Imperfect (takes place after Passage)

Amy chuckled. "No. But . . . well, think of a memory. Or a handful of memories. Chances are greater they will be imperfect than perfect, correct? Wait -" she stopped him from speaking - "I'm not talking about how well you remember them. I'm talking about what happened in those memories. No human is perfect, so very few events that occur between humans will be perfect. Some are confusing or awkward or embarrassing, in some you are sad or shy or angry or hurt. Or don't even know what you're feeling, really. But they stay with you, right? Because of who is in them. And, over time, as the years go by, even if they are still sad or confusing, there's something about them . . ." she shrugged. "They stay with you. And, in the end, you even find yourself saying, 'Remember that time that such-and-such happened?'"

February 15, 2015

He slipped into bed next to her. Even through his plaid pajamas, she was powerfully aware of the heat radiating off of his body. Amy kept looking up at the ceiling.

"Um . . ." Sheldon asked, ". . . should I turn off the light?"

Should he? Last night, they had been too eager to turn it on and had lost their virginity (!) by the light of the hallway. This morning, the sunrise had been streaming in the window. But did they need the light . . . .

"If you want," she whispered.

There was an overly long pause and then Sheldon reached over to turn off the lamp.

Amy put her hand up over her chest, feeling her heart pounding under her nightgown. She felt hot. "Sheldon?"

"Yes?" she thought his reply was awfully quick, like he was waiting for her to speak.

"Did you change the thermostat?"

"No." What that disappointment she heard in his voice? "Why?"

"I'm a little warm, that's all."

"Oh." Another pregnant pause. "Me, too."

"Should we . . . . ?" Amy wasn't sure how to end the sentence. Was even a sexually active Sheldon Cooper prepared to hear the words "sleep naked"? They had last night, but that was . . . well, that's just what sexual activity caused.

"Take off the quilt?" Sheldon suggested.

"Oh. Okay."

Amy didn't even move to help, just watched his barely visible form shifting in bed beside and above her as he slowly pulled the quilt down.

"I'm folding it in an accordion pattern," he volunteered, "so if we get cold later, we can just reach down and pull it back up."

Like if we're naked? No, don't think that. What is wrong with me? "Thank you."

Sheldon lay back down next to her, not touching but, she thought, maybe closer. Or was she imagining it? His arm moved. Then a leg. A hand moved. Then moved back. He was fidgeting. Odd, because she was oddly too . . . something to move.

"Amy?" Sheldon said timidly.

"Yes?" she replied, still looking at the ceiling.

"May I . . . ask you a personal question?"

Amy smiled in the dark. She rather felt all personal questions were allowed now. "Yes."

"Are you . . . it's just that I would hate to think . . . I mean, now that some time has passed . . . " he took a deep breath ". . . uncomfortable in any way?"

She smiled again. "No." A pause, a decision to be honest. "A little, when I first sat down at breakfast. But it's passed."

"Oh."

Was that regret she heard? Well, that was normal, right? He was disappointed that he had had a part in her discomfort, not matter how minor. Or how much it didn't matter to her, how much it had been worth it.

She rolled over. Sheldon was also lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. What should she say? Or do? Honestly, what were the options available to her, only the ones that didn't scream "I'm a sex maniac"? And why was this suddenly so awkward and embarrassing? It had not been that way last night or this morning. Or even their nudity in the shower. The shower. They were getting married. How her life had changed in the past twenty-four hours!

"Sheldon?"

He finally rolled over also. "Amy?"

"Do you want to . . . ?"

"Oh, yes!"

February 20, 2015

The best part was Amy's face across the bed, still wearing her tiara, how optimistically she watched the die fall on the hardback book.

"Left ankle," Sheldon sighed, looking down at the now still die. "Again."

"What do we do?" Amy asked, glancing at her bare legs, her shoes and tights already having been removed.

