Something that I forgot to mention last chapter is that it was based on a lovely piece of fanart by the now deactivated tumblr account andybergs. Other writers had made their own sweet interpretations of the drawing and that was mine.

This next chapter was my Thanksgiving fic that doesn't actually take place on Thanksgiving, but there's a theme of gratitude so I had decided that counted. So happy early Thanksgiving I guess. Enjoy!

Original publish date: November 30th, 2014

Sheldon Cooper was not a religious man, but the need to repent his misgivings was a habit hard-wired into his Texan bones. It was a lesson given from the cradle by his mother, but this was one sin which he feared even Jesus would refuse bestowing his supposedly endless fount of mercy.

It was Star Wars Day, Episode V was playing, and he wasn't paying a lick of attention. And all because of one particular little lady currently cleaning up in the kitchen.

Sheldon's eyes wandered to the half-eaten Death Star cake, baked by Amy and Bernadette to commemorate his favorite day of the year. She couldn't give a droid's behind about the franchise, and yet his girlfriend had spent hours making this dessert (it's spherical, for crying out loud. Spherical!), all for him. His gaze fell onto her back as she continued to work at washing the dishes. Did this woman's selflessness know no bounds?

"I love you."

Sheldon's attention snapped back to the television at Leia's declaration, just in time to catch Han's "I know" in reply. His eidetic memory instantly rewound to five months before, when he had used that very quote in response to Amy telling him that she had missed him when he had arrived home from Texas. And just like Han, Sheldon had used the phrase to evade admitting that the sentiment was mutual.

Appreciate them, Sheldon.

The memory of the dream from earlier startled him, the voice of his deceased hero so clear in his head it was as if Arthur were sitting right beside him. He had shown his appreciation for Leonard by hugging him, but what about the others?

Sheldon's eyes took one long sweep across the room, landing on each of his friends in turn. Howard on the couch beside him, who's had to put up with Sheldon's constant teasing at his expense yet still considers him a friend. Bernadette, asleep in her husband's arms, who's never hesitated to call him out whenever he was in the wrong. Raj, in his usual place on the ground, who would respond to Sheldon's childishness by being childish right back, resulting in more fun than either were usually willing to admit. Penny, on the floor with her head in her boyfriend's lap, the considerate and affectionate mother Sheldon often needed with his actual one halfway across the country. Leonard, in the armchair and rhythmically threading his fingers through Penny's hair, the most good-natured (usually), patient (at times), and caring (always) best friend he could possibly ask for.

And Amy.

Amy, who was able to like him for who he was, quirks and all, because she was the only one who could truly understand them. Amy, who was unafraid to be completely honest with him, even when pointing out a flaw to one of his favorite movies or admitting embarrassment for his intellectual blunder. Amy, who would rather run out on one of their teatime dates than call him the name that had stalked and taunted him his whole life. Amy, who loved him.

He's known for a while now. Looked at the bare facts, pieced together the incriminating evidence, realized that the only conclusion was love. The only part of his analysis still awaiting results was whether Sheldon loved her back.

He was unaware that he had moved to the kitchen until he was standing right behind her, like magnets drawn to each other against their will. Usually it's opposites that attract, yet he and Amy were like two norths, alike in almost every way and yet he still inexplicably felt that pull, the more time they spent together, to get closer and closer with her. Their Valentine's Day kiss was proof enough of that.

Looking about helplessly and licking his lips, Sheldon caught sight of the refrigerator and just about wrenched it open, desperate to distract himself from memories of that particular night. He stared into it without really taking notice of the contents, eyes continually dragging themselves away to glance at Amy. She had somehow failed to take notice of him (couldn't she hear the pounding of his restless heart in his chest, barely three feet behind her?), wiping down the back counter as she absently hummed the Star Wars theme song. He was faintly aware that one of the most iconic onscreen battles of all time was playing just then, and he only had eyes for Amy Farrah Fowler.

Now staring unabashedly, Sheldon realized it wasn't important that he didn't know exactly what his feelings for her were at this point in time. All that mattered was that there were feelings, and it was about darn time he expressed them.

Shutting the fridge and approaching from behind, Sheldon took a gentle yet firm grasp of Amy's shoulder and leaned over to press a lingering kiss to her cheek. Startled, Amy whipped her head around to stare wide-eyed into his own soft gaze, silently asking why.

Just as with Leonard, Sheldon didn't say a word, allowing his crystal blue eyes to express his endless gratitude and appreciation, thanking her just for being her. After a long moment Amy blushed adorably and gave him a tiny little smile in reply, somehow understanding everything he couldn't quite put to words.

Yet.

With a quick, shy nod, Sheldon let go and hurried back to the safety of his spot, feeling both weak at the knees and yet more powerful than he'd ever felt in his life. No jedi ability could even come close to compare.

May the Fourth be with him, indeed.