A/N I wrote this fic in response to 7x15 and 7x16. I wrote it for several reasons:

~ Because "Sheldon's like a baby deer and you've gotta let him come to you"

~ Because in spite of ret cons that state otherwise, before Amy, Sheldon was totally capable of "touching another human being"; we saw him voluntarily touch Penny on multiple occasions, in gestures big and small

~Because as much impact as Amy may have had, she would never had made any in-roads at all if he hadn't first met Penny

~Because a kiss should have some damn spark to it

The 'No-Touching' Protocol

"Penny, when we agreed to alter the paradigm of our relationship, you knew that I would not be comfortable with excessive touching."

Penny rolled her eyes. "I'm not asking for coitus, Sheldon - it's just a kiss."

"Just a kiss?" His eyes bulged, voice emerging in an ever more Texas twang. "Penny - the human mouth contains up to a thousand different strains of bacteria, any one of which could lead to periodontal infection, the influenza virus, and even cardiovascular disease. In short, they are pathogen-ridden cesspits of filth, and since you no longer imbibe nearly as many alcohol-based compounds as you once did, we can no longer rely on their sterilising effect. 'Just a kiss'." He blew air out his lips in derision. "As well increase the gravity on sub-atomic particles and slam 'em together like coconuts!"

"Okay, Sheldon!" Penny had raised her voice slightly. Sheldon faltered.

Interpreting the minutiae of non-verbal communication had never been of much interest to him, but even before they had "upgraded their interface", as Wolowitz insisted on calling it, interpreting Penny's had become something of a habit.

Currently, her gem-like eyes were narrowed with annoyance. He drew his brows together in consternation and reviewed their discourse thus far, scanning for a misstep.

He had not intended to upset her.

Even as he watched, the irritation ebbed away; her expression became... speculative? Then they gleamed with an emotion he had not yet catalogued. "Okay, Sheldon," she said again, in an entirely different tone. "What if I promise not to touch you?"

He blinked and folded his arms. "You are proposing a kiss without tactile exchange?" He made a tutting sound. "That is a paradoxical premise, Penelope, and I know you know better. I taught you rudimentary physics myself."

Penny spoke cheerfully. "Yes, you did, Dr Whack-a-doodle, so, no, that's not what I was proposing: I am proposing you let me near enough to kiss you, but with the promise that I won't touch you."

"For what reason?"

"Because, sweetie, I like to be near you, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable," she explained patiently.

Sheldon tilted his head, considering. It was a reasonable request, and part of their Relationship Agreement was that he grant her whims when they did not contravene the agreed precepts. Nevertheless, her proposition niggled... no touching at all? The corners of his mouth turned down.

Whilst his valid concerns about cross-contamination remained, the little touches she unconsciously gave... brushing his shoulder, smoothing back his hair... the occasional spontaneous hugs... He'd come to enj - tolerate - these even before they had agreed to alter their paradigm. But how to steer her from this course of action without ceding too much power...?

"How long would this no-contact protocol last?" he asked carefully.

A slow smile curled her plump pink lips, gradually radiating until it illuminated her whole face. (Number 23a in the non-verbal catalogue, and a personal favourite.) "I'm only talking about tonight, Moonpie."

Curses. It appeared she had deciphered something of his thoughts. (If he had not unequivocally determined that all branches of paranormal inquiry were absolute hokum, there were times when he might be inclined to conclude that Penny was clairvoyant.)

He deflected with indignation. "No one calls me Moonpie except Meemaw!"

She continued to smile, and sat down on the couch, leaving a gap to accommodate his mass, and two inches to spare.

"Come sit next to me." Her hand patted his spot. "I promise I won't touch you." One side of her mouth quirked up - just when had its movements become so arresting? "Unless you ask me to." Her tone had inexplicably dropped half a register; equally inexplicable was his anatomical response to this development, as his innards suddenly clenched.

He hesitated. This new data required analysis.

She raised an eyebrow. "Unless you're afraid you won't be able to control yourself?" Sheldon scoffed and sat down beside her. "Close your eyes, sweetie," Penny murmured.

He tilted his head again. "To what end?"

She turned to face him and mirrored his posture; her tone changed once more. "You agreed to participate in the experiment, Dr. Cooper; it is up to its inceptor to prescribe the variables." He emitted a breathy laugh - he loved it when Penny utilised what she called "Sheldon-speak" - and closed his eyes. "Now concentrate on your breathing."

She was using the throaty tone again; Sheldon obeyed.

One hundred seconds ticked by, and he kept his eyes closed.

Ben Affleck's lacklustre rendition had almost ruined the Daredevil franchise for Sheldon, but he'd been an avid reader of the comic books as a child, and so was pleased to note an ostensible heightening of his other senses as he assimilated his surroundings. (Even though he knew this was merely a by-product of shifting his concentration from the visual.)

He heard the creak of leather as Penny shuffled a few inches across the couch; he felt the heat radiating from her body as her proximity increased; he inhaled the vanilla fragrance emanating from her skin.

Only his mechanoreceptors remained idle. Perhaps that was why his fingers had started to twitch?

