A/N As several people requested it, I've had a go at a follow-up to the previous chapter (The Unexpected Journey Correlation). This chapter refers to events from it so you'll need to have read the previous chapter to fully understand this one.
Like the last one, it's taken me ages! A real labour of love, but love it I do :) I enjoyed it. So I'm posting on a Sunday night, which I don't normally do. I'm hoping you guys will still read it and tell me what you think. I love hearing from you.
I've got a couple more chapters in early stages as well - episode 8x16, The Intimacy Acceleration, really got my Shenny muse going again.
Probably be quite a while between updates, though - they continue to be the most time-intensive couple I write for. But I love them. Hope you do too.
And you know what often inspires me to write more? Reviews. Just saying ;)
Oh! I forgot to say: we're only up to 8x17 over here (in the UK) so no spoilers, please.
The Unexpected Journey Resolution
For as long as Sheldon could remember he'd felt out of step with the world.
Studying physics had seemed the perfect solution: what better way to find his place in it than to unravel and define its mysteries?
He'd had limited success.
At one point it had seemed it was all within his grasp: theorems proven, accolades showered – even the acceptance of his (ostensible) peers.
Somewhere along the way it had slipped through his fingers, lost in a morass of drunken pratfalls, academic betrayal and Relationship Agreements.
Sheldon had an immeasurable IQ; he was one of those "beautiful mind genius" guys. (Strike that – there was no real competition. His was the most beautiful.)
The chances of meeting someone who would understand that, who would be able to keep up, had seemed negligible at best.
He should have known better than to compromise.
He had softened, weakened. Allowed himself to be distracted, allowed himself to be changed.
If he had been told eight years ago that the entrance of one solitary female into his life would have such deep and irrevocable impact, he would have thrown his hands in the air and snorted with derision.
But he had had a lot of time to think in recent months (the sluggish clime and pace of Galveston allowed for little else), and the data was inescapable.
She was the chaos element; the beating butterfly wings. The small inconsequential change that could change everything.
That had changed him.
If it wasn't for Penny, there never would have been Amy.
I've decided to take your advice and arranged to go on a date with Amy Farrah Fowler
If it wasn't for Penny, he never would have believed himself in love.
If you're in love, you share everything. You want to be close in every way
If it wasn't for Penny, he never would have realised he wasn't.
Amy, I wish to terminate our Relationship Agreement.
Mary Cooper loved her son to near distraction.
George Junior was the living spit of his father; Missy a headstrong version of her mother; and Sheldon... Sheldon was the one who had always made the least sense to her.
But he was also the one who needed her the most. Who in his own strange, had-to-be-tested-for-craziness way loved her the most. So in her secret heart of hearts, she could admit that maybe he was the one she loved the most, too.
The one she was most proud of.
Though none of that changed the fact she could cheerfully have strangled him.
He wasn't the easiest to live with at the best of times, but this particular trip had been even worse than usual.
When he turned up unannounced on her doorstep, pale-faced and red-eyed, she knew it couldn't be for a good reason.
Her first thought was that he must've fallen out with his scientist friends again; her second that maybe she should call them, or that kooky little girlfriend of his.
But something in his eyes stopped her. There was a cold bright flame glowing there, but also a great weariness. As if he'd been broken so many times, the pieces didn't quite fit back together.
So she decided to wait him out. Deer-style. Let him hole up on his old bedroom and brought him pancakes and grilled cheese.
After a week, his rigid shoulders began to uncurl; after a week, she felt it safe to ask him what had happened.
He shrugged. "There is no longer a place for me in Pasadena."
"Oh, lamb chop... did you and Amy have a fight again?"
He shook his head. "Amy Farrah Fowler and I terminated our relationship several months ago."
Mary's mouth dropped open in outrage. "And you're only telling me about this now?"
He looked confused. "You are only asking about it now," he pointed out.
"Lord above... Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could have..." she trailed off, gaze raking over his face again. The eyes that couldn't quite settle, the tics he could never quite control – none of them were there. He met her gaze calmly. "That ain't what's got you all kinked up, is it?" she said softly. "So what is it, Shelly? You can tell me." It was the same voice she'd used to ease troubled words from lips way too young for them.
