Love Because Rather Than Despite
Sheldon had abstained from that infernal coffee shop. Years later, as his life became intolerable, he crossed paths with the person he should've met ages ago. She had already settled down for another good man, and she seemed content. But was she really? What would two people, at the mercy of life's twists and turns, do if they found themselves falling for each other? And what hidden mysteries might a seemingly calm woman be harboring beneath her shiny exterior? AU (Shamy all the way)
Author's notes:
Before you start this fic, I shall inform you: if you've read a lot of Shamy fanfiction, you might accuse me of using too many 'Shamy tropes' or something of sorts.
However, while I do use these 'tropes', my main goal is a unique execution of them. As ordinary as the story seems, I intend to make it quite… well, a lot of things.
It's not like you have to struggle through it, of course, give it a go and see where it gets you.
Warnings: I won't warn you about the plot, my first English is still not a language
Chapter 1. A Starless Sky.
SHELDON
As unremarkable as also uneventful, days passed by him in quite a hurried manner. One after another, they flew through all four (or twenty-six) dimensions, leaving nothing but the grief on what his life had ultimately turned into and what might've been "if".
Sheldon looked at himself at the mirror he'd recently installed in the office because of that piece of advice he'd gotten from President Siebert, who, apparently, had made a lot of sense in his phrase: "If you want to teach us all how to behave, Dr. Cooper, you should look at yourself first". Well, his supposed friends may've interpreted it as an insult, but omitting how shallow it'd sounded, he considered it helpful. Besides, what can be better than ogling the handsome fellow he was, anyway?
It appeared, there were a couple of obvious issues with that.
First and foremost, it wasn't as satisfying as one may predict. The expressions on his face oftentimes made him not recognize the person he perceived himself as or used to, at least. This made him all but overwhelmed.
Second, every time he looked at himself indicated that all the fun and brightness faded off his face more and more, leaving only traces of the fulfillment he used to find in his one and only lady–science. And these dark circles under his eyes…
The reasons for that? Sheldon was no fool, of course, he acknowledged there would be some. That said, he couldn't figure it out as swiftly as he solved equations.
Was it his friends? He never understood them, nor did they. Was it the eventual pointlessness of their relationship they hadn't valued as much as they obviously should've? He'd always known he'd never been the priority, no surprise here. Now it'd become evident.
But suddenly a lion's share of his attention slipped to the board filled with the equations. Maybe that's the reason? That North-Korean kid may've been right. There was no continuation of this. Nothing. This work had reached its dead-end. Sheldon exhaled loudly and looked at the clock. Lunchtime. Thank lord he could escape the torture of feeling like a moron with no purpose of research whatsoever.
The schedule was essentially the only thing that kept Sheldon going these days. He needed this. The control over his changing and unstable life.
He sighed upon opening the door of his little office and tried to clear his mind as he headed to the cafeteria. Unfortunately, the overthinking never stopped, even as this thought process was forcefully interrupted by an intruder.
"Hey, buddy!" A familiar voice called him.
The man did not look down to meet a friend's gaze. He was too exhausted and annoyed by what his life had transformed into, and, frankly, also a bit hungry and irritated at the moment.
"Hello, Leonard," he said, trying his absolute best to sound cold and monotone.
"Is something wrong?" Leonard asked.
"Really? What can be wrong, Leonard? It's just that my friends betrayed me to follow the path of their animalistic desires!"
"Sheldon, we've discussed it already," he breathed out, supposedly calming himself down, "the fact that we spend less time together doesn't mean we betrayed you. I have a girlfriend now; Howard is married and Raj has… Stewart or whoever… Of course, we cannot hang out in our apartment watching movies or playing games as frequently as we used to. This shouldn't affect our friendship, though. We are grown-ups, Sheldon, it was going to happen at some point."
"Whatever, Leonard," he responded, filling his voice with the true hostility, and turned his back on the traitor.
Sheldon took some food and sat alone at the table. In the corner of his eye he could see his friends chatting. It was hard not to join them, but Sheldon was too prideful to do that. He was right, they were wrong. They abandoned him.
Suddenly, two figures–presumably a man and a woman–appeared at the cafeteria. Sheldon didn't really pay attention. However, as his gloriously developed peripheral vision indicated president Siebert, he got a little curious and directed his gaze towards them.
Oh, boy.
He almost said it aloud, almost cried it out. As shocked as he was to see the one in front of him, as flabbergasted and disbelieving, Sheldon couldn't show it. His eidetic memory was indeed such a curse sometimes, there was no doubt.
