The Paladin Protocol (11)
“Where's Leonard?”
“Pursuing some ultimately futile endeavour within his laboratory, I would imagine.” Sheldon doesn't even glance up from his laptop.
“You're kidding, right?”
“I never joke about the futility of Leonard's work. It is ultimately derivative and a mere reproduction of existing results.”
“I mean, about him still being in his damn lab.”
“Why shouldn't he be? He is, after all, a scientist. Of a sort.”
“You think I dressed up like this for fun?”
He blinks at her, then.
Of course, she thinks. This is Sheldon. She could dress in garbage bags and paint her face green, and he probably wouldn't notice, unless she got his burger order wrong.
Sheldon takes in the short dress (the rich colour compliments her skin, though the angry flush on her face clashes with her make-up), the precise curtains of blonde hair (not as aesthetically pleasing to his eyes as when she wears it naturally) and the heels (which put her nearer his eye level, but would cause her to tower over Leonard.)
“Your posterior dimensions are quite in proportion.” he hazards.
“What?”
“No, your bottom does not look big.” Sheldon clarifies. “Is that not the correct exchange at this juncture?”
“Huh?” Penny puts her hand to her eyes. “Sheldon, Leonard and I were supposed to be going to a party tonight. I've been waiting over in my apartment for half an hour.”
“It is not my job to remind Leonard of his social obligations.” Sheldon grumbles.
In truth, he and Leonard do not speak very often at the moment. He and Raj travel to and from the campus together most of the time, now, and he usually does his grocery shopping with Penny. They still eat together in the cafeteria, but meal-times are increasingly fraught, the incessant boasting of the amatory exploits tedious enough to drive him to reciting the digits of pi in his head instead. He has been through the Room-mate Agreement, and his Friendship Algorithm, correlating data, and there are points that trouble him greatly...frowns at his screen again.
Penny seethes. Because, yeah, this is some kind of big deal. These are her friends, and sure, they aren't busy exploring the depths of the frickin' universe, but she moved a couple of big-tipping shifts to clear this evening, making an effort to take Leonard to meet them. Sure, it hadn't gone too well last time, and she's kinda worried about him dancing anyplace, but she's got to get over that, right, because he's her boyfriend, and they are supposed to do stuff together.
Glares at the oblivious dark head bent over his screen. Either she's been sniffing his damn marker pens, or crazy is catching, because the idea hits her...
“Maybe...you could come with me?” Okay, crazy is definitely catching.
“You need me to be your wingman?” Confusion in his face.
Grits her teeth, then realises she doesn't need to lie to him.
“No, Sheldon. I need you to be my...escort.” Sighs. “I don't want to turn up on my own, I'll be a target for every drunken ass there.”
Though Sheldon has always thought that this was the point of these primitive ritual gatherings, he finds that the notion makes him oddly uncomfortable.
“You really think that my presence would be a deterrent?”
Which apparently Penny takes as assent. She's already heading towards his room.
“Now, do you actually have any decent clothes...what am I saying?”
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There follows a short and heated debate, with Penny digging through his closet like a maddened terrier. She realises that she has been itching for the chance to dress him up. He's probably the least disastrously dressed of them all anyway, doesn't bulk in his layers or wear inappropriately tight pants, and it turns out that he does own some jeans, honest-to-god blue denim, still stiff and new. He puts up a spirited defence of his hideous jacket, but is outflanked by a sudden pounce and grab. (Something terminal will be happening to that plaid monstrosity - it has a date with some scissors and a bottle of bleach.) Turns out he does have a decent suit, bought for Church, and thus put to the back of the closet and never worn. The style is a little dated, but the colour is good.
Abuse heaped upon inoffensive garments, a desperate rearguard action foiled...utter defeat at the hands of an unscrupulous woman. Sheldon, made aware that she will attempt to dress him if he doesn't do it himself, shoos her out momentarily and they continue grumbling at each other through the door. He asks himself why he is doing this, and has no rational explanation other than...because Penny has asked him to. Does not understand why that should be. Angry with Leonard all over again, for his thoughtless actions.
It would not have occurred to him to take a pair of jeans and pair them with the vest from his old Sunday suit, or to wear one of his decent dress shirts without a tie. (Small act of rebellion, he puts his 'Superman' tee on under the shirt.) Pulls open his door and scowls at Penny.
