Saturnalia gift for R0semonkey!
Title: Muddy Whiskers
Author: Taclln
Rating: T
Word Count: 3888
Prompt: Sheldon and Amy are in an actual relationship, and Penny, looking on, finally realises and acknowledges that who she really wants to be with is Sheldon. A reworking of the season five, episode ten The Flaming Spittoon Aquisition from the POV of Penny.
A/N to R0semonkey: Thanks for the prompts and I hope you like it!
Muddy Whiskers
By taclln
"The beet is the most intense of vegetables. The radish, admittedly, is more feverish, but the fire of the radish is a cold fire, the fire of discontent not of passion. Tomatoes are lusty enough, yet there runs through tomatoes an undercurrent of frivolity. Beets are deadly serious.
The beet is the melancholy vegetable, the one most willing to suffer. You can't squeeze blood out of a turnip...
The beet is what happens when the cherry finishes with the carrot. The beet is the ancient ancestor of the autumn moon, bearded, buried, all but fossilized; the dark green sails of the grounded moon-boat stitched with veins of primordial plasma; the kite string that once connected the moon to the Earth now a muddy whisker drilling desperately for rubies.
― Tom Robbins. Jitterbug Perfume
Shoulders back and arms stretched high behind her head, Penny lifted onto her toes and groaned loudly in satisfaction as her body popped into place.
She grinned and raised her pink clipboard off the counter, "Cross off 'organize kitchen pantry'."
"Now," she held up a lone can of sliced beets. "Where do I put you?"
The can had been in the back corner of a bottom cupboard stuffed behind the pots and pans. The label yellowed and the can dusty but whole and without dents or bulges. It must have been there from before she’d moved in.
Her hand hovered hesitantly over the garbage bin. Cans last forever, right? They had to or else Sheldon wouldn’t have an entire closet devoted to his stockpile of post apocalyptic non-perishables. She snorted, "In case of starvation: raid 4A."
But still, where to place it? Not with canned fruit: beets are sweet but they’re definitely not sugar sweet like peaches or pineapples. She studied her cupboard stacked three deep and two high; fruit on shelf one, vegetables on shelf two.
She reached up a finger to flatten the orange flower sticker marked with the number three: boxes of Hamburger Helper, Rice-a-Roni, and spaghetti noodles on the top shelf.
She set the can on the counter and glanced at the clock. 6:15. She’d worked through lunch. Her kitchen sparkled and smelled lemon fresh like it never had before and her living-room was clutter free; she’d even vacuumed under the couch. She crossed another thing off the list and set the clipboard down with the beets.
She crossed the room and flopped into a chair at her small table. She fingered the wrinkled edges of a large, colorful chart sprawled across the surface. It was wrinkled and coca-cola stained and had the look of carelessly crumpled work smoothed flat again several times over.
Sheldon had gifted her with a copy of his very own "Hygiene Efficiency Protocol" consisting of five bulleted charts; one for each room in her apartment and for herself.
_______________
"Really, Penny," he said from where he stood just inside the doorway, one foot poised in the hallway. His nose had scrunched up, most likely from the smell of stale beer and old pizza boxes stacked next to her coffee table.
"I have accepted the high probability of pain to my genitals that might stem from an attempt to reiterate once again that I find it very difficult knowing that that there is only a door between myself and whatever bacteria is germinating in this petry dish of doom you dwell in." His arms crossed.
She planted her feet and raised her body to its full height, "Yeah, well, from what I've heard, even small differences to the initial condition can yield widely diverging outcomes. You can’t know that I won’t just throw this into the chaos behind me to be lost forever!"
Inside she cackled. Oh yeah, she’d practiced those lines forever.
She wasn’t completely sure she knew what Leonard had tried to explain to her, but Sheldon's jaw dropped and he paused before responding, "That certainly is the most probable outcome when it comes to you," He thummed the edge of the diagram. "Or you may recognise this for the resource it is and--"
His eyes narrowed, his thick lashes veiled the cerulean blue she loved so much. Butterflies fluttered in her chest and warmth pooled in her belly. She bit her lip.
Wait. What? She coughed and choked on the gum she’d forgotten she was chewing.
Penny stepped forward and snatched the chart from the hand that had not risen to protect his mouth when she started hacking. "Goodnight Sheldon." She closed the door on his face and slumped against it before sliding to the floor.
Her shirt caught between her and the door and rose so that her heated skin lay flush with the cool wood. Her heart seemed overly loud in her chest but beat strong and not too fast. She felt like her brain was flashing a million images a minute; each one clear but gone before she could focus completely on what they meant.
Sheldon.
Sheldon: the man-child, mad scientist, the nerd, the obsessive compulsive ass-burger! She giggled and the sound was slightly hysterical in the silence of her apartment.
His ineptitude in any capacity in social interaction, his inability to touch or be touched with out cringing and reaching for the Purel in his back pocket, Sheldon.