But those giveaway baby blues were icing over again. "Thank you for the sandwiches, Mom." He turned back to his ever-present laptop, and she knew he'd slipped away from her again.
And so it had continued for the next few weeks.
In all that time, she never once saw him contact anyone. His cell phone was permanently switched off, and he only seemed to go on-line for research reasons.
She found it interesting which of his friends called the house phone for him (the funny little Indian man, and even funnier Jewish one) – found it even more interesting which ones didn't.
Leonard had only called once, to check Sheldon was there, and safe. Penny had never called at all. The second part was more surprising than the first.
Sheldon took the calls, but he never initiated them.
She was equal parts relieved and peeved when he started whining. Figured it was a good sign he was insisting everyone follow his pain-in-the-proverbial routines – it meant he was on the road to mending.
So she judged it safe to start bullying him again. ("Shelly, if you don't shave those whiskers, so help me, I will take a razor to you myself – you're starting to look like Beelzebub."
"Shelly, get your be-hind up those stairs and into your Sunday best. Just 'cos I gave you a temporary reprieve don't mean the rules have changed: so long as you live under my roof, you will attend church every Sunday, you will make your zucchini bread for the potluck, and you will do it with the smile the Good Lord gave you.")
Then April twenty-second came.
He had thrown himself into his work with an intensity that scared her. That cold blazing look was back in his eyes.
He was so immersed in his scribblings (which sure looked like magic spells no matter how much he insisted they were science) that he barely seemed aware she was there. Even when she used her "Mad Mom" voice.
She'd seen Sheldon lose himself in his work before, but this felt different.
It took a while for her to put her finger on it: on what it reminded her of, and why it scared her.
It reminded her of George Senior, Sheldon's father. Of the determined way he'd start in on a bottle of Bourbon, grimly set on blotting the world out by whatever means he could.
But she preferred the frantic writing to what happened next: when Sheldon curled in a ball and stared at the wall.
He didn't sleep that night.
So neither did she.
She moved the rocking chair into his room and watched over him, singing Soft Kitty on a loop.
Eventually, his body gave in. He fell asleep at dawn.
An hour later, once she knew he was safe, Mary fell asleep, too.
She awoke several hours' later, to the sound of someone leaning on the doorbell.
Her eyes immediately snapped over to the bed, but Sheldon wasn't there.
She made her way downstairs in time to hear the shrill of the bell mercifully cut short.
The open door blocked her view, but a young voice floated up the stairs-
"Hello, Moonpie."
-and she heard her son breathe in like he hadn't breathed in years.
That hideous cut was finally growing out.
Penny called it her "shaggy pixie do" (he wasn't sure what mythical creatures had to do with anything, hirsute or otherwise – he was just relieved to see her looking more like herself again).
A little while longer (six to nine months judging by previous rates of growth), and it would be close to the length it was when they first met.
When shining green eyes had met his over a whiteboard, and for the first time someone's admiration had really meant something.
There once was a time he wouldn't have noticed a woman's hair, certainly wouldn't have had a preference on it. But that was before Penny changed hers.
So many of his previous life protocols didn't seem to apply to her. Like the Rule of Three Strikes.
Penny had broken it repeatedly, and he had always taken her back. Even though she would never take the class.
Even though she never learned.
She let things go back to the way they were... strike one
She never tried to call... strike two
She stayed behind to marry Leonard... strike three
Three strikes and you're banished.
(Three strikes and you're out.)
But then she'd come looking for him.
And whatever anger he might have felt drained away when her eyes met his.
It was difficult to be angry with someone who looked that broken. Difficult, and a pointless expenditure of energy.
Everything had slipped through his fingers, but he couldn't entirely blame Penny for that. She might have been the catalyst, but the choices had been his. And indirectly, he owed her thanks.
Her persistence in staying a course that was clearly the worst thing for her had made him determined not to do the same.
So he'd returned to the one constant in his life – the lady he should never have forsaken: string theory.
He'd devoted himself to her day and night, to take back the ground that he'd lost. He had become increasingly frustrated as the math refused to come together, but smiled through the pain, equating it to the pleasant burn of muscles after too long a break from exertion. (Or so he'd read.)
But even string theory hadn't been quite enough to hold his attention on April twenty-second.
