It's been another slowish day at work. She's been mechanically smiling, taking orders, flirting mildly with a few regular tippers. Penny still isn't sure how she should be feeling. Up until now, breakups have always involved a rebound of 'Party Penny'. Except, this time, it feels...different. Almost like she hasn't broken up with a guy at all. Like she'd be cheating on the, the idea of anything, something with Sheldon.
Sheldon. She still can't get her head round having feelings for him. Oh, she gets all the stuff about him as himself, the honesty and the odd kindness and the utter incomprehension of real people, and how weirdly endearing he can be. She's lived across the hall for three years, and she wouldn't spend time with the guys if she didn't actually, y'know, like them. But this awareness of Sheldon as an actual male is new – the 'cute, lanky guy' factor having been swiftly extinguished by the whole 'batcrap crazy when he opens his mouth' factor. Only now...she finds the crazy kind of cute, she knows how to shut him down when he's really winding up, and she's noticing, really noticing his hands and the way his mouth curves, and that startled arch of his eyebrows and the fact, the way, that he had been looking at her outside that bathroom, and she'd been looking right back.
All the little memories that she has been repressing, ignoring, denying, hugs and touches, and the sight of skin, and the way he had felt that morning she woke up in his arms on that camping trip.
She keeps trying to put it together in her head, that she has actual, physical feelings for this irritating, adorkable, oddly innocent genius. And what these feeling are, because this isn't one of those 'oh, he's cute' club pick-ups, or a haze of alcohol that make it seem like a good idea, or even just the sorta sweet guy who hung around until she thought she might try 'nice' for a change. (And didn't that work out just swell?) She knows him, knows how utterly annoying and insane he can be, and it doesn't stop a wholly unexpected little flutter in her, when he comes through the door.
Of course, it's Tuesday evening, he's just here for his burger, she was expecting him, and still, she's torn between a smile and rolling her eyes, because Kori, a very new server, who hasn't had the Crazy Hamburger Guy talk yet, has just tried to sit him somewhere else. He's on his own, which is sad, but hardly surprising, and so she's trying to sit him at a smaller table.
Yeah, she thinks, deftly avoiding the eye of a signalling jerk as she heads towards the escalating situation, whether he's a customer, a problem or something else entirely, Sheldon is, at any rate, hers.
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Kori, slightly wild-eyed after her first experience of trial-by-Sheldon, has gone off to the relatively soothing task of serving beer to a table of college guys. Penny smiles at Sheldon, who is looking huffy.
"Really, Penny, doesn't everyone know that this is my usual table on Tuesday evenings?"
(A slight hitch before 'my', awareness of empty seats around him.)
"She knows now." She already has his order, and if her hand lingers on his shoulder for a moment, it isn't anything at all, really. "I'll get your lemonade."
Sven ambles in some five minutes later, and Penny is almost surprised when he heads straight for Sheldon. Two of the busboys nearly collide in shock, but Sven is already hanging his jacket on the back of a chair, sitting down, and Sheldon seems calm enough about it. Three years of Sheldon have inured the place to most of his strange behaviours. Penny thinks it's sad that him having different friends seems to be the strangest.
It seems prudent to phone Beth, though. She's not convinced that any of the guys have given up on their little idea of building something stupid.
"Oh, I'm on my way over, now." Beth is cheerful, unconcerned. "I told Sven they get ten minutes guy talk, and then they have to behave like adults."
Penny looks across at the table. The conversation doesn't seem to be disturbing anyone around them, which is good.
"I'm just not convinced that they aren't plotting world domination."
On the other end of the call, Beth dithers, chews her lip, confesses,
"Look, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but that man phoned Sven up the other night asking for dating tips."
Oh, god, Sheldon at his weird and wonderful best... Penny feels her eyes prick unexpectedly.
"Don't laugh at him," she blurts, fierce pleading, "He really doesn't know any better, he never had all the, the stuff that people go through, all that random crap from High School..."
"Oh, hon, no, I think it's adorable." Beth soothes. "We know him, remember. He's weird as hell, but he's lovely. He's just worried that he's going to make a mess of it, bless him."
"He's worried?" Penny blows out her breath. "I'm scared that I'm gonna mess him up, Beth. I have this history of turning guys into jerks."
"Sheldon's not some 'guy'... He's sweet and smart, and I think he really cares about you. Only way you'll mess him up is if you don't care about him back."
"Half the time I want to kill him."
"Yes." Beth says, patiently. "Men are like that. The fact you don't is the whole point."