Sheldon, whose life revolved only with the help of the strict adherence to a set of rules that was ultimately dictated by the frequency of his bowel movements.
His derision, his, pride, his self-importance.
His comic books and action figures. His video games and his Honey Mustard.
His layered shirts and his plaid pants. The horrible beige wind-breaker.
Her neighbor, her friend. Sheldon, whose self satisfaction as star in his field was a constant thorn in her side when compared to the uncertainty of her own feeble dreams of stardom.
And underneath the armor, tucked somewhere, was a heart. He didn't often show it, but Sheldon had a huge heart.
Sheldon considered her one of his people. He’d made room around his schedule for her. He’s stopped griping about the milk she stole frequently from his apartment or the Wi-fi she mooched. He partnered her in halo and trusted her to handle his food.
He liked when she made spaghetti and helped her with glitter and rhinestones.
She coughed and shook her head. She pinched her hand, Nope, "I do not see a waterfall of penny blossoms."
She giggled again, her throat clogging with tears.
She remembers the hug from two Christmases ago. She would never top that Nemoy napkin. Not unless Williams Shatner were to drop a spoon.
Vapo-Rub counterclockwise and a special song; the hug again, last February, and the Valentine’s Day flu. Together.
Her dislocated shoulder. He’d peeked!
The tears were flowing now, "Sheldon," she said to herself.
"Sing Soft Kitty."
She called in sick that day.
_______________
A knock at the door jogs her from her memory. It’s a sharp two raps that is as distinctive to Amy as nine knocks and three Pennys is to Sheldon or the soft and hesitant brushing of knuckles is to Leonard.
She smiles as she opens the door to Amy and Bernadette, "Hello ladies!" They step inside and shrug off their jackets, kicking their shoes into the corner next to her TV.
Bernadette holds up a lumpy plastic bag, "I brought sweets! Howie’s mother made us some chocolate brownies for our girl’s night!"
"And I brought games," Amy piped up from behind the shorter woman. "Anyone up for strip boggle?"
Oh, good Lord. Penny led the way to the kitchen where she pulled a bottle of wine from the bottom shelf of the kitchenette.
"Wow, Penny, its so shiny!" Bernadette’s wandered from the kitchen, around her living room, and to where she could just see into Penny’s bedroom.
Penny beamed but admitted, "I can’t take all the credit though."
She gestured with her wine glass at the chart on the table. "Sheldon presented me with his finest work."
Amy picked it up to study, shifting slightly so Bernadette could look as well.
"Oh that’s nice," Bernadette squeaked. "He even put cute fuzzy kitty stickers on it."
Penny smiled agreeably but shook her head.
Amy hummed behind them and said, "If by 'cute' you mean their uncanny ability to finely tune the tones and pitches of their meows so they can better manipulate you into doing what they want or," she sniffed and continued, "maybe its their habit of bringing home the carcasses of dead animals to show you what happens when your eye is turned that really makes them shine in the hearts of many little girls and boys."
Amy smiled and stroked the ridge of the fuzzy sticker, "Then, yes."
Penny catches the frozen smile on Bernadette’s face and laughs nervously, "Er, no Bernadette; that was me. And the color, and the glitter,"
Penny reached out and tugged at the chart, "Thanks Amy." She shoves a glass of wine in her hand instead, and tacks the chart onto the wall.
Amy rotates the glass in her hand and sips from the spot Penny had only a second before. She searches for the clock above the kitchen sink which now read 6:32, "Hey, Bestie," She points at a spot on the chart, hinting: "Don’t you have somewhere to be?"
Penny makes a face, "I may have succumbed to a clean-up schedule but I’ll be damned if I adhere to any other directive on that list!" She was very firm in her stance that Sheldon would have absolutely no control over her own bodily functions. It would cost Sheldon something significantly more than chocolate to potty train her.
Bernadette giggled from the kitchen where she was pulling a bag of popcorn from the microwave. Penny poured wine into another glass and drank deeply. Amy eyed her silently and helped Bernadette unwrap the miles of cellophane from the plate of Mrs. Wolowitz’s brownies.
Penny tuned them out as she poured a little more to top off the wine still in the glass. She’s caught in denial, she knows. Her chests hurts, it’d been aching for couple days now.
She swallows another gulp and empties the bottle into her glass. Another one gone and the girls notice.
Penny suddenly wants the night to speed up. It had sounded like a good idea earlier in the day. She’d finally completed Sheldon’s checklist with the exception of chart number five, and Fridays were becoming more and more her night with the girls. She looked forward to them. It had already been fitted to her new timetable.
She is reaching for the Peach schnapps on her fridge when a picture on the door catches her eye.
It was taken two years ago during the assembly line of the second batch of Penny Blossoms. Sheldon’s head was bent over her hand. She was holding a blossom and he was gluing a rhinestone to the two-thousandth penny blossom. His hand gripped her wrist to steady it as he tried to drop a rhinestone in the center.
