chemistry of a car crash {sheldon/penny}
Post #2 for porn battle. Currently working on: Grey's Anatomy, BSG, and...TBBT. Go figure.
Title: Chemistry Of A Car Crash
Fandom: The Big Bang Theory
Characters/Pairings: Sheldon/Penny
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,757
Author's Note: I think I'm addicted. For the prompt roadtrip, over at the Porn Battle VIII.
Summary:There are three factors that led to this moment in time, this very surprising, mildly terrifying moment in time, one which she will never, ever, mention to anyone.
There are three factors that led to this moment in time, this very surprising, mildly terrifying moment in time, one which she will never, ever, mention to anyone.
Factor one, there is a conference in Seattle, one in which Sheldon has been invited to, and, despite his hatred for social conventions and horrible communication skills, he’s hell-bent on going, because apparently his mother raised him with manners. Odd manners, but manners all the same.
Factor two, Sheldon doesn’t drive. Someone has to drive him, everywhere, at all times. Sheldon also doesn’t fly or take public transportation, unless accompanied. There is a much longer explanation to that one, that might be along the same lines as why he won’t go to the movie theater alone, but she unfortunately blocked that out as something she would never need to know, which is a mistake because you need to know specifics in order to counter Sheldon’s arguments if you have any hope of winning one, and even then your chances are pretty much slim to none, not because you’re wrong, but because he argues in increasingly wordy and scientific sounding circles.
Factor three, Leonard has some very important project that he’s working on, one which he refuses to name or describe, under the guise of it all being far too boring. Penny asks if he’s calling her stupid. He makes up some lame excuse. She decides it’s in both their best interests if she pretends that he’s really just trying to get her to go instead of him, and is therefore lying to her. It’s kind of sad that it’s the preferable option. Later, she finds out it’s the correct one. Which is not the point - the point is that Leonard is busy, and Penny has the next few days off due to some major shift screw up that she had initially counted as a blessing, before all of this came up, and so he’s decided that it falls on her.
He also asked her to do it while she was drunk. That may have had something to do with her saying yes, without all that much hassle. She doesn’t know; she doesn’t really remember that conversation or that night all too clearly. She just knows what she was told, and the way Leonard winced when she called him a “crafty motherfucker”, emphasis on the second word.
So they drive out on a Sunday, her and Sheldon and the radio that he keeps complaining about, in her car that he’s taken to pointing out the flaws in when it comes to terms of gas mileage and long distance travel.
By hour four, Penny is seriously considering dropping him off on the side of the road and making him hitchhike his way to Seattle, before she thinks better of it. Not because it’s dangerous, which it is but probably not for him (because somehow, Penny’s mildly sure that he can outwit almost anyone), but because she’s deep down a nice girl who wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
“The speed limit is fifty-five,” he points out, not at all helpfully considering she saw the sign half a mile back and she knows. She can in fact read the big black letters on the even bigger sign. That’s kind of the point of its size.
“I know that Sheldon,” she replies, still bothering with the smile that she doesn’t mean at all by now, this being hour six.
“Well then why are you going seventy?” He asks, sounding truly confused, and maybe even a little worried, about this.
She weighs the pros and cons of giving him a sarcastic answer versus an actual one. The sarcastic one would probably just take another two minutes of frustrating explanation, in exchange for the maybe five or ten seconds of amusement and satisfaction that she’d get from saying it, so she bites it back and settles for, “Because we’re on a long stretch of road that no one else, including the cops, are actually on. And because this way we get there faster.”
“But how do you know there aren’t cameras taking your picture at this very second, sending them off to the cops who will then send you a ticket which you will no doubt complain about later?”
It’s not that it isn’t a valid point, because she’s heard of weirder things, it’s just that she’s willing to take the chance and go fifteen above the speed limit if it gets her out of this car faster. “There probably aren’t cameras Sheldon.”
“But how do you know?” He inquires, in this excruciatingly annoying voice, not at all ready to let go of this unless she produces an answer that is backed by logic or facts or whatever he deems an actual answer.
