Work Text:
The Soft Kitty Symphony
Soft kitty...
Sheldon had never been very skilled at reading facial cues.
Mostly because he was rarely interested in the thoughts that lay behind them.
But even on the occasions he put himself to the effort, he still misinterpreted them with atypical frequency.
Penny's cues had always been amongst the easiest to read, her face unguarded and peculiarly expressive. The day he'd first met her, he had been struck by how bright her eyes were, by her constant movement; he'd never met someone so... buoyant.
She'd exuded happiness like the sun emitted photons.
Not that Penny was always sunny, of course. Temporal familiarity had quickly made it clear there was a decided She-Hulk to her Jennifer Walters.
It manifested as an inner resilience, an aggravating strength of will… and a temper that could strip bark from a tree.
And then, of course, there was the sarcasm.
Even more than facial cues, sarcasm had proven difficult for Sheldon to master, alien to his rationalist temperament and religious upbringing. It was a mode of speech Leonard had laid claim to for some years but the use of which he had never managed to satisfactorily convey.
Acquaintance and then unwilling friendship with Penny had wrought a much swifter education.
Along with an education in when not to knock on her door (sudden transformation into rabid wolverine), when not to issue a banishment (psychological warfare via interference with Laundry Night) and the negative consequences of playing Panty Piñata (ruthless deployment of the Maternal Bomb).
Yes, Penny had always had a tough side.
But she also sung to him when he was sick, recovered purloined World of Warcraft treasures and helped him to navigate the ever-inexplicable waters of socialisation.
It had taken him some time to assimilate Penny's different elements, a surprisingly long time for such a seemingly simple entity, but he was confident he had mastered it.
Penny was a polyhedron, steel-edged but with soft planes.
He had been pleased when she quit waitressing to fully give herself over to acting; it was the optimal path to success and tallied with her dreamer side.
He had been mystified when she undertook the pharmaceutical job.
He had been disappointed when he realised she had permanently laid aside her dreams.
Perhaps it was then her facial cues changed… Perhaps it was sooner.
At some point the balance had shifted; the photons had dimmed. The irascibility was no longer balanced by joy.
The change had been so gradual his eidetic memory could not pin it to a particular catalyst.
Though he recalled noticing a difference around the time Amy informed him Penny was considering terminating her relationship with Leonard.
His need for homeostasis as much as concern for his friend had caused him to intervene.
The intervention was successful... but the phenomenon had grown worse.
That as much as the shift in their relationship paradigm had caused him to turn more to Amy Farrah Fowler for company and guidance.
But certain habits ran too deep to be fully usurped. When he was most confused, it was still Penny he turned to, and when she directly asked something of him, he could not refuse.
Like being his partner in the Intimacy Experiment.
Her toughening exterior had left him leery of total disclosure; she was far quicker to mockery than she once had been. But the more they conversed, the more time and care seemed to fall away. It was Penny who remained wary, employing sarcasm as a shield.
Until he challenged her.
Penny and he always met each other's challenges, and this time was no exception. She showed her vulnerability, and he responded in kind.
The glimpses of softness he saw in her had made him determined to draw out more.
By the time they reached the apex of the experiment and gazed into one another's eyes, they were just as he remembered them.
Green and bright and brimming with warmth.
He hugged the certainty to him like a soothing blanket; in a world of ever-increasing change, Penny was still Penny.
Warm kitty...
Here's something a lot of people didn't know about Sheldon: he ran a little hot.
Seasons weren't really a thing in L.A., but there was enough of a change to switch from long to short-sleeved shirts, from boot-cut jeans to cute little shorts.
Not Sheldon, though.
He wore the same set-up all year round: pants – generally plain, though occasionally plaid – and short-sleeved shirts over long-sleeved tees. (Pairing colours that made your eyes water was also a theme.)
It didn't seem to matter what the temperature was, he was never bothered by the cold.
It didn't really go with his personality – how warm he was.
Not because Sheldon was cold exactly... In fact, he was probably one of the most loyal, generous people she knew.
But he was also condescending as hell. And between that superior attitude and those long arms and legs, you'd expect him to run cold, maybe even suffer from poor circulation. But he didn't. His hands were always toasty.
(Her boob could swear to that considering how long he'd hung on to it, which then made her run a little hot… from embarrassment.)
It also made him super fun to hug.
Hugs from Sheldon were rare and precious. Mostly because she knew it cost him something to give them, but also 'cos they were so damn cosy. If he wasn't so... Sheldony, she'd have long since made him her personal hot water bottle.
