The Star-Crossed Glitch
XX. Who do you love?
I can't wait for tonight. :) :)
While Amy was sure that Raj meant the thought in his message, the redundant smileys made her think that he was probably overcompensating for some doubt or anxiety. But no matter… She strode down the grocery aisle determinedly, pushing a huge cart. Tonight, everything will go well. No snags this time.
She had decided beforehand to cook spaghetti with tomato-based sauce—it was hearty, delicious, and would go with a romantic mood, but still simple enough to keep dinner casual. She got the noodles and tomato sauce. Meat, for a good Bolognese sauce. On her way to get the meat, she picked up a package of hotdogs on impulse. This might go nicely with the sauce… or not. She remembered an offhand comment about cut-up hotdogs in spaghetti. She frowned. Despite his geeky characteristics, Raj was quite sophisticated, and it wouldn't do to serve him a meal for more juvenile tastes.
"Maybe I should just go with steaks," she murmured, dropping the hotdogs in the cart. "He likes hamburgers. He probably likes steaks too." She grabbed two generous servings of rib eye and wheeled away.
Dessert. She should probably go with crème brûlée for dessert; that would show how she was willing to put effort into their relationship. Passing by rows of nuts, she thought how lovely pecan pie would be. Or chocolate chip cookies. But Raj would hardly find those impressive. She looked alternately at a bunch of vanilla beans in one hand and a jar of pecans in the other.
"Big night ahead?"
She glanced up. A petite young woman was checking her cart and gave her a bright smile. She couldn't help smiling back. "Um, yes."
The stranger clasped her hands demurely behind her back, and tilted her head innocently. "You have a strange assortment of items here…"
"Yeah… I thought about making spaghetti with hotdogs, but then I thought I'd go with steak, and I was going to make crème brûlée, but pecan pie seems so good…"
"Who are you trying to cook for, anyway?"
Amy stuttered and she quickly fished out the spaghetti ingredients. "Er, it's… well, my boyfriend. He, umm, likes beef, I think."
"I see. And who likes spaghetti with hotdogs?" the girl asked.
She pressed her lips tightly together. That was something she heard from Sheldon, one time they all had dinner at an Italian diner. "Just thought of… something, someone said."
"Oh..?"
Suddenly, Amy felt annoyed with the strange young lady. Who was she to grill Amy about tonight's plans anyway? "I don't expect you to understand. Yes, I was thinking of him, but I have a boyfriend, a wonderful, wonderful man, and he deserves so much, just because I'm drawn to somebody else doesn't mean…" Realizing she had said too much, she stopped, her mouth hanging in horror.
The stranger stared at her with round, dark eyes. "So… two guys, huh?"
"It's not like that," she said in a rush. "It's-it's… it's complicated."
"I doubt it is so," the girl said.
"Yes it is."
"Well, there's a simple question that's key to solving your predicament." The girl grinned. "Who do you love?"
Amy started, drew a breath, and after a while, reasoned: "It's not that simple…"
She shrugged. "Hey you know, some people make pecan pie with those newfangled recipes that leave out corn syrup, but you really shouldn't do that, it's much better with corn syrup, why must people complicate things, huh?" When she drew her hands up from behind her, they clutched a red straw hat—she wore it and walked away.
Amy shook her head to clear it. No… it will be okay. Without bothering to take out the superfluous ingredients, she hurried to the checkout.
"Amy, will you look at this—" he gestured to the diagram on the wall and threw up his hands in despair. "It seems they did not heed my strongly worded letter about taking down this inaccurate 'map of the tongue' diagram which makes me certain that they have ignored my second instruction, which is to send memos to every child who walked these halls about how they have employed that common misconception in their display."
"While I agree with your sentiments, this is a children's museum, hardly hallowed ground for true science," she reasoned. "It would be difficult to find an employee here who would care to make the correction."
"It's thanks to that complacent attitude that this generation would continue the tradition of being bombarded with erroneous information, only finding out the truth when it's already difficult to unlearn the faulty basics!" He was flushed, blue eyes bright, and he was practically bouncing on his toes.
She couldn't suppress her giggle. He rolled his eyes in exasperation and he huffed—his attempt to express dissatisfaction only made him look even more adorable. He ran both hands through his short brown hair then turned to the group of preschool students standing before the diagram. "All of you, please do your part in stamping out these pseudoscientific nonsense."
Watching him explain to the children that receptors for every basic taste can be found all over the tongue and that there were in fact five tastes instead of four, she smiled. The little children listened to the lecture intently. He only sent them on their way after they had asked him at three relevant questions.
"You're surprisingly good with children," she remarked as she walked beside him. Lightly brushing her hand against his at first, she then held his hand tentatively.
"Only with very young ones." He quickly made a U-turn and their hands unlinked as the distance increased between them. She smiled wryly, willing herself not to let it bother her. From beside a suggestion box, he grabbed a feedback form and pocketed it. "Very young kids tend to be excited about all new knowledge and receptive to the information I supply them."
He slowly resumed following the helpful arrows on the halls and stopped when he realized that she wasn't beside him. "What are you doing?"
She walked through an elevator and held out her hand. "Come with me."
"But Amy…" he visibly swallowed and looked around.
"It's okay," she whispered, smiling reassuringly.
"No, it isn't, you're just saying that."
She dropped her outstretched hand with a sigh. Within seconds, the elevator doors beeped and, no longer sensing any obstacles, began to close.
"No, wait—wait for me!" He ran at a speed she didn't know he was capable of, and she gaped as she watched, before the door slid shut.
DING-DONG!
She nearly fell off the couch as she awoke from the sound of the doorbell. Hurriedly smoothing down her new blouse and loosely curled hair, Amy opened the door. "Good evening."
