The Swimsuit (takes place after The History of Love)

"'It's also true that sometimes people felt things and, because there was no word for them, they went unmentioned. The oldest emotion in the world may be that of being moved; but to describe it - just to name it - must have like trying to catch something invisible,'" Sheldon quoted.

No sooner had Amy left the room then Sheldon remembered something he wanted to ask her opinion of about the book. It had been such a stilted Book Club, he thought, short and not especially deep - or maybe too deep, that was odd - and he felt a little guilty about it. Yes, the timing was bad with the swim lesson tonight, but it really was the book. He had thoroughly enjoyed the book, he thought the author had found just the perfect way to phrase some obscure ideas and emotions, and yet . . . he had found himself incapable of that same act, of describing why it was so good. At least Amy, too, seemed to be having difficulties. Or maybe she was just tired.

He went to the bedroom, expecting to find her in the closet, removing her swimming clothes, but she wasn't here. The bathroom door was open, so he stepped inside.

"Oh!" Amy yelped, turning quickly and covering her body with her hands. "Sheldon!"

He took a step back, into the door frame, surprised at her reaction. "I'm sorry I frightened you." She still had her arms wrapped protectively around her body, her back toward him. Her swimsuit was one of those old-fashioned dress types. "The door was open. Amy? Are you alright?"

"Yes, I just - I should have shut the door."

"Oh, I understand. I'll leave you to use the restroom." He turned to leave.

"No." He turned back to her voice. "I'm sorry. I already went. I guess I just . . . for a second, before I thought about, I didn't want you to see me in my swimsuit." She turned then, to face him, finally putting her arms down at her side.

Sheldon looked her up and down and then said, "Why ever not? I see you in less clothing all the time. I don't understand."

"It was nothing, just a reflex, I guess." Her eyes shifted away from him.

"Since when is it a reflex to hide your body from me?" he asked softly, feeling that this was a very delicate moment even though he couldn't explain why that was so.

"It's not, Sheldon, I promise. I love the way you look at me. But - I don't know. Because I'm a middle-aged woman and it's a swimsuit, and that combination does something to the synapsis in a woman's brain, I guess." She shrugged. "Even the most beautiful woman, I'm sure, feels fat and ugly in a swimsuit. I've even heard Penny talk about how much she dreads putting one on, and look how beautiful she is."

Furrowing his brow and frowning, as he always did whenever Amy compared herself to Penny, Sheldon walked closer and took her hands. "I think you look beautiful." He glanced down again. "I like how short it is, I can see your legs." Amy smiled at that, so he continued, "And, if I slide my hand in under here, I can feel your - where's the bottom?"

"It's a two-piece, Sheldon, so you can take the bottom off to use the bathroom. It's called a dresskini. They still make you feel fat and ugly, but swimsuits are much easier to wear these days."

Sheldon cupped her naked bottom under the cute little swimsuit and pulled her in closer, against his chest. "No more with the fat and ugly. You are neither of those those things."

"The BMI chart disagrees with you," she said, and he heard the defeat in her voice.

"Well, then, the BMI chart is wrong," he said. "And you know how much I mean that, because I just disagreed with a numerical computation expressed on a graft." He heard her smile and he kissed the top of her head. "Listen, Amy, if you want to loose weight for yourself or because you think it will make you healthier, I promise to be supportive. Or if you want to start swimming again because you enjoy it and it relieves stress, then do it. But please don't do it for me. You are the most beautiful when you are the most confident. I don't like it when you doubt yourself without reason. Most importantly, the BMI chart doesn't love you the way I do."

As always, when he allowed himself to express his hippy-dippy side (all Amy's fault!) there was a fraught nanosecond when he worried if it was the right thing to have said. But then Amy murmured "Oh, Sheldon" and he smiled at his success.

"How about a hot bubble bath? You love those," Sheldon said, pushing her away slightly so he could look at her face.

"Mmmm, I need to wash my hair."

"Do it in the bath, with the sprayer. It will be more relaxing than a shower." She didn't reply right away, her lips twisting. "Come on, I'll get in with you." Without waiting for a reply, because he knew she'd say yes to that suggestion, considering how often she proposed it herself even though he always refused, he let go of her and reached over to start the taps.

In short order, Amy was in the bathtub, pouring shampoo on her hand, and Sheldon was joining her. He still would have said he found the idea of sitting in a cesspool of one's own germs disgusting, but the addition of a hose off at the end at least helped him endure it for Amy. Once he'd slipped in to the hot water behind her, he reached up to assist her with the scrubbing of her hair.

"So, you had fun? And Ada?" he asked.

"Yes. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed swimming, really. And Ada seemed quite taken with it. Several of the other children were terrified and crying, but not Ada," Amy said.

Sheldon picked up the sprayer to rinse her hair for her. "How was she with Lucy?"

Amy's shoulders shrugged in front of him. "Fine. Perhaps we were too harsh on her earlier. Of course I want her to be kind to others, but Lucy really is just too immature for her at this age. But I do wish she had a little girlfriend her age, instead of just Jacob. He's going to kindergarten in the autumn, and he's bound to make new friends there and leave poor Ada behind."

Turning off the sprayer, Sheldon turned on the jets to the tub. "Jacob isn't her age."