She remembered his hand had been warm. She’d felt the slight callus of his middle finger from where he regularly gripped a dry erase marker. She’d though at the time that it was strange that his hands felt so soft and so strong. The muscles in his forearms rolling subtly under the skin. His face had bent close to hers and she could feel his breath puffing softly over her cheek. The picture was snapped, the flash had made them both blink. The flower had fallen to the floor.
She shivered and rubbed her wrist where she swore she could still feel his phantom touch. She didn’t think he’d even noticed that he’d been touching another person. He hadn’t cringed or snapped his hand back, or reached for the hand sanitizer.
What she hadn’t noticed then, she did now.
"I think a boy likes me!" Amy’s exclamation tugs her from her thoughts. Penny listens as Bernadette reads the text from Stuart.
Her chest lightens and her thoughts clear for just a moment, "Amy, you vixen!"
She ignores that feeling that was quickly turning sour in her gut as she encouraged Amy to seek new options. Stuart was a good guy. A great guy, even, she’d had fun for the most part on her own date with him.
He might be good for Amy. He would be good.
The sour feeling grew and she tried to ignore the confusion and uncertainty in her friends face.
_______________
The girls had left her with a note and a blanket. Apparently, she’d fallen asleep in the bathroom again. From the bitter taste and the sandpaper feeling in the throat she didn’t need to remember how last night had ended for her.
She pulled herself to the faucet and propped her elbows on the sink as she splashed cold water on her face.
She glowered at the face in the mirror.
Last nights mascara smudged her under eyes and a dried patch of drool had glued a tangled curl to her cheek.
She could hear her alarm in her bedroom tinkling out the Carebears Countdown, "5, 4, 3, 2, 1!"
It was 11am. She needed to get to work, her shift started at one. It was only a short shift but she promised she’d cover for one of the girls and Saturday afternoon really was the best shift for tips.
She slipped out of her clothes and stepped into the shower and let the first three second blast of chilly water clear her head.
Her thoughts turned to Amy as she shampooed her hair. Penny was ashamed of herself. She felt like she’d manipulated her friend into accepting Stuarts date.
Amy hadn’t seemed too bummed, right?
The rest of last night was hazy but she does remember laughing and giggling as they all tried on clothes from Penny’s closet trying to find Amy an outfit.
Amy had seemed excited and spent the night trading texts with Stuart and commenting on the clothes the girls tried to cajole her into.
Talk of Sheldon was limited only as a contrast to highlight the prospect of a new love interest.
Penny ignored the glances Amy kept throwing towards the door. She’d been looking for Sheldon.
So was Penny.
_______________
It turned out to be a slow afternoon at the Cheesecake Factory. A good thing, because she’d found her mind wandering too much and she’d messed up an order. She was glad when the manager let her off a little early.
She got home and changed into pajama pants and an old ratty sweatshirt that she’d cut the arms and neck off of. She cleaned up the popcorn bowl and empty wine bottles from the coffee table in the living room; she really needed to stop drinking that stuff. It only served to cause poor judgment, double vision, and body aches.
She washed Mrs. Wolowitz’s plate and set it on the counter next to the stove. She’d return it to Bernadette tomorrow. Her eye caught on the can of beets and she reached for a can opener.
Her mom used to cut beets on top of salads. Her dad liked them warm and served with anything. Penny couldn’t remember whether she liked them or not.
They wouldn’t normally be her first choice of for a side but she still wasn’t sure what shelf it belonged on. And her stomach grumbled.
She found a left over take away bowl of pad thai in the refrigerator and set it to heat in the microwave. She watched it turn round inside the box for a moment.
She crossed to her TV for the remote when she heard the faint sound of a door opening in the hall.
Her heart skipped and she strained her ear, holding her breath. She jumped only slightly when she heard the anticipated
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Who do we love!"
"Penny."
Penny.
Penny!
She grinned and reached for the door.
"Hello, Sheldon, come on in." she said as she headed back to the kitchen.
He was wearing blue; her favorite color on him. She knew he preferred Flash red but the blue softened him and brought out the cornflower in his eyes. It caused that odd fluttery feeling inside her belly again, only this time she knew why.
"Thank you," he said as he closed the door behind him.
She stirred the beets in the pan and swiped a finger against the wooden spoon.
"I came to ask," he started. She tasted her finger as he continued, "If you would like to go on a date with me."
She coughed and her eyes widened, "I’m sorry. What?"
She pinched herself as he swaggered towards her attempting to look nonchalant. The microwave beeping jolted her from the way he rested his long fingered hands on the counter.
And then she knew. Her gut sunk, he’d heard about Amy and Stuart. "Oh God, you trying to make Amy jealous?"
Not with me, you aren’t, she thought as she jabbed open the microwave. The tip of a finger gets caught in the steaming bowl and she hisses quietly in pain.