“Because I know,” she replies, her voice only a fraction louder than before. If she had the time, she would congratulate herself on a job well done at remaining calm even when she feels like her head might explode. She doesn’t even want to think about the trip back.
“But that’s impossible, unless you’re claiming to be some kind of psychic or prophet, both of which are highly unreliable not to mention - “ she jerks the car around, pulling off onto the shoulder on impulse, “what are you doing? I’m fairly sure that’s not an exit.”
The car comes to a stop a little too close to the grassy side of the road, and she’s sure he’ll complain about that if she gives him the chance, but he’s still too focused on the fact that she even pulled off of the road in the first place. With the car stopped she’s free to turn her attention fully onto him, and she does so, facing him and looking him right in the eye, just the way they taught her in that acting class that she took that was all about conveying meaning to the audience or whatever, as she says, “I will literally do anything to get you to just sit there and be quiet for the next hour or so.”
“Would you jump off of a bridge? Or eat bull testicles like on those horrifyingly bad reality shows that America is supposedly addicted to?” It’s an honest question, maybe, and she frowns at him like he’s lost his mind, which he correctly assumes means that, no, she would not. “Well then that’s just not true. It’s not possible in fact.”
He’s about to go on. She knows it too, and she knows that once he starts there’s nothing to do but argue it out with him or hope that there’s ductape in the trunk, which there probably isn’t, so she does the next thing she can think of to do in order to keep his lips from moving, and ends up kissing him.
And in that moment, she wants to kill Sheldon and Leonard and quite possibly the entire city of Seattle and the idiots holding this conference for having the gall to get her stuck in this car with Sheldon and then having her kiss him of all things.
The surprises start here. Namely, he actually kisses her back. She kind of figured that he’d be stunned into both silence and, you know, immobility, and so she hadn’t worried about it being anything other than a peck on the lips that was entirely restrained and not at all hot. All about the shock factor. She hadn’t actually anticipated any sort of response coming from him, but it definitely comes, because his mouth opens against hers, and his hand kind of moves to rest against her side, along the curve of her body in this weird way like it actually kind of fits there nicely, warm and firm.
She kind of murmurs something, into his mouth, something that she’s not even sure of the meaning of, just that it was kind of questioning, and then she lets her tongue slip out and tangle with his and they kind of find this weird rhythm and she didn’t even think Sheldon was capable of, because she doesn’t really see Sheldon and think about things like sexual prowess or experience or, you know, anything to do with relationships and lips and tongues and roaming hands. She just thinks of that goofy, incredibly smart guy who lives across the hall, the one that can both annoy and amuse her at the drop of a hat, depending on the day and her mood.
Penny lets her arm come off the steering wheel, turning her upper body towards him as much as she can, her hand grasping for purchase and ending up on his shoulder, fingers moving to span his back, and she feels the weird, grainy sort of texture of whatever emblem is on his shirt brush against her other arm as she moves awkwardly in the car. It’s definitely not her favorite place to make out with people, aside from the occasional go in the backseat, and that was mostly a high school thing anyways, but then again it’s not like she planned this.
His fingers find the hem of her thin tank top from the back and kind of pushes higher underneath it, but doesn’t do anything like unclasp her bra, which she isn’t sure he could do one-handed because that takes serious talent, or even slip his hands underneath it. He just moves his hands over the skin there, up and over her breasts, making her shiver when they skim over her nipples, and oh god, Sheldon should not be making her have the reactions that she is. This is just wrong.
They move closer into one another, but it’s not entirely possible with the gear shift and cupholders, among other things, blocking any serious movement, and she gets the armrest in the ribs before she finally pulls back for air and reevaluation.
“Okay,” and up until that point, when she looks at him and sees the points of color in his cheeks and the way his lips look after being kissed, she’s going to tell him that this is ridiculous and they’ve both proven their point, so lets just go, but it’s getting dark out and she almost doesn’t want to stop. She doesn’t quite know which decision she actually makes until she says, “I think it’s probably best…if we do this in the backseat.”
