Drinking With Klingons
a/n - Dragon*Con 2010 broke the World Record for 'Most Costumed Star Trek Fans". You know the guys would have been all up in that...
There has never been any question as to what Sheldon would wear; there is no doubt that he looks somehow right with pointed ears. Leonard has gone with command gold, and Raj and Howard are trying not to read anything into their matching redshirts.
Penny has been keeping her costume a secret. Sheldon had fretted, but she had promised him that it would be accurate and appropriate.
“I still think she'd make a good Yeoman Rand.” Leonard mutters.
“With the short tunic and kinky boots?” Howard holds up his hands in the face of the most unVulcan glare. “Sorry, the authentic TOS era Starfleet uniform.”
“With Penny's colouring, I suggested that she should be Nurse Chapel.” Sheldon is trying to keep his face suitably impassive, but his eyes keep darting towards the door. “Then we have a representative of the Medical Services in our landing party.”
“You could have been Sarek and Amanda.” Raj, the closet romantic, says.
“Sarek was never a member of Starfleet.” Sheldon can't imagine Penny behaving with the cool circumspection and restraint befitting an Ambassador's wife, anyway.
Howard wonders whether to share his suggestion about Orion slave-girls. Thinks about Sheldon's probable reaction, and keeps quiet. Thinks instead about Bernadette - she would make the cutest little Ensign, if he could ever persuade her... Sighs. He's just going to have to be a good wingman for his buddy Raj this year. And they are both going to have to look out for Leonard.
There's a brief knock at the door to herald Penny's arrival, and Leonard, the nearest, opens it, backs up with a startled yelp.
Penny lets them get a good look at her. Then she gives them a fanged grin and raises her bat'leth.
“Qapla'!”
“Can you even have a blonde Klingon?” Raj hisses.
“You can now.”
Sheldon catches up his jaw. Vulcans do not smirk. But they can convey a wealth of meaning in one carefully raised eyebrow.
“Fascinating.” He says, happily.
Penny thinks it's worth the uncomfortable bumpy forehead thing for that look on his face. She knows she makes one kick-ass warrior, and the Klingons always looked like they had more fun anyhow. She swaggers across the room.
“Well, set phasers to stunning...”
She bares her teeth at Howard.
“Hab SoSlI' Quch!”
Well, Sheldon hadn't taught her that phrase. The accent might be questionable, but the sentiment is clear.
Leonard is trying hard not to laugh. It's so absolutely perfect for them both. Logic and repression and intellect on the one side, and volatile emotion on the other. Still has a little pang when he sees them together, but Sheldon is happier than he has ever known him.
00000000
Sheldon never sleeps well in hotel rooms, even though he has remade the bed with his own sheets.
Previous years, previous conventions, they have been a small, self-contained group, squeezing in on the edge of gatherings, and Sheldon had watched in bemusement as the other three failed in their attempts to attract women. This year, he had started the evening as usual, standing uncomfortably by the wall, and wishing for the quiet of his room. But things are different, now, and everything has changed. He has Penny. Her infectious enthusiasm and her bright laugh cause many to overlook the fact that she can't speak the language and has only the vaguest idea of canon. She is not above flirting to get her own way, and she has an unerring instinct for a party...
“Sheldon! I met these cool guys, they call themselves the House of Korgoth, and they say we can be honorary warriors for the evening, they've got a table over by the bar...”
So Sheldon had found himself hauled into a boisterous group of Klingons. It reminded him quite horribly of Gig and his football buddies, and he instinctively braced himself. But the gloved hands that clap his shoulder are friendly, and there's quite a lot of amusement at the fact that he's the one correcting Penny's cheerful mangling of the names...
There is a soft growl, and a nip on his collar-bone, which jerks him out of his musing.
“Ow...”
“Don't be a baby.” She kisses the offended spot. “You were the one that told me I'm supposed to bite you.”
“Perhaps we can forgo that level of authenticity.”
There's a dirty little giggle.
“Yeah, and none of this 'once every seven years' crap, either...”
“Penny...”
But he gives up, because there is nothing logical in his reaction to her, and he is all too human.
