A/N: A few things:
- I have to say that I actually am a daughter of the Lone Star State-I'm Texas through and through ;) So when I write about the occasional crazy Texas weather, I'm not making it up, lol.
- Y'all just keep touching my heart. Truly, thank you so much for your feedback. The Big Bang Theory has a crazy talented, tight-knit and dedicated fan fiction following, so I'm honored to entertain you guys.
- In case any of you guys wonder who I have in mind when I write about George Jr., I invite thee to perform a Google image search for a bearded Jake Gyllenhaal. Yum!
Enjoy.
Sixteen years earlier.
The inside of the barn was like a smoke-filled maze. Sheldon began to catalog every step and turn he took with his supreme memory just in case he had to make a run for it without Junior, who was already leading him slowly through the barn while greeting other people with high-fives and friendly nods. To his left, a make-shift bar was manned by a blonde woman in a black tank top and tight jeans who swayed to the beat of the music. She poured liquor into red Solo cups sitting upon an overturned metal tub with reckless abandon. Her patrons cheered her on as she squeezed a lemon between her lips, spit it out, and then shot back three of the cups one after the other. Adjacent to that display was a line of men waiting patiently as a keg was pumped and beer was poured into their awaiting cups. To Sheldon's right, the stable of the barn was stacked with square bales where more people of an indeterminate age group (some looked as young as Sheldon's age, most were around Junior's age, and a few old men were peppered in) sat, chattering excitedly as they drank and passed funny-looking cigarettes around. The bales were set up to face the center space of the barn which was occupied by an octagon-shaped platform. Sheldon quickly estimated that it was about twenty feet in diameter and allowed for another foot or so from the most north to the most south points. The entire platform was surrounded by a chain link fence about six feet high, and it gave Sheldon a cold feeling as he stared at it.
His eyes darted to the floor of the platform and he blanched when he saw the distinct yet faded splash patterns of dried blood. Just as he was about to voice his desire once again to be taken home, Junior wrapped an arm around his narrow shoulders and gave a light squeeze. "This is great, huh?" he asked, his eyes hopeful as he studied Sheldon's reaction.
"Great? No," Sheldon disagreed. "Junior, I really do not feel comfortable. Although this is by no means a permitted establishment to procure, prepare, and serve alcohol that would meet the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission's standards, I am underage and you could get in as much trouble as me if we are caught in here by passing law enforcement." He was winded after his rant, the smoke in the air filling his lungs, and he sputtered a cough while looking at Junior with miserable eyes.
"You've been going to college for 6 years, Sheldon. You gonna tell me you ain't partied once since you've been there?"
"I'm 17 years-old for Pete's sake," Sheldon snapped, his eyes narrowing at his brother. "My first year of college began when I was 11, an age where the party invites a normal kid my age would be receiving have Spiderman logos and the shirt size of the birthday child on it." He crossed his arms and rooted his feet firmly to the ground, refusing Junior the ability to pull him along deeper into the barn. "I really want to leave."
"I know, Shel," Junior said absently, his eyes searching the crowd. "Please, let's just stay here for an hour. I'm going to fight here pretty soon, then we'll leave right after." Alarm spread across Sheldon's face as he processed Junior's words.
"How will we get home after you're done fighting? I assure you that I am not a licensed driver by any stretch and will not be able to navigate Mom's wagon out of this field you've brought us to. If you're all bloodied up and unconscious and you think I'm going to drag you out of this cesspool..."
"I'll be alright to drive," Junior promised, a grin growing on his face so wide that it reached his eyes. "I swear." Just when Sheldon opened his mouth to protest again, a yell rang out from behind the brothers, causing the younger one to nearly leap out of his skin. When they turned, Junior let Sheldon go and met the man whooping in excitement halfway as they collided into a bear hug. "Marky, you sunnovabitch. I thought you were working tonight!" Junior released the man who was almost as colossal as he was, but with bright red hair and matching eyebrows, his arms and neck lightly freckled and his right cheekbone permanently pocked with scars caused by an old case of acne by Sheldon's guess.