He nods. Actually nods. And they do. And she thinks of all the people that she’s going to kill for getting her in this situation in the first place.
Title: Chemistry Of A Car Crash
Fandom: The Big Bang Theory
Characters/Pairings: Sheldon/Penny
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,757
Author's Note: I think I'm addicted. For the prompt roadtrip, over at the Porn Battle VIII.
Summary:There are three factors that led to this moment in time, this very surprising, mildly terrifying moment in time, one which she will never, ever, mention to anyone.
There are three factors that led to this moment in time, this very surprising, mildly terrifying moment in time, one which she will never, ever, mention to anyone.
Factor one, there is a conference in Seattle, one in which Sheldon has been invited to, and, despite his hatred for social conventions and horrible communication skills, he’s hell-bent on going, because apparently his mother raised him with manners. Odd manners, but manners all the same.
Factor two, Sheldon doesn’t drive. Someone has to drive him, everywhere, at all times. Sheldon also doesn’t fly or take public transportation, unless accompanied. There is a much longer explanation to that one, that might be along the same lines as why he won’t go to the movie theater alone, but she unfortunately blocked that out as something she would never need to know, which is a mistake because you need to know specifics in order to counter Sheldon’s arguments if you have any hope of winning one, and even then your chances are pretty much slim to none, not because you’re wrong, but because he argues in increasingly wordy and scientific sounding circles.
Factor three, Leonard has some very important project that he’s working on, one which he refuses to name or describe, under the guise of it all being far too boring. Penny asks if he’s calling her stupid. He makes up some lame excuse. She decides it’s in both their best interests if she pretends that he’s really just trying to get her to go instead of him, and is therefore lying to her. It’s kind of sad that it’s the preferable option. Later, she finds out it’s the correct one. Which is not the point - the point is that Leonard is busy, and Penny has the next few days off due to some major shift screw up that she had initially counted as a blessing, before all of this came up, and so he’s decided that it falls on her.
He also asked her to do it while she was drunk. That may have had something to do with her saying yes, without all that much hassle. She doesn’t know; she doesn’t really remember that conversation or that night all too clearly. She just knows what she was told, and the way Leonard winced when she called him a “crafty motherfucker”, emphasis on the second word.
So they drive out on a Sunday, her and Sheldon and the radio that he keeps complaining about, in her car that he’s taken to pointing out the flaws in when it comes to terms of gas mileage and long distance travel.
By hour four, Penny is seriously considering dropping him off on the side of the road and making him hitchhike his way to Seattle, before she thinks better of it. Not because it’s dangerous, which it is but probably not for him (because somehow, Penny’s mildly sure that he can outwit almost anyone), but because she’s deep down a nice girl who wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
“The speed limit is fifty-five,” he points out, not at all helpfully considering she saw the sign half a mile back and she knows. She can in fact read the big black letters on the even bigger sign. That’s kind of the point of its size.
“I know that Sheldon,” she replies, still bothering with the smile that she doesn’t mean at all by now, this being hour six.
“Well then why are you going seventy?” He asks, sounding truly confused, and maybe even a little worried, about this.
She weighs the pros and cons of giving him a sarcastic answer versus an actual one. The sarcastic one would probably just take another two minutes of frustrating explanation, in exchange for the maybe five or ten seconds of amusement and satisfaction that she’d get from saying it, so she bites it back and settles for, “Because we’re on a long stretch of road that no one else, including the cops, are actually on. And because this way we get there faster.”
“But how do you know there aren’t cameras taking your picture at this very second, sending them off to the cops who will then send you a ticket which you will no doubt complain about later?”
It’s not that it isn’t a valid point, because she’s heard of weirder things, it’s just that she’s willing to take the chance and go fifteen above the speed limit if it gets her out of this car faster. “There probably aren’t cameras Sheldon.”
“But how do you know?” He inquires, in this excruciatingly annoying voice, not at all ready to let go of this unless she produces an answer that is backed by logic or facts or whatever he deems an actual answer.