And what had triggered this mess in his head? It's rather a question of 'who', one may specify.
There was she. She, who had been haunting Sheldon in his worst nightmares. She, whom he never got to know, no matter how much he desired to.
She stood there, smiling broadly, her hands out in front of her body, one gently holding her other elbow. As Sheldon had guessed, her height and build were quite average for a woman.
Brunette hair cascaded onto her shoulders, with the tips slightly curled. This was different from the picture he'd seen earlier: her hair was rather straight there. Sheldon found it crucial to note that her dress was green—perhaps forest green even—which reminded him of her eyes in that picture...
He wished he'd forgotten.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the man said, "I would like to introduce you to the new member of our researchers' team. Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler, neurobiologist."
"Nice to meet you all!" She said, lighting the cafeteria with a wide smile. Her voice was melodic, joyful. It kind of suited her. A bit low, powerful, but sweet.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," president Siebert said and headed towards the exit, "Good day, Dr. Fowler. If you need something, I'm available at my office."
She nodded and then turned to the people approaching her. These were his "friends" that, in spite of already being pair-bonded with females (all except for the self-proclaimed Indian sweetheart), still used every chance they got to get to know other ladies or to get under their undergarments, one can assume.
He watched silently as they exchanged semi-formal greetings and pleasantries, introduced themselves to the woman and shook her hand. She asked for permission quite graciously and politely and put her little unzipped brown leather bag on the chair accordingly.
That was when the three turned to Sheldon expectantly as if awaiting of him to succumb to these ridiculous social norms. Why did they have to pay attention at all the wrong times?
Well, there was no point of interacting with this menacing woman. Precious her work was, he had little to nothing to do with it. Besides, she was a woman, i. e. a creature of carnal desires and lesser intelligence.
Still, Sheldon was pretty fascinated by her work. As ashamed as he was to admit it, he did acquaint himself with her addiction study conducted at UCLA. Perhaps, he did reread her articles at least 5 times because of her incredible writing and explaining abilities. And maybe, just maybe, he did admire her little footnotes with the hidden puns in them. The only rational choice, he deducted, would be to talk to this brilliant–but not as brilliant as he was–scientist.
He stood up and crossed his hands involuntarily.
"Dr. Sheldon Lee Cooper, theoretical physicist," he introduced himself, taking a step forward to the recipient of his words.
"The Dr. Sheldon Lee Cooper?" she spoke rather loudly, closing the proximity between them, fast getting into his personal bubble.
Had she recognized him? Had she recalled this devilish coffee-shop? His face flushed in shame.
"I've been following your research for a while, it's really impressive, I must say! Even though I'm not all that familiar with the field of theoretical physics, your work has fascinated me truly," the neurobiologist exclaimed, "it's really nice to meet you."
The questioning expression appeared on her face as she didn't see him greeting her the way the traitors had, giving a handshake–this unfortunate gesture that involved too much skin and bacteria.
"Excuse him, Dr. Fowler. Sheldon is not a fan physical contact," Leonard said. "Don't take it personally. Even his mother doesn't get to hug him."
"It's alright, I understand," Dr. Fowler stated, "it is really nice to meet you, Dr. Koothrappali, Dr. Hofstadter, Mr. Wolowitz and Dr. Cooper."
There's no way she meant these words. Over the years it'd gotten too clear for Sheldon that people frequently hid their sincerity, saying the words people expected to hear. Never capable of identifying it and differentiating between truth and candy lies, Sheldon had just stopped assuming. It was way more convenient this way.
"I'll be looking forward to working with you here at Caltech, Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler," Sheldon blurted out.
"Not as much as I am, Dr. Sheldon Cooper," she answered, looking deeply into his eyes, "but for now I have to start working. My sincere apologies, gentlemen."
Green.
Yes, they were green.
"There's nothing to apologize for, Dr. Fowler," Leonard said, "it was very nice meeting you. I hope you'll like it here."
"Of course. Thank you."
Just like that, she turned around and disappeared behind the door. Sheldon's eyes traced her up until the very end of their little interaction.
"Sheldon," Raj addressed him, "aren't you too invested in this, though?"
"What are you implying?" Sheldon asked.
"I don't know… You actually… talked to a girl, didn't you? That was so out of character of you!"
"Are you just mad the girl was more interested in the genderless creature of Sheldon than in you?" Howard laughed, "Because I totally see that, you know."
Of course, he was 'genderless' to them.
"I didn't even try to enchant her yet. The moment I show her all of my delicate Indian accent, my soft golden skin, my sensual touches–"
"Yeah, you totally convinced us," Howard interrupted, "I am already enchanted only by this speech alone, it'll definitely get her going."