Penny laughs, then. She's just not used to this, this feeling that she could break him if she gets this wrong. Which is crazy, because for all his geeky flailing, Sheldon is one of the strongest characters she knows.
She doesn't want to get this wrong. Whatever 'this ' turns out to be.
And then she thinks how strange it is that everyone assumes that she and Sheldon will simply get together now, even them.
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Across the hall, there is a polite and fragile equilibrium. They have lived together in this apartment for seven years, nearly a quarter of a lifetime, after all. This much does not change – the coffee pot, the bathroom schedule. They have even been to the comic store, but not together, merely four individuals in the same space, patch of normality over the void.
...Sheldon had been in deep conference with Stuart – his upcoming absence will require pre-ordering and arrangements to bag his purchases. Leonard was still mad with Raj, in addition to whatever the hell is going on with Sheldon. So Howard had been left hovering between, unsure of what to do. The usual pattern is to go out to a bar. But that was when he was a single man himself, and the three of them were a unit, a pack. Now – the fault-lines had run in unexpected ways, Raj choosing to side with Sheldon. (Howard can't blame him, the guy is nominally his boss, after all, and he's proving increasingly unpredictable.)
"It's Wednesday." He'd muttered to Raj. "You don't think we're supposed to turn up for 'Halo', do you?"
An exchange of looks.
"You really want to go over there?"
"Hell, no."
"Me, neither."
It isn't brave or noble, but they had waited until Sheldon was paying for his comics, and then edged out of the door. Leonard hadn't been too sorry to see them go, had been within a hair of edging out after them. It had been a very silent drive back...
Penny is getting her mail. There is a horrible, stark moment, where the three of them stare.
Leonard, all stiff and angry, decides to give her the cold shoulder, belatedly realising that she doesn't quite care. He is forced to go up the stairs alone, torn between hovering on the landing, and really not wanting to hear what they might say to each other.
Sheldon stands there, in his layered tee's and his awful checked pants, twisting the strap of his messenger bag.
"It's Wednesday." he says. "It should be 'Halo' night."
Sheldon doesn't deal well with change, and everything has come to pieces around him. No more games nights, or take-out together...
"Perhaps...you could bring the Xbox over?" Suggests it before she really thinks. Sheldon blinks.
"That...could be acceptable."
This is Sheldon. And he's awkward enough for the both of them. She's not going to treat him any differently. It's just a video game.
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When Sheldon starts neatly uncoupling the Xbox, stacking the controllers, Leonard just stares.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to play 'Halo'."
The Xbox belongs to Sheldon, he hadn't waited for the insurance payout to come through, had raided one of his little hoards.
"You can't just go over there and..." He doesn't even know how to put it.
"And what?" Sheldon's tone is mild, his face open. Almost honest confusion. Except Leonard is wary of that innocence now.
"She's my ex-girlfriend." There. The words fall between them, sharp edges and leaden finality.
"Penny is still my friend. She was my friend before your liaison. I consider the states mutually exclusive."
Leonard knows how to push Sheldon's buttons. Knows how to divert him, to manage him. In other circumstances, he would play the 'best friend' card. In other circumstances ...would it work? With Sheldon, possibly. He is an honourable man. But he is also inflexible upon that subject.
And...he's not sure he has the right to play that card any longer.
He thought he knew Sheldon. But he's not sure he does know this man. Face and voice and mannerisms the same, but something behind the eyes now, an awareness, and a wall.
Leonard realises that he does not want to breach that wall. He's seen a glimpse, a hard, hot rage, all the more scary for the control exerted. Now, there is something too watchful to be true indifference, an observation shaded with faint disapproval. As if he has failed some kind of test.
He is numb and bruised and angry. Bewildered by the speed with which things fell apart, but a weird admixture of...the word isn't acceptance or resignation – a sense of the inevitable? He still doesn't know what he did wrong with Penny.
He knows what he did wrong with Sheldon, though. Everything has become so twisted together – was it instinct that led him to the one sure way to really hurt his friend, striking back at the unwitting representative of all he isn't and will never be?
There was no other way to hurt him. Divorced from the world, in that stark landscape, there had been no escape, from him or from themselves. That Sheldon had been fracturing under the disruption of his routine, reverting to the twitchy robot he had been when Leonard first met him, that mixture of inflexibility and utter disregard.
Well, he has created a self-fulfilling prophecy, a loop of action and reaction, and somehow, his baseless jealousy has become a distinct possibility.