Though it was probably for the best that hadn't happened. It would have made for some pretty awkward moments when Amy came along.
And God knows how Leonard would have reacted... He'd always had a tendency to be jealous. Even before he'd really had the right to be.
But neither of those things was as much of a problem as they once might have been.
Amy had ended things with Sheldon (something Penny was still struggling to be impartial about; she'd known what she was getting into – blaming Moonpie for being... Moonpie just didn't seem fair), and Leonard... Leonard had moved out after they got back from 'Vegas. He was staying with Raj, giving Penny "space to cool off", still hopeful that they could work things out.
The problem was, she'd never really been heated in the first place. She hadn't even yelled when he told her he'd kissed someone else on his North Sea trip.
Sure, there had been pain… it had hurt like hell… but not in a sharp way, more like… dull disappointment. Tired resignation. As if something inevitable had finally happened.
And the more space he gave her, the more she cooled.
Towards him. Towards their engagement.
Towards everything.
She never really got angry anymore.
She used to think that was a good thing.
Well, maybe not towards everything... Sheldon could still get her hot—
—whoa, let's rephrase that.
Sheldon still had the ability to make her so mad she wanted to hog-tie him.
So, she wasn't sure what it said about her that she still chose to hang out with him. Not just that – she deliberately did things she knew would drive him crazy, deliberately picked fights. It felt… weirdly good.
Besides, since Amy had ended their Relationship Agreement, he'd backtracked, too. Coming over all the time, demanding her attention, wanting her to drive him everywhere... They had reinstated Spaghetti Dinners, Halo marathons, Laundry Night.
And Movie Challenges.
Where each of them got to make the other one watch a movie they never normally would. You had two grace vetoes, and then after that, you had to watch it without bitching.
Which was how Sheldon had ended up watching The Lake House and Penny had sat through Raiders of the Lost Ark (well, that, and young Harrison Ford looked damn cute with a whip).
Tonight was Penny's night, and they were watching The Blind Side, which combined two of her favourite things: football and Sandra Bullock.
Sheldon had even busted out his Meemaw's popcorn recipe.
Only one small thing was needed to make it perfect.
Penny stuck her feet under Sheldon's legs.
"Penny!" he yelled, eyes wide and voice high. "We have spoken about this! Keep those icicles you call appendages to yourself!"
She made sad eyes at him. "But I'm cold!"
"That is because your pyjama coverage is inadequate!" he scolded. "If I've told you once, I've told you a dozen times: if you do not sufficiently cover up your torso, your body will conserve heat for its vitals, thereby causing your extremities to feel markedly colder. If you really want to feel warmer, you should heat the core of your body."
Penny toyed with the idea of asking him if he was offering to warm up her core... before abandoning it. Most likely he wouldn't get the innuendo, and if he did, she wasn't sure who it would embarrass more.
She changed tactics.
"Sheldon, remember when I took you to Yoga with me 'cos you didn't wanna be left alone and you tried to do a Downward Facing Dog and kicked the instructor in the face?"
The side of his face twitched. "Yes."
"Well, I'm calling in the 'boom'. You have to let me do this whenever my feet are cold."
He tutted with exasperation. "It's called a boon, not a boom! And there really ought to be some kind of backsies clause if the proponent can't even pronounce the word correctly..." he added to himself meditatively.
Penny made a mental note not to sign anything Sheldon gave her without her smartphone on hand to Google the legal terms.
"Well, as the lawyers would say, shoulda, would, coulda." She stuck her feet back under his leg, and he yelped again. "Tell you what, Sheldon: why don't I drive you to the mall tomorrow? We could go to the comic store; I'll buy you some Red Vines." she offered, in a wheedling tone.
He didn't need to know she'd already planned to take him there to shop for Raj's birthday present. From Whack-a-Doodle's point of view, it would be something for something. Quid pro quo.
Just like he didn't need to know she had deliberately mispronounced boon.
Sheldon might have taught her quid pro quo, but she'd been an expert in misdirection since she was a teenager.
There was a marked pause then he huffed with annoyance and settled back on the cushion; he unpaused the TV, and she knew she'd won.
Penny burrowed her toes further beneath him and snuggled down on the couch.
After a moment, she realised she was humming with satisfaction.
Little ball of fur...
Sheldon wasn't too keen on Penny's new hair.