“Because I know,” she replies, her voice only a fraction louder than before. If she had the time, she would congratulate herself on a job well done at remaining calm even when she feels like her head might explode. She doesn’t even want to think about the trip back.
“But that’s impossible, unless you’re claiming to be some kind of psychic or prophet, both of which are highly unreliable not to mention - “ she jerks the car around, pulling off onto the shoulder on impulse, “what are you doing? I’m fairly sure that’s not an exit.”
The car comes to a stop a little too close to the grassy side of the road, and she’s sure he’ll complain about that if she gives him the chance, but he’s still too focused on the fact that she even pulled off of the road in the first place. With the car stopped she’s free to turn her attention fully onto him, and she does so, facing him and looking him right in the eye, just the way they taught her in that acting class that she took that was all about conveying meaning to the audience or whatever, as she says, “I will literally do anything to get you to just sit there and be quiet for the next hour or so.”
“Would you jump off of a bridge? Or eat bull testicles like on those horrifyingly bad reality shows that America is supposedly addicted to?” It’s an honest question, maybe, and she frowns at him like he’s lost his mind, which he correctly assumes means that, no, she would not. “Well then that’s just not true. It’s not possible in fact.”
He’s about to go on. She knows it too, and she knows that once he starts there’s nothing to do but argue it out with him or hope that there’s ductape in the trunk, which there probably isn’t, so she does the next thing she can think of to do in order to keep his lips from moving, and ends up kissing him.
And in that moment, she wants to kill Sheldon and Leonard and quite possibly the entire city of Seattle and the idiots holding this conference for having the gall to get her stuck in this car with Sheldon and then having her kiss him of all things.
The surprises start here. Namely, he actually kisses her back. She kind of figured that he’d be stunned into both silence and, you know, immobility, and so she hadn’t worried about it being anything other than a peck on the lips that was entirely restrained and not at all hot. All about the shock factor. She hadn’t actually anticipated any sort of response coming from him, but it definitely comes, because his mouth opens against hers, and his hand kind of moves to rest against her side, along the curve of her body in this weird way like it actually kind of fits there nicely, warm and firm.
She kind of murmurs something, into his mouth, something that she’s not even sure of the meaning of, just that it was kind of questioning, and then she lets her tongue slip out and tangle with his and they kind of find this weird rhythm and she didn’t even think Sheldon was capable of, because she doesn’t really see Sheldon and think about things like sexual prowess or experience or, you know, anything to do with relationships and lips and tongues and roaming hands. She just thinks of that goofy, incredibly smart guy who lives across the hall, the one that can both annoy and amuse her at the drop of a hat, depending on the day and her mood.
Penny lets her arm come off the steering wheel, turning her upper body towards him as much as she can, her hand grasping for purchase and ending up on his shoulder, fingers moving to span his back, and she feels the weird, grainy sort of texture of whatever emblem is on his shirt brush against her other arm as she moves awkwardly in the car. It’s definitely not her favorite place to make out with people, aside from the occasional go in the backseat, and that was mostly a high school thing anyways, but then again it’s not like she planned this.
His fingers find the hem of her thin tank top from the back and kind of pushes higher underneath it, but doesn’t do anything like unclasp her bra, which she isn’t sure he could do one-handed because that takes serious talent, or even slip his hands underneath it. He just moves his hands over the skin there, up and over her breasts, making her shiver when they skim over her nipples, and oh god, Sheldon should not be making her have the reactions that she is. This is just wrong.
They move closer into one another, but it’s not entirely possible with the gear shift and cupholders, among other things, blocking any serious movement, and she gets the armrest in the ribs before she finally pulls back for air and reevaluation.
“Okay,” and up until that point, when she looks at him and sees the points of color in his cheeks and the way his lips look after being kissed, she’s going to tell him that this is ridiculous and they’ve both proven their point, so lets just go, but it’s getting dark out and she almost doesn’t want to stop. She doesn’t quite know which decision she actually makes until she says, “I think it’s probably best…if we do this in the backseat.”
He nods. Actually nods. And they do. And she thinks of all the people that she’s going to kill for getting her in this situation in the first place.