The Eggnog Equivalence
Written for Yuletide 2008. Fandom: The Big Bang Theory. All characters the property of their creators. U. Penny and Sheldon end up more or less accidentally going on a date.
"Penny."
Knock knock knock.
"Penny."
Knock knock knock.
"Penny."
Penny shambled towards the door, clutching her dressing-gown around her. Ignoring Sheldon wasn't an option. Sheldon would carry on knocking on the door and saying 'Penny' in a weirdly urgent monotone until she opened the door, or, alternatively, until he left his laptop knocking on the door with a small robotic arm whilst he went and got a bottle of water and a small snack to stave off hypoglycaemia. She was astonished no one had stolen his laptop yet. Maybe the robotic arm knew jiu-jitsu.
Knock knock knock.
"Penny."
"What is it, Sheldon?" said Penny, flinging open the door and squinting. At this time of year she supposed she ought to be feeling goodwill towards all men. Even Sheldon. She presumed Sheldon counted as a man, more or less. What she mostly felt at this moment was bad will towards eggnog. She made an effort to focus her eyes, and wished she hadn't.
"Sheldon, why are you dressed as a penguin?" she enquired blearily.
By way of answer, Sheldon thrust a potted begonia under her nose. Good will towards all men, Penny thought. No one said anything about good will towards penguins bearing begonias. "G'night, Sheldon," she muttered, and tried to shut the door in his face.
An arm in a shiny barathea sleeve inserted itself through the gap, still bearing the begonia. The pot had a bow tied around it.
Oh. Yeah. Christmas presents. Penny resignedly let the door go.
"C'min," she mumbled. "I haven't wrapped yours yet. Actually, it's for you and Leonard. And Raj, I suppose. Actually, it's a..."
She squinted into her food cupboard. The cupboard was bare. No, Penny thought, that wasn't carols, that was nursery rhymes. She reached hopefully to the back, and found a dusty packet of cornflakes, and behind it, a small bottle. "It's a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. Happy holidays! Actually, give me that back," she instructed Sheldon, who was gingerly attempting to exchange the bottle for the begonia. She popped the lid, swigged from the bottle, wiped it clean with the sleeve of her dressing-gown and handed it over.
Sheldon said something that she didn't listen to about cross-contamination through improper use of off-prescription medication, and something else about the state of her apartment. Penny poured herself a glass of water, sipped it, and made another really valiant attempt to focus.
It wasn't a penguin costume. It was a tuxedo which looked as if it had first seen light in the early 1940s, almost certainly in Texas, and which had been cut for a man both broader and squatter than Sheldon. The trousers flapped. There was a tiny enamelled Green Arrow symbol holding the bootlace tie. The general effect was partway between midcentury Soviet delegation and ineptly disguised supervillain.
"Aren't you a little overdressed?" said Penny. "I mean, you came over to fix the coffeemaker, right? The last time I tried to use the thing it splattered coffee grounds on the ceiling."
Sheldon looked upwards, and repressed a shudder. "I'd noticed, but I assumed someone visited you with some kind of incontinent airborne pet," he said fastidiously. "Anyway, I don't have time to fix your design-flawed device right now. Ask Wolowitz. He's the grease monkey."
"I'm not going to ask Wolowitz. The last time he mended anything for me, he asked for payment in kind."
"I had no idea that barter was still an acceptable form of currency in Nebraska."
"Not that kind of payment in kind."
"Oh," said Sheldon without interest. "In any case. I realise that you can't wear this as a corsage, and I would apologise, except that it's the flower shop's fault and not mine, so any apology on my part would be entirely misplaced. I didn't have time to fully explain my requirements before I had to leave. They had a large display of calla lilies which set off my allergies. And Leonard wouldn't go back in and finish explaining because he was frightened of some kind of large florist in a smock, so, really, you ought to blame him, if anyone." He attempted to clear a space on one of the cluttered surfaces for the begonia. "Do you have any anti-bacterial wipes?"
"Sheldon, why would I want to wear a potted begonia?"