He has no right to dictate who his ex-girlfriend sees, and no right at all to pass any judgements on his former(?) best friend.
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Penny watches Sheldon grumbling softly to himself over cables and controllers. She has a sudden flashback – Rob, an old boyfriend, and his stereo system. Though, instead of a denim-clad butt stuck up in the air, this one is khaki-clad, and if she pets it, he's likely to bury his head in the tv screen in shock. She grins – the thought of actually wanting to pet Sheldon's butt is still new and weird. (Well, allowing the thought headspace is.)
"We don't normally play one-on-one..." She can't help it, her mouth twitches, and she bites her lips. And Sheldon actually flushes.
"In the absence of the usual team configurations, we will have to...improvise." Even saying the word looks like it hurts him. "Unless you wish to see if Wolowitz and Koothrappali..."
"No." Her mouth says, before her brain catches up.
He's absurdly pleased.
They play a good campaign, strange to be opposing each other, but without the distraction of team members, it is a hard-fought scrap, no quarter given or asked.
He can be childish, but he isn't a child. There's something in that nervous sideways glance of his, flings her back through the years. God, she thinks, this is like High School over again, all nervous smiles and quick eyes and wondering whether...
But Sheldon never went to High School. He went straight from Fifth Grade to college. The body might be all grown up, but he's so...innocent, otherwise. He's like one of his precious collectibles, all mint condition and still in the wrapping. The thought makes her grin.
She wants to put her arms round him, and protect him, and kiss him, and shake him, all at once. Sitting there with those big eyes, sweet and almost clueless. She could make such a mess of him.
Sheldon is badly distracted by the way she bites her lip, that scowl of concentration, the fierce grin when she's stalking her prey. It reminds him of the way she is in battle, the way she smiles at him, the way she kissed him before. He dies horribly, and permits her to make victorious noises.
His little frown, blue eyes settling, and she is suddenly aware of the mind behind that gaze, as he concentrates on her. It's actually a little scary, the intense focus.
"Penny, could this be considered...a date?"
She has never heard him sound unsure before. Never heard herself sound unsure.
"Do you...want it to be?"
"...yes?" he says, in the smallest voice.
They stare at each other. It's here, and it's happening, and holy crap.
She wants to grab him and kiss him, but he might panic and run, or think it's all too soon, and he doesn't...
Sheldon kisses her.
It's a short, panicked peck, his lips just dabbing hers, and he scoots backwards immediately.
He kisses her.
He looks completely freaked out, but he's still sitting there, long body jolting with nerves, and his jaw set.
"Sheldon..." Her smile, burning brighter than his bridges. "Come back here."
A gentle bumping of noses, his large hands rest on her hips, her small hands cradling his face, and her mouth brushing his, his lips nervous but determined on hers, a little clumsy but so, so sweet.
She's kissing Sheldon, or he's kissing her, or they are both kissing each other. He doesn't quite know what he's doing, but he's learning, adjusting, she can feel his mind working. He's restrained, tidy economical movements.
She's warm, generous, welcomes him, encourages him. She feels the faint scratch of stubble beneath her fingertips, the tension in his jaw melting away beneath her touch. She's gonna have to take this slow. If she sticks her tongue down his throat, he'll probably have a heart-attack. So she kisses him gently, carefully, sweet little sips at his mouth.
There's a civil war going on inside his head. The cool, logical part of his mind, that frets and calculates, exchange of bodily fluids, possible cross-contamination, invasion of his personal space...losing rapidly to the animal hindbrain, which revels in the sensation of her soft, warm lips. This is blood and breath and bone, pinwheels of thought, his mind primary colours and his heartbeat loud in his ears.
They end up collapsing onto the couch, Sheldon all angles and elbows, unsure of what to do with himself, but resigned to following her lead, awkward assemblage of his long limbs around her.
He doesn't lunge at her, his hands don't wander, but she can feel him trembling.
"Sshhh." Soothes him, her fingers hard against his heartbeat. "Just keep kissing me, we'll figure this out."
Three years ago, she wasn't in the right place for this. She was hurting and ready to be a party girl again, smarting from four years thrown away on a jerk. Now, she's ready to appreciate him. He's ready to appreciate her.
It's ridiculous. He's skinny and awkward, and he's got no dress sense, he's tactless and weird and geeky. And she's crazy about him. He doesn't have the same hang-ups and the general whiny crap that other guys carry around. But then, Sheldon never had normal. He's never even dated before. So she's going to have to teach him. Right back to basics.