Rajesh's expression changed somehow; his smile replaced itself with a straight line. Sheldon had top three guesses on why that happened:
1. He wanted to void his bladder;
2. He thought of the fourth "Indiana Jones" movie;
3. (Only for the sake of inclusion) Howard used sarcasm to describe Rajesh's desirability.
One, of course, may try, but emotional clues were so hard to read sometimes. Not that it was needed. Not that these people were needed at all.
Rajesh, however, looked at the distance for a moment and then parted his lips: "Howard, but coming to think of it… doesn't her name sound familiar to you?"
"Yeah, it kinda does." He said, scratching his head.
The two stood in their 'thinking' poses, humming and muttering something to themselves for about 1 minute and 32 seconds. Sheldon wanted to interject, but there was no rational reason to do it. Besides, should he be honest, he doubted they would remember the event too distant for their shortsighted minds.
He then directed his attention to a rather alien object on the chair Dr. Fowler used to occupy with her belongings. It appeared to be an elegant-looking blue wallet, all covered in white beads. Ladies didn't usually hold the wallets like this one these days, it honestly looked as though it was originated in 19th century France, albeit made from a modern material.
Sheldon picked it up and hid into the pocket of his jacket.
"The dating website… It was the name of a perfect match for Sheldon!" Rajesh declared finally. "The one he dumped about 6 years ago."
Sheldon thought it quite an inaccurate choice of vocabulary. No, it was a very inaccurate one, to be exact.
"For your knowledge, it was five years ago. And I didn't dump her, alright? It was a horrendous idea to put me on this infernal website from the beginning! I didn't ask for it, am I clear?" Sheldon said it rather loudly, making way more noise that he intended.
The group looked at Sheldon with confusion.
"Buddy, are you ok?" Leonard asked.
"Don't you observe me with both your eyes now? You should be able to tell that I'm better than ever!"
"Well, that's the problem, Sheldon! I have eyes to see you and ears to hear you. That's why I ask, Sheldon. You are yelling." Leonard pointed out.
"I'm not! You know nothing–" Sheldon started and then shut himself down. Thereat, it seemed like a good idea to call his former friends all the names his mind came up with when thinking of them; for a mere moment it seemed like the only solution to explain what he thought of them.
What was it worth, though? He'd agree on whatever they'd have to say about it, he'd give in, gradually losing them again, and then he'd lose his passions, they'd get bored of the activities he glorified and they'd leave him behind.
Instead of this future he envisioned, he stormed out of the cafeteria.
Five years ago
Sheldon sat at his desk, staring at a laptop screen, where the only page in sight was the one of the UCLA website. Departments - Neurology - Researchers - Amy Farrah Fowler, PhD. He looked at the photo attached to her profile for a couple of minutes. A brunette with green eyes was smiling brightly. He read her research interest and brief self-information. Apparently, it was not enough for him as he clicked on the "detailed biography" link and started to look through all the pages shown. She was a respected scientist in her field, that's for sure.
The only word he could get out of his mouth was "fascinating". But the more he read, the worse feeling in his chest got. Guilt, shame, regret.
Sheldon did not go to that infernal coffee shop. Not only was he not pleased with the idea of having a relationship (he was a man of science, after all), but also irritated with his friends' ignorance. That wasn't the first time they made fun of him because of his character and life choices. He couldn't keep up with it constantly, though.
This was preposterous. Some woman being a "perfect match" for him, looking forward to having a date with him. A date. He was puzzled. Dr. Sheldon Lee Cooper does not date. It wasn't that he was nervous, right?
He didn't want to meet her; he didn't want to change something in the paradigm of his life. He wasn't ready and doubted he would ever be. It was for the better. This woman was not worth it, was she? He sighed. This train of thoughts was too much for him to handle. Too fed up with this, he closed the pages of the UCLA website and went to the bathroom to follow his schedule. It would be better if he didn't have feelings at all, he assumed.
AMY
Her life had been so good lately.
Amy would soon be engaged to the man of her dreams. After numerous dates she'd gone on, countless encounters with those who'd never even looked at her twice, let alone shown any interest, she'd been utterly exhausted. It'd felt as though her vitality was slowly waning.
Then she met him–Dave. He smiled at her brightly and was a real gentleman. He took her out and paid for the meals; bought her presents and seemed to enjoy her company. Dave possessed almost every quality people find attractive in men: he was extremely tall, in shape, had a character soft enough to warm a woman's heart.