"Well, I understand that it's not considered good manners to make adverse comments on a lady's clothing until she has broached the subject," said Sheldon, fixing his gaze on her with unnerving enthusiasm, "and I am not up to date with the vagaries of female dress except in as much as that since you moved in the lint in the dryer downstairs has shifted quite noticeably up the spectrum towards pastel, but is that what you're planning to wear?"
"To watch you fix my coffeemaker?"
"To the annual Caltech Physics 'High Energy Holiday Fling'. It's black tie." Sheldon extended one arm straight out and rotated it downward at the elbow, as if he was doing an impression of the Tin Man. Penny leaned against the counter and regarded him with sarcastic astonishment. Sheldon looked pained, and performed the gesture again.
Penny went over to the door, and held it open with a dramatic gesture. "Come on. I'm taking you back to Leonard so he can pry the back of your head off and fix your wiring. Your arm's not working right, and your head - well, your head's never worked right."
"I'm offering you my arm," said Sheldon. "And before you take it I'd be obliged if you'd wash your hands. Were there any antibacterial wipes?"
"I don't want your arm or any other part of you, Sheldon."
"I have been informed that it is proper for a man to offer his date his arm," said Sheldon, and went into a detailed explanation involving dirty pavements and sword-arms and his own inability to produce a sword for the occasion because of Caltech's metal detectors. Penny didn't listen, because her mind had stuttered to a stop at date. "Are you inviting me out on a date?" she enquired in tones of stunned horror.
"I am most certainly not inviting you out on a date."
Penny collapsed back against the doorframe. "That's a relief. It's Christmas, not April Fools."
"I did the inviting last night, when you reeled through the door, fell over Koothrappali's foot, embraced the bookcase as if it were a long-lost friend and treated us to a long and rambling speech on the virtues of something called eggnog," Sheldon explained earnestly. "Believe me, I am not in any way sexually attracted to you, and I would shudder at the prospect of becoming father to a race of eggnog-swilling, sexually incontinent thugs, but you were the only female present, and Leonard had just invoked clause six, sub-paragraph three, of our roommate agreement. I have to say that I don't remember initialling any agreement concerning double-dates, but Leonard insists that this so-called 'wingman clause' is boilerplate. And besides, he's afraid of Leslie Winkle," he finished up suddenly, staring at Penny like a baby bird at an approaching worm.
"Leonard wants you..." Penny pointed waveringly at Sheldon, "and me..." she pointed even more waveringly at herself, and wished the Pepto-Bismol would kick in, "... to go on a double-date with him and Leslie Winkle?"
"I hardly think that the decision-making in that relationship is Leonard's responsibility," sniffed Sheldon. "Leslie Winkle has apparently decided to return to a 1950s dating paradigm, which, if I may say so, almost exactly parallels the time period at which her understanding of physics seems to have juddered to an ungainly halt."
"She made you cry again, didn't she?" said Penny.
"As I've already explained to Leonard, it was my allergy to calla lilies that irritated my nasal membranes, and in any case, I've already hacked into the Vice-President's computer and put your name on the guest list," said Sheldon rather hurriedly. "Come along."
"Will there be eggnog?" said Penny suspiciously.
"There will be champagne and dancing," said Sheldon. "And speeches!" he added, apparently thinking that Penny might find this an incentive.
"Speeches, huh?" Penny shook her head. "So, it's a high-class shindig? Free drink? Nice decorations? People I can interact with without having to read them a list of seasonal specials?"
"I would imagine so."
"Fine." Penny padded towards the shower, shedding slippers as she went. "But this counts as your Christmas present, OK? And your next Christmas present. And your birthday present. And Leonard's birthday present. And Leslie Winkle's birthday present."
"I had no idea you were on gift-exchanging terms with Leslie Winkle," said Sheldon. "Has she assigned an official birthday to herself, or does she celebrate the anniversary of the day on which she was found under a rock?"
