Holiday Swap Fic for midnightzstorm
It is quite chilly in Pasadena and the thermostat is slightly off by a degree or five. But Sheldon is unexpectedly warm - fuzzy warm, he corrects himself, much like the sensation of eating Meemaw’s freshly baked Christmas cookies. It definitely feels like the beginning of a good Saturnalian evening: Wolowitz and Koothrappali will be coming later for dinner and a quick round of Wii Boxing to burn off the winter calories, Leonard’s mood has improved significantly ever since the motorcycle accident, and he successfully solved the dilemma regarding Penny’s gift.
Well, not in its entirety. Not yet.
The main conundrum in being the initiator of an impromptu hug, Sheldon thinks while staring at the smooth stretch of skin at the back of Penny’s neck, is that you never quite know when or how to end it. Hugging is a complicated enough endeavor as it is. There are various physical considerations: the angle and speed of entry, the amount of pressure one is to exert over the so-called huggee, the placement of certain extremities during the course of the hug - not to mention the countless social conventions one must carefully tread through in the whole affair.
Yet here he is, hugging Penny with only a moment’s hesitation. (The moment was used to determine the curve of his arms to encompass her frame. But. Only. Just.). He seems to have skipped through the entire pre-hugging protocol, which was drafted and meticulously followed ever since the rib-crushing incident with Aunt Agatha in the Great Christmas Reunion of ’91. Now they both stand there, wobbling slightly from the odd angle Sheldon has positioned himself, and Sheldon is completely coming up with blanks on what to do next.
Clearly, he hasn’t put much thought into this.
Penny reaches out to grab his arms and steady herself. The action sends Sheldon’s delicate balance off-center and he ends up leaning more into Penny’s personal space. And oh- okay, okay, they’re practically entwined in a more close-fitting embrace than before, Sheldon can feel Penny’s curves against his body, and he wonders for a second if he’s crossing some sort of line here. There is not a peep from Leonard so he supposes-
“I can hear you thinking, Sheldon.” Penny starts as if scolding him. “Now, aren’t you supposed to say something for the gift?” She smiles into his shoulder.
There is a lot to say actually. How is it even possible to hear “thinking”? Not even the possession of Vulcan hearing is enough to catch the sound a thought makes as it jumps and crackles across the brain surface. But then there’s also this warmth expanding through his chest; fragments of words and sensations, of bit-theories drifting and tugging for his attention. There is something here. Yet no matter what the configuration of the words and half-baked ideas, he can’t fully grasp it, can’t get into the mathematics and the calculations of this warmth.
Sheldon settles for the string of words with the most sense, “Thank you, Penny.”
“Merry Christmas sweetie. Thank you for the gifts too.” She squeezes him, not unlike how Aunt Agatha did when he was caught off-guard in the hallway many Saturnalias past. This time though he doesn’t flinch or say bloody fratricide in a higher decibel range. There is, however, a possibility for self-combustion if Penny squeezes hard enough - Sheldon muses, as he stops trying to find a solution to all of this. He can blame Penny after all.
(The hug died a natural death. Or at least as natural as Sheldon thought it would be. The sudden arrival of Wolowitz and Koothrappali - heralded by the raucous shouting of “Merry Christmas!” by the former - has so startled Sheldon and Penny that they lose their precarious footing and allowed gravity to take its course. Penny hit her head on the edge of the couch. Sheldon crumpled clumsily on the floor. There was considerably less holiday cheer after that.)
//
No one speaks of it, and only God knew what eventually became of Sheldon’s sample of Leonard Nimoy DNA. Sheldon continues on his obsessive, anal, non-hugging ways. Penny gets drunk a fair number of times, kisses men who are not Sheldon, and upon realizing she is kind of okay with dating geeky and nerdy men, embarks on an inadvisable relationship with Leonard Hofstadter.
It is only years later that Sheldon parses the debris of words and ideas of that day.
(Penny asked him, face rumpled with sleep, her voice sweet like honey, When was it? When did it start Sheldon? Normally he wouldn’t indulge in such frivolous fancies. Yet he was also curious and so he combed through his vault of memories: visiting her in Nebraska, getting hit by a Teflon-coated monstrosity, peeking at the soup tattoo in her right buttock… Then he remembers that particular Christmas. And it was a curiosity, really, when a sliver of memory suddenly construes for itself new meanings and perspectives. This time it wasn’t the idea of Leonard Nimoy that his brain first latched on. It was the details of Penny’s face, the crinkle of her eyebrows as he relayed to her his need for a healthy female ovum, the way her hands found purchase on his arms to keep her balance. That spreading warmth.)