Sheldon Cooper, dressed like a grown-up, dark colours, all charcoal and slate and navy. Penny had hoped for half-way human, but he looks...good. (And oddly enough, he's still recognisably Sheldon, fidgeting with unaccustomed shirt-cuffs.) She's not gonna be embarrassed by turning up with him. What he does then might need some negotiation...
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She ends up driving. Sheldon and cabs are not a match made anyplace but the far side of hell, and she needs him to be in a good mood, spends the short journey briefing him on what's expected. The upside of his literal-mindedness is that you can tell him things, and he doesn't get offended.
“...just try to be polite. Don't call anybody a menial or a bonobo or a caveman, okay?” Eyes him. “And don't go asking for anything freaky to drink. There's gonna be beer, maybe some soda.”
Sheldon nods, but looks faintly disgusted. Penny huffs.
“What is your big deal about drinking, anyhow?”
“Cirrhosis of the liver is a terrible thing to witness.” His voice is very tight, and he doesn't elaborate any further. But Penny is not stupid. Terrible guilt in her - the faint idea she had of spiking his drink and making him dance withers under the cold wash of shock.
“If you just hold a bottle, nobody will try and give you another one. It's...like a stage prop.”
“Ah.” Sheldon's frown clears. “Protective coloration, camouflage, if you will...” And he's away.
Well, whatever works for him. She comes in with the guy, makes her point, and then she can catch up with her girlfriends, dance a bit, and he can lurk in a corner, talk to the frickin' houseplants if he likes.
They hear the party before they see it, heavy bass pumping out, and a brightly-lit window showing movement and strobing light. Sheldon blinks, twitches, but follows Penny up the stairs.
“Try and look a bit more enthusiastic...no, don't smile.” She shudders. Gives him one last dubious look, wonders what she's even thinking, doing this. But she hasn't been to one of Tammi's parties for - not since last summer, if she thinks on it, and what happened to the last few months?
“Hey, girlfriend.” Tammi gives her a hug. “Where've you been?”
(Tammi is absolutely gonna be the next Beyonce. Until then, she works a day-job in a boutique, and scrapes the odd gig as a backing singer and dancer.)
Where has she been? Still schlepping to auditions, still juggling shifts, still holding up her end of a relationship. Tammi peers over her shoulder, then up.
“New boyfriend?”
It's on the tip of Penny's tongue to explain that no, he's just a friend, when she realises that that will just declare open season on him - though she's not sure who she's protecting from whom, when she gives a non-committal grin and shrug.
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It's a regular party. Mostly girls dancing, and a few guys who have either been hauled out by their girlfriends, or are hopeful. Some of them can't hit the beat with a big stick, but the vibe is good, everybody just buzzed enough.
Penny is taking a break from dancing, and some girl she barely knows slurs in her ear about how much nicer this new guy is, rather than that short annoying one. (Her name's Sondra, she came to watch the game with Denny.)
Tammi rolls her eyes.
“She's two drinks past honest and heading towards asshole. But I gotta agree - this one is cuter.”
If she tells Tammi that that is 'Crazy Hamburger Guy', about half the weirdness that makes up the rest of her life, the reason she doesn't go dancing on Wednesday evenings so much, that she spends most of her Saturdays off with him, doing the weirdest war-games, laundry or, lord help her, sci-fi marathons...how does she even begin to explain Sheldon to someone, and why she puts up with him?
But this evening, Sheldon looks like an average guy - in fact, looking at some of the drunken mess around her, he looks considerably better than the average guy, and he's making the effort, for her. She doesn't have to worry that he'll leave with someone else, or will throw up someplace, or get into a fight...pauses on that last thought and looks around hastily.
His height is a definite advantage, he's easy to find in a crowd. Sheldon is standing over by the wall, and he appears to be debating quite earnestly with a couple of the guys. He's actually listening to them, even if he looks like he's not agreeing, and nobody looks like they are gonna slug him.
He's turned his sleeves back to the elbows, arms folded, 'prop' bottle still in his hand, tall and lean and serious, eyes hooded as he considers. For the first time, she sees him as a man, then, not an overgrown man-child. It's not just the clothes.
Oh. Sheldon Cooper is kinda hot. When the hell did that happen?
She likes that Sheldon never feels the need to apologise about what he likes, that he does his own thing, all the comics and weird tv and goofy toys. But she tends to forget that he's a big player in his world because of it, sometimes. That's the face of a man who is one of the foremost scientists in his field. In this room full of wannabe's and AMW's, he's the grown-up, the guy with a career and prospects.
