Emotion Detection Automation

Silence was not new to apartment 4B. Sheldon and Amy had spent many a soft hour in companionable quiet, each working on their own hobby or task, sometimes even sitting side-by-side but always grateful for both the other's presence and their understanding of the need for peace. Even though there were both mundane conversations about their plans or chores and deep discussions centered on their beliefs and theories, these quiet golden moments were still cherished for the depth of contentment and understanding they contained.

But this evening, over beef loaf, the silence was not so soft or golden. Sheldon had left the bedroom to sit at the table and partake in the meal Amy made for him, but he had obviously not left his emotions behind.

Eating her salad, Amy pondered what else to say, having thought that enough had been said in the bedroom. While Sheldon had been responsive and almost happy after Leonard and Penny came to apologize, now she could feel his brain churning unhappily across the table again.

Finally, Amy put her fork down and said quietly, "Sheldon, do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" he asked.

"I couldn't help but notice you seem preoccupied by something. Are you still upset about your machine?"

Sheldon sighed, but he put down his own fork. "No, not really."

Amy shifted in her seat. "Would you care to share what you are upset about?"

"What if I carry the machine to the train store tomorrow and no one takes me seriously?"

She bit of the immediate inclination to ask who did take an adult male in in a train store seriously. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've seen it. It looks like something out of Star Trek."

"Oh." Amy nodded. "I'll admit I thought it looked like a project made by a child out of leftover parts and spray-painted in the garage when I saw it, too. But I would imagine there will be a few children at the train store, so maybe they'll think it looks realistic."

Sheldon furrowed his eyebrows. "What are you talking about? I meant that Star Trek and locomotives don't mix. Sadly, there is no Venn diagram containing those too. Oh! Imagine riding a train in the holodeck!"

He smiled, that cute little smile he got when he was envisioning something, and Amy couldn't help but smile back. That seemed to have improved his mood.

"Listen, Sheldon," Amy got up and rounded the table to sit next to him, "I was serious when I said you don't have use the machine if you don't want to. So, don't take it to the store."

"I know." He looked down for a second, and the smile was lost.

"Spock didn't need an emotion machine," Amy said suddenly.

He looked up. "Or Data, even at first when he didn't understand verbal and facial cues very well. Although Data was a machine, so that's a little confusing."

"Sheldon, you don't need one either," she said softly, and then Amy brought both of her hands up to hold his face, resting the first two fingers of each hand on his temples and her thumbs near his chin. "Your thoughts to my thoughts, your mind to my mind."

His blue eyes opened wider. "Are you attempting a mind meld with me?"

Amy smiled softly. "Maybe."

"Well, then, you're doing it wrong." His words stung, but his fingers came to rest over hers, teasing the two fingers on his temple apart. Amy relaxed her hands and let Sheldon rearrange her fingers so that her index fingers were on his cheeks and her middle fingers on temples. Her thumbs remained where they were. Once her hands were arranged, he said, softer, "And it's 'My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.'"

"Oh."

Sheldon shut his eyes and then nodded ever so slightly, careful not to misplace her fingers. Taking this as his consent to proceed, Amy said, "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts."

She paused, unsure of what to say next. Obviously, she didn't really believe in the telepathy of Vulcan mind melds and she doubted that Sheldon did either. She had merely meant this as a demonstration that there was no machine necessary in her relationship with Sheldon, that they already understood each other on a level that no instrument could detect. Her love for him was too great and too complex to be analyzed by a mere box that looked like a bad 1960s television prop.

"You love me," Sheldon said suddenly, almost as though it surprised him.

"I do. So much." She knew it was a coincidence but it still pleased her that her method was working. Of course, she had just told him that she loved him in the bedroom, not all that long ago.

"You want me to be happy and you thought the machine would help make me happy, that it would make my social interactions with others easier."

"Yes," she confessed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have encouraged you to try it. It's only resulted in turmoil."

"Although your hypothesis may have been flawed and proven incorrect, your scientific motive cannot be disputed. It was valid investigation to undertake," Sheldon replied. Amy smiled at how seriously he was taking this mind meld, that he still hadn't opened his eyes.

"You love me, too. Enough to try my suggestions."

"I do," Sheldon agreed.

Just as Amy decide to pull her hands away, to give up this little game they were playing, perhaps to suggest a quiet activity such as cuddling and watching a movie together, Sheldon added, "You enjoy making love with me."

"That was never in doubt," Amy said quickly.

"You like it when I brush your hair way from your face and my fingertips graze your ear."

Just the thought gave her an involuntary shudder. "I do." She bit her lip. "You like it I when run my hands over your stomach, although it makes you ticklish."

"You like it when I hold your breast in my hand."

"You like the sound I make when I orgasm." Sheldon's eyes popped open, even has his face remained pressed against her fingertips. "No, you don't? You think it's too loud?"

"I thought you didn't know," he hushed. "I do love it. Is this mind meld really working?"

"I know because I can see it on your face, you have this little smile afterwards, like . . ." Amy shrugged. "I don't know. You look so proud and peaceful and happy all at once. I open my eyes after feeling such a physical high, and you are there, that look giving me an emotional high."

Suddenly, Sheldon leaned forward, breaking her fingers away from their mind meld and his lips landed with force on her. Amy squeaked in surprise but then returned the kiss as he drew his hand along her jaw, brushing back her hair, pulling her closer. Once there was no more air left, he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "You understand me."

"I think I always have."

"I wanted the machine to understand my friends and other people as well as you understand me. The easiest part of my life is living with you, having you understand me."

"Oh, Sheldon."

"But now I know no one can understand me the way I understand you or you understand me. Because they don't love me the way you do."

Amy tilted her head back to look into his eyes. "That was so romantic."

"Do I understand you well enough to think this would be an appropriate time to suggest we go to the bedroom?"

"You do."

"You like it when I unbutton your cardigan," he whispered as released the last button and helped her slide it down her shoulders.

"You like it when I put hand in your pants before I've removed them," she said, taking him in her hand.

"You like the way I look at you once your completely naked," he said as his eyes raked up and down her now nude form.

"You do like when I take my glasses off in the bedroom," she whispered as she stretched out to put them on the nightstand.

"Otherwise they hurt my cheeks!" Sheldon interjected and she chuckled.

"You like it when I make you laugh when we're intimate," he explained, reaching for her waist.

"You like it when I'm on top. You like to see me," Amy said as she moved over him and lowered herself around him.

"You always smile at the sound I make when you do that," he hushed.

"That seems too obvious," Amy said as he leaned forward, setting the pace.

"Okay, then, you like to be in control."

"You think I'm sexy when I'm in control."

"You like when I do this," Sheldon said, lowering his hands to cup her bottom.

"I think you like it more."

"This. You love this." Sheldon pulled her closer, kissing her deeply even as his hands helped to press her thighs deeper into him.

"So do you."

"Oh, God, this!" Amy cried at the ultimate moment, and she looked down just in time to see the little smile of pride and peace and joy, and then Sheldon gasped as his neck arched and his eyes squeezed shut.

Amy collapsed against him, resting her forehead against his. Sheldon's hand came up gently, brushing along her jaw until his fingers came to rest on her temple and her cheek and her chin.

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