(And if Penny does do a little Orion-style dance for him later, that's nobody else's business but theirs.)
There has never been any question as to what Sheldon would wear; there is no doubt that he looks somehow right with pointed ears. Leonard has gone with command gold, and Raj and Howard are trying not to read anything into their matching redshirts.
Penny has been keeping her costume a secret. Sheldon had fretted, but she had promised him that it would be accurate and appropriate.
“I still think she'd make a good Yeoman Rand.” Leonard mutters.
“With the short tunic and kinky boots?” Howard holds up his hands in the face of the most unVulcan glare. “Sorry, the authentic TOS era Starfleet uniform.”
“With Penny's colouring, I suggested that she should be Nurse Chapel.” Sheldon is trying to keep his face suitably impassive, but his eyes keep darting towards the door. “Then we have a representative of the Medical Services in our landing party.”
“You could have been Sarek and Amanda.” Raj, the closet romantic, says.
“Sarek was never a member of Starfleet.” Sheldon can't imagine Penny behaving with the cool circumspection and restraint befitting an Ambassador's wife, anyway.
Howard wonders whether to share his suggestion about Orion slave-girls. Thinks about Sheldon's probable reaction, and keeps quiet. Thinks instead about Bernadette - she would make the cutest little Ensign, if he could ever persuade her... Sighs. He's just going to have to be a good wingman for his buddy Raj this year. And they are both going to have to look out for Leonard.
There's a brief knock at the door to herald Penny's arrival, and Leonard, the nearest, opens it, backs up with a startled yelp.
Penny lets them get a good look at her. Then she gives them a fanged grin and raises her bat'leth.
“Qapla'!”
“Can you even have a blonde Klingon?” Raj hisses.
“You can now.”
Sheldon catches up his jaw. Vulcans do not smirk. But they can convey a wealth of meaning in one carefully raised eyebrow.
“Fascinating.” He says, happily.
Penny thinks it's worth the uncomfortable bumpy forehead thing for that look on his face. She knows she makes one kick-ass warrior, and the Klingons always looked like they had more fun anyhow. She swaggers across the room.
“Well, set phasers to stunning...”
She bares her teeth at Howard.
“Hab SoSlI' Quch!”
Well, Sheldon hadn't taught her that phrase. The accent might be questionable, but the sentiment is clear.
Leonard is trying hard not to laugh. It's so absolutely perfect for them both. Logic and repression and intellect on the one side, and volatile emotion on the other. Still has a little pang when he sees them together, but Sheldon is happier than he has ever known him.
00000000
Sheldon never sleeps well in hotel rooms, even though he has remade the bed with his own sheets.
Previous years, previous conventions, they have been a small, self-contained group, squeezing in on the edge of gatherings, and Sheldon had watched in bemusement as the other three failed in their attempts to attract women. This year, he had started the evening as usual, standing uncomfortably by the wall, and wishing for the quiet of his room. But things are different, now, and everything has changed. He has Penny. Her infectious enthusiasm and her bright laugh cause many to overlook the fact that she can't speak the language and has only the vaguest idea of canon. She is not above flirting to get her own way, and she has an unerring instinct for a party...
“Sheldon! I met these cool guys, they call themselves the House of Korgoth, and they say we can be honorary warriors for the evening, they've got a table over by the bar...”
So Sheldon had found himself hauled into a boisterous group of Klingons. It reminded him quite horribly of Gig and his football buddies, and he instinctively braced himself. But the gloved hands that clap his shoulder are friendly, and there's quite a lot of amusement at the fact that he's the one correcting Penny's cheerful mangling of the names...
There is a soft growl, and a nip on his collar-bone, which jerks him out of his musing.
“Ow...”
“Don't be a baby.” She kisses the offended spot. “You were the one that told me I'm supposed to bite you.”
“Perhaps we can forgo that level of authenticity.”
There's a dirty little giggle.
“Yeah, and none of this 'once every seven years' crap, either...”
“Penny...”
But he gives up, because there is nothing logical in his reaction to her, and he is all too human.
(And if Penny does do a little Orion-style dance for him later, that's nobody else's business but theirs.)