"How ya doin' this morning?" Leonard called through the door. He heard a loud sniffle followed by a sneeze.

"Dot good," Sheldon called. "Are you going to work?"

"'Fraid so buddy. But I can call Amy again, if you want?"

"Aby!" he sat up. "Yes! Call Aby! She bakes tea perfect add sings Soft Kitty."

"Right," Leonard shook his head as he dialed the phone. "Yes, can I request a sitter? Great. Amy. The girl we had yesterday. Yes, that's right. She'll know. And tell her she's free to bring her Twilight Zone DVDs and finish her project."

He hung up, satisfied that something would go right with Sheldon being sick, at least. He opened the door at her knock, smiled her her wide legged pants dripping with straps and zippers. Today she was wearing a black tank top with a fishnet hooded shirt pulled over it. Her eyes were outlined in black again, but her lips were smeared bloody red.

"Is he still not feeling good?"

"I guess not. Can you keep him from exploding the town while maintaining your sanity?" she giggled and he felt butterflies rising up in his stomach. Whoa, he thought for a minute. What's this? How can I feel like this? She isn't Penny! She's a baby sitter!

"I'll give it my best. Did you get any breakfast? I can whip you something up while I make him some oatmeal." she offered. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse when he rethought it. What was wrong with having her make him something to eat.

"That'd be great, Amy, thanks." he sank down at the couch to watch her begin to assemble bowls and ingredients. Had she been poking around the kitchen? Well, maybe Sheldon had wanted something obscure and she'd had to hunt for it yesterday.

"No, I didn't snoop." she crinkled her nose at him. "Most kitchens are put together the same. I can take rough guesses at where stuff is."

"Oh," he blushed. "Did I say it out loud?"

"No, you were just looking at me funny. I'm not offended." she licked some batter off her finger. He looked at her fingers, short and delicate looking, with chipped black nail polish. What would it taste like to lick batter of them?

"Oh, good. That you're not offended, not that I was looking at you funny. I mean, I wasn't trying to look at you funny, it just happened. I bet that happens to you a lot, huh?" he stopped and could have smacked himself in the face. Smooth move! He thought. She's going to love you forever now. Why don't

you also kick her cat?

"Sometimes. But only from people who are definitely not awesome enough to rock blue hair." she flipped her hair back. "Or people awesome enough to rock awesome clothes." she looked him up and down. "You wouldn't know what that's like."

"Ouch," he gave a good natured smile. "I can see when I've been had."

"But you can't! You've been had by someone telling you that you need a hoodie AND that jacket. You've been had by the Nerd Industry telling you that you have to look all obviously dorky. I'll let you in on a secret, you can be a closet dork! No one has to be able to tell when they walk by you that you have a five foot stack of Batman comics in your room."

"It's six feet, actually," he mumbled. There was no reason to completely ruin his dork cred. She just put her face in her hands and shook her head. With a smirk, she turned to the stove and began cooking the pancakes.

"Maybe it's good to be a dork on the outside though. I mean, besides giving the world warning that they'd better know the difference between Golden and Silver age Batman." he blushed. "I don't hide who I am on the outside. Why should you?" she handed him a plate just as Sheldon stumbled out, wrapped in a blanket.

"Aby," he whined. "I don't feel good."

"Yes, Shelly-Bean, I heard." she said sympathetically. She beckoned to him and he bent over. She put the back of her hand to his forehead, miles of bracelets giving a metallic clink. "You are warm. Go and lay in bed and I'll serve you oatmeal. Special just for you."

He smiled and walked past Leonard, who waved. He managed a wave back and closed the door to his room.

"How do you handle him so well?" he marveled.

"My grandma, mostly. Before she died she had Alzheimer's pretty bad. I mean, at the end she didn't even know who I was. She had these brief moments of lucidity, and I'd be in the middle of laying her in bed and she'd tell me how much she hated doing this to me. I learned to be patient."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Oh, don't be." she flapped a wrist. "If I wasn't patient you would have come home to a dead roommate and and awful lot of blood. And I checked, you don't have enough Lysol for me to properly disinfect the place. You would have gotten his cold."

He stared at her before she laughed again. He gave an anxious laugh and turned uncertainly back to his breakfast. When the plate was empty he put it in the sink and looked at her awkwardly. Part of him wanted to give her a thank you hug for some reason.

But that wouldn't be appropriate in the slightest. She was a professional and so was he. Just now she was elbow deep in soapy water while the water for the oatmeal was brought to a boil.

"Thanks for breakfast. And the baby sitting. Well, he's not a baby. I guess you already knew that." he shifted his weight as she blew a palmful of foam at him.

"Get to work before you're late."

"Yes ma'am," he said sheepishly.

Though he did like his women on the more dominant side.