Parlor Games

Sheldon folded the tablecloth in half, aligning the edges perfectly before folding it again. Behind him, Amy was washing the dishes from the Christmas dinner she prepared. On the table in front of him was the box of Meemaw's Christmas cookies, her gift to him, half-eaten and still tempting. A feeling of contentment, unlike any he was used to feeling this time of year, filled him. Maybe the holidays weren't so bad, as long as Amy was in charge of the festivities.

"Thank you for staying to help clean up, Sheldon," she spoke up from her place in the kitchen, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Oh, it's no trouble." He placed the folded tablecloth down and set about straightening the chairs. "Thank you for hosting a tolerable Christmas party."

"It was good, wasn't it?" she said. "It's just too bad no one really wanted to play the parlor games I researched."

Sheldon watched her as she studiously dried the dishes she had just washed. She must have felt his gaze, she was always good at sensing these things, but she did not look up at him. It was true that after dinner she'd only talked the group into a couple games before they started begging off. He knew well what it was like, having no one to play with.

"The two of us could play a game," he suggested.

"Most of the games require more people," Amy said. "Well, except maybe . . ."

Sheldon's eye twitched. Amy had gone back to putting away her dishes, letting the thought trail off without completion.

"Except maybe what?"

"There is one game we could play, I guess, but I don't think you'll like it. It involves touching."

"What is it?"

"It's called the Sculptor," she explained. "Everyone stands still while the one person chosen to be the sculptor moves around the room and positions everyone in silly poses. If anyone moves on their own or laughs, they lose and become the new sculptor."

Sheldon wrinkled his nose a bit in distaste, glad that Amy hadn't had the chance to suggest this game while the others were still there. The thought of everyone prodding him into strange positions was unpleasant to say the least. But with just the two of them it didn't sound so bad, and after everything she'd done for him, he wanted to make her happy.

"I'll play this game with you on one condition," he said finally.

"What?"

"I get to be the sculptor."

Amy grinned and quickly put the last of her dishes away in her cupboard before joining him in her living room.

"Okay, I'm placing myself in your capable hands," she said, standing in front of him. "Make your masterpiece."

Sheldon stepped closer and circled her a little warily. Except for the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and her eyes tracking his movements, she stayed stock-still. Deciding her arm was the safest place to start, he gripped her left wrist lightly and raised it up above her head. When she left it up, he did the same with her right arm. After a few seconds, he brought them back down, and then back up again. He kept watching her face, but Amy didn't react at all.

Next, he brought her left arm down to her side but bent it at the elbow. He moved his hands over hers until they formed fists. Crouching down, he made her lift one leg and bend at the knee, then he moved behind her and carefully pushed between her shoulder blades until she tilted forward in a sort of superhero flight pose.

Sheldon stepped back a bit to admire his work. He didn't think she would be able to stay in this position for long, but the seconds ticked by and Amy held her balance. She was better at this than he thought. Maybe he couldn't break her.

He gently nudged her back into her original starting position and contemplated his next move. His eyes scanned over her, trying to come up with a new pose. She still wasn't moving, but when his gaze locked on hers he noticed her pupils dilated slightly.

Then he got the perfect idea.

Sheldon stood directly in front of her and cupped her face in his hands. Her eyes widened and he felt the muscles under her jaw work as she swallowed. Then slowly, slowly, slowly he leaned down and covered her mouth with his.

To her credit, Amy still didn't react for several seconds, though perhaps that had more to do with shock than her trying to win the game. But soon she was melting into the kiss, just as he knew she would. He brought his hands down to her hips just as one of hers came up to rest on his shoulder. That was all he needed to claim his victory, but he let their lips move together for a moment more before he pulled back.

"I win."

"What?" Amy blinked, sounding dazed.

"You moved," he explained. "I won, you lost."

"It doesn't feel like I lost."

From the way she smiled at him then, he wondered if maybe he'd been tricked. Then again, maybe she was just happy. Deciphering emotions was difficult and it was getting late, so he let the subject drop. It was Christmas, after all. What was one more gift?

Author's Note:

Researching other Victorian parlor games like 'so this was life before TV and internet huh . . .'

Okay, you got another holiday fic out of me. Hope you enjoyed!

Thank you to my beta reader Stark for looking this over and to my Shamy friends on discord for your support.

Happy holidays, everyone! Much love!