There are mornings when Amy wakes as if lost, disoriented. And as she takes her next breath, she'll know this is real, he is real.
Sheldon lies beside her, sleeping.
It's warm here, where they lay together, where it's looking like they need more space. But no, this bed is perfect. They can cuddle close. She likes cuddling close.
She can't believe it at times. She gets to touch him now. Well, they did more than touch.
She now knows his fingers are half an inch longer than her own. And his palms easily cover hers. So when he wraps his hand around hers and pulls, she goes completely.
She loves the little moments she has with him. Especially those when he and her blur together, testing the limits of being alive.
She discovers that her favorite constellation is on his back. And she's painted countless landscapes on his skin. She leaves her mark anywhere she can. And each one looks glorious every time.
She makes him sing songs from so long ago. Ones she only understands, ones she perfectly sings along with him. Only with him. They sing to one another until the only thing left is silence and the beating of their hearts.
'You gotta put it down some time.'
That thought came unbidden and Amy had to put a hand on Sheldon's chest, seeking assurance from the warmth that's waiting there. Those words were wise at the time they were spoken, now they only bring pain. She stares at her hand on his chest and was taken back to that time when she let him go.
'No matter how light a thing may be, your hands will not be able to hold it forever. Put it down. Rest. And then pick it up again.'
Her father never speaks much, but when he does, she makes sure to listen. What a world of pain it brought her. But she did learn a lot about herself, too.
How much she loves this man.
How much she wants to be with him.
How much she wants to be the only one to hold him.
How much she needed to trust him and the unknown.
She almost lost him. Never again, though.
Amy brings herself closer to Sheldon, wanting to hear his heart in her ears. And sure enough, her heart started to mirror the rhythm of his.
She knows now it's not her hands nor her mind, but his heart that grounds her all along.
"Well, you're early," she felt more than heard his voice. And was that a kiss he placed on top of her head? His voice was still thick with sleep when he asked, "Would you like to watch Doctor Who with me?"
A/N: Happy Shamyversary! This is for my first ever Guest reviewer on this site, I know it took me so long to write this for you. But I hope that you like it, and that everyone else who sees this likes it, too. Hands will forever be dear to me, it's the very first one that I wrote and shared on this site and Tumblr. Please enjoy Shamy anniversary. Stay safe and healthy wherever you are.