"I wouldn't miss this shit, George," the man named Marky crowed.
"My man," Junior chuckled then turned his attention back to an awkward looking Sheldon, who was gazing longingly at the only exit he had found, back the way they came. He grabbed his shoulder and pulled him forward. "This is my little brother, Sheldon. Sheldon, this is my best friend and trainer, Marky."
"Pleasure," Marky said, extending his hand while Sheldon eyed it with distaste.
"He doesn't shake hands," Junior explained unapologetically with a smirk. Sheldon turned to eye his brother and felt a sudden gush of gratitude; no one ever understood nor particularly tolerated his aversion to human contact, but his big brother offered no excuses for Sheldon's behavior nor did he make him feel ashamed for not shaking his best friend's hand. He felt his lips turn up at the corner then he turned to face Marky again and nodded a muted greeting.
"Ah, the strong, silent type," Marky laughed and pulled his hand back. "Nice to finally meet you, Sheldon. You here to watch your brother open a can of whoop ass?"
Sheldon winced. "I assume that's a metaphor for watching George Jr. engage in a bout of gruesome grappling. If so, you are correct. That is why I'm here."
"That means yes," Junior chortled as Marky stared at Sheldon with a confused look on his face. The red-head then shrugged and took a sip of the beer he had been holding by the neck of the bottle. Sheldon watched him lower it carelessly after a long swig, the amber liquid inside spilling out onto his fist. He longed to point out to his brother's friend that he was getting beer everywhere, on the floor, on himself, but even Sheldon knew that in this barn, chaos reigned, and he would be the proverbial "nut" for having pointed out that Marky was being unsanitary. He sighed in resignation and stood obediently by his brother as the two men continued to talk. "I'm fighting Hero tonight."
"So I heard." Marky waggled his eyebrows meaningfully. "The books say you're getting about four grand tonight if you take him first round. If you hold him off for all three rounds, you're looking at about fifteen hundred." Sheldon leaned in, his eyes wide with incredulity. Surely they weren't talking about dollar amounts.
"Hero's quick, he likes to jab like a snake and take his opponent down right off the bat," Junior explained to Sheldon. "Nobody has ever been able to land a solid hit on him in the first round. He makes himself busy backing up to avoid them, lookin' for the takedown."
Sheldon processed this quickly. The music coming from the speakers hung in miscellaneous places around the barn switched to a fast-paced rock song, and so he had to speak a little louder. "You're engaging in mixed martial arts tonight?" He saw Marky and Junior's faces tweak in surprise. "Although the United States audience has yet to gain full momentum of fandom for 'MMA' style fighting, Germany has quite the dedicated following." Sheldon found himself smiling knowingly as he nodded at the two men, his own hands now joined behind his back as he continued. "The televised pay-per-view professional matches are in high demand in the recreation room back at my dormitory at the university. Although I've never willingly watched a full match, rather, I use my down time to unlock the secrets of the universe, sometimes using the white dry erase boards in the rec room because they're much larger in stature, I can hear the matches as they commence." He waited a beat before adding, "I have an extremely profound ability to hear. Much like the Vulcan race." His smile disappeared as Junior and Marky stared at him, uncomprehending.
"Shelly!" Junior shouted over the music with a good-natured laugh and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder to stop him from talking. "Yes, little brother. I'm fighting MMA-style tonight. Do me a favor and sit next to Marky during. You'll be up front and center next to the ring so I can keep my eye on you. Plus, you'll be able to see all the action." Junior began to peel his jacket off as Sheldon gave Marky a worried look before he flitted to his brother's side. Junior handed Sheldon his jacket to hold, who hesitated before folding it neatly and tucking it under his arm. He looked at Junior expectantly. "What's wrong now, Sheldon?"
"Like I said before, I know a little bit about the match you're about to partake in and I must insist that you reconsider, Junior. It's extremely dangerous." He lowered his voice and added, "As your brother, I feel it is my responsibility to educate you on the risks."