So, when her mother found out about their relationship, she ordered: "No matter how, you have to marry him. It might be the first and the last chance you ever have."
However, Amy was hesitant enough to postpone these arrangements for a while, although knowing all too well that Dave was the best shot she could ever hope for. While she acknowledged how irrational it was on her part, the resolution never came.
On the contrary to the indeterminism entering her thoughts whenever she came across the matters of friendship and love, her science career had never been threatened. It was the only constant in her life, something she could love 'because' rather than 'despite'.
She entered her new lab at Caltech and inhaled the scent of chemicals she adored. Home, sweet home. That was when her phone rang. Having barely noticed the picture appeared on the screen, she immediately picked up the call.
"Hello, love," said the voice.
"Hi, Dave."
"How are doing in the new place, Amy?" His voice was soft and tender, as always.
"Great so far. I got to know new people, actually. You won't believe it! I talked to your beloved Dr. Sheldon Cooper."
"Wow, Amy." He exclaimed, sounding fascinated. "That's impressive! Who would have thought someone like you could talk to him? On the very first day, nonetheless. That's my girl!"
"Yeah, yours only," she told him playfully. "By the way, Dr. Sheldon Cooper and his friends were pretty chatty with me. I guess we could hang out sometime. As far as I'm concerned, it's safe to say that you might finally see the Dr. Cooper you've been obsessed with."
"You are the best girlfriend, you know that?"
"Hey, stop it…" she blushed and smiled at the phone.
"Oh, sorry, I gotta go, Amy."
"Of course. Have a nice day!"
"See you."
Just as the conversation came to its conclusion, she heard someone knocking at the door. The pattern was strange: a man knocked three times and called her name, then repeated it a couple of times. Amy was quite taken aback, but the voice was strangely familiar.
She hesitated for a moment, wore the sweetest smile she could and then opened the door to see the person she hadn't awaited of seeing again today.
"Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler," Dr. Cooper said calmly and restrictedly, "I fear you must've forgotten this item at the cafeteria earlier today."
She directed her gaze at his hand, which he diligently put in the pocket of his beige jacket, and flinched when she saw what she'd lost.
Embarrassed, Amy took her wallet out of his extended hand, slightly brushing her skin against his. It was smooth. Dr. Cooper's hand was too soft to be that of a man.
"I apologize for the inconvenience," she said a lowered her head slightly, "and…I sincerely thank you for your service. I don't know what I'd have done if it wasn't for you. Someone could've easily taken it."
"Of course, it's my pleasure, Dr. Fowler," Dr. Cooper said, maintaining eye contact, "I'd like to inform you, though, that there won't be a gentleman like myself in the future and you may as well be robbed due to the negligible attitude towards your belongings."
Her eyes had almost gotten wide, but she stopped herself. Even if the man in front of her was an egoistic person, there was nothing she hadn't endured in the past few years. Smile and nod. Smile and nod. Smile and nod.
"I assure you, this won't happen in the future," she answered.
"I'm glad to hear that, Dr. Fowler. Oh! Right, you've reminded me that I made a compilation of some pieces of advice for the people who fail to take care of their belongings properly. You see, my former roommate whom you've already befriended–Dr. Leonard Hofstadter–used to always lose or forget things, so I really had no choice on the matter but to take action," the man said quickly, "wait, I'll find it."
"There's no need, Dr. Cooper, I'm sure I'm capable enough to–"
"It's nothing, Dr. Fowler, I'm always glad to assist you. Where would you like to receive a pdf: workplace email or a personal one?" He posed as though thinking the question over.
"Maybe you don't want your visible flaw to be exposed to the university's services. That I'd understand," he elaborated then.
"But from what I've observed, you are probably not the type to share your personal data with strangers. I'm not in a possession of your contact information, so I presume you expect me to just send it to your workplace email."
Most people would be thrown off by this flood of words, and it wasn't as if Amy found the obvious fact that he made sense redeeming, considering how condescending Dr. Cooper actually was. However, her frustration aside, she didn't rule out the option that he just wanted to help, and the evidence suggested he did.
"I… yes, you're correct, Dr. Cooper," she responded to his monologue.
"I sure am. Nothing's new," he said, the corners of his lips lifted in a gentle–yet quite arrogant–smile and his eyes shined with incredible self-confidence.
Amy laughed this comment off awkwardly. The man, however, seemed awfully comfortable as if these remarks were no more than a routine task he was to perform. Amy had never met a person like this, he was too much… too self-assured.