It had kept wandering across the state line. Until his mind gave up, and his body gave in, curling in on itself to defend against the image of Penny radiant in white.
He'd awoken April twenty-third with a heart as heavy as iridium, then cursed himself for the atomically inaccurate simile.
He'd made it to the wedding day, but her influence remained.
It appeared it would always remain.
When the doorbell rang, it almost wasn't a surprise.
Five seconds of looking into Penny's eyes and the world tilted on its axis again.
Suddenly, it wasn't just string theory that mattered.
At least as important was bringing the light back into them.
It was amazing what you could live with.
Strike that. She'd already known exactly what she could live with, after three plus years of sleepwalking through her life.
What was new was the awareness; the awareness of how much she'd screwed up and the crappy decisions she'd made. What was new was acknowledging that there was a lot of stuff about herself she didn't really like, but somehow still being okay.
On paper her life right now sucked. A month ago she'd been engaged, earning good money and had her whole life mapped out before her. Now she was living with a crazy-pants physicist and his Bible-thumping mom, with the future one giant question mark.
Thinking about the future was like trying to see your reflection in a fractured mirror; it immediately distorted. And if she strained too hard to make it clear, it brought nothing but pain.
Besides, thinking didn't come too easily those first few days.
Sheldon had been the one who answered the door, but Mrs Cooper had followed soon after. Her appearance jerked Penny from her coma-like stance, and she realised she and Sheldon had been locked in a stare-out for a good thirty seconds.
His mother's expression had been hard to read. Uncomfortably penetrating, and maybe not entirely approving.
Eyes just like her son's had tracked between them, making Penny shift from foot to foot as colour warmed her cheeks.
The movement made her wobble slightly; she had been running on adrenaline and caffeine for more than a day now, and her body chose that moment to remind her of it.
Her knees sagged.
Mary Cooper's expression immediately changed to one of concern.
"Good Lordy, child – you're worn enough to see through. Sit down. Rest." She manoeuvred Penny onto the couch. "I'm going to fix you some breakfast. Sheldon, our guest is in distress." She spoke over her shoulder then walked towards the kitchen.
Sheldon nodded and followed behind. "I will make the hot beverages."
Penny smiled for the second time in ten minutes; something that had seemed an impossibility twenty-four hours before. She was asleep before they returned with the food.
She slept for twelve hours before her brain cleared enough to even think of her cell; she had switched it off an hour into leaving Pasadena.
She took a deep breath and turned the cell on, just long enough to text Bernadette to say she was safe.
She deliberately ignored the multiple icons.
It took another three hours before she worked up the courage to switch it back on again.
There were dozens of messages, texts and voicemails. They ran the range from frantic worry, to disbelieving shock, to furious shouting.
She took a deep breath and sent a few messages.
There was a cold response from Howard, an even colder one from Bernadette. None at all from Amy. Though that was hardly a surprise. They'd not really been close since she and Sheldon had broken up.
She didn't text Leonard; he hadn't made contact.
Raj was more forgiving. More understanding than the rest.
Following his message, she drummed up the nerve to call him; his first thought was to check she was okay.
"Hang in there, Penny. They love Leonard, but they love you too. Yeah, your timing sucked, but it could have been worse."
She smiled weakly. "I could actually have left him at the altar instead of just running away the day before the wedding?"
There was a pause. "No – you could have married him... Look, Penny, for what's it's worth, I think you did the right thing. I mean, it would have been better if you'd realised what the right thing was sooner but still..." There was another pause. "Have you heard from him?"
Penny shook her head, forgetting he couldn't see. "No. How... how is he doing?" She cringed as she asked.
"We haven't seen him since the day of the wedding. He went to stay with his father, after telling us it was off. Guess that's most people's default, huh? To go back to their parents in times of crisis." Penny hesitated, wondering if she should correct his assumption of where she'd gone, but before she could decide Raj was continuing in a resentful mutter: "Though not in my case, of course. The only reason I'd go home is to hear the latest movement in the why-won't-you-bring-a-nice-Indian-girl-home symphony." He seemed to come back to himself. "But we've spoken to him on the phone a couple of times. He's... dealing. Honestly? I would say it isn't as bad as the time you broke up with him at the bowling alley. He's more angry than broken."