"No!" he exclaimed behind her. "Why is everyone so obsessed with Amy and Stuart?"
She stirred the pad thai, her burned finger sticking up, and watched his rant.
He was wound tight, "And whether they may be having more pumpkin lattes or intercourse tonight." His arms swung loosely with each point. He was frustrated and confused. The numbers didn’t add up.
Amy.
Her heart clenched and she remembered Amy's gaze towards 4A last night. Amy, who was out with Stuart right now had listened to Penny’s advice to look elsewhere.
Crap.
"Look, listen to me," And this time she would listen to herself. "Playing games is not gonna help get Amy back."
"I’m not trying to get her back!"
If it didn’t hurt so much, Penny might find this situation amusing. Sheldor, her knight in shining armor, fighting for another lady.
"Alright, honey, let me tell you a story," She took a breath and clasped her hands on the counter. "There’s a guy I liked. And I never told him how I felt. Eventually he started going out with someone else and I always regretted it." She did now, anyway
She took a deep breath and held it in.
Alright, Amy, he’s all yours.
She exhaled.
"Do you see where I’m going with this?" She gestured with her hands.
"I believe I do," Sheldon nodded sagely.
Good, she thought nodding with him, now let me be.
She caught the glint in his eye, "I’m the guy."
She wanted to laugh. If that wasn’t irony, she wasn’t sure what is.
She pictured her acting coach in her mind. Acting face, Penny! And direct: "You’re not the guy." Stare into his eyes and make it the truth.
"Are you sure?"
She bit her cheek. It would explain so much.
"Your constant presence in my apartment," She really was at theirs more than her own. But she'd declined when Leonard had caught her in the hallway just tonight and invited her in. She’d been avoiding their place for days.
"That baffling dalliance with Leonard," Yeah, she was baffled on that one too. "Just to be near me."
If only she'd known.
"And the way you call me sweetie all the time," he finished.
Her face still, "I call everyone ‘sweetie’."
Sheldon was different.
"You tramp."
"Ugh." Hands trembling slightly, she switched off the burner. The beets were simmering and purple froth was forming in the pan.
How does he know this when she had barely even acknowledged anything yet? How long had this been going on? And how the hell did he figure anything when even the most obvious social indicators were beyond his comprehension?
"All I’m saying, Sheldon," she stirred away the froth, "is strap on a pair and go talk to Amy."
And that is the first real advice I’ve given lately, she thought. I’m not going to interfere anymore. Let the chips lay where they land; even if I fall.
"’Strap on a pair’?" Sheldon shakes his head, "like what, skates?"
Why? Why! She’s given up asking. Her brain has fried enough and nothing makes sense anymore. Why is it Sheldon that makes her chest hurt?
"Oh, sweetie, you are so not the guy."
You can’t be the guy.
Leonard calls him from the other apartment and she is left with a pan of purple slop and four day old pad thai overheated. All is overcooked.
She pushes takeout bowl over the counter where it lands neatly in the garbage. She sets the spoon on the counter and drops the pan in the sink. Beet juice splashes upover the side of the sink.
A hot, splotchy patch of purple blossoms on her chest, "I hate beets." Stupid tears.
_______________
Its Friday again and Penny is grabbing some last minute groceries from the market down the street, the one without Sheldon’s special mustard.
She ignores that thought.
She has been coaching herself over the last several weeks since Amy announced the official beginning of her relationship status with Sheldon.
Penny had looked long and hard at her friend. Her best friend, really. The best one she’d ever had.
She’d spent enough time with the girls in high school. The same faces she’d seen from kindergarten; through Barbie’s and makeup, through first kisses and snitches. Where two faces and masks had been the social prerequisites to get through unscathed. Penny learned to guard herself and play a part.
With Amy she could be herself. The pretenses were ignored and it didn’t matter whether she was pretty or smart, whether or not she read more than the monthly Cosmo, or what Penny feared was becoming of herself.
It didn’t matter because Amy would listen and not belittle her eccentricities. She might ask to attach a random electrode, but she wouldn’t demean or steal or corrupt her feelings.
"Hi, Penny." Penny jumps and accidentally drops the bag of chips she was adding to her order on the floor.
Its Stuart standing behind her in the checkout line. They chat for a minute while the checker boy bags her groceries. He seems down and she understands. She grabs her bags, the bottles clang together, and smiles apologetically. She has to go.
He holds up a piece of paper. "Its okay,I'm headed to the pharmacy."
Its girl’s night. She no longer wonders what else she could be doing. There's nowhere she'd rather be and this time they do play twister: shirts and shirts.
The wine is bitter and flows down her throat like acid. Why does she drink this stuff?
Knock, knock, knock.
"Penny."
Knock, knock, knock.
"Amy."
Knock, knock, knock.
"Bernadette."
She’s knows why.
That’s her knock, that’s her Sheldon, with her best friend.