Sheldon shook his head, crossing his own bare feet in front of him. "Everyone thinks that because a die roll results in the same number several times in a row, that the probability is that the next roll will be on their side. It's not true; the probability resets for every roll."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me," Amy said.

Sheldon looked up, startled, but she was grinning. Oh, sarcasm.

"Proposal," Amy continued. "We just add ten to every roll?"

"Hmmm. No," Sheldon said. "That wouldn't work. We'd skip right over arms and legs. I may be fairly new at this, but I don't see how we can having a wedding night while still being fully dressed."

"Five?" Amy suggested.

"Now you're just being arbitrary," Sheldon said. Then he sighed deeply. "This was supposed to be your wedding present. And your prize for winning our wager. But it's only becoming frustrating."

There was silence as they both looked at the offending die for a moment, and then Amy's tiara started to slip and she reached up to grab it. "Arbitrary or not, I'm just calling twelve or whatever number we need for scalp, because I want to take this off."

"Scalp isn't a body part when using the die for damage," Sheldon said absent-mindedly.

"I'm sure there are some other body parts we'll using that aren't included on there, either," Amy said. Then she chuckled. "Maybe we should have bought sex dice!"

"Amy!"

For some reason, this made Amy laugh harder. "I can just imagine you rolling vagina and not being able to say it!"

Sheldon's eyebrows shot up. Was that a challenge? "Lips!" he called out and leaned over to give her a quick peck.

Amy's laugh got deeper. "That's more like it!"

He loved watching her, her green eyes dancing. My wife. My wife. Today and forever, she is my wife. He picked up the book and rotated to put it on the end table. He looked at the die in his hand for a second and shrugged and threw it over his shoulder. This elicited anther peel of laughter from Amy, and he found himself grinning.

"Breasts!" he called, taking her by the shoulders, slowly angling her down on the bed, breaking out into his own laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

July 2, 2015

Oh! She couldn't help it, she jerked her head back at the first taste, out of the way. That was . . . probably the wrong thing to do. What if he thought she was repulsed? She tentatively touched a drop on her lip with her tongue. Salty.

Amy raised her eyes up to look at him. He was staring at her.

"Did -"

"You've got some on your chin," Sheldon interrupted. He reached over to the bedside table and pulled out a tissue, handing it to her. She took it and wiped her chin, watching Sheldon cleaning off his stomach, pulling one tissue after another out of the box. Surely he would empty it.

"Sheldon?" she asked, frightened by his reserve.

He looked up and smiled at her, but it looked tepid. "Come here," he said, softly.

She crawled up next to him, and he pulled her in close, his arm about her shoulders. Both of them reclining against the headboard, they lay in silence, as he stroked her hair. She had no idea what he was thinking.

December 4, 2015

"No, you put your right leg here," Amy grasped Sheldon's thigh and guided his leg to where it needed to be.

"Ouch. That's very uncomfortable," he protested.

"Be patient. Then I move like this . . . " she shifted in front of him.

"How is that sexy?" he asked.

"You're supposed to lean forward," she instructed.

He grunted but complied.

"Better?" she asked.

"Only marginally."

"Okay, so now you can penetrate me."

"Who invented this position? Cirque de Soliol members?"

"Sheldon! You're ruining it!"

"This position is ruining it! 'Now you can penetrate me.' This feels like gym class, not foreplay."

Amy huffed and pulled away from him. She tried to look at Sheldon, but he was avoiding her gaze. Finally, he said, still looking down, "Amy, I don't - I know you wanted to try all of these - and some are fun - but - it feels like work. I don't want it to feel like work."

Reaching out, she put her fingertips under his chin, forcing him to raise his face. "Then we'll stop."

"I'm sorry," he finally looked at her. "I know you were attempting to be scientific, experimenting, finding the perfect position -"

"Come," she interrupted, taking his hand.

"What?"

"This is my favorite," Amy whispered and she stretched out on her back, pulling him over her.