Some of the crushing weight on Penny's shoulders lifted a little. "I should... I should talk to him, I guess... But I don't want to force him. And I'm probably the last voice he wants to hear right now..." She trailed off leadingly, hoping Raj would provide the answer, would tell her what to do.
"Well, maybe you should take a page out of my girl Meg Ryan's book..."
Penny scrunched up her nose. "Get really bad plastic surgery, fade into obscurity and pretend it was my idea?"
Raj gave his trademark yelp of horror. "How dare you! Meg Ryan was and always will be America's eternal sweetheart. No, Penny – I was talking about her and Tom Hanks' seminal classic Sleepless in Seattle."
Penny's face scrunched further. "So I should get an annoyingly cute kid to engineer a meeting between us on The Empire State Building?"
"You know, I'm starting to understand why it is you drive Sheldon so crazy... Have you never heard the expression if you can't say it, write it?" Penny blinked, considering. "Although, I suppose that might not actually be the best comparison since you're not really looking for a romantic reunion... and come to think of it, that might not even be an American English phrase... You know, that can get really confusing. Especially when I first arrived: how was I supposed to know you people don't use 'dress' to mean general clothing over here? Mind you, the lady in Sears was very tactful... so non-judgmental. And she was right: the teal maxi-dress set off my skin tone beautifully."
Recognising a Raj tangent when she heard one, Penny headed it off and thanked him for the advice, ending the call. She stayed where she was for a moment, looking thoughtful, and then went looking for a certain whack-a-doodle.
Sheldon showed his support in his typical Sheldon way, providing thick cream paper and one of those crazy expensive personalised pens (and, of course, he had a proper correspondence kit – of course he did) as well as offering to proofread whatever she wrote in order to "weed out the more egregious errors".
He even offered her the spot at his bedroom desk – which apparently had the "optimum light exposure and lumbar support conducive to writing" – but then twitched so hard she took pity on him and moved out of it again.
She went through a dozen sheets of the paper. A dozen half-begun drafts. All thrown away.
In the end she wrote just two words.
She mailed the pitiful excuse for a letter with her engagement ring and all the cash she could withdraw from the ATM.
The cash and letter were returned in the same envelope she'd sent them in; she could see where it had been re-taped.
When she realised she hadn't given a return address, it felt like a kick in the stomach.
Leonard was more perceptive than she'd given him credit for.
There was a tightening in her gut – a spark of anger, of self-defence. She wasn't the only one to blame here. Leonard and her had been do-si-doing their destructive dance for years. She'd just called time before he did... But her defiance quickly collapsed as she drowned in it all over again. In what it must have been like for him.
Waking alone. Having to call it off. Faced with telling everyone. With telling his family – his mother.
She flinched away from the images.
She'd spared her family finding out that way, having called her sister from the road.
Though even that had been self-serving. She'd known she'd get the least anger there. Knew there was no danger of Kelly trying to convince her to go through with it.
At least her dad hadn't paid for the wedding. At least she'd fought against it being too extravagant...
One less thing to feel guilty about. (One less drop of shame in an ocean of guilt.)
She spent the next few days wallowing in self-loathing, camped out on the couch. ("Queen Penelope" lived again.)
Mrs Cooper had tolerated this for a little while before she'd started lecturing Penny on the evils of sloth (and the importance of personal hygiene), asking if she'd given any thought to getting a job. Penny had blushed and stammered her way through an apology, feeling even guiltier, but Mary had brushed it aside.
"Darlin', I have no need nor want for your possibly ill-gotten Benjamins. I like you, girly. I do. And I think it's good for Shelly that you're around. 'Cos Lord knows he's been crazier than a bag of cats since he arrived. And not in his usual kind of way. So you can stay in Missy's room as long as you want, and there'll be no more talk of rent. 'But if you think I'm gonna let you lounge around the house like one of Jezebel's daughters, you got another think comin'."
When she offered to put in a good word for her in town, Penny couldn't refuse. She started working shifts at The Texan Grill, and despite Sheldon's warnings about Penny's tendencies to "sass the clientele", he was quick to declare it as the location for his Tuesday night burger. (According to Mary it was his first visit to the restaurant since The Great Booger Debacle of '99.)
So, here she was – a part-time waitress, keeping house with a mother and son. It should have made her feel small. Dirty. Beaten.