"I know," Junior said in a lower voice as well to mimic Sheldon's serious tone. He cocked his head to the side and pointing at his bloated ear. "Cauliflower ear. I get it."
"There's also risk of obtaining lacerations that if untreated long enough can become infected, causing sepsis, gangrene, or loss of a limb altogether. Also, you could break your bones, your neck, your spine, rupture an organ…"
"This kid is cute," Marky laughed, interrupting Sheldon, who had forgotten he was listening. "And you're right, he's smart as hell. Like a genius, or something."
Not like a genius, I am…Sheldon's brain practically shrieked, his eye twitching as he spun around to face Marky. But he bit his tongue before turning back around again to follow Junior who had begun to walk towards the ring. "There's also, and may I stress that this is tremendously imperative, risk of death." He would hardly admit it aloud, but Sheldon truly was beginning to feel nervous, panicked even, for Junior's well-being. And it was beginning to bother him. He had spent the last half a decade of his life maturing at an alarming rate and dedicating his faculties to science and his education, therefore he wasted absolutely no time harping on emotions or attachments, save for the occasional mopey feeling he got after talking to his mother or Meemaw on the phone when he missed them. In fact, Sheldon was beginning to feel a little angry with Junior for making him feel this helpless emotion of wanting to protect him when he clearly couldn't. The three men reached the side of the ring when Sheldon did something that surprised Junior and even himself—he reached out and grabbed his brother's bicep, his grip strong and desperate around Junior's skin. "Please, Junior," he pleaded, a lump in his throat forming when his eyes swept the platform again to see the dried blood.
"Shelly," Junior began, then followed his brother's eyes and realization hit him as he saw the dried blood, too. He wriggled his arm from Sheldon's grip before placing his own two hands on his little brother's shoulders. "Don't worry. That's not my blood on that floor. But I was responsible for making it spill." And with a wink and a nod at Marky to come take Sheldon to his seat, Junior stepped onto the platform, a sudden uproar of cheers welcoming him to center stage.
Present day.
It was like pulling teeth, but Penny had steady hands. She was going to get the truth out of Sheldon if it killed them both.
"Why do I get the feeling that you don't want him here?"
She watched him as he answered with a lie, going on about how he wanted his brother there, but he wasn't fooling anyone. His eye twitched and his posture straightened while his expression became indignant. She felt herself grin in victory. There's that damn twitch. Gotcha, sucker.
"Penny," Sheldon said, his voice high and shrill as he finally maintained control of his facial tic. "There are things in life that are beyond your understanding and quite frankly, none of your business. This situation is one of them."
"Sheldon, come on," Penny groaned. "I have a little brother who cooks meth for a living, okay? I know what it's like to deal with difficult family members." She advanced closer to Sheldon, knowing that she was pushing his limits by not only catching him in a lie and demanding he talk about what his brother did to upset him, but also by potentially violating his personal space. But she didn't care. She was not only concerned about him, but was totally put off by him ignoring Amy's call. Something was up.
When she saw that Sheldon had begun to walk backwards towards the hall, countering Penny as she slowly came around the coffee table, she stopped in her tracks. The last thing she wanted him to do was dart off to his room like a bunny, which was definitely a possibility that was flashing in his eyes. He licked his lips and spoke softly. "This isn't like tolerating the juvenile antics of a black sheep in the family, Penny. There's a little more to it than that." The raw blaze of angst that suddenly rolled over his eyes caused her breath to catch in her throat. What was happening here?
"Sweetie," she said gently as she took a step closer to him. She was relieved to see that he didn't take a step back. He was staring at the floor now with an air of defeat, his shoulders slumped. She took one long stride to close the gap and placed her hand on the crook of his elbow. "Do you want me to make you some tea so we can sit down and talk about this?" She was very close to Sheldon now, so close she could hear him breathe evenly. A small part of her mind was freaking out—Sheldon hadn't ripped his arm out of her grip yet. He smelled like fabric softener and Scope mouthwash. She snapped out of her daydream when he finally raised his gloomy eyes to hers. Blue eyes so clear and wide she felt a stir inside of her. She suddenly wanted to do whatever she could to stop his obvious suffering, to make those eyes of his brighten again. She waited, not moving a muscle, until he spoke.
