Chapter Six
In the movies, the kiss in the rain was almost always the end. Or maybe not; maybe the two lovers ran back to the impossibly romantic cabin laughing and made soft love in front of a magically roaring fireplace, the heroine still perfectly coiffed, her mascara as dry as the second she had applied it. It was happily ever after.
In reality, Sheldon groused about the water in his shoes, and how they made an annoying squeak when he walked now. He complained all the way to the car about the stain on his knee, because it wasn't just a rain puddle he'd knelt down to propose in, it was apparently a mud puddle. Neither of them had an umbrella. Amy dreaded what all this water would do to her seats, how her car would smell the next day. She could hardly see out of her glasses because of the water spots, and there was nothing with which to dry them. She reached around her waist, pulling out the bottom of her undershirt which was at least only partially damp, but all that did was smear the water on her lenses. Traffic moved slowly in the downpour. They didn't speak; Amy had to concentrate very hard on driving in a blur. Besides, she didn't know what to say. Shouldn't their first conversation as an engaged couple be profound? They weren't even sitting on the bench planning all the details of their future together, as Sheldon had expected.
Instead, after only awkward silence and the sound of windshield wipers, Sheldon suddenly asked, "Where are we going? My apartment is back that way."
"I know," Amy sighed. "We're going to my apartment. Are you saying you'd rather have your brand new fiancée - fiancée - drop you off so you can spend your evening watching some science fiction movie with your roommate?"
"It wouldn't be just some science fiction movie. The Ex Machina Blu-ray arrived from Netflix yesterday." Amy opened her mouth to say something, but then Sheldon continued, "But, no, I want to be with you. I don't suppose you have Ex Machina at home, do you? Then we could tell our child that it's the first movie we watched as an engaged couple." Then she saw him shrug softly in the passenger seat, before he said quietly, "Huh, my fiancée. I have a fiancée. My ideal mate."
Amy didn't answer. The whole exchange has been so typical, she wasn't even surprised. This was the Sheldon she loved, the Sheldon she was marrying, the Sheldon she really didn't want to change: completely unaware that he was ruining a potentially magical moment with something mundane, but then saving it at the last possible second by saying something sweet.
They didn't speak the rest of the way, but Amy gradually relaxed. So maybe they would never have romantic conversations, but she felt with certainty that they would never allow things to be unsaid between them again. It had all been a mistake, and then she was too proud or stubborn - yes, Sheldon was right - to rectify it as soon as she should have. They still had important things to talk about, she knew that; tomorrow, maybe, or later tonight, she would make tea and they could sit down and have a lengthy and overdue conversation. She had hurt him deeply, she knew. Maybe she'd been oblivious to not realize how much; but the look on his face when he said "You have me to show for it!" would haunt her for the rest of her life. And sometimes Sheldon hurt her, too. But she wasn't afraid anymore. They would discuss and fix and plan and move forward together. They would be better, happier people for it.
No sooner had they entered Amy's apartment, dripping water all the way up the stairs of her building, then Sheldon shivered violently. "Amy, can we turn the heat up?"
"Sheldon, you've got to take off those wet clothes and get warm. You need a hot shower and something dry to wear." Amy's brow furrowed in concern. She set aside her bag, noticing that the leather was probably ruined.
"But I don't have any dry clothes here."
"Wait right here," Amy said and ran into her bedroom. She stood on her tiptoes to reach into the top of the closet and took down a bag. "Here," she said, returning to the living room, "if I had known I would have wrapped them."
"A gift?"
Amy shrugged. "Think of it as a necessity. Or because of how much you admire my preparedness."
He nodded and took the plastic sack, opening it to pull out a tee shirt printed with what appeared to be a brown blazer, a white pinstriped dress shirt, and a red bow tie. "An Eleventh Doctor tee shirt?"
"Not just a tee shirt," Amy said, reaching into the bag herself to pull out a pair of dark brown cotton pants with a draw-string waist. "Doctor Who pajamas!"
"Amy," Sheldon said, softly but firmly, "was this a plan to get me into your bedroom again?"
She chuckled. "I thought, maybe, that some day we could have sleepover here. Besides, you just told me you want to be in my bedroom. Think of it as the TARDIS, if it helps."
"I was talking about our honeymoon. And there are no beds with quilts on them in the TARDIS," Sheldon said.
"How do you know? We've never seen the bedroom."
Cocking his head, Sheldon looked at her. Then he blinked, slowly, and said, "I still think it's unlikely, but you make a valid point. It cannot be ruled out. But why would I put on pajamas now? It's only four o'clock."
"It's the only dry clothes I have for you to wear. Unless you want to try something of mine; I do have an old gray sweatsuit somewhere, I think. But I can't imagine it fitting you. And I need to change out of my wet clothes, too." Then she took a very deep breath. "Sheldon, will you sleep here tonight? Another sleepover? In my bed? I'd like it very much. I don't want you to go home tonight." She looked down at her ring, almost surprised to find it there. "I'd like it to be a special night."
Amy looked back up, hopefully, and Sheldon nodded. "Very well. I'll put on the pajamas." Before she could ask if that meant he was staying the night or not, he whispered, "I'd like sleeping in your bed tonight very much, too, I think."
Blushing, he turned quickly, clutching the new pajamas, and walked toward the bathroom. Amy was too stunned to follow.