And thats her splinter.
Author: Taclln
Rating: T
Word Count: 3888
Prompt: Sheldon and Amy are in an actual relationship, and Penny, looking on, finally realises and acknowledges that who she really wants to be with is Sheldon. A reworking of the season five, episode ten The Flaming Spittoon Aquisition from the POV of Penny.
A/N to R0semonkey: Thanks for the prompts and I hope you like it!
Muddy Whiskers
By taclln
"The beet is the most intense of vegetables. The radish, admittedly, is more feverish, but the fire of the radish is a cold fire, the fire of discontent not of passion. Tomatoes are lusty enough, yet there runs through tomatoes an undercurrent of frivolity. Beets are deadly serious.
The beet is the melancholy vegetable, the one most willing to suffer. You can't squeeze blood out of a turnip...
The beet is what happens when the cherry finishes with the carrot. The beet is the ancient ancestor of the autumn moon, bearded, buried, all but fossilized; the dark green sails of the grounded moon-boat stitched with veins of primordial plasma; the kite string that once connected the moon to the Earth now a muddy whisker drilling desperately for rubies.
― Tom Robbins. Jitterbug Perfume
Shoulders back and arms stretched high behind her head, Penny lifted onto her toes and groaned loudly in satisfaction as her body popped into place.
She grinned and raised her pink clipboard off the counter, "Cross off 'organize kitchen pantry'."
"Now," she held up a lone can of sliced beets. "Where do I put you?"
The can had been in the back corner of a bottom cupboard stuffed behind the pots and pans. The label yellowed and the can dusty but whole and without dents or bulges. It must have been there from before she’d moved in.
Her hand hovered hesitantly over the garbage bin. Cans last forever, right? They had to or else Sheldon wouldn’t have an entire closet devoted to his stockpile of post apocalyptic non-perishables. She snorted, "In case of starvation: raid 4A."
But still, where to place it? Not with canned fruit: beets are sweet but they’re definitely not sugar sweet like peaches or pineapples. She studied her cupboard stacked three deep and two high; fruit on shelf one, vegetables on shelf two.
She reached up a finger to flatten the orange flower sticker marked with the number three: boxes of Hamburger Helper, Rice-a-Roni, and spaghetti noodles on the top shelf.
She set the can on the counter and glanced at the clock. 6:15. She’d worked through lunch. Her kitchen sparkled and smelled lemon fresh like it never had before and her living-room was clutter free; she’d even vacuumed under the couch. She crossed another thing off the list and set the clipboard down with the beets.
She crossed the room and flopped into a chair at her small table. She fingered the wrinkled edges of a large, colorful chart sprawled across the surface. It was wrinkled and coca-cola stained and had the look of carelessly crumpled work smoothed flat again several times over.
Sheldon had gifted her with a copy of his very own "Hygiene Efficiency Protocol" consisting of five bulleted charts; one for each room in her apartment and for herself.
_______________
"Really, Penny," he said from where he stood just inside the doorway, one foot poised in the hallway. His nose had scrunched up, most likely from the smell of stale beer and old pizza boxes stacked next to her coffee table.
"I have accepted the high probability of pain to my genitals that might stem from an attempt to reiterate once again that I find it very difficult knowing that that there is only a door between myself and whatever bacteria is germinating in this petry dish of doom you dwell in." His arms crossed.
She planted her feet and raised her body to its full height, "Yeah, well, from what I've heard, even small differences to the initial condition can yield widely diverging outcomes. You can’t know that I won’t just throw this into the chaos behind me to be lost forever!"
Inside she cackled. Oh yeah, she’d practiced those lines forever.
She wasn’t completely sure she knew what Leonard had tried to explain to her, but Sheldon's jaw dropped and he paused before responding, "That certainly is the most probable outcome when it comes to you," He thummed the edge of the diagram. "Or you may recognise this for the resource it is and--"
His eyes narrowed, his thick lashes veiled the cerulean blue she loved so much. Butterflies fluttered in her chest and warmth pooled in her belly. She bit her lip.
Wait. What? She coughed and choked on the gum she’d forgotten she was chewing.
Penny stepped forward and snatched the chart from the hand that had not risen to protect his mouth when she started hacking. "Goodnight Sheldon." She closed the door on his face and slumped against it before sliding to the floor.
Her shirt caught between her and the door and rose so that her heated skin lay flush with the cool wood. Her heart seemed overly loud in her chest but beat strong and not too fast. She felt like her brain was flashing a million images a minute; each one clear but gone before she could focus completely on what they meant.
Sheldon.
Sheldon: the man-child, mad scientist, the nerd, the obsessive compulsive ass-burger! She giggled and the sound was slightly hysterical in the silence of her apartment.
His ineptitude in any capacity in social interaction, his inability to touch or be touched with out cringing and reaching for the Purel in his back pocket, Sheldon.