Which is the kind of thought that really hurts her brain.
Wonders who she's rescuing, when she fetches up by the little group. She's expecting something geeky, but the reality is even stranger. He's discussing… football. But Todd and Jez and Ben are nodding, and Todd gives her a gentle nudge.
“Your guy knows his game.” (This from Todd. Woah.)
“I'm from Texas.” Sheldon says. “It's...non-optional.”
He's pleasantly surprised to find that Penny's friends are not as stupid as he had feared. He has avoided the obviously inebriated, found a relatively non-contentious topic of discussion, and despite the lights and the noise, has managed a reasonable debate on the statistical likelihood of whose gettin' their sorry asses kicked this year.
Penny has a sudden mad picture of Sheldon and her father geeking out over baseball stats. That would be a sight.
Backs right off, and leaves them wrangling over some obscure rule (and she realises she might even back Sheldon to win.)
Wonders what she has unleashed upon the world. Wonders if she should have had that second drink, and what kind of freakin' Kool-Aid it was, that she's looking at her weird neighbour and thinking that he's actually... Okay, Sheldon is more than slightly cute.
It should be Leonard at this party with her, being with her and joking with her friends. It should be Leonard that she spends time with, who makes her laugh, who takes care of stuff for her when she needs it.
It should be Leonard she thinks about when she is in bed.
And it isn't. Even when he's there with her.
She's been hiding from that thought for a while now.
There's no spark with Leonard, not any more. And it isn't because he's a brainiac and not a jock, or because he likes comic books and kites and computer games. Because there is someone smarter and geekier and far, far weirder and oh hell, yes, there's a spark there.
Part of her wants to blot the thought out with tequila, like five minutes ago. But.
Not with that tight little voice in her head.
She can make time for all the crazy for him, because somehow, the little things fit together to just make up who he is, demanding and honest and tactless and adorable. Her whackadoodle, always the smartest guy in the room and can't be trusted to cross the damn road on his own most of the time, who can't drive, but can rewire a freaking toaster into a death-ray. He doesn't understand people, needs to navigate the world with pieces of paper. But he can be almost charming when he wants to be, and he's working those jeans like whatever, and underneath all the layers of bizarro behaviour, he's sweet and funny, and he looks after her, and he's let her dress him up and drag him out to this stupid party with loud music and drunk people. And she knows that she has never had any problems getting guys to do stuff for her if she really wants them to, but it isn't like that with Sheldon. All she ever has to do is to just ask him.
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The guys are kinda impressed by this new dude of Penny's. He's quite bluntly put a couple of persistent girls off, told them that he only dances with Penny, and just stared blankly at Trish the Welcome Wagon when she started her 'are you, like, a model?' speech. And then some drunken asshole starts hassling Penny, and the guy is off the blocks.
Sheldon is very aware that Penny is capable of looking after herself, of course, but the whole point of his attendance this evening is to prevent this kind of situation. So he deposits his bottle into Ben's hand with a brisk “excuse me, gentlemen”, and prepares for battle. Queen Penelope has another troll to be vanquished.
Penny is all set to smack Mr Grabby, when...
“I think you are bothering the lady.”
Mental discipline is all very well, but for some reason, the best course of action seems to be to place his fingers around the man's carpal bones, and - When you understand the laws of physics, anything is possible. It's all levers. Torque and pressure...
He's all too well aware of what is likely to happen next. Grits his teeth and narrows his eyes in anticipation of the blow. So when the other man actually backs off, it would be hard to say who is the most surprised.
He is unaware that he looks surprisingly intimidating. The guy isn't seeing the geeky victim of years of bullying - he's simply seeing a tall man, with an iron grip and an unfriendly expression, a classic angry boyfriend.
“S'okay, we got it.” Another guy takes the drunk, backs him off. “Sorry, man, he's not cool when he's toasted...”
Sheldon opens his mouth, but Penny grabs him by the arm, turns him to face her.
“I could've handled it, Sheldon.”
He looks confused.
“But the whole point of my attending this function with you was to act in such a capacity.”
“I didn't mean for you to get yourself beaten up.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Penny, I have been beaten up by far larger people. My brother, for one.”
She doesn't know whether to hit him herself, or hug him. The mere idea of Sheldon being prepared to get himself punched...The last time two guys nearly got into a fight over her, it was in a parking lot someplace, two drunk jocks swinging at each other. She's never had anyone think her honour was worth defending before.