March 18, 2016

Sheldon did a double take and almost fell off his side of the bed. "Amy, what on Earth is that?" He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of her nether regions.

"Oh, this?" Amy looked down, which he didn't understand at all because surely she couldn't help but be aware of when that happened. "I told you Penny and I went to get waxes yesterday."

"Yes, but what's wrong with it?" Fortunately, Amy slid into bed next to him, obscuring it from view. At least it explained why she had changed last night and this morning in the bathroom, alone.

"It's called a Brazilian, Sheldon," Amy huffed. "Apparently it's quite common."

"But what purpose does it serve? Is it an arrow? Braille for the blind virgin?"

She crossed her arms, which only managed to emphasize her cleavage. "Some men find it erotic."

"Not this man. It's unnatural. You're an adult female! Why would you mutilate yourself in that fashion?"

"You know what?" The line in Amy's brow was deep. "It's my body, and I can do with it what I like. I don't need to know your opinion."

"But you just said you did it because men supposedly find it erotic!" His voice was getting loud now. "Beside, I always have an opinion, and you love hearing them."

"Forget it," Amy mumbled and rolled away from him, turning off the bedside lamp, darkening the room, and sliding down between the covers.

Sheldon sighed deeply. How was this his fault? He wasn't the one who had disfigured his body. "I just don't understand. Obviously, grooming of all parts of your body are essential to proper personal hygiene. But -"

"I said forget it." Now she was talking through clenched teeth and that was never a good sign.

Sighing again, he laid down himself and shifted close to her back, careful not to touch her. "Amy, I'm sorry. You're right, it's your body. If you find this Brazilian thing . . . attractive, then well, it's your decision."

"I don't need you to tell me when something about my own body is my decision."

Not knowing why, exactly, Sheldon smiled behind her. The timing was all wrong, but he loved to hear the defiance in her voice. "Amy," he said softly, "I know. That's not what I meant. It surprised me. Especially your reasoning." He paused. "Remember that Buzzfeed I sent you? If Hermoine Granger were the main character in Harry Potter? I didn't just send because it was funny, I sent it because it sounded like things you would say. I love it when you rail against the patriarchy."

He heard a sniff. "Amy?"

"I'm a horrible feminist! I didn't do it to rail against the patriarchy! I only did because Penny talked me into it, she said you'd like it. But I hate it! And it was painful and it makes me look like I'm ten and it will only look worse when as grows out and I'm sure it will itch like crazy!" Another sniff.

Risking reprimand, he wrapped his arm around her waist. "You know I love you just the way you are, right? I wish you wouldn't listen to Penny so much, though." When she didn't push him away or fight back, he dropped a brief kiss on her shoulder.

"Even though Hermoine wouldn't ever get a Brazilian for any man?" she finally said.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. Ron is a fumbling idiot, and she'd probably decide to do it just to provide him a map." He stopped, suddenly. Was that a patriarchal thing to say? He wasn't sure.

But Amy had started chuckling, and, as her laugh grew louder, he grinned. She rolled over in his arms. "You're right. Hermione wouldn't accept anything less than mutual satisfaction."

"Mmmmm, and neither should you . . . " He bent to kiss her, his hand already trailing down her body, finding the arrow to point the way.

July 15, 2016

He was curled up, almost off the bed he was so far over to his side. He just wanted one night of sleep. A solid uninterrupted eight hours. That's it.

Her arm slid around him and he jerked, almost kicking.

"Sheldon?" Amy whispered into his back.

"Don't touch me," he said, hoarsely, bringing his head further down into his chest. Her arm pulled away.

"I'm sorry." The anguished whisper again. The edge of a cry. He couldn't bear to hear her cry. To see her cry. Now when he so desperately wanted to cry. "I just wish you'd let me help you feel better in some way."

"Go away. Leave me alone," he said. "I don't want you to touch me. That never makes me feel better."

She did cry then, but it was of shock. Hurt. He realized, from a memory of something, that his words had hurt her. But he felt nothing.