Sheldon, whose life revolved only with the help of the strict adherence to a set of rules that was ultimately dictated by the frequency of his bowel movements.
His derision, his, pride, his self-importance.
His comic books and action figures. His video games and his Honey Mustard.
His layered shirts and his plaid pants. The horrible beige wind-breaker.
Her neighbor, her friend. Sheldon, whose self satisfaction as star in his field was a constant thorn in her side when compared to the uncertainty of her own feeble dreams of stardom.
And underneath the armor, tucked somewhere, was a heart. He didn't often show it, but Sheldon had a huge heart.
Sheldon considered her one of his people. He’d made room around his schedule for her. He’s stopped griping about the milk she stole frequently from his apartment or the Wi-fi she mooched. He partnered her in halo and trusted her to handle his food.
He liked when she made spaghetti and helped her with glitter and rhinestones.
She coughed and shook her head. She pinched her hand, Nope, "I do not see a waterfall of penny blossoms."
She giggled again, her throat clogging with tears.
She remembers the hug from two Christmases ago. She would never top that Nemoy napkin. Not unless Williams Shatner were to drop a spoon.
Vapo-Rub counterclockwise and a special song; the hug again, last February, and the Valentine’s Day flu. Together.
Her dislocated shoulder. He’d peeked!
The tears were flowing now, "Sheldon," she said to herself.
"Sing Soft Kitty."
She called in sick that day.
_______________
A knock at the door jogs her from her memory. It’s a sharp two raps that is as distinctive to Amy as nine knocks and three Pennys is to Sheldon or the soft and hesitant brushing of knuckles is to Leonard.
She smiles as she opens the door to Amy and Bernadette, "Hello ladies!" They step inside and shrug off their jackets, kicking their shoes into the corner next to her TV.
Bernadette holds up a lumpy plastic bag, "I brought sweets! Howie’s mother made us some chocolate brownies for our girl’s night!"
"And I brought games," Amy piped up from behind the shorter woman. "Anyone up for strip boggle?"
Oh, good Lord. Penny led the way to the kitchen where she pulled a bottle of wine from the bottom shelf of the kitchenette.
"Wow, Penny, its so shiny!" Bernadette’s wandered from the kitchen, around her living room, and to where she could just see into Penny’s bedroom.
Penny beamed but admitted, "I can’t take all the credit though."
She gestured with her wine glass at the chart on the table. "Sheldon presented me with his finest work."
Amy picked it up to study, shifting slightly so Bernadette could look as well.
"Oh that’s nice," Bernadette squeaked. "He even put cute fuzzy kitty stickers on it."
Penny smiled agreeably but shook her head.
Amy hummed behind them and said, "If by 'cute' you mean their uncanny ability to finely tune the tones and pitches of their meows so they can better manipulate you into doing what they want or," she sniffed and continued, "maybe its their habit of bringing home the carcasses of dead animals to show you what happens when your eye is turned that really makes them shine in the hearts of many little girls and boys."
Amy smiled and stroked the ridge of the fuzzy sticker, "Then, yes."
Penny catches the frozen smile on Bernadette’s face and laughs nervously, "Er, no Bernadette; that was me. And the color, and the glitter,"
Penny reached out and tugged at the chart, "Thanks Amy." She shoves a glass of wine in her hand instead, and tacks the chart onto the wall.
Amy rotates the glass in her hand and sips from the spot Penny had only a second before. She searches for the clock above the kitchen sink which now read 6:32, "Hey, Bestie," She points at a spot on the chart, hinting: "Don’t you have somewhere to be?"
Penny makes a face, "I may have succumbed to a clean-up schedule but I’ll be damned if I adhere to any other directive on that list!" She was very firm in her stance that Sheldon would have absolutely no control over her own bodily functions. It would cost Sheldon something significantly more than chocolate to potty train her.
Bernadette giggled from the kitchen where she was pulling a bag of popcorn from the microwave. Penny poured wine into another glass and drank deeply. Amy eyed her silently and helped Bernadette unwrap the miles of cellophane from the plate of Mrs. Wolowitz’s brownies.
Penny tuned them out as she poured a little more to top off the wine still in the glass. She’s caught in denial, she knows. Her chests hurts, it’d been aching for couple days now.
She swallows another gulp and empties the bottle into her glass. Another one gone and the girls notice.
Penny suddenly wants the night to speed up. It had sounded like a good idea earlier in the day. She’d finally completed Sheldon’s checklist with the exception of chart number five, and Fridays were becoming more and more her night with the girls. She looked forward to them. It had already been fitted to her new timetable.
She is reaching for the Peach schnapps on her fridge when a picture on the door catches her eye.
It was taken two years ago during the assembly line of the second batch of Penny Blossoms. Sheldon’s head was bent over her hand. She was holding a blossom and he was gluing a rhinestone to the two-thousandth penny blossom. His hand gripped her wrist to steady it as he tried to drop a rhinestone in the center.