This was what those versed in rhetoric knew as "litotes" – and those versed in MTV knew as a freakin' huge understatement.
Change that didn't involve a breakthrough or wasn't specifically at his instigation had always been the enemy.
And Penny had selfishly chosen to implement a huge one at a time he was already reeling.
He wouldn't have put it past her to have cut it as deliberate provocation, except that she hadn't looked any happier after she'd done it.
Not only that, it looked God-awful. (He sent a mental apology to his mother for the cussword.) The severe style drew more attention to her eyes. To their lack of expression.
But perhaps he'd grown used to it over time. Or perhaps the effects were less harsh once she started growing it out.
Or perhaps it had something to do with her looking less harsh.
For whatever reason, he no longer hated it, had grown to tolerate it. But he would never be a fan.
Until the morning she turned up to pilfer his coffee, sleepy-eyed and tousle-haired. (Habit had him still making the narcotic substance, despite Leonard no longer living there – habit and Penny's whining.)
She looked like a bear cub that had been prematurely pulled out of hibernation, her hair a fuzzy halo round her head.
It looked warm and soft.
Hair that over-processed shouldn't look that soft.
It was a scientific anomaly demanding investigation.
His hand moved independently from conscious thought, fingers a literal and figurative hairsbreadth away… before social norms and personal dicta reasserted themselves.
He snapped his hand back before she could turn and notice its extension.
Penny zombie-shuffled her way out again, leaving him to process the phenomenon.
It was rare for Sheldon to give into instinct.
Curious how it always seemed to happen around Penny.
Happy kitty...
The second the longer hand became perpendicular with the numeral XII, Sheldon snapped his pocket watch closed and briskly knocked at her door.
To his surprised displeasure, she opened the door as soon as he'd finished the sequence. (He'd been looking forward to several rounds, and knocking at 11am precisely on a Saturday should have been good for at least two.)
He ignored her bright smile, frown deepening as he took in her outfit.
"You're already up!"
"Sure am."
"And dressed!"
Her amusement deepened. "Were you hoping for another peek, hero?"
He blinked at that, slight colour suffusing his cheeks. "Where are you going? You never normally go out this early on a Saturday!"
"An old girlfriend is in town – I'm meeting her for brunch. It's the only time she can make," she explained, as she moved past him.
"Oh," he drew to a halt, gaze dropping to the floor.
He looked up to find her eyeing him from the stairwell entrance, her expression knowing.
"Walk and talk, Moonpie. You've got four floors to tell me what the problem is."
He was so relieved he didn't even object to her provocative use of Meemaw's nickname.
He matched his stride to hers, absent-mindedly noting she was moving more slowly than her accustomed gait.
After a few seconds, she spoke. "So, what's up, sweetie?
He took a deep breath to quiet the nausea that threatened once more as he relived the email he'd read four minutes ago. "I have to give a lecture."
She looked at him. "At the university?" He nodded, and she shrugged. "Okay, so what's the big deal? You've given lots of lectures there."
He shook his head. "They're combining several classes for the lecture; there will be thrice the number I usually address. More than thirty-six." She looked confused for a moment and he widened his eyes at her. "Stampedes!"
She missed a step on the stairs. "Oh, crap..." Then she shook her head as though shaking off memories. "Honey, it's fine. Just don't take off your pants this time, and you'll be home and dry."
"How can you say that?" he objected. "When the established pattern for these events quite clearly states that it will not be fine!"
"Sheldon, it only happened one time! How can that be an established pattern?"
"One event, one outcome – that's equivalent to a one hundred percent rate of occurrence!" He could feel a tic pulling at the muscles in one cheek.
Penny stopped at the second floor landing and laid a hand on his arm.
"Honey, calm down. Even for you, you are seriously tweaked. ...What's really going on here? Why are you so worried?"
Eight seconds went by before the words hovering in the Broca area of his frontal lobe managed to push their way out.
"…I am afraid to fail."
The newly restored softness came over her face.
"Sweetie... you could never be a failure – not with your beautiful mind." Then she bit her lip, as though she might be regretting the words. It dampened the warm feeling that had bubbled up at her statement.
He fell back on habit. "Yes, well, unfortunately, my beautiful mind is frequently lost on my associates, let alone the peons they wish me to educate. You wouldn't be out of place in that class."
She responded with an eye-roll and he searched the mental directory he'd compiled. It told him the facial expression could mean anything from irritation to boredom to wry amusement.
