STEP FOUR: DRESS WELL

Sheldon sighed, for the forth time since flipping open his journal and the book to examine the next step. The other three had gone well, he had got to have dinner with Penny, and had inadvertently impressed her mother (which he noted, still creeped him out). He had even asked Penny out on a date, and she had accepted. He not only got to take Penny out, but he was going to get to try that new restaurant out as well, kill two birds with one stone so to speak, which was very efficient.

But now it was the afternoon of the date. And he had to get dressed. He'd been planing on wearing his beloved plaid coat over his green lantern shirt with his brown pants, but now he was remembering the last time Penny had been through his closet.

While she seemed to like his shirts, she had loathed the plaid, which was odd, because only the other day he'd seen her raving about a plaid silk scarf, so he knew it wasn't the pattern that she was opposed to.

He studied the coat closer. Perhaps it was the colour? Mustard was a hard colour to match, unless you wore tan, and he'd never seen her in that colour, other than the sun kissed glow which covered most of her skin, except the location of the soup tattoo, which was the only was that he knew Penny's natural skin tone, a soft creamy paleness...

He blinked and shoved the plaid coat back in his closet. Perhaps she only liked plaid in moderation. He needed to look good, but not too good. The book stated quite seriously that men who hope to date beautiful women should never be prettier than the woman when they went out. His eyebrow had shot up when he read that. He wasn't quite sure how anyone could be prettier than Penny when she got dolled up, let alone him. Rather flummoxing notion, that.

He shifted some coat racks. She had seemed to enjoy that suit she had picked out for him. Though he still hadn't found the pants. Perhaps the black coat over his grey flash shirt with the red undershirt?

Laying them out on his bed, he nodded. That could work. But pants. He had brown pants, and tan pants, and plaid pants, and... Frowning he went to the closet and reached to the very back of the top shelf.

Jeans.

A birthday present from Missy. He'd scowled at her, but she'd said he might need them someday, so he'd kept them. That was several years ago, they might not even fit. She'd also given him... He reached around again, still staring at the jeans in his left hand with distaste. He probably wouldn't be allowed into the restaurant wearing jeans, however much he might enjoy Penny's reaction to seeing him in them.

Lips quirking suddenly, he imagined himself saying "bazinga" when she protested that she thought he hadn't owned any.

Finally, his groping right hand found what he was looking for. Another gift from Missy, this time not jeans. They were cut like jeans, but they were a dark grey.

"Dressy but casual Shelly, these are 'date' pants. They're fancy, yet understated, and you can wear them with anything. Except that plaid coat. You really should get rid of that." He remembered her saying, with an earnest look on her face. Really, what was with the female dislike of his coat? And why did his mother and sister want him to experience dating so bad? He was quite sure they knew what dating led to, sexual activities, broken hearts, marriage, children... Ah. That was it. His mother wanted intelligent grandchildren. He snorted and shook his head.

The 'date' pants fit. A bit tighter in some areas than he was accustomed to, but he did like the way they looked with the flash shirt. Not as sharp as that powder blue suit he'd tried on when Penny had taken him shopping, but still, good. And muted colours, so that whatever Penny wore not clash. Smiling, he checked himself out in the mirror. Not bad. Not bad at all. He added the coat, and with a last wistful glance at the plaid one in the closet, he walked out of the room, totally unaware of what the combination of greys and black had done for his eyes.

Six o'clock on the dot, there was the knock. Penny swallowed, she was nervous, which was ridiculous, why should she be nervous? It was only a date, with Sheldon, at a new restaurant he hadn't personally vetted yet, and the potential for catastrophe was sky high, and, oh yeah. That's why. Add to that list that she liked him, really liked him, and really wanted to go out with him again, and there you go.

Bob's your uncle. She smoothed down the fabric of her new dress, waiting for him to finish knocking. It was a halter neck dress, with a full skirt, like the white one Marilyn Monroe had worn in that iconic scene, only this one wasn't white, it was a soft blue grey. It made her eyes look greener, and her hair look softer, and her skin glow. She was wearing blue heels, that would match Sheldon's eyes exactly, that was why she had bought them, a year ago. She'd never worn them out before, just around the house, they were too special to waste on some tall idiot who though he might have Sheldon's height, and maybe even dark hair and blue eyes, would never measure up in the ways that count.

Finally, the knocking was done. She stepped forward, and opened the door, with a smile.

"Wow. You look, AMAZING." She blurted out, noticing what he hadn't, that his eyes seemed bluer than ever.

His cheeks coloured slightly, and he fidgeted. "You look very attractive tonight." He managed, swallowing. She looked better than that, she looked hot, and sexy, and beautiful.

She smiled up at him, he was staring at her, and he'd said something, but he seemed unaware of it, had she actually knocked him speechless? "Should we go?"

He seemed to snap out of it, and gravely offered her his arm as his Meemaw had told him gentlemen did when he'd asked about a couple heading into a restaurant. He'd been four. He hoped the knowledge wasn't obsolete. The smile on her face as she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm assured him it wasn't.

"Are you capable of walking in those heels?" Sheldon asked, looking down as they descended the stairs. "The restaurant is near here, I thought we might walk, it's a nice night."