But her back was straight, and her chin was high.
One advantage to the pharmaceutical job – for the first time in her life, she actually had some savings to fall back on.
Enough to keep the rent going on her apartment until she figured out what she wanted to do.
She started paying money into Leonard's bank account, in small but steady amounts, hoping he wouldn't notice and block the payments. Not until she'd paid back his half of the wedding costs.
Another advantage to being a rep – she didn't really have to answer to anyone for her absence. An email to her boss apologising and explaining some not great personal stuff had happened was enough to take extended leave. Once she'd started taking off her engagement ring, she'd gotten pretty damn good at making sales, and from what Dan had said, he'd gladly take her back if she decided she wanted to return to Pasadena and the job.
Right now, she really didn't want to.
Right now she was enjoying not thinking beyond the day-to-day. Not thinking beyond the simple pleasure of breathing in and breathing out. Of getting up and helping Mary with the housework. Of wandering into town to do grocery shopping with Sheldon.
Of being Penny and Sheldon.
Bickering, comfortable Penny and Sheldon.
Though, truthfully, that had changed too. Not in an obvious way. They'd fallen into living together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Which kind of made sense considering how long they'd known each other, how used to each other they were.
But that ease had been missing for a while. Maybe because they'd both been too caught up in other relationships – in Amy and Leonard. Maybe because they'd both been distancing themselves from each other. (Maybe because of the almost-kiss they never talked about.)
So the ease was both nostalgic and familiar.
It was the touching that was new.
How often it happened, how often he started it. How unbothered he seemed about it either way, lacking even the token protests he used to put up.
Like Penny pulling Sheldon by the hand to force him into a shoe store. Or Sheldon grabbing her arm and holding on to squeeze disapprovingly when she went to steal a fry off his plate.
Like how they always sat on the couch together, side by side, shoulders comfortably touching as they argued over what to watch. Penny to the left of him so Sheldon had his carefully selected spot (some things had changed, but not everything).
One time Penny had gone to step into the road and come close to being mowed down by a motorcycle. She hadn't been, but only because Sheldon had looped one arm around her waist and snatched her back. He'd lectured her for the next twenty minutes on road safety and forced her to sit through a slideshow he'd prepared to educate her on "the perils of the road". She hadn't minded. Still thinking about the angry concern in his eyes, the warmth of his torso against her back and the detergent-fresh scent of him when he'd held her against him.
It should have been weird. What was weird was that it wasn't.
It felt like a natural extension. Like something that would have happened a long time ago if it hadn't been stopped.
It inched over her little by little, the familiarity and the newness, spreading through the whole of her like pulsing warmth.
As loath as Sheldon was to identify with the masses, he had to admit there was something hypnotising about fires. Most likely a genetic throwback to Palaeolithic man, when fire was vital to continued existence.
It wasn't a particularly cold night, but Penny apparently "had a thing" about log fires so he'd let her build one in spite of the room already being at optimum temperature.
(The number of items on the list that Penny "had a thing" about was steadily increasing, but it appeared there was a new dominant item on Sheldon's counterpart list – giving Penny the things she had a thing about.)
Unusually for what had become their eventide routine, Penny was sitting on the floor at his feet. Most likely to be closer to the flames. This deviation from the norm cut through the natural contentment of their evenings together. He toyed with the idea of saying something, but found himself struggling to phrase the request, never before having had the need to ask someone to come closer, rather than keep their distance.
He focused on the back of her head, staring hard, willing her to choose to sit next to him by telepathic command. It didn't work, and gradually he found himself distracted by the visual she presented.
The firelight had turned her hair to molten gold; his fingers twitched towards it before he sternly bade them back to his side.
Then she laid her head back against his knee and sighed, contented and drowsy. And he remembered that he didn't have to do that anymore – turn away from thoughts not his own, thoughts he knew he'd had no right to.
Tentatively, he reached out and combed his fingers through the strands, pausing after a moment to gauge both their reactions.
Penny's breath had caught; she stayed facing forwards, but her head inclined towards him like a cat. He started stroking again.
When she pushed herself up from the floor, he snatched his hand back, feeling like a child caught out in a crime.
His knee missed her warmth.
The next thing he knew, she was beside him on the couch, lifting his arm so she could nestle against his side, then placing it around her shoulders.