"You know what I mean," Amy said, leaning back into his chest. Surprised, Sheldon leaned against the edge of the tub, shifting his legs to made more room for her.

"Who's that little girl in her class she's often playing with when we arrive in the evenings to pick her up? Remy? That's a friend her age. If not equal to her level of intelligence."

Making that little noise that he knew well, a mixture of displeasure and, he thought, denial, Amy said, "I'm going to ignore the last comment because the first one is so good. Yes, we should arrange a playdate with Remy. They can dress up and play with their dolls and have a tea party. Ada loves all that girly stuff, for better or worse; I've heard her try to coerce Jacob into tea parties before."

"Remind me to be absent then," Sheldon mumbled.

Amy elbowed him softly in the stomach. Then she exhaled. "This is lovely, Sheldon. You're just full of good ideas tonight."

"I always am."

Another smile from Amy and she squeezed his thigh, before she settled in deeper to his chest. He looked at her face from above, her dark, wet hair pulled back, her dark eyebrows and eye lashes, her prominent nose, those lips. He sighed and tilted his own head back. Perhaps endure had been the wrong word altogether. Actually, this was lovely. Inadvertently, he had aligned the small of his back to one of the jets, and, of course, there was the pleasure of Amy's warm body in front of him.

His plan, formed rapidly in the second she confessed her embarrassment to him, had been to pleasure her in the bath and then dry her off and make love to her. However, he found that the idea no longer held it's power to him. Not that he didn't want to be making love to Amy anymore, of course not. If she made just the right move, he was certain his body and his mind would gladly respond to her. But there was something comforting about just lying in the hot, bubbly water with her, relaxing and not even speaking now.

He wondered if he should confess to Amy that he'd added sit-ups and crunches to his afternoon Hacky Sack routine, a divulgement of solidarity to her that he, too, had noticed his own mid-section getting softer recently. New moles were popping up. Not to mention he was lying wet and naked with Amy leaning against him, actually thinking about sex with her, and yet he wasn't erect. Most disturbingly, he'd had to get up and urinate in the middle of the night last week. He had searched his brain for any extra water consumption or the possible presence of hidden caffeine in something he ingested, but he had come up clueless. Between all that and the addition of his glasses, he felt like his body was going to hell in a hand basket. True, he'd taken to using the hand mirror in the bathroom every Monday evening to confirm that he had all his hair and there with no dime-sized thin patches at the back of his scalp as was rapidly becoming apparent on Howard's. And he was still wearing the same size pants, even though he was certain Raj wasn't anymore. Even though Leonard was teased that it was the plethora of procreation he was engaged in that caused the hairs on his ears that he complained about, Sheldon had taken to checking that weekly, too.

And, even though he'd meant every word of his love and appreciation for Amy's body, there was no denying that had changed, also. Not just the gradual increase in weight since Ada was born. Sheldon had discovered, several months ago, that she was plucking out long gray strands of hair, when he puzzled over the accidental discovery of them in the bathroom trashcan. Occasionally, he heard a joint pop when she got down on the floor with Ada. That line that used to only arrive between her brows when she was confused or angry or frustrated was starting to form a hint of permanence. Perhaps, that, though, was his fault, not the ravages of the time.

His fortieth and recent forty-first birthdays had passed with minimal fuss, as his birthdays usually did, but he knew that his lack of enthusiasm on the topic was even greater than normal. Even Amy, who despite her pretending otherwise, actually enjoyed a bit of a fuss made over her on the day in question, had yet to say a peep about her impending fortieth birthday. Maybe that was a mark of old age, the gentle acquiescence to time that snuck up on one; gone were the days of thrilling birthday parties like Ada enjoyed but not yet to the stage of actually forgetting how old one was. Time was ever marching on, and the only thing to do was to quietly accept its power over you and move along with it. It sure beat the alternative.

"We're getting old," he thought and then realized he'd actually whispered it.

"Is that what you're thinking about?" Amy asked.

"Yes," Sheldon confessed, knowing there was no use lying to her.

There was soft chuckle, and Amy said, "I was just thinking that since you've now willingly taken two baths with me, there has to be a way I can convince you to go swimming on the beach some Sunday. I'd like to take Ada."

"Don't push your luck. There isn't a hand sprayer strong enough in this world to wash the ocean off."

Amy laughed. "But the combination of sand and salt water will exfoliate your skin, keeping you young forever!" She tilted her head far back, to look up at him, and he smiled down into her grinning eyes, wrapping his arm around her waist under the water.

"Oh, Amy . . ." he kissed her forehead with a little sigh. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked, the grin falling away.

"I had a plan for this bath. I had intended to show you how much I loved your body but -"

"Shhhhh," Amy soothed, tipping her head forward again and settling back into his chest. She reached down in the water and put her hands over his. "I know."

"But -"

"Shh, Sheldon. I already know. Let's enjoy the quiet."

His eyebrows went up for a moment and then he relaxed, holding Amy in silence. Flexing his fingers up, he hoped she would understand his invitation to weave her own through them. She did. He smiled and tilted his head against the ledge of the bathtub. No, they didn't need the words.

Thank you in advance for your reviews!