Well, not in its entirety. Not yet.
The main conundrum in being the initiator of an impromptu hug, Sheldon thinks while staring at the smooth stretch of skin at the back of Penny’s neck, is that you never quite know when or how to end it. Hugging is a complicated enough endeavor as it is. There are various physical considerations: the angle and speed of entry, the amount of pressure one is to exert over the so-called huggee, the placement of certain extremities during the course of the hug - not to mention the countless social conventions one must carefully tread through in the whole affair.
Yet here he is, hugging Penny with only a moment’s hesitation. (The moment was used to determine the curve of his arms to encompass her frame. But. Only. Just.). He seems to have skipped through the entire pre-hugging protocol, which was drafted and meticulously followed ever since the rib-crushing incident with Aunt Agatha in the Great Christmas Reunion of ’91. Now they both stand there, wobbling slightly from the odd angle Sheldon has positioned himself, and Sheldon is completely coming up with blanks on what to do next.
Clearly, he hasn’t put much thought into this.
Penny reaches out to grab his arms and steady herself. The action sends Sheldon’s delicate balance off-center and he ends up leaning more into Penny’s personal space. And oh- okay, okay, they’re practically entwined in a more close-fitting embrace than before, Sheldon can feel Penny’s curves against his body, and he wonders for a second if he’s crossing some sort of line here. There is not a peep from Leonard so he supposes-
“I can hear you thinking, Sheldon.” Penny starts as if scolding him. “Now, aren’t you supposed to say something for the gift?” She smiles into his shoulder.
There is a lot to say actually. How is it even possible to hear “thinking”? Not even the possession of Vulcan hearing is enough to catch the sound a thought makes as it jumps and crackles across the brain surface. But then there’s also this warmth expanding through his chest; fragments of words and sensations, of bit-theories drifting and tugging for his attention. There is something here. Yet no matter what the configuration of the words and half-baked ideas, he can’t fully grasp it, can’t get into the mathematics and the calculations of this warmth.
Sheldon settles for the string of words with the most sense, “Thank you, Penny.”
“Merry Christmas sweetie. Thank you for the gifts too.” She squeezes him, not unlike how Aunt Agatha did when he was caught off-guard in the hallway many Saturnalias past. This time though he doesn’t flinch or say bloody fratricide in a higher decibel range. There is, however, a possibility for self-combustion if Penny squeezes hard enough - Sheldon muses, as he stops trying to find a solution to all of this. He can blame Penny after all.
(The hug died a natural death. Or at least as natural as Sheldon thought it would be. The sudden arrival of Wolowitz and Koothrappali - heralded by the raucous shouting of “Merry Christmas!” by the former - has so startled Sheldon and Penny that they lose their precarious footing and allowed gravity to take its course. Penny hit her head on the edge of the couch. Sheldon crumpled clumsily on the floor. There was considerably less holiday cheer after that.)
//
No one speaks of it, and only God knew what eventually became of Sheldon’s sample of Leonard Nimoy DNA. Sheldon continues on his obsessive, anal, non-hugging ways. Penny gets drunk a fair number of times, kisses men who are not Sheldon, and upon realizing she is kind of okay with dating geeky and nerdy men, embarks on an inadvisable relationship with Leonard Hofstadter.
It is only years later that Sheldon parses the debris of words and ideas of that day.
(Penny asked him, face rumpled with sleep, her voice sweet like honey, When was it? When did it start Sheldon? Normally he wouldn’t indulge in such frivolous fancies. Yet he was also curious and so he combed through his vault of memories: visiting her in Nebraska, getting hit by a Teflon-coated monstrosity, peeking at the soup tattoo in her right buttock… Then he remembers that particular Christmas. And it was a curiosity, really, when a sliver of memory suddenly construes for itself new meanings and perspectives. This time it wasn’t the idea of Leonard Nimoy that his brain first latched on. It was the details of Penny’s face, the crinkle of her eyebrows as he relayed to her his need for a healthy female ovum, the way her hands found purchase on his arms to keep her balance. That spreading warmth.)