"Well, if they're such pee-ons" – something about the way she said it, made it sound lewd – "why are you nervous? Who cares what they think?"
"I… I am not where I thought I would be at this stage in my life. Since I switched to dark matter, I no longer feel assured of my place. I must prove it... and the last time I was nervous like this I mooned some of the greatest scientific minds in the Physics world." The nausea started rising again.
Penny's mouth compressed, then she sighed and rolled her eyes again. He got the impression this one was at herself. "Okay, fine. I'll help you. Have you thought about trying a relaxation technique? There's some great ones with Yoga." Her raised hand forestalled his speech. "I don't mean the physical stuff – you're about as flexible as a two-by-four; as Swami found out the hard way – but some of the the mental techniques could help…"
Sheldon shook his head. "Rajesh already tried meditation exercises with me – the last time I visited Sheldonopolis Godzilla had merged with Amy and they were razing the Topiary Gardens."
Penny double took for a moment, then shook her head slightly. "Okay, I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't wanna know... Honey, what you need to do is shut out all the crazy." She extended a hand and made an all-encompassing gesture. "And just focus on one thought – it will help you find your inner serenity… Hey! What about a memory? You're photographic memory guy – you could totally immerse yourself in a happy memory and use it to keep the anxiety at bay."
"Oh!" Sheldon clapped his hands together in excitement. "Like Harry Potter and the Patronus charm?"
Her encouraging expression froze slightly. "…sure." Sheldon beamed and she smiled back, patting his cheek. "You're gonna be fine, sweetie. Just go to your happy place."
She carried on down the next flight of stairs.
Sheldon made his way back up to the fourth floor and entered 4A. He took his time walking over to the couch, settled himself in his spot and closed his eyes.
He already knew which memory to access.
There was no question regarding the moment that ranked the happiest in his life.
It wouldn't be the first time he had deliberately accessed it, but he had never allowed himself to linger, some kind of internal bar precluding him.
Perhaps because he feared that the rest life had to offer would feel unsatisfactory by comparison.
For the first time Sheldon utilised his perfect recall and relived the moment through all five senses:
… a signature on a smeared napkin
...the taste of adrenaline on his tongue
… a frame both soft and firm
… the scent of vanilla on skin
… soft, delighted laughter
A gift that could never be repaid.
Sleepy kitty...
*knockknockknock* "Penny."
*knockknockknock* "Penny."
*knockknockknock* "Penny."
Penny opened the door, ready to eviscerate the very person who'd taught her that word in the first place.
One look at his face and the roar died in her throat.
"What's wrong, Moonpie?" Her voice came out gruffer than she'd intended, but she figured she'd earned it. It was 2am, for God's sake! "Can't you sleep?"
He shook his head. "My circadian patterns have been compromised. Refusing Amy's request to restore the Relationship Agreement was the correct course of action, but I find whenever I close my eyes I am racked with guilt. I do not like to cause her pain... I thought a change of scenery might assist me with my problem. Especially as I have a positive somnial attachment to this locality." Penny glowered at him until he translated. "Every time I've slept here, I've slept deeply and well."
She sighed grouchily, but how could she say no to that? "Fine," she grumbled. "I'll sleep on the couch." She turned to go get a pillow but his hand closed round her wrist, and she startled at the feel of warm skin.
"There is no need."
She raised her eyebrows in surprised inquiry. "There is no need? You mean, you're gonna sleep on the couch? What about the Tall Man from Cornwall?"
"There is no need for either of us to suffer through that abomination you call a couch," he clarified. "I am used to sleeping within single-bed dimensions and am not prone to somnial migration." Penny wrinkled her nose at him until he huffed in annoyance and translated again. "I don't move around much. Concurrently, you own a double bed, therefore, so long as you keep your Cornhusker limbs to yourself, there is ample space for us both to occupy it without impinging on one another."
Penny blinked. Had Sheldon just asked to share her bed with her?
Had she fallen back asleep without realising it? Was this a dre- night-… dream?
"Um…"
Sheldon released her wrist and made his way into the bedroom. She watched through the open door as he carefully removed his plaid robe and hung it up in her closet; she could hear him muttering under his breath about the clothes on the floor.
She looked back at her couch. It did not look tempting. Sheldon was right, she hadn't slept at all well the night he'd taken her bed.
Her bed on the other hand was soft and warm and would be even warmer with Dr. Cooper, living space heater, in it…
But… this was weird, right? Imagine if the others found out... What would they think? Then she realised what they would think: this was Sheldon. The man had the sexual impulses of a six-year-old. Look at the way he was lying under the covers! He looked like freaking Dracula.
