2 ficlets {sheldon/penny}
Spam 3/3.
Title: There's A Reason It's A Trope
Fandom: The Big Bang Theory
Characters/Pairings: Sheldon/Penny
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 640
Summary: A boy. A girl. A shared hotel room. This always goes the same way.
“Penny.”
It’s at the point where, if she hears her name one more time, she might scream. She ducks her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth and foam around the corners of her lips. Sheldon’s just standing there, in those awful plaid pajamas (it is far too warm for those here, really), five feet away from the bed and his foot shifting out like he might need to be farther.
So. This is awkward.
She rinses and spits, takes her time doing it too so that she can think up a whole sentence or two that will magically make this easier.
“Okay,” she starts, pats her face dry on the hand towel of questionable origin hanging from the towel rack (he brought his own sheets, but the towels are the hotels and he regards them like they make his skin crawl - but he still has to shower at least once, and preferably twice, a day), and then takes up residence in the doorframe leading out into the bedroom-slash-living-area thing they’ve got going here. “Here’s the thing. Actually here’s two things.”
He harrumphs, skin given a little sheen in the light. Air conditioner or not, he’s going to lose the shirt part of those pajamas and he’s wearing a white t-shirt under it so, really, not a big deal about modesty here or anything. She’s in shorts and a tank. Like always. The skin-to-skin ratio here is just sad.
“Number one, I can’t sleep in the same bed with Leonard. We used to sleep together. As weird as this is, it would be worse. Number two, we played rock-paper-scissors for you; I lost. Number three - ”
“You said two.” In the time it takes for her to glare he also adds, “Also, rock-paper-scissors is by far inferior to - ”
If he can cut her off, she can return the favor. “Number three,” she says it loud enough that he stops, but still looks perplexed and kind of annoyed. “It’s not my fault that there was only two rooms available, it’s the hotel’s. Now get in the bed and go to sleep. You won’t even know I’m there.”
“You snore.”
“That’s never been proven.” She grabs her lotion out of her suitcase, rubs it on her arms and her legs, and he watches for a second too long. Not going there.
“Would you like me to play the recording for you again?”
“Fine. You talk in your sleep.” He opens his mouth to deny it, but she finishes before he can. “Would you like me to play my recording?”
Her eyes follow him as he closes the distance between himself and the bed, pulling back the covers, fluffing the pillows, inspecting the whole damn set up, and then slowly climbing in. He’s mummified within the first minute but his eyes aren’t closed. Wide open and concern mixes with terror.
Penny puts the lotion away, turns off the light, and climbs under the covers, not at all as carefully as he did. It dislodges his blankets a little, and he pulls at them, while she separates the sheets from the comforter, throwing the top layer down so it covers just below her hips. He’s fidgets with the blankets for a moment, then settles.
She knows it’s coming before he even opens his mouth.
Her name. In that tone.
“Yes?”
“I’ve seen this exact situation occur in a slew of television shows. It appears to be some sort of plot device that never ends well.”
Oh, no, it always ends well. His definition is just skewed. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
A break.
Then.
“Penny?”
“What?”
“That’s also a fairly common line of dialogue in said situations. I believe they refer to this as a trope.”
“Go to sleep.”
Pause.
She can hear his watch ticking.
“Alrighty.”
-
Title: Celsius 2878
Fandom: The Big Bang Theory
Characters/Pairings: Sheldon/Penny
Rating: PG
Word Count: 650
Summary: Childhood AU. Yellow Cake Uranium is not something you joke about. Apparently. Not that she would know, being a normal thirteen year old and all.
Sometimes, she thinks she drives him more than a little crazy.
Like when she’s in his house, leaning over his shoulder while he tries to order that weird rock he’s become relatively obsessed with in the last week. It’s out of a catalogue with a name that she can’t pronounce much less understand.
They sell fireworks though, the illegal kind, and that was reason number two why she ripped it out of his hands and ran off with it yesterday.
Reason number one was an attempt to figure out what the hell he was so interested in.
He caught her and they both ended up rolling in the freshly cut grass in his backyard. There was a stain on the hem of her white shorts but she didn’t really care when she was laughing so hard.
The catalogue had survived.
“So what is it?”
Her chin rests on his shoulder, bent over the back of his couch. He’s given up at batting her away.
“Yellow cake uranium,” he says, simply, like it’s all the explanation she might need.
Penny’s eyes brighten. Maybe it only looks rock like. He did say cake. “Sounds delicious.”
He glares and, when he apparently gets that she’s not kidding, he backs right the fuck up. “No, Penny, it is far from delicious.”
“You can’t eat it?”
Sheldon looks horrified. “No.”
She shrugs. Not every thirteen year old can be as smart as him. “Well, you said cake.”
“Yellow cake uranium,” he’s over-enunciating, which means he expects her to remember this; she won’t, “is used in preparation of fuel for nuclear rectors. In some forms, it’s used to breed plutonium.”
“That’s a bad thing right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re trying to get your hands on some of it?”
“Yes.”