The warm milk in her cup signified a rather calm ending to this hurried and, to be brutally honest, exhausting first workday at Caltech. Amy took it and sipped deliberately, enjoying this short-lasting moment of utter peacefulness. It had been long since her apartment had faded into darkness, but she wanted no lights.
Her eyes explored the view outside the window instead. All she could behold was the city polluted with light to the point she didn't even see the stars. Not that she ever saw them at all. What would it be like to browse them instead of hundreds of cars and tens of streetlights and night clubs? Would it be liberating? Or restricting?
Amy twirled the cup in her hands, watching it carefully.
She thought it would be harder to seek her place in this enormous world. Well, it could very well be the reason she didn't switch to Caltech about a year ago. Never proud of denying the doubtlessly promising opportunities, she was still a prisoner of some preconceptions she'd acquired along the way.
Amy took another sip.
All this pining over the natural view of stars was, apparently, only to grab her phone eventually. Nevertheless, Amy saw a notification she both didn't expect too see and accepted the inevitability of. Gmail informed her that the person from earlier today was indeed persuasive.
From: Dr. Sheldon Cooper, PhD
To: you
Subject: Tips to Avoid Forgetting Your Belongings in Public Places
Dear Dr. Fowler,
I hope this email finds you well and thriving in the realms of organized existence. As an advocate for orderliness and efficiency, I am compelled to share with you a document I've meticulously prepared—a compendium of invaluable tips on how to prevent the misplacement of one's belongings in public spaces.
You see, in my observations of human behavior, the instance of which could be your actions earlier today as well, Dr. Fowler, I've noted a distressing tendency among many individuals to forget their possessions, leading to unnecessary inconvenience and frustration. Considering its significance, I've compiled this guide with the utmost precision and attention to detail, drawing upon both scientific principles as well as personal experience.
Contained within the attached PDF document are strategies, aimed at fortifying your cognitive faculties against the perils of absent-mindedness. I trust you will find these suggestions to be not only practical but also intellectually stimulating.
Please browse through the contents of this document at your earliest convenience.
Should you have any questions or require further elucidation on any of the tips provided, do not hesitate to reach out to me. I am always eager to assist new fellow colleagues such as yourself in their quest for cognitive optimization.
Wishing you a clutter-free existence and unparalleled mental clarity,
Dr. Sheldon Cooper,
An advocate for organized existence
Amy hadn't expected she would be elated upon receiving his email–the one clearly insulting her intellectual faculties–but here she was, giggling at his choice of words, so naturally humiliating and yet innovative.
"…fortifying your cognitive faculties against the perils of absent-mindedness."
Having acquainted the famous Dr. Cooper, she realized he meant these words from the bottom of his heart. But how hilarious he actually was at it!
Amy opened the pdf, expecting to see a quick 2-pages guide consisting of the tips people can find on Google. Little had she known that it was a well-structured detailed document that resembled rather an article in a certified scientific publication. Moreover, it was clear that he devoted quite some time specifically to assist her, since his little explanations were directed at none other than Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler.
"I would insist you establish a definite place for your wallet. Consistency is key in forming habits, so designate a specific pocket or compartment in your bag where your wallet resides when not in use. This practice minimizes the likelihood of misplacement by creating a routine."
No matter how quirky Dr. Cooper was, she understood it wasn't effortless on his part to strive excessively only to prevent a new worker from losing her wallet again. It actually would've required an adequate amount of pressing not to find it commendable. He did care.
Quite intellectually stimulating indeed.
Thereafter, Amy pressed the phone to her chest, denying herself any light again, as she smiled broadly. For the first time in a few years, she couldn't wait for the next day at work.
Some more notes:
I know most of you prefer more of an instant AU Shamy dynamic, where they fall in love upon their first ever encounter and observe each other's looks with almost starving eyes as if they'd been waiting for it their entire life.
I believe it kind of takes away from what we actually adore Shamy for. I mean, neither Amy nor Sheldon wanted or expected to fall in love, and recent studies regarding this process suggest that, to put it simply, the people who don't want to fall in love and who aren't ready for it generally don't do it.
Does it mean that this dynamic is impossible? Absolutely not.
However, I think that there must be a reason why both Sheldon and Amy are interested in each other, and it can't be looks. Their relationship is about so, so, so much more than physical attraction, but I feel like not all authors can capture how they challenge each other with their intelligence (neither can I lol, that's why you see these long ass notes, consisting of nothing but my excuses for being mediocre).
So, my point is, this is supposed to be a slow-burn, a dark one for that. If it wasn't, I would never forgive myself for betraying the very premise of Shamy.