Every muscle in his body seized up at the contact.
The only person he had cuddled with this way was Amy, and that had never felt like this.
So peaceful and devastating all at the same time.
Penny seemed to sense his uncertainty. She took hold of the hand that rested across her shoulder and guided its movement until it rippled through her hair once more.
After a couple of strokes he picked up the motion, and she allowed her hand to fall.
Her breathing began to even out.
A few minutes later, he realised his had too.
Mary returned from Bible Group and found them sleeping in front of the fire, wrapped round each other like twins.
But Sheldon had never lain that way with Missy.
Sheldon was absorbed in one of his formula thingies.
He'd pulled back one of the ever-present net curtains to see better and light was streaming in through the window.
Penny was curled up in the rocking chair nearby, the open Cosmo in her lap forgotten.
There was something fascinating about watching him work. There always had been.
The unwavering concentration; the frantic energy; the incredible things that crazy, beautiful brain could come up with...
But on this occasion, it wasn't his beautiful mind that was distracting her.
Sunlight danced on the ends of his unfairly long lashes; the muscles in his forearms flexed as he pressed the pen against the board.
Her eyes traced the long, lean line of his hips. The back of his shirt hitched upwards as he leant forward, revealing a patch of skin as smooth and pale as milk-
Crap.
The board, Penny: focus on the board!
She forced her gaze back to the formula. He'd been working on it for weeks so it had become a regular feature in their lives; Sheldon had a habit of carrying it from room to room with him, including when he went to the bathroom.
He'd even started bringing it to dinner, until Mrs C. quickly and ruthlessly nipped that one in the bud. (Penny had been taking notes ever since she moved in and she thought she'd finally cracked the tone that got Mary almost immediate obedience.)
She had seen the board so often, she could probably draw the whole thing from memory. (Of course she wouldn't have a clue what the symbols actually meant, but still.) It was so familiar, any additions or changes stuck out like a porcupine at a nudist colony. (Hmmm... Apparently, Mary's tone wasn't the only thing Penny had been picking up.)
Her gaze kept tripping over one line, drawn back again and again.
"Sheldon...?"
Nothing.
"Sheldon?"
Still nothing.
"Shellllllll-don..." she sung out, like a high-pitched yodel.
"Woman, will you be quiet!" The words were heavy with Texan, close to a roar.
The magazine fell to the floor as she got to her feet with hands on hips; she stepped forward until they were toe-to-toe. "Excuse me, Mister Crazy Scientist. I just thought you should know there's something wrong with your board!"
His eyes flicked over to it, and then back again. "That's Doctor Crazy Scientist, and to what are you referring? The board is perfectly functional."
She rolled her eyes. "I meant the formula, Sheldon – there's something wrong with one of the curly thingies."
It was Sheldon's turn to roll his eyes, "Really, Penny." His voice dripped with condescension. "I have an IQ that cannot be accurately measured by normal tests – you don't even know enough to refer to the 'curly thingies' by their proper name; what is the likelihood of you spotting an error in my work?"
Penny's hands clenched with the urge to smack him. "I'm telling you, you've made a mistake. That symbol's been changed." She pointed emphatically. "It should have a curly end like that one, not that one." She tried to reach around him and touch the board.
He squealed like a hog-tied pig, spreading his arms protectively wide and stepping into her space, forcing her to back up.
To her annoyance, Penny's breath caught at the unexpected proximity. Touching Sheldon may have become more and more normal, but it was always gradual. Slow. Gentle. It had been a long time since he had gone alpha male on her.
Apparently, some twisted part of her had missed it.
But that didn't mean she was going to let him know that. Or let him win.
Calling on her best cheerleader moves, she backed up a few steps then rapidly moved forwards, arms reaching out as she tucked up her legs. Diving rolls had always been a speciality of hers; she was pleased to see she hadn't lost her touch as she went sailing through Sheldon's legs.
She heard him gasp in shock, but before he could react she had leapt to her feet, grabbed another marker and scribbled on the board.
Sheldon howled in fury and bear hugged her from behind, before forcibly carrying her away.
"You touched my board! You touched my board!" Horror warred with outrage.
