:Older:

Penny reached over and snagged a piece of turkey bacon off of Sheldon's plate. He glared at her weakly. She smiled and popped it in her mouth. Sheldon scooted his plate further away from her. "That's a strike, Penny."

She rolled her eyes and wiped her mouth on her napkin. "Get a move on, Moon Pie. Jamie and Freddie will be here soon."

Sheldon scooped up the rest of his oatmeal and stood. He carried their dishes to the sink and waved her off. "I will clean up here. Make sure there are an adequate supply of towels in the bathroom."

Penny leaned in and kissed his cheek before leaving the room. She walked to the bathroom and gave it a cursory glance. She knew Sheldon would have already seen to every tiny detail for the impending visit from their grandkids. She walked to the spare bedroom the children would share and made sure the beds were made. She double checked the desk for pens and the white boards for markers.

Jamie was a writer. She was 13 and already had two YA books published. A heroine named Louve who could tell the future of an object by touching it. There was a name for it, as Sheldon reminded her often, but she could never remember it on her own. She was proud of Jamie, even if she didn't quite understand the books.

Freddie was 11 and an aspiring mathematician. She saw everything in numbers and equations. Ironically, Freddie was the one she most understood. Freddie had a tendency to get lost in her own head. She was so focused on her formulas, she would sometimes lose track of time. She forgot to eat, or sleep when she was 'looping', as Penny called it.

She had spent the last 40 years watching her husband do the same. After all this time, she was a pro at breaking them both out of their respective loops. Tiny kisses along Sheldon's jaw line always did the trick. For Freddie, the smell of gingerbread often worked. On the rare occasions it didn't, Penny would put on Labyrinth starring David Bowie. By the time the song Magic Dance was playing, Freddie would be curled up at her side, eating popcorn and singing along.

Penny paused in the bathroom door, folded towels over her arm. Unbidden memories rolled through her head. The day Sheldon drove her to the hospital for her shoulder. The rounds of Soft Kitty. The horrible break up with Leonard, who demanded to know why Sheldon knew she had a tattoo, and then accused her of cheating on him. The way Sheldon had defended her honor, and later let her cry on his shoulder.

She smiled as she remembered Sheldon coming over a month later, shyly asking if she would like to have dinner with him. She couldn't remember what they ate, but she did remember the way he insisted on walking her home afterwards. Just in case there was a mugger in the hall, he had explained.

It wasn't easy at first. Leonard raised a fuss, and Sheldon backed off. She had chased after him. She had known, even then, that a relationship with the tall awkward genius was a forever kinda thing. She put the fear of junior rodeo in Leonard who reluctantly backed off. Dating Sheldon wasn't easy. He was resistant to change. He liked to be in control. They were together a year before they ever moved beyond kissing. Another year before he actually stayed all night.

But it was all worth it. Sheldon made her feel cherished. He pushed her to new heights. She never was a big screen starlet. She had quite a bit of success on the stage though. She has a Tony to prove it. She won it 18 months after Sheldon won his Nobel for linking his string thingies to something or other. She never could remember the names, much to his dismay. Every time he brought it up in that petulant tone of his, she reminded him that he hadn't married her for her IQ.

Now, 40 years, three children, two grandchildren, a stroke (him) and one hip replacement surgery (her) later, they were both retired and spending the summer with their granddaughters. Penny sighed happily and placed the towels in the bathroom. She loved her life.