Ah, hell with it.
She got under the covers and mirrored his posture, lying dead straight and staring up at the ceiling.
After a minute of this, she began to think the couch might have been a better bet.
She'd never been so uncomfortable in her life… even including the time she'd fallen asleep in a bathtub.
Every one of her muscles was locked tight, terrified of accidentally making contact...
After a moment she realised she was holding her breath, waiting for something…
For him to complain that the mattress was too soft, or bitch that she was breathing too loud, or demand that she sing him to sleep…
It was a few minutes' more before she realised he was already asleep.
It took her a lot longer to follow him.
But once she gave in to it, it was the deepest sleep she could ever remember having.
When she woke in the morning, he was curled round her like a cat.
Purr, purr, purr
"Not tonight, Sheldon."
The words sunk through his chest like an icicle, cold and sharp enough to cut. Something like panic crawled up his throat.
She couldn't change the pattern now. More worryingly, why would she wish to?
"I do not understand."
"Sheldon… I know you and Amy were never that physical so maybe you wouldn't get this, but… we've been sharing a bed for almost three months. Sweetie, that's not normal. It's not something adults do. And I can't… I can't do it anymore." There was a catch in her voice, like something had broken. He didn't like it.
His hand twitched at his side, wanting to smooth through her hair, but they only did that when she couldn't sleep. He wasn't sure what the protocol was when they weren't under cover of darkness.
After a moment she quieted her breathing, sounding steady again. "And that's on top of the fact that we hang out almost every day. It's just… too complicated. The way we've been acting… it's more like boyfriend and girlfriend than friends. And it's too confusing. We have to stop." She raised her chin, trying to look determined, but he could see from her eyes she didn't really like what she was saying.
He'd been so caught up in her facial and vocal cues, it took a second before her words registered, then his brow cleared, and he smiled in relieved understanding.
"Oh, I see the problem! I thought the inference quite clear, but I can see now I should have been more explicit. There is no need for confusion: the paradigm is self-evident." This time he translated without being asked: "We have been engaged in a relationship for the last two months."
"…"
"My apologies, Penny," he went on, "if I'd known you weren't aware of it, I would have informed you sooner. I wrote up the Agreement months ago but chose not to ratify it as you've been vocal in your disapproval of them in the past".
"…"
"Penny?"
"…"
"…Penny?"
After several attempts and several swallows, her voice finally emerged, sounding slightly strangled: "We've been in a relationship?"
"Yes."
"For how long!"
"Two months, fifteen days and sixteen hours." He smiled at her cheerfully, like he'd just won a scavenger hunt.
Her mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to process what she was hearing.
"And you didn't think to talk to me about this first?"
He blinked at her, wondering why she sounded so outraged. "Your consent was implicit; though you also affirmed it upon multiple occasions. You were given five opportunities to renege or redefine the parameters, and you took up none of them. Ipso facto, the consent became explicit."
Penny made a mental note to look up some of those terms later, but she understood enough to get the gist.
She stared at him, totally dazed.
She was used to emotional whiplash around Sheldon, conversations that started one way then suddenly took a completely different direction.
But it usually started well and ended badly. Not the other way round.
Her heart began to thud with hope.
"You wrote up this whole Agreement without talking to me about it." She slowly moved towards him, half-stalk, half-glide. "So, how do I know I'm happy with the terms?"
His eyes tracked her movements, clear and unafraid. "To which terms are you referring?"
"Well…" her voice thrummed. "Where does the Agreement stand on kissing?"
He didn't miss a beat. "Twice a week, not inclusive of non-optional social conventions such as Valentine's Day and birthdays, with the option to exponentially increase by a rate of two every quarter. I will, of course, allow you to consult your lawyer before we formally agree. This is merely a starting offer."
You bet your ass, that's a starting offer!
But there was no need for Sheldon to know that part yet.
There was a beat, almost as if he had heard her somehow, then he continued, his tone of voice almost casual: "It can also be invoked on Anything Can Happen Thursdays."
Penny's voice emerged about a semi-tone lower than usual. "Today's Thursday," she pointed out.
He tilted his head as if to get closer to the sound and steadily met her gaze.
"So, it is."
Her smile spread to a grin, wide as a Cheshire Cat.
She extended a hand, with finger crooked:
"Here, kitty, kitty."