The only answer was the sudden blast of the shower being turned on, and some shouted instructions which he thought might be something to do with the coffee-maker; and these he ignored, having already explained to her that it was outside his area of expertise.
"Penny."
Knock knock knock.
"Penny."
Knock knock knock.
"Penny."
Penny shambled towards the door, clutching her dressing-gown around her. Ignoring Sheldon wasn't an option. Sheldon would carry on knocking on the door and saying 'Penny' in a weirdly urgent monotone until she opened the door, or, alternatively, until he left his laptop knocking on the door with a small robotic arm whilst he went and got a bottle of water and a small snack to stave off hypoglycaemia. She was astonished no one had stolen his laptop yet. Maybe the robotic arm knew jiu-jitsu.
Knock knock knock.
"Penny."
"What is it, Sheldon?" said Penny, flinging open the door and squinting. At this time of year she supposed she ought to be feeling goodwill towards all men. Even Sheldon. She presumed Sheldon counted as a man, more or less. What she mostly felt at this moment was bad will towards eggnog. She made an effort to focus her eyes, and wished she hadn't.
"Sheldon, why are you dressed as a penguin?" she enquired blearily.
By way of answer, Sheldon thrust a potted begonia under her nose. Good will towards all men, Penny thought. No one said anything about good will towards penguins bearing begonias. "G'night, Sheldon," she muttered, and tried to shut the door in his face.
An arm in a shiny barathea sleeve inserted itself through the gap, still bearing the begonia. The pot had a bow tied around it.
Oh. Yeah. Christmas presents. Penny resignedly let the door go.
"C'min," she mumbled. "I haven't wrapped yours yet. Actually, it's for you and Leonard. And Raj, I suppose. Actually, it's a..."
She squinted into her food cupboard. The cupboard was bare. No, Penny thought, that wasn't carols, that was nursery rhymes. She reached hopefully to the back, and found a dusty packet of cornflakes, and behind it, a small bottle. "It's a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. Happy holidays! Actually, give me that back," she instructed Sheldon, who was gingerly attempting to exchange the bottle for the begonia. She popped the lid, swigged from the bottle, wiped it clean with the sleeve of her dressing-gown and handed it over.
Sheldon said something that she didn't listen to about cross-contamination through improper use of off-prescription medication, and something else about the state of her apartment. Penny poured herself a glass of water, sipped it, and made another really valiant attempt to focus.
It wasn't a penguin costume. It was a tuxedo which looked as if it had first seen light in the early 1940s, almost certainly in Texas, and which had been cut for a man both broader and squatter than Sheldon. The trousers flapped. There was a tiny enamelled Green Arrow symbol holding the bootlace tie. The general effect was partway between midcentury Soviet delegation and ineptly disguised supervillain.
"Aren't you a little overdressed?" said Penny. "I mean, you came over to fix the coffeemaker, right? The last time I tried to use the thing it splattered coffee grounds on the ceiling."
Sheldon looked upwards, and repressed a shudder. "I'd noticed, but I assumed someone visited you with some kind of incontinent airborne pet," he said fastidiously. "Anyway, I don't have time to fix your design-flawed device right now. Ask Wolowitz. He's the grease monkey."
"I'm not going to ask Wolowitz. The last time he mended anything for me, he asked for payment in kind."
"I had no idea that barter was still an acceptable form of currency in Nebraska."
"Not that kind of payment in kind."
"Oh," said Sheldon without interest. "In any case. I realise that you can't wear this as a corsage, and I would apologise, except that it's the flower shop's fault and not mine, so any apology on my part would be entirely misplaced. I didn't have time to fully explain my requirements before I had to leave. They had a large display of calla lilies which set off my allergies. And Leonard wouldn't go back in and finish explaining because he was frightened of some kind of large florist in a smock, so, really, you ought to blame him, if anyone." He attempted to clear a space on one of the cluttered surfaces for the begonia. "Do you have any anti-bacterial wipes?"
"Sheldon, why would I want to wear a potted begonia?"