"Penny, you know me to be a rational man, do you not?"
"I do," Penny answered, her voice unsure. Then something happened. Sheldon's eyes traced Penny's bare, tanned arm and floated over her skin and across her chest. He was unashamed of letting his stare linger there before it moved again and finally came to rest at the hand she had on his elbow. His stare was so intense that it was almost like she could feel it caressing her. It made her breath quicken. What in the hell was happening to her?
"If I had even the tiniest inkling that talking to you, a woman whose life expertise consists of memorizing the daily specials at the Cheesecake Factory, about my personal affairs would actually benefit me in any way whatsoever, don't you think I would have willingly done so already?" His voice was so silky and smooth, the southern drawl oozing out of his lips that it took Penny a moment to stop staring at his mouth and catch his underlying insult. Her jaw dropped and she ripped her hand off his arm, drawing it hastily back to her body like he had burned her.
"You're an ass," she growled before spinning on her heels and stalking out of the apartment. She made no tact to even close the door behind her as she headed to her own place. She opened her door and whirled around to give Sheldon one last damning glare, daring him to speak. He just stared at her with a blank look and she slammed her door with purpose. She wanted him to see how angry he had just made her that way he would learn some fucking respect. Her skin felt like it was engulfed in flames, she was so angry. And embarrassed, even. What the hell had she been thinking, virtually fan-girling over Sheldon as he practically eye-fucked her just moments before? The man was impossible to understand, barely tolerable, and a complete idiot in any social situation. How did he manage to say so little yet hurt her so much? And why did it bother her? This was hardly the first time Sheldon Cooper had insulted Penny; in fact, he has been much meaner in the past.
Penny considered herself a caring person with a skill for helping her friends through rough times, and that's all she was trying to do for Sheldon. But he couldn't have made his point more clear that he thought so little of her had he just spit in her face. She suddenly found herself in need of a cold, alcoholic beverage and a hot shower, preferably at the same time. Pulling open her fridge, she grabbed the first red label beer bottle she saw then headed to her bathroom to turn on the water in her tub. Just as she ripped the elastic hairband from her blonde locks and yanked her top over her head, she remembered the beer she was holding needed a bottle opener, so she walked topless in her jean shorts to the kitchen. Before she could open the drawers beneath the sink, a familiar rep of knocks followed by the monotonous repeating of her name sounded at her door.
"Mother fucker," Penny cursed aloud.
"That's not very lady like," the muffled reply came from the other side of her door.
"What can I say? I'm just a dumb waitress with a limited vocabulary!" Penny shouted as she yanked the bottle opener out of the drawer, pushed it shut, then walked past her front door and headed to her room. "Goodnight, Sheldon!" She slammed her bedroom door for good measure, knowing he could hear the rattling of the glass in the frame as it shuddered beneath the force.
Sixteen years earlier.
Sheldon was a melting pot of emotions. After he watched his brother get introduced to the crowd in the barn to almost deafening applause, he studied Junior who relished the attention, raising his arms and waving to the crowd with a lopsided grin. Then, Sheldon cringed as Junior removed his t-shirt and tossed it over the fence that encased the octagon. He saw a disturbance from the other side of the platform as an African-American man almost half a foot taller than Junior and twice as ripped strolled into the octagon with a confident swagger and straight face, even when the boos started from within the audience. His shirt was already off and Sheldon could see the lines of his muscles crease as he flexed involuntarily.
"That's Hero," Marky informed Sheldon, who had all but forgotten that he was sitting next to him on a row of bales that were set up ringside. "Nobody likes him 'cause he doesn't like to go toe-to-toe like George was saying earlier."
"Why does a man enter a ring without acknowledging the possibility that he has to box?" Sheldon inquired, his eyes never leaving Hero's face.