Head whirling at his sudden closeness – the warmth, the smell, the overwhelming Sheldon-ness – Penny spoke a little breathlessly: "Would you just look at it? I think you must have accidentally wiped some off and changed it. All I was doing was changing it back. Will you just look at your stupid formula?"
Sheldon kept hold of her, apparently not trusting her enough to let go. She could feel his heart jackhammering against her back. She sensed rather than saw him crane his neck to look back over his shoulder at the board.
She heard his breath catch.
And waited.
"Dear Lord..."
"See? Seeee!" She injected as much taunting smugness as she could into her tone. "How about that, Mister High-and-Mighty? The 'easily measured' IQ managed to find something you missed! Hahahahaha!" There was no audible response, but his arms had tightened around her. Piqued at the lack of reaction, she redoubled her efforts. "HAHAHAHA-mmph."
Turned out it really was hard to talk with your mouth full.
Sheldon had yanked her round and pulled her to him; he pressed his lips to hers in an urgent, awkward kiss... that sent her pulse rocketing.
His hands were resting on her shoulders; hers were wrapped round the forearms she'd been admiring minutes earlier.
Moving on instinct – thought had pretty much ceased the moment their mouths made contact – Penny took control, tilting her head and wordlessly guiding him.
Always the quick study, Sheldon picked up her rhythm, lips softening against hers in a way that made her knees go weak. She deepened the kiss and he mimicked her action, opening his mouth – just enough for her to glide her tongue inside.
His head immediately snapped back in shock. Breathing hard and licking her lips, Penny surveyed him a little guiltily, half-expecting to see terror – or worse – nausea. But his eyes shone with wonder, gratitude and... something else: "You fixed my formula," he breathed.
"I fixed your formula," she agreed, more than a little dazed.
He beamed at her, then spoke again: "Thank you."
Then the son of a bitch turned back to his board like nothing had happened; as if he hadn't just turned her world upside down.
"You're welcome," Penny muttered, and wobbled her way from the room.
Oh, it is Junior Rodeo on.
Sheldon was a man of science.
He graduated from college summa cum laude aged fourteen. He lectured at the Heidelberg Institute aged fifteen. He received his first doctorate aged sixteen.
But he'd mastered electromagnetic fields before he was five.
Almost every element of human biology, and ipso facto psychology, owed itself to electrical activity, and wherever there is electrical activity, there is also a magnetic field.
However, whilst capable of generating its own electricity, and thereby sparking myriad vital neural impulses, the human body could only produce between ten and one hundred millivolts of electricity, and its electromagnetic field was correspondingly weak.
To put it in layman's terms, the human body was about an effective a magnet as Jar Jar Binks was a diplomat.
There was no scientific reason for a homo sapiens to attract another entity to them. No basis in the laws of physics to feel an inexorable pull.
No practical, plausible logical explanation for a driving compulsion towards another human being.
Sheldon traced the sweeping curve, pondering how it managed to be both soft and firm, testing comparisons with hyperbola, parabola, logarithmic spirals...then rejecting them all as wanting.
It defied categorisation.
But then, so did she.
Her hands had found their way under three layers of clothing, gliding over the thoracolumbar fascia muscles along his spine. His respiration hitched; his palm shifted from the curve of her waist and slid upwards under her shirt, mirroring her action.
She exhaled in response, a slow sustained sound that trembled on the edge of a moan.
Electricity seemed to hum in the air between them. His tongue wanted to tut in exasperation at the trite phrasing, not to mention scientific impossibility, but her lips had found his again and suddenly it was otherwise engaged.
Neurons firing in his brain screamed about pathogens and the potentially dire consequences of sharing saliva, but other neurons were busy registering unprecedented levels of pleasure in the anterior cingulate cortex. The first set of neurons promptly split, half still protesting, the other half suggesting further study was needed to validate the data being given by the third.
Sheldon leaned into the kiss, unconsciously deepening it.
There was no practical, logical or scientific reason for a driving compulsion towards another human being. No reasonable justification for allowing her liberties within weeks that it had taken years to grant Amy. No quantifiable data to explain why she had the impact that she had.
But since when could science quantify chaos?
She was the beating butterfly wings, and he had finally surrendered to the maelstrom.
(But if she thought he was going to credit her when he published the theorem, she had another thing coming.)