"Well, I understand that it's not considered good manners to make adverse comments on a lady's clothing until she has broached the subject," said Sheldon, fixing his gaze on her with unnerving enthusiasm, "and I am not up to date with the vagaries of female dress except in as much as that since you moved in the lint in the dryer downstairs has shifted quite noticeably up the spectrum towards pastel, but is that what you're planning to wear?"
"To watch you fix my coffeemaker?"
"To the annual Caltech Physics 'High Energy Holiday Fling'. It's black tie." Sheldon extended one arm straight out and rotated it downward at the elbow, as if he was doing an impression of the Tin Man. Penny leaned against the counter and regarded him with sarcastic astonishment. Sheldon looked pained, and performed the gesture again.
Penny went over to the door, and held it open with a dramatic gesture. "Come on. I'm taking you back to Leonard so he can pry the back of your head off and fix your wiring. Your arm's not working right, and your head - well, your head's never worked right."
"I'm offering you my arm," said Sheldon. "And before you take it I'd be obliged if you'd wash your hands. Were there any antibacterial wipes?"
"I don't want your arm or any other part of you, Sheldon."
"I have been informed that it is proper for a man to offer his date his arm," said Sheldon, and went into a detailed explanation involving dirty pavements and sword-arms and his own inability to produce a sword for the occasion because of Caltech's metal detectors. Penny didn't listen, because her mind had stuttered to a stop at date. "Are you inviting me out on a date?" she enquired in tones of stunned horror.
"I am most certainly not inviting you out on a date."
Penny collapsed back against the doorframe. "That's a relief. It's Christmas, not April Fools."
"I did the inviting last night, when you reeled through the door, fell over Koothrappali's foot, embraced the bookcase as if it were a long-lost friend and treated us to a long and rambling speech on the virtues of something called eggnog," Sheldon explained earnestly. "Believe me, I am not in any way sexually attracted to you, and I would shudder at the prospect of becoming father to a race of eggnog-swilling, sexually incontinent thugs, but you were the only female present, and Leonard had just invoked clause six, sub-paragraph three, of our roommate agreement. I have to say that I don't remember initialling any agreement concerning double-dates, but Leonard insists that this so-called 'wingman clause' is boilerplate. And besides, he's afraid of Leslie Winkle," he finished up suddenly, staring at Penny like a baby bird at an approaching worm.
"Leonard wants you..." Penny pointed waveringly at Sheldon, "and me..." she pointed even more waveringly at herself, and wished the Pepto-Bismol would kick in, "... to go on a double-date with him and Leslie Winkle?"
"I hardly think that the decision-making in that relationship is Leonard's responsibility," sniffed Sheldon. "Leslie Winkle has apparently decided to return to a 1950s dating paradigm, which, if I may say so, almost exactly parallels the time period at which her understanding of physics seems to have juddered to an ungainly halt."
"She made you cry again, didn't she?" said Penny.
"As I've already explained to Leonard, it was my allergy to calla lilies that irritated my nasal membranes, and in any case, I've already hacked into the Vice-President's computer and put your name on the guest list," said Sheldon rather hurriedly. "Come along."
"Will there be eggnog?" said Penny suspiciously.
"There will be champagne and dancing," said Sheldon. "And speeches!" he added, apparently thinking that Penny might find this an incentive.
"Speeches, huh?" Penny shook her head. "So, it's a high-class shindig? Free drink? Nice decorations? People I can interact with without having to read them a list of seasonal specials?"
"I would imagine so."
"Fine." Penny padded towards the shower, shedding slippers as she went. "But this counts as your Christmas present, OK? And your next Christmas present. And your birthday present. And Leonard's birthday present. And Leslie Winkle's birthday present."
"I had no idea you were on gift-exchanging terms with Leslie Winkle," said Sheldon. "Has she assigned an official birthday to herself, or does she celebrate the anniversary of the day on which she was found under a rock?"
The only answer was the sudden blast of the shower being turned on, and some shouted instructions which he thought might be something to do with the coffee-maker; and these he ignored, having already explained to her that it was outside his area of expertise.