She remembered his hand had been warm. She’d felt the slight callus of his middle finger from where he regularly gripped a dry erase marker. She’d though at the time that it was strange that his hands felt so soft and so strong. The muscles in his forearms rolling subtly under the skin. His face had bent close to hers and she could feel his breath puffing softly over her cheek. The picture was snapped, the flash had made them both blink. The flower had fallen to the floor.
She shivered and rubbed her wrist where she swore she could still feel his phantom touch. She didn’t think he’d even noticed that he’d been touching another person. He hadn’t cringed or snapped his hand back, or reached for the hand sanitizer.
What she hadn’t noticed then, she did now.
"I think a boy likes me!" Amy’s exclamation tugs her from her thoughts. Penny listens as Bernadette reads the text from Stuart.
Her chest lightens and her thoughts clear for just a moment, "Amy, you vixen!"
She ignores that feeling that was quickly turning sour in her gut as she encouraged Amy to seek new options. Stuart was a good guy. A great guy, even, she’d had fun for the most part on her own date with him.
He might be good for Amy. He would be good.
The sour feeling grew and she tried to ignore the confusion and uncertainty in her friends face.
_______________
The girls had left her with a note and a blanket. Apparently, she’d fallen asleep in the bathroom again. From the bitter taste and the sandpaper feeling in the throat she didn’t need to remember how last night had ended for her.
She pulled herself to the faucet and propped her elbows on the sink as she splashed cold water on her face.
She glowered at the face in the mirror.
Last nights mascara smudged her under eyes and a dried patch of drool had glued a tangled curl to her cheek.
She could hear her alarm in her bedroom tinkling out the Carebears Countdown, "5, 4, 3, 2, 1!"
It was 11am. She needed to get to work, her shift started at one. It was only a short shift but she promised she’d cover for one of the girls and Saturday afternoon really was the best shift for tips.
She slipped out of her clothes and stepped into the shower and let the first three second blast of chilly water clear her head.
Her thoughts turned to Amy as she shampooed her hair. Penny was ashamed of herself. She felt like she’d manipulated her friend into accepting Stuarts date.
Amy hadn’t seemed too bummed, right?
The rest of last night was hazy but she does remember laughing and giggling as they all tried on clothes from Penny’s closet trying to find Amy an outfit.
Amy had seemed excited and spent the night trading texts with Stuart and commenting on the clothes the girls tried to cajole her into.
Talk of Sheldon was limited only as a contrast to highlight the prospect of a new love interest.
Penny ignored the glances Amy kept throwing towards the door. She’d been looking for Sheldon.
So was Penny.
_______________
It turned out to be a slow afternoon at the Cheesecake Factory. A good thing, because she’d found her mind wandering too much and she’d messed up an order. She was glad when the manager let her off a little early.
She got home and changed into pajama pants and an old ratty sweatshirt that she’d cut the arms and neck off of. She cleaned up the popcorn bowl and empty wine bottles from the coffee table in the living room; she really needed to stop drinking that stuff. It only served to cause poor judgment, double vision, and body aches.
She washed Mrs. Wolowitz’s plate and set it on the counter next to the stove. She’d return it to Bernadette tomorrow. Her eye caught on the can of beets and she reached for a can opener.
Her mom used to cut beets on top of salads. Her dad liked them warm and served with anything. Penny couldn’t remember whether she liked them or not.
They wouldn’t normally be her first choice of for a side but she still wasn’t sure what shelf it belonged on. And her stomach grumbled.
She found a left over take away bowl of pad thai in the refrigerator and set it to heat in the microwave. She watched it turn round inside the box for a moment.
She crossed to her TV for the remote when she heard the faint sound of a door opening in the hall.
Her heart skipped and she strained her ear, holding her breath. She jumped only slightly when she heard the anticipated
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Who do we love!"
"Penny."
Penny.
Penny!
She grinned and reached for the door.
"Hello, Sheldon, come on in." she said as she headed back to the kitchen.
He was wearing blue; her favorite color on him. She knew he preferred Flash red but the blue softened him and brought out the cornflower in his eyes. It caused that odd fluttery feeling inside her belly again, only this time she knew why.
"Thank you," he said as he closed the door behind him.
She stirred the beets in the pan and swiped a finger against the wooden spoon.
"I came to ask," he started. She tasted her finger as he continued, "If you would like to go on a date with me."
She coughed and her eyes widened, "I’m sorry. What?"
She pinched herself as he swaggered towards her attempting to look nonchalant. The microwave beeping jolted her from the way he rested his long fingered hands on the counter.
And then she knew. Her gut sunk, he’d heard about Amy and Stuart. "Oh God, you trying to make Amy jealous?"
Not with me, you aren’t, she thought as she jabbed open the microwave. The tip of a finger gets caught in the steaming bowl and she hisses quietly in pain.