A chance to start over, to get it right. She's as scared as he is.
"We're gonna take this slowly, okay? And...we're not going to get up in Leonard's face about it."
"Agreed." His chin settles on the top of her head. "I find that I have no desire to share anything personal with him any more."
"Uh..you don't share anything personal with any of them." Moves her cheek against his chest. "What happens between us stays between us, okay? And if Howard persists in asking questions, you tell me and I'll sort him out."
"He is far more scared of you than he is of me." Sheldon is thoughtful. "But then, I haven't punched him in the face. Yet." He adds.
"When did you get so violent?"
"You bring out some latent primitive instinct in me." He says, seriously. "A hardwired biological desire to fight for my mate. It's highly embarrassing, Penny, I don't see what's so funny about it..."
She knows that this whole thing will look weird and sudden to other people, but this is six months, and three years in the making. Breaking up with Leonard was just... bad timing. Getting together with Leonard had been bad judgement. She's not sure what getting together with Sheldon is.
This isn't an easy or a quick decision, after all. But it is very simple. She would rather try and fail with him, than never know.
He's still grumbling on about 'imperatives' and 'primates' and 'evolutionary development'...
"If you start comparing me to a gorilla again, I'm gonna hit you." Penny growls at him.
"I simply meant that choosing intelligence in a mate is a far more evolved decision in the modern world." Sheldon says rapidly, aware of her proximity to sensitive areas of his anatomy.
"So picking you is the most evolved choice, huh?"
"Yes." He says, mostly matter of fact, and just the tiniest bit smug. But she can still feel the jolt of nerves through him, the way his arms tighten slightly, so she runs her thumbs up over the arch of his eyebrows and kisses the end of his nose, laughing gently at the mix of indignation and satisfaction. His eyes follow her mouth, hopeful.
He's still himself, still Sheldon. But this - is like opening an easter egg, going up a level...Oh, crap. Geek is definitely catching.
So she kisses him again.
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Sheldon, looking a bit dazed and dopey, wandering back in just late enough to be worrisome. Leonard, doing a very bad job of working nonchalantly at his computer, finds that he can't even force himself to try and be casual about it.
They stare at each other, all the complex storm of hate and hurt and jealousy and bewilderment.
"We only broke up a few days ago, you're just a rebound." He doesn't even convince himself.
Sheldon's face tightens.
"I care about Penny." He says, in a very calm voice. "You. Will. Not. Wreck. This. Leonard."
It is a threat, and a warning, and a statement of how the world is going to be.
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She's getting ready for work the next day, when there is a triple knock, her name. Sheldon, with a clipboard. This never ends well.
"May I come in?"
"Yeah." Eyes the clipboard. "Do I want to know?"
"I can't answer that. Do you want to know?"
"Sheldon..."
"Penny."
"What do you want, Sheldon?"
"I have some questions."
No, this is probably not going to end well.
"If the words 'menstrual cycle' come out of your mouth at any point, I am kicking you out..."
He stares at her.
"I already have that information noted. After three years, I am familiar with your cycle, and the concomitant irritability levels." He actually looks proud. "I estimated that you would not become irrational or overly violent until Friday."
Penny stops, thinks about it, blinks. Damn. That's a few things to add to the grocery list.
"So?"
"What are your favourite flowers?"
She leans over, and yanks the clipboard out of his hands, looks at the list. Her eyebrows go up. Sheldon's heart sinks. He starts to back away.
"If you wish to fill it out in private..."
Penny's hand shoots out, grabs a handful of t-shirt. She's not taking her eyes off the paperwork in front of her.
Of course. This is Sheldon. How else would he approach the subject? If this was any other guy, the fact that he had a file like this on her would be way creepy. But this is Sheldon, so of course he has notes on her underwear size, which CareBears she is missing from her collection and the fact that she hates mushrooms on her pizza. The 11 o'clock rule, behaviours she finds unacceptable.
A note beside 'preferred physical attributes' – 'enquire whether gym membership is a prerequisite.' Even her vivid imagination has difficulty with that one – Sheldon in a gym, just...no.
She looks up at him. He's wide-eyed, worried. Trying so hard not to make a mess of things, compiling a dossier, so very anxious to get it right.
Nobody has ever asked her anything like this before. She's had jewellery and underwear and scent, toys both innocent and not. But nobody ever bothered to ask her in advance what she actually liked. She tightens her grip and tugs him closer, to where she can reach up and kiss him softly.
"Daisies." She says, gently. "I like daisies."