Just like her and the fireworks. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
Title: There's A Reason It's A Trope
Fandom: The Big Bang Theory
Characters/Pairings: Sheldon/Penny
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 640
Summary: A boy. A girl. A shared hotel room. This always goes the same way.
“Penny.”
It’s at the point where, if she hears her name one more time, she might scream. She ducks her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth and foam around the corners of her lips. Sheldon’s just standing there, in those awful plaid pajamas (it is far too warm for those here, really), five feet away from the bed and his foot shifting out like he might need to be farther.
So. This is awkward.
She rinses and spits, takes her time doing it too so that she can think up a whole sentence or two that will magically make this easier.
“Okay,” she starts, pats her face dry on the hand towel of questionable origin hanging from the towel rack (he brought his own sheets, but the towels are the hotels and he regards them like they make his skin crawl - but he still has to shower at least once, and preferably twice, a day), and then takes up residence in the doorframe leading out into the bedroom-slash-living-area thing they’ve got going here. “Here’s the thing. Actually here’s two things.”
He harrumphs, skin given a little sheen in the light. Air conditioner or not, he’s going to lose the shirt part of those pajamas and he’s wearing a white t-shirt under it so, really, not a big deal about modesty here or anything. She’s in shorts and a tank. Like always. The skin-to-skin ratio here is just sad.
“Number one, I can’t sleep in the same bed with Leonard. We used to sleep together. As weird as this is, it would be worse. Number two, we played rock-paper-scissors for you; I lost. Number three - ”
“You said two.” In the time it takes for her to glare he also adds, “Also, rock-paper-scissors is by far inferior to - ”
If he can cut her off, she can return the favor. “Number three,” she says it loud enough that he stops, but still looks perplexed and kind of annoyed. “It’s not my fault that there was only two rooms available, it’s the hotel’s. Now get in the bed and go to sleep. You won’t even know I’m there.”
“You snore.”
“That’s never been proven.” She grabs her lotion out of her suitcase, rubs it on her arms and her legs, and he watches for a second too long. Not going there.
“Would you like me to play the recording for you again?”
“Fine. You talk in your sleep.” He opens his mouth to deny it, but she finishes before he can. “Would you like me to play my recording?”
Her eyes follow him as he closes the distance between himself and the bed, pulling back the covers, fluffing the pillows, inspecting the whole damn set up, and then slowly climbing in. He’s mummified within the first minute but his eyes aren’t closed. Wide open and concern mixes with terror.
Penny puts the lotion away, turns off the light, and climbs under the covers, not at all as carefully as he did. It dislodges his blankets a little, and he pulls at them, while she separates the sheets from the comforter, throwing the top layer down so it covers just below her hips. He’s fidgets with the blankets for a moment, then settles.
She knows it’s coming before he even opens his mouth.
Her name. In that tone.
“Yes?”
“I’ve seen this exact situation occur in a slew of television shows. It appears to be some sort of plot device that never ends well.”
Oh, no, it always ends well. His definition is just skewed. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
A break.
Then.
“Penny?”
“What?”
“That’s also a fairly common line of dialogue in said situations. I believe they refer to this as a trope.”
“Go to sleep.”
Pause.
She can hear his watch ticking.
“Alrighty.”
-
Title: Celsius 2878
Fandom: The Big Bang Theory
Characters/Pairings: Sheldon/Penny
Rating: PG
Word Count: 650
Summary: Childhood AU. Yellow Cake Uranium is not something you joke about. Apparently. Not that she would know, being a normal thirteen year old and all.
Sometimes, she thinks she drives him more than a little crazy.
Like when she’s in his house, leaning over his shoulder while he tries to order that weird rock he’s become relatively obsessed with in the last week. It’s out of a catalogue with a name that she can’t pronounce much less understand.
They sell fireworks though, the illegal kind, and that was reason number two why she ripped it out of his hands and ran off with it yesterday.
Reason number one was an attempt to figure out what the hell he was so interested in.
He caught her and they both ended up rolling in the freshly cut grass in his backyard. There was a stain on the hem of her white shorts but she didn’t really care when she was laughing so hard.
The catalogue had survived.
“So what is it?”
Her chin rests on his shoulder, bent over the back of his couch. He’s given up at batting her away.
“Yellow cake uranium,” he says, simply, like it’s all the explanation she might need.
Penny’s eyes brighten. Maybe it only looks rock like. He did say cake. “Sounds delicious.”
He glares and, when he apparently gets that she’s not kidding, he backs right the fuck up. “No, Penny, it is far from delicious.”
“You can’t eat it?”
Sheldon looks horrified. “No.”
She shrugs. Not every thirteen year old can be as smart as him. “Well, you said cake.”
“Yellow cake uranium,” he’s over-enunciating, which means he expects her to remember this; she won’t, “is used in preparation of fuel for nuclear rectors. In some forms, it’s used to breed plutonium.”
“That’s a bad thing right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re trying to get your hands on some of it?”
“Yes.”
Just like her and the fireworks. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”