"No!" he exclaimed behind her. "Why is everyone so obsessed with Amy and Stuart?"
She stirred the pad thai, her burned finger sticking up, and watched his rant.
He was wound tight, "And whether they may be having more pumpkin lattes or intercourse tonight." His arms swung loosely with each point. He was frustrated and confused. The numbers didn’t add up.
Amy.
Her heart clenched and she remembered Amy's gaze towards 4A last night. Amy, who was out with Stuart right now had listened to Penny’s advice to look elsewhere.
Crap.
"Look, listen to me," And this time she would listen to herself. "Playing games is not gonna help get Amy back."
"I’m not trying to get her back!"
If it didn’t hurt so much, Penny might find this situation amusing. Sheldor, her knight in shining armor, fighting for another lady.
"Alright, honey, let me tell you a story," She took a breath and clasped her hands on the counter. "There’s a guy I liked. And I never told him how I felt. Eventually he started going out with someone else and I always regretted it." She did now, anyway
She took a deep breath and held it in.
Alright, Amy, he’s all yours.
She exhaled.
"Do you see where I’m going with this?" She gestured with her hands.
"I believe I do," Sheldon nodded sagely.
Good, she thought nodding with him, now let me be.
She caught the glint in his eye, "I’m the guy."
She wanted to laugh. If that wasn’t irony, she wasn’t sure what is.
She pictured her acting coach in her mind. Acting face, Penny! And direct: "You’re not the guy." Stare into his eyes and make it the truth.
"Are you sure?"
She bit her cheek. It would explain so much.
"Your constant presence in my apartment," She really was at theirs more than her own. But she'd declined when Leonard had caught her in the hallway just tonight and invited her in. She’d been avoiding their place for days.
"That baffling dalliance with Leonard," Yeah, she was baffled on that one too. "Just to be near me."
If only she'd known.
"And the way you call me sweetie all the time," he finished.
Her face still, "I call everyone ‘sweetie’."
Sheldon was different.
"You tramp."
"Ugh." Hands trembling slightly, she switched off the burner. The beets were simmering and purple froth was forming in the pan.
How does he know this when she had barely even acknowledged anything yet? How long had this been going on? And how the hell did he figure anything when even the most obvious social indicators were beyond his comprehension?
"All I’m saying, Sheldon," she stirred away the froth, "is strap on a pair and go talk to Amy."
And that is the first real advice I’ve given lately, she thought. I’m not going to interfere anymore. Let the chips lay where they land; even if I fall.
"’Strap on a pair’?" Sheldon shakes his head, "like what, skates?"
Why? Why! She’s given up asking. Her brain has fried enough and nothing makes sense anymore. Why is it Sheldon that makes her chest hurt?
"Oh, sweetie, you are so not the guy."
You can’t be the guy.
Leonard calls him from the other apartment and she is left with a pan of purple slop and four day old pad thai overheated. All is overcooked.
She pushes takeout bowl over the counter where it lands neatly in the garbage. She sets the spoon on the counter and drops the pan in the sink. Beet juice splashes upover the side of the sink.
A hot, splotchy patch of purple blossoms on her chest, "I hate beets." Stupid tears.
_______________
Its Friday again and Penny is grabbing some last minute groceries from the market down the street, the one without Sheldon’s special mustard.
She ignores that thought.
She has been coaching herself over the last several weeks since Amy announced the official beginning of her relationship status with Sheldon.
Penny had looked long and hard at her friend. Her best friend, really. The best one she’d ever had.
She’d spent enough time with the girls in high school. The same faces she’d seen from kindergarten; through Barbie’s and makeup, through first kisses and snitches. Where two faces and masks had been the social prerequisites to get through unscathed. Penny learned to guard herself and play a part.
With Amy she could be herself. The pretenses were ignored and it didn’t matter whether she was pretty or smart, whether or not she read more than the monthly Cosmo, or what Penny feared was becoming of herself.
It didn’t matter because Amy would listen and not belittle her eccentricities. She might ask to attach a random electrode, but she wouldn’t demean or steal or corrupt her feelings.
"Hi, Penny." Penny jumps and accidentally drops the bag of chips she was adding to her order on the floor.
Its Stuart standing behind her in the checkout line. They chat for a minute while the checker boy bags her groceries. He seems down and she understands. She grabs her bags, the bottles clang together, and smiles apologetically. She has to go.
He holds up a piece of paper. "Its okay,I'm headed to the pharmacy."
Its girl’s night. She no longer wonders what else she could be doing. There's nowhere she'd rather be and this time they do play twister: shirts and shirts.
The wine is bitter and flows down her throat like acid. Why does she drink this stuff?
Knock, knock, knock.
"Penny."
Knock, knock, knock.
"Amy."
Knock, knock, knock.
"Bernadette."
She’s knows why.
That’s her knock, that’s her Sheldon, with her best friend.
And thats her splinter.