Mary blew on her herbal tea and watched her son beneath half-closed lids.
There was a little more colour to his skin, a healthy sun-kissed glow, thanks to Penny's repeated pressure that he "actually get outside and see some of the infinite universe you're always yammering on about".
He was humming to himself unconsciously – she'd bet her bottom dollar it was unconscious since after thirty plus years of experience she could be pretty dang sure Sheldon didn't have a clue who Katy Perry was. Mary only knew because she was one of the pop stars whose music the Memorial Bible Church had banned listening to, dubbing it ungodly smut that paved the way to Hell.
Most damningly of all, he was only half-watching his heathen science-y program, eyes flitting over every so often to the front door.
Penny was due back from her shift in the next hour.
He never really relaxed until she was home again.
She cleared her throat, and his gaze snatched guiltily back from the door, cheeks reddening beneath their tan in a telltale manner that only made her all the more determined to have this conversation.
"So, Shelly-Bean. Now that you've proven your fancy-pants theory, you gonna be leaving us soon?"
He blinked uncertainly. "Why would I do that?"
"I just figured you'd want to go back and rub all those snooty colleagues' faces in it... in a Christian manner, of course."
Sheldon shook his head. "I do not want to go back to Caltech. I have no desire to see my former colleagues." He cocked his head, considering. "Not until I can dangle the Nobel medal in their faces... Though I would not object to seeing Rajesh. And perhaps Howard and Bernadette. And, given time..." He trailed off. "But I don't think we- I'm quite ready for that yet." He straightened up in his chair, suddenly looking much more adult. Much more in control. Mary's eyes narrowed at this latest evidence in a long line of influence. "Besides, after years of dead-ends, I have finally had a breakthrough. And it happened here. Given time, I believe I will unite the theorems – I will prove string theory. I will get my Nobel Prize. Why would I risk interrupting the neuron flow by altering my living conditions?"
"Uh-huh." Mary raised an eyebrow at him. She might not have a college degree, but she could tell when her youngest son was trying to throw her off the scent. And she could read subtext just fine – 'specially when the letters were written that big.
It wasn't the living conditions he was worried about leaving.
Never one to prolong the pain, Mrs Cooper cut to the chase.
"Shelly, you and that girl…. You gonna make an honest woman out of her?"
"Penny is already honest. Some might say undesirably so." His mouth puckered like a sour prune. "She doesn't need any assistance in that area."
"How in heaven I raised such a heathen, I'll never know." Mary sighed. "I'm talking about marriage, Sheldon. You proposing marriage to Penny. You can't go on the way you are."
He blinked again. "Why not?"
"Because while I would welcome more grandchildren, I am not so eager for them to be born the wrong side of the blanket." Sheldon opened his mouth, looking puzzled; she hurriedly started talking again. "I mean, I do not want grandchildren who've been born outside of marriage."
Sheldon's mouth formed an "o" of comprehension. Then pink streaked his cheeks again. "That isn't… that's not a possibility."
Mary snorted. "Not yet, maybe. But if you're about to tell me you haven't kissed that girl, maybe done more, we're gonna march straight upstairs to the bathroom to wash out your mouth with Irish Spring, 'cos Lord knows your mother did not raise no liars."
"Did not raise any liars," he replied reflexively, then cowered at the kindling look she shot him. "Sorry."
"Do – we – need – to – go – upstairs?" she enunciated, with a blazing look in her eye.
"Ma'am, no, ma'am." Sheldon hung his head and peeped up at her.
"I'm right glad to hear it," Mary continued. "And what about the rest of it?"
He straightened up again. "I can assure you, you do not need to worry about children being born on the wrong side of any bed linen. And will not need to, so long as we reside here." Hie eyes were guileless, honest and true.
"Well, alright then. Now go wash up – I'm makin' my special chicken tonight."
A look of glee stole across his face, and he raced for the stairs.
Mary waited till he was out of sight then smiled to herself.
She sauntered to the kitchen and started marshalling arguments for the inevitable battle about church ceremonies.
As she scattered the countertop with flour, she started singing under her breath:
"You're gonna hear me roar-oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh..."
Her smile became smug.
Way they were going, wouldn't be more than a month before Sheldon's innate honesty forced him to move out, propose or both.
fin