The comforter was pulled off the bed and she stomped out of the room, dragging it behind her. She was angry, too. He saw her face as she passed. Tears. He rolled forcefully away from the door, toward her side of the bed. Empty.

Exactly how he felt. He wanted to cry. For himself. For hurting Amy. For lying to her. For Meemaw. But he was empty.

December 12, 2017

"Hoooooooo. . . " the last breath of her orgasm died away, and Amy leaned forward, wishing she was still able to rest her forehead against Sheldon's, who was breathing heavily after his own. The baby kicked her strongly and her hand went down on reflex. She always tried to disconnect the two things, which felt both necessary and yet impossible, as it was sex that had gotten her in this condition in the first place.

She shifted as she straddled him, preparing herself to lift away from him, so they could cuddle and feel the baby move together with minimal weirdness. Sheldon brought his hands up to her sides to help her when she suddenly, and loudly, passed gas.

"Oh!" she yelled, jerking herself off of him as fast as she could, her face burning red. "I'm so sorry, I -"

Except Sheldon didn't look disgusted or angry; instead, he threw his head back and laughed. "Sheldon?" her brow wrinkled.

He actually flopped over on his side, he was laughing so hard. "Are you laughing at me? Do you think it's funny?"

"Yes - and - I don't - know -why."

She picked up her pillow and hit him with it. "Sheldon Cooper, it's not funny!" Another hit. "Stop acting like a seven-year-old boy!" Hit. "I'm seven and half months pregnant -" Hit. "- and it's an unavoidable, natural bodily function and -" Hit.

"Why are you hitting me?" He managed to get out, still laughing, grabbing his own bed pillow and swinging it at her but missing wildly. Maybe on purpose because she was pregnant, maybe because he was never any good at sports.

Then Amy burst out laughing, too, at the sheer improbably of Sheldon laughing at something like this, her embarrassment mostly gone. She lifted up her pillow and hit him again.

January 14, 2018

"Like this?" she asked. "It's the most I can curl now."

"Yes," Sheldon answered, kissing her shoulder. He put a hand on her hip, to steady him and start to inch closer -

"Wait. I'm sorry, this is too much pressure on my hip. Give me a pillow to support my knee."

Sheldon shifted and grabbed the pillow from the foot of the bed, handing it to her. Amy put it under her bent knee. "Does that give you enough room?"

"Yes." Lying down behind her again, adjusting, inching toward, guiding himself to where he wanted to be.

"Careful," Amy whispered.

"Of course," he whispered back, kissing her shoulder.

There was sudden noise, a little . . . what? . . . from her. "Amy?"

She let out a slow breath. "Nothing. It's okay."

Sheldon frowned behind her. Should he stop? But he was barely in, and, oh God, he needed to continue. He gritted his teeth and scarcely pressed further.

That sound again. "Amy?"

"I'm . . . can you . . . not go any deeper?"

He pulled back slightly - really, if he pulled back any more he'd be out - and pushed back, with so little force he thought thrust really wasn't the term.

"Ow!" Amy said. "I'm sorry, please stop."

He already had. Rather, his body had already stopped, had immediately lost any interest the second he recognized the onomatopoeia of pain.

"Amy? Are you okay?" he asked in fear. Sheldon stayed behind her, curled up to match her naked form, and started to softly rub her forearm. An unstated apology.

"I'm sorry, Sheldon," she said, softly.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he replied with equal softness. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"No, you didn't. I promise. It just felt like . . . too much pressure." She turned her face, and he could clearly see her profile. "Do you want me to . . . maybe a hand job?"

He shook his head and buried his face into her neck, beneath her ear. "It's gone."

"Oh."

He thought they would maybe fall asleep that way, until he felt something wet on his nose. He opened his eyes, and brought his hand up to caress her hair. "Amy, please don't cry. I did hurt you."