Once she heard the shower running, Amy went to her bedroom and changed into a clean nightgown, getting a towel out of the linen closet to run through her hair to dry it the best she could. She was sitting on the end of her bed, wrapped in her pink robe, when he entered. She wonder if he would think it was too odd, both of them in their pajamas in the late afternoon. He might want to eat. But Amy was tired, so very tired. Good tired, though, knowing that she would finally sleep peacefully after weeks of fitful dreams.
"I'm not sure I used the correct towel. I used one folded over the rack. It smelled clean. And I hung my wet clothes over the shower rod," Sheldon said.
She smiled at him, looking shy and unsure of himself, his new pajamas too short on his long legs. "It was. I changed out the towels this morning. And your clothes are fine. We'll wash them tomorrow."
"Amy?" he whispered.
"Yes?"
"I'm, um, not sure this a good idea."
Amy's heart deflated and her anger flared again, exhaustion only making it worse. Why? Why again? Why now? "Why?" she snapped.
Sheldon looked up quickly, startled, his eyebrows raised. "It seems that, based on your attire, you want to start the sleepover immediately. But if we fall asleep now, that is highly likely to disturb our REM cycles."
"Fine," Amy said, waving her hand, "we don't have to have a sleepover. I just wanted to rest next to you and finally sleep for a few uninterrupted hours and I thought you wanted the same thing and -"
Putting his hands out, Sheldon stopped closer. "No, don't be angry. I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. I want to have a sleepover, Amy, I do. It's just that . . . well, if you must know, even my underpants were wet. I didn't want to risk chafing by putting them back on."
Just as rapidly as all her other emotions had been today, Amy burst out laughing, her anger gone as quickly and unexplainably as it had come. "Sheldon, are you telling me you're going commando?"
"Amy, it's not funny! You'll be lying right next to me! It happens even in my sleep and when I wake up. And these pants are very thin. What if . . . " His voice trailed off.
"Sheldon," she said, "I'm a biologist, I am fully aware of how it works." Then she lowered her voice, "Please, come over here and sit by me."
Timid, Sheldon padded over and sat down next to her. "It's okay, Sheldon, I was only planning on a G-rated sleepover. I promise." She took a deep breath. "But, I need to know. Were you serious earlier? What you said about our honeymoon?"
"Of course. When do I ever say anything other than what I mean? What would the point be in that?" Then he reached up and barely ran his fingertips through the edges of her damp hair. "I'll need your help. And your patience. I want to learn it slowly. To savor it."
Amy swallowed hard. Sheldon wanted to savor it. "I want to savor you, too," she whispered.
"That's not exactly what I said," he whispered, bringing his face closer.
"It's exactly what I meant." She leaned nearer to him.
"Me, too," he breathed into his kiss. This was nothing like the wild, passionate, sloppy, wet kiss at the zoo. It was soft and gentle, sweet and slow, like all of their kisses had been before today. After a moment of tender bliss, Sheldon pulled away, but leaned his forehead against hers. "Amy, why do you love the book A Very Long Engagement?"
"Uh, well, because it's about the power of true love triumphing in the end. The things we do, the efforts we make for the one we love. That true love cannot be lost to time," she said, surprised by the question.
"So you don't actually want a very long engagement, do you? I don't. I meant what I said at the zoo about that, too."
Amy giggled. "No, Sheldon, I don't. 'The sooner our happiness together begins, the longer it will last.'" She gave him a quick peck on his lips, still so tantalizingly close to hers. "Come on, let's lie down. At least for a nap. Please? I'm exhausted. It's been an emotionally draining day. A G-rated nap, I swear."
He stretched out slowly, unsure of his place in this strange bed, in this new world in which he found himself. After shutting the blinds, lending the bedroom a strange, dim light in the middle of a rainy afternoon, Amy took off her glasses and crawled in next to him, pulling the blankets over them. She immediately curled up, into the crook of his arm that he didn't realize he'd left open for her.
On their first, and only previous, sleepover, Sheldon had woken in the middle of the night to find Amy curled up like this, the top of her head lightly resting on his chest. For the second time, he was struck by how small and fragile she seemed when she slept, how despite her waking strength she seemed to want his protection. Then her left hand came up to rest on his chest, almost caressing it, which was new.
"Is this okay?" Amy asked softly.
Sheldon nodded and reached with his own hand to cover hers. The sharp edges of her new ring bite into his palm, so he slipped his fingers under hers, instead, and found himself gently playing with the diamond. Amy was wearing an engagement ring. His engagement ring.
Overwhelmed with peace, with happiness, a deep, contented weariness covered him, not unlike the warmth of Amy's quilt. He felt like he could sleep for days, right here, with her, lying like that. Amy was right, he was exhausted and emotionally drained. He hadn't slept, truly slept, in weeks.
"Sheldon?" Amy suddenly asked, her voice pulling him back from joyful slumber. "There's just one more important thing I have to know before we fall asleep. I know we have other things to discuss, but they can wait until later."
His eyes popped open, his heart suddenly hammering again. "What?" he whispered, frightened of what she might say.
Amy lifted her head up, looking down at him. "I just don't understand - I just can't imagine that you haven't been watching The Flash since the very first episode. It's so out of character for you."
THE END
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