Of course - psychosomatic conditioning.

Satisfied to have diagnosed the cause, he settled back against the cushion and folded his hands smugly.

Moments later, he almost slid off the couch in shock as air currents shifted and Penny suddenly swung one leg up and over him; bracing her arms either side of his head, and her thighs either side of his hips, she hovered just above his lap.

A small part of his consciousness noted she must have remarkably strong quadriceps. The rest of him was concerned with registering the overwhelming physical presence of Penny, as heat, scent and even sound, in the form of distractingly soft exhalations, were considerably enhanced.

His body went rigid. He didn't dare open his eyes for fear of what he'd see. Instead, all the breath left his lungs in an admonishing yelp: "Penny-!"

"I'm not touching you, Dr. Cooper." Penny spoke softly. "I haven't contravened the terms of our agreement. But if it's bothering you, I can stop."

He hesitated, then jerked his head from side to side in negation. Sheldon Cooper did not back down from a challenge, particularly with Penny; not since the panty piñata stand-off of 2008.

"Good," she breathed.

Another century of seconds ticked by. His rigidity started to dissipate. If he breathed through his mouth, he found he could dilute the effect of her scent.

Okay. This was manageable. This was surmountable. This was ̶

Penny leaned forward and blew in his ear.

His entire body spasmed; his cardiac rhythm beat an irregular tattoo; he just managed to snatch his hands back from where they'd moved to curve round bare thighs.

What on earth...!

Had he been consulted on the matter beforehand, he would have been swift to express rejection and repulsion at the notion of having someone's moist breath in his ear. Certainly this had been the output in the case of formerly mute Indian astrophysicists.

Apparently, the same algorithm did not apply to Penny.

His sudden movement had propelled her towards him, then she steadied herself once more, but not before tumbling gold curls fell forward, brushing against strangely sensitised skin. He opened his mouth to sharply, and somewhat desperately, object to this infraction, but once again, she somehow knew what he was going to say and spoke before he could:

"Hair doesn't count, Dr. Cooper. It isn't alive and therefore cannot choose to touch."

He closed his mouth, irritated... and distracted. The hair was slippery and soft... Penny had returned to green apple shampoo some months before, which, at the time, was a great source of relief. Now, however, he rather thought coconut would be preferable to its beguiling perfume. He could not help but breathe it in; he could not help but breathe her in... Her arms encased him. Her fragrance enwrapped him. All he could feel was her.

So close. So burningly close...

Dear Lord! How could one solitary homo sapien give off so much heat? It was as if the heat itself was tactile, stroking his senses with trickles of fire.

No. No matter how close she seemed, they were not touching. He couldn't actually feel her. It wasn't possible.

The pads of his fingers ached in a way he'd never before experienced, alarming him as unaccountable discomfort had always done. A small voice suggested the slight pain might leave him if he smoothed them down the warm honey skin so close to his own.

His hands gripped the couch either side of him, to reassure him they were still there, and not waywardly wandering.

His respiration was hitching, coming in short little pants, despite his sedentary position and negligible expenditure of energy.

There was no scientific explanation for it.

But then, there never had been a scientific explanation for Penny... for her presence in his life, for the way she made him feel...

For the things she made him want.

Her head shifted again, moving to his left side.

She sighed softly into his ear: "Dr. Cooper. My lovely, brilliant Sheldon." Admiring, tender... loving.

He opened his eyes, and fell into hers, a smiling clear green.

Their faces were so close, the distance felt illusory.

Only a breath lay between them.

Only a cloud of particles.

Only a kiss of air.

His control broke.

Hands released from the couch, and flew up to sink into her sweet, soft hair. Not pausing to think, not pausing to breathe, he pulled her forward and brought her mouth to his.

Her arms entwined round his neck; she settled in his lap. He could feel her lips curve beneath his own.

He knew he was breaking his own rules, the regulations he'd imposed since childhood to make sense of a dangerous world.

He knew he had let her win. He knew he was ceding control.

He didn't care.

Sensation was coursing through his body, tingling life flowed through every cell, and he instinctively, greedily sought more. As he pressed her more tightly against him, he dimly registered her soft exclamation.

But she really ought not be surprised. After all, Sheldon Cooper was nothing if not adaptable.

Indubitably, there was a time and a place for protocol.

But this wasn't it.

fin

A/N 2 As I've said before, I don't hate Amy, and sometimes even find Shamy kind of sweet, but these two episodes highlighted just how much Amy manipulates Sheldon and it was uncomfortable to watch. Something about the whole thing really *bugged* me. I thought Jim Parsons did a good job with the kiss, trying to indicate changes in emotion in Sheldon, but... it came off like he was pushed into it. And the way Amy received it... She looked totally rigid, the muscles round her mouth tight (Sheldon would compare it to iguana and dulaps) and her hands were up in the air as if to ward him off; for me there was no real warmth to it, let alone heat.

The creators of the show have talked about Sheldon's "true" first kiss being when he *chose* to give it without someone pushing it on him, and presumably without duress. By that definition, I think you could argue he still hasn't had one.