"No, really, you didn't." Her face turned away sharply, and he lost her profile. "It's just stupid hormones . . . I wanted the last time to be perfect."

"Shhhh, shhhh," he murmured and wrapped his arm about her, tighter, slipping his palm in between her full breasts and her enormous stomach. Me too.

August 1, 2019

It was her absence that awoke him and confused him. He glanced at the clock. Only six. But there was a chill in the bed where Amy normally lay. Sheldon sat up and rubbed his face. Ugh, he hadn't slept well. He was awake too late, consoling Amy as she cried, cramping from not moving while he held her, hot to be in bed fully clothed and under the blankets. Finally, they'd broken apart and just thrown their clothes on the floor, but he still couldn't sleep, his mind churning, thinking of his own father, of being a father.

But Amy . . . Sheldon pushed the covers off and followed the sound of the shower to the bathroom. The pile of clothes on the floor itched his brain as he passed, but Amy . . . Her back was to him, and he was rather ashamed of what the sight of her naked posterior did to him. Only because I just woke up, he reasoned, and I was half-way in that state, anyway.

"Amy? Are you all right? It's early," he said over the sound of the water.

"Join me," she said.

Sheldon opened the glass shower door. Tentatively, he put his hands on her shoulders. "Do you need something? Or do you need to be alone today? Do we need to suspend toilet -"

"Shhh." Amy turned around, in his embrace, and wrapped her arms around him.

"Tell me what you need," he whispered in her ear after kissing her forehead.

"This."

Sheldon sucked in is breath as her hand on him made it abundantly clear what this was. "Are you sure? I mean -"

"Sheldon." She back up and looked at him, her green eyes determined. "Please."

After swallowing, Sheldon nodded and allowed her to guide him toward the titled bench, where he sat and helped Amy straddle him, where he let her take what she needed.

December 1, 2020 (present day)

"Right there. Ohhhhh, I'm close," Amy moaned.

Sheldon bent down to nibble on her earlobe again, as he was propped up on one elbow, his other hand cupping on her her breasts under the covers, curving around her from behind. Amy made a sharp intake of breath and he felt his own approaching climax. God, I love it when we come together -

"Mama?" The bedroom door flung open at the same time the small voice sounded.

Sheldon froze in absolute terror, only able to move his wide eyes to look at Ada, standing in their doorway, in her pajamas. Frak! What time is it?

"I have to go potty!" Ada whined, doing a little dance.

"Sweetheart -"

"Go!" Sheldon yelled, still not moving. Why had he woken Amy up this way? Why did the most satisfying foreplay take so long?

"Daddy?"

"GET OUT! NOW!"

Ada yelped, turned and fled at the same time Amy pulled away from him, stood, and ran for her robe. "Sheldon Cooper! Look what you've done! You frightened her and she peed on the hallway floor!"

Sheldon rolled over on his back and moaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "Why did she just come barging in here when she knows that not allowed? And urinate in random places?"

"Because it's 6:49! And she's a child! And you created a schedule in which she has to pee before 6:45 in the morning! This is why we don't have -" Amy lowered her voice to whisper yell as she threw his robe on the bed "- hug on a work morning!"

"Hug?" Sheldon uncovered his eyes to look at her.

"Yes, we were hugging. That's it, that's all she saw. That's all we'll say. All you'll say, when you apologize to her. And only if she asks. I swear to God, if you say anything else, you won't be able to hug again for a very long time!" Amy swept out of the room, to clean the floor, to sooth their daughter.

Groaning, Sheldon sat and reached for his robe, to afraid to lower the blankets before he was wearing it. He swung his legs over, stood, and looked down. Frak! Now I have to take care of that in the shower. And we're going to be late for work. Just perfect.

Thank you in advance for your reviews! And, if you haven't yet read 'If Hermoine Granger were the main character in Harry Potter' on buzzfeed .com, go read it now. After you've dried your tears from laughing so hard, you'll thank me.