"Good evening." Raj handed her a three-piece arrangement: a white rose, a pink rose, and a red rose. Whispering her thanks, she grabbed a vase from under her sink and placed the roses in it.
They sat down to dinner, asking each other about how the day's work went as they ate their herbed steaks with red wine. They have been keeping the conversation light for the past few occasions they met, following the disastrous fitting and the lab incident with Sheldon. Amy knew that neither of them wanted to break the tentative harmony, but the longer it went on, the more she found it difficult to start an honest conversation.
Raj polished off the steak; for her part, Amy didn't feel like eating the entire slab of beef and left half. She took the crème brûlée ramekins out of the refrigerator and torched the tops to crisp shells, while he watched the entire time with sparkling, excited eyes.
"Wow, I love crème brûlée and I often make it, but I've never had anyone make it for me before." He rubbed his hands when she set it before him, and immediately cracked the top and took a bite. The smile disappeared from his face and he tilted his head.
Amy winced. "Is it bad?"
"N-No, it's delicious!" he insisted through the unswallowed mouthful. She tried a spoonful and cringed. The custard was still runny, instead of having a creamy, velvety texture. He gulped down the dessert and said: "It's not completely set, but the flavor is good and the shell is perfectly caramelized. It's hard to get everything perfect the first time."
Still wanting to satisfy her sugar cravings, she pulled out some frozen chocolate chip cookie dough balls and laid out a batch for baking. "Would you like some cookies as well?" He nodded. While waiting for the cookies, they exchanged notes about how to make crème brûlée, and how they found tonight's steak dinner and the accompanying wine. When the cookies were done, Amy served them in a plate with two glasses of milk and immediately ate two pieces. Raj took a bite from a cookie and balanced it on the edge of the plate.
"Would you like something else?" she asked.
"No," he said. "It's really good."
"But..?"
He shrugged and grinned wryly. "I guess chocolate chip cookies aren't a very good fit with steak."
After her third cookie, she drank some milk and steeled herself. It was now or never. "Raj… I think, we should talk about us."
He looked down at his half-eaten cookie, his shoulders drooping. "You want to break up, right?"
She pushed up her glasses. "Um, no, actually… look, I'll prove it to you." She grabbed his hands and pulled him in the direction of her bedroom. He made stuttering noises as he allowed himself to be dragged along, but stood firm at the entrance.
"Amy, we don't have to."
Yes, we do. Instead of replying, she kissed him and while he was distracted, pulled him inside the room. She made him sit down on the bed, sat down beside him, and kissed him again. He began to respond and when they broke apart, gazed straight into her eyes. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. Gently, he pushed her on the bed and started undoing her buttons. He hovered over her, swallowed hard, then nudged her thighs apart with a knee, settling between them.
When he had finished unbuttoning her blouse, he pulled it open with a snap. She inadvertently let out a whimper, not of pleasure but of distress, and cowered against the sheets, instinctively trying to close her legs.
He froze, his hands still on her shirt. "Amy," he said in hushed tones. "It's okay. I won't hurt you."
She nodded and bit her lip. He kissed her forehead, her temple, her cheek, while his hands moved to her chest, his fingers grazing the edge of her bra. She remembered… Sheldon. Kissing her, holding her, touching her. Another sob escaped her lips.
Raj pulled away, shifting to kneel beside her. "Wait! I'm sorry…" she grabbed his hands and directed them to her chest, but he pulled her shirt close and started buttoning it up. "Raj?"
"Amy, I don't think we should do this now…" he sighed. "Or ever."
"Huh?" His words didn't immediately sink in, but when they did, she felt a distinct lack of surprise. "You're breaking up with me."
"Yeah…" he nodded. "It's because I'm me… not the person you want. And you're you… you don't feel that way about me." She opened her mouth to protest, but he looked straight into her eyes and asked her: "Who do you love?"
No answer came from her parted lips.
"You don't even need to reply. We both know the answer to that question."
"It's my fault," she whispered.
He shrugged. "No one can help the way they feel. Although, I wish you hadn't let things come to this."
She sighed; since meeting his friends—since meeting Sheldon—she had repeatedly gone through myriad emotions that she didn't even have any more tears now. "Thank you for everything. And I'm sorr—"
Raj put a finger to her lips. "Please don't. Saying sorry makes it sound like you regret the time we have spent together. I hope you don't. Because I don't. It was nice having somebody by my side, even for a while."
She shook her head. "Raj… the first man to ask me to be his girlfriend, to hold my hand, to hug me and kiss me… it was all you. And I'm thankful that it was you." She smiled. "Before I met you, I didn't even think that I could be desired as a girlfriend by anyone. I certainly didn't think that I was worth the time and effort you've dedicated to our relationship. But you're wonderful… I'm just Amy Farrah Fowler, but you treated me well."
He chuckled. "You've got it wrong. It's because you're Amy Farrah Fowler that you should be treated that way. You know, you're that woman who could even attract Sheldon Cooper." At the mention of that name, she winced, but Raj placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Just promise me one… no, two things. One, despite how you and Sheldon feel about each other, in this kind of situation… I can't tell you not to be with him, but… right now, it doesn't seem to be a good idea. And two, when you do end up with Sheldon, please don't let him be less than the man that you deserve."
"You need not worry about that," she whispered, but nodded in assent anyway.
He squeezed her shoulder. "One for the road?" Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss upon her forehead. Then he picked up his sweater vest and headed out the door.
Amy flopped back on her bed, utterly relieved, but now feeling the emptiness of the space to her right more keenly than ever.
Author's Notes: Hold your fire folks, the Ramy is no more. It was hard to write this chapter. *shudder* Oh well, on to more Shamy.