"Mostly 'cause he's a pussy," Marky said shortly, causing Sheldon's nose to scrunch up at his crude language. "Plus, he's never fought anyone like your brother before. George can dodge anything and throw a right hook that'll make your head spin. He's also crazy agile and shit. Like a jungle cat." Sheldon considered the glazed over look in Marky's eyes as the introductions of the fighters in the ring wrapped up, and the older man between the two fighters tossed his mic out of the ring and explained the fighting rules to the two men. Apparently, Junior's best friend had extreme confidence in his fighting abilities. Sheldon looked inside the octagon again and watched the man they called Hero's eyes narrow as he sized up Junior, while Junior smirked back. That familiar, shit-eating, Cooper boy grin (as Meemaw liked to put it). "Don't worry about your big brother either," Marky interrupted Sheldon's thoughts. He saw the young boy at the edge of his seat, his hands gripping his knees so hard that the knuckles were white. "Prepare for everyone in this barn to get shocked and awed."
Then the bell rang. Sheldon's heartbeat sped up, threatening to explode as he saw Junior, dressed in nothing but jeans, bare-chested and barefoot, start a lap around the octagon, getting a feel for the layout of the platform. Hero stood completely still, his fists balled at his sides. He was in a pair of red trunks, no shirt or shoes either. He watched Junior's spectacle, pumping up the crowd, and pure hatred crossed his features. Marky might have been confident in Junior but Sheldon had begun to tremble. He felt tired suddenly, almost faint as he imagined the possibility that Junior would be beat within an inch of his life by this murderous man in the ring with him. Sheldon didn't know if he could stomach the sight. But after a few more seconds, he learned that he didn't have to worry.
It happened so fast that if Sheldon had covered his eyes with his hands like he was about to do when he saw the men advance on each other, he would've missed it. But he resisted, and he watched as Junior cocked both of his fists up in the classic fighting stance while Hero hopped on the balls of his feet, barking at Junior to come at him. He didn't have to ask twice before Junior landed a brilliantly swift high kick to Hero's face. Sheldon didn't blink or breathe. He watched as Junior's heel connected with the soft under side of Hero's chin, and was truly overcome with shock and awe (just like Marky called it) as the light went out of Hero's eyes and he crumpled into a pathetic heap on the platform. Marky was the first out of his seat, hollering in excitement as the crowd around them rose to their feet in suit, already chanting his last name.
"Coo-per! Coo-per!"
Sheldon had never felt anything like it before. He was still terrified, rooted to his seat in fear that moving would somehow cause Hero to rise from his unconscious stupor and go after his brother, but one look at the man on the floor who was surrounded by a few people who were waving smelling salt in front of his nose and Sheldon knew he wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. Then a fiery roll of triumph boiled in his stomach until it bubbled out of his throat and he heard himself scream, too. A high-pitched squeal of relief and victory that got the attention of Junior from the in the middle of the ring. His brother smiled at him widely and winked at the young boy through the chain-link fence standing next to Marky whose fists were still pumping in the air.
Sheldon smiled back at Junior and felt his heart soar.
Present day.
She was touching him. Touching him. He hoped that she couldn't hear the crash of his heartbeat against his ribcage as she stood so close. He inwardly chastised himself for acting like an adolescent teen with a crush as he smelled the vanilla oil on her skin while she settled her fingers around his elbow. She was making it clear that she wanted to help him, listen to his troubles and perhaps provide advice. Then what, Penny? All of my worries would disappear like magic?
His eyes had a mind of their own as he suddenly found himself studying the soft, plump skin peeking out of the top of Penny's shirt and how the red blush crawled up her neck and reached her cheeks.
He wanted to believe that maybe she could help. But logical thinking won in the end, and his entire thought process focused on getting her silky smooth fingers off of his skin. They burned him, he was burning…with something. He opened his mouth to speak after she offered to make him some tea, and he was poised to blurt out what he was thinking, which was: Penny, I might need you. Instead, he said what came natural to him, which was something rude to separate himself from her. Letting her in would be disastrous. He had learned over the years, it was easier to keep people at arm's length. He looked into Penny's green eyes as he spoke harshly to her, the whole time repeating to himself in his head I don't want you to get hurt, Penny.
After she turned away from him and left him standing alone in the living room, her face burned an image in his brain. He forgot nothing, it was biologically impossible. And he really wanted to forget the bewildered and enraged look that he had caused her to wear.
What was happening? Just a few hours ago, he had been with Penny dropping Leonard off at the airport with nothing but the expectation that life would continue on as it was charted to happen over the next few months. New comic book night would still be held on Wednesdays before Halo night began promptly at 8 o'clock and life made sense. Then one phone call derailed the peace in Sheldon's life, and he was suddenly struck with an unreasonable rage. How dare Penny be angry with him? She couldn't begin to possibly understand what was going to happen now that Junior would be arriving in 24 hours. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself at Penny's door, raising his fist to begin knocking. After the third rep, he lost his resolve and settled for maybe just apologizing for his behavior and smoothing over the situation. He had no right to be upset with her. Even with such limited social aptitude, Sheldon knew he had been out of line. When his knocks were fruitless and he heard her yell "Goodnight, Sheldon!" followed by the slam of her door inside, he walked back to his lonely apartment in defeat. He was suddenly so exhausted. Perhaps with sleep, he would find the ability to come to terms with Junior's impending visit.
Instead, his sleep was hampered by thoughts of Penny's unblemished skin. Drat.
Penny's body was running on empty. She hardly got any sleep last night, the adrenaline pumping in her veins from how worked up she still was over Sheldon's behavior last night. So at 5AM, she pulled on some shorts and one of Leonard's old t-shirts, laced up her tennis shoes, and went on a brisk morning run, something she hadn't done in months. The entire time, her mind focused on Sheldon's deep blue eyes and his biting words. The contrast between the two were mind-boggling. She found herself missing Leonard already; he would've made Sheldon apologize for his behavior by now and no matter how unremorseful his apology would have been, she would have accepted it. But Leonard would be gone for months, so Penny had to learn to fend for herself when it came to Sheldon. By the time she got home from her run, she had an hour to get showered and dressed for her early shift at the Cheesecake Factory. She passed apartment 4A and scowled at the closed door, knowing that Sheldon was already awake on the other side and sitting on the couch, watching one of his stupid Saturday morning shows. She had half the mind to bang on the door and wait for him to answer, then clock him on his nose. Instead, she took a deep breath and headed down the stairs.
If Sheldon wanted to be left alone for a week, she would honor his request. She was tired of being on the receiving end of his insults, so maybe a week-long break from the whack-a-doodle would be the remedy that this situation needed. In seven days, things would go back to normal. Right?
Eight hours into her shift and she was ready to go home. But her manager asked her in a voice that left little room for argument to stay for four more hours and man the bar after one of the bartenders called in unexpectedly. Not one to pass up the opportunity for some extra cash, Penny ignored the tender aching in the soles of her feet and dutifully finished the shift. More physically (and mentally) exhausted than she had been in forever, she found herself slowly trudging to the entrance of her apartment building, one hand fishing in her purse for her keys and the other scratching her scalp as she yawned loudly. She was sure that she was hardly a sight for sore eyes right now, but she didn't care. Thoughts of getting into her tub for a soothing bubble bath were suddenly interrupted when she heard quick footsteps hitting the pavement as she reached for the door.
"I'll get that for you, ma'am," a low, silky voice drawled from behind her. She perked an eyebrow up and slowly turned, her hand that had been reaching for the door still in mid-air. Before she could turn completely, a thick, tattooed arm shot out and grabbed the door handle, pulling it all the way open for her. Finally, she craned her neck up to get a good look at the gentlemen who jogged ahead just to open the door for a lady. Good ol' boy manners, she recognized. She let out a gentle whoosh of breath as she came face to face with a pair of familiar clear blue eyes and bow-shaped lips surrounded by a neatly trimmed beard. "Hi there," he said politely, his mouth widening into a boyish grin.
Sheldon Cooper's unwanted guest had arrived.