“Sheldon...I think we oughta get home.” Before someone else takes a proper swing at him, and she really has to break out the whup-ass.
“It is certainly past our usual bed-time.” he agrees cheerfully. Penny flinches. That could so be taken the wrong way. (Part of her brain has already made a dive for the gutter.)
His punctilious southern politeness, he insists on finding and thanking their hostess before they take their leave. Penny tries to find some reasonable explanation for their leaving early. Tammi just grins at her, murmurs,
“Bitch, please, for those bedroom eyes, I'd bail on my own damn party.”
Bits of Penny's brain are still screaming at her. Normally, she'd cudgel them into submission with margaritas, but that isn't an option. Not only the having to drive home. She doesn't trust herself at the moment.
She doesn't cheat. It's the suckiest, shittiest thing in the world. She does not do it.
But. But. But.
Part of her wants to back him into a corner of the room, and find out if those lips were as soft as they look, if those hands were as swift and clever as they are on a keyboard, if that big, beautiful mind can wrap itself around biology and chemistry as well as physics.
But. He's Sheldon. And he's her boyfriend's best friend. And this is like some goddam teenage problem page.
What the hell has she been drinking?
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“I am not letting you behind the wheel if you have been imbibing alcohol, Penny.” Swallows hard, holds out his hand. “Keys.”
She's actually not sure if she could stop him taking the keys away from her...and she has already obeyed that unaccustomed note of authority and half-handed them over.
“I've only had two drinks, Sheldon.”
“Nevertheless, that is still enough to impair your judgement, and I would be negligent in my duty if I allowed harm to come to you. Or me.” He adds. “The loss to science...”
He's making such an effort for her, that she bites her tongue and lets him shuffle and mutter his way around getting everything just so before he even puts his seat-belt on.
“I refuse to acquire any more citations on this trip.” Lifts his chin. “So I would appreciate it if you would not encourage me to break any traffic laws.”
“We can take our time getting home. Though,” caution makes her add, “before dawn would be kinda nice.”
Wide eyes and white knuckles, he's more like the Sheldon she knows. (But this is just another side of him, he's a person.)
Takes her mind off scary things, concentrating on talking him through the drive home, and she keeps him just under the speed limit, they don't run any lights or signs. The last time she drove with him - well, she'd been in pain the one time, and high as a kite on the return journey. This time, she can fully appreciate the panic, and the resolve. He jitters and complains the entire time, but manages a proud shaky grin when he finally applies the brakes.
“See, you're getting better.”
“It is still not a wholly enjoyable experience.” Eyes her sideways. “But I could say that about so many of our outings together.”
“You and me both, Sheldon.” That way of raising her eyebrows at him that makes him back up. “Didn't you have a good time this evening?”
“Penny, you turned my closet upside down in order to satisfy your requirements of what I should look like. There were too many people and far too much noise. I had to stop a man bothering you. And then I had to drive us home. I am not sure how any of that could be considered having 'a good time'.”
“That's because you're you.” And then suddenly, she laughs at him. “Thank you, Sheldon.”
He doesn't understand. But he is becoming resigned to that fact, now. Penny is a constant source of confusion to him.
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Friday night, and she's coming home early from a party, she's sober, and she's gonna be going to bed alone.
It doesn't feel like a bad end to the evening, either. Escorted to her front door by a gentleman.
“Goodnight, Penny.”
“Goodnight, Sheldon.”
Looks up at him, and he's much nearer than usual when she's wearing heels, and oh, god, he does have sexy eyes.
She shouldn't, she knows it, and she does it anyway.
This time, she hesitates the barest moment, and he knows what is about happen.
Still does nothing to stop it.
This time, her soft kiss touches somewhere between his cheek and the corner of his mouth, her lips catching gently, briefly, against the sweetness of his.
She smiles up at him, whispers 'good-night', and hastily shuts her door. Leans back against it, biting her own lip.
She didn't imagine that. Oh, crap.
Definitely a spark.
Her tall, geeky, praying-mantis, beautiful-mind, annoying robot-man neighbour, with his tics and quirks and crazy routines, and his gorgeous blue eyes and his pianist's hands and his surprisingly sweet grin. He's so weird that he's practically a different species, and he thinks she's stupid, and he can get on her very last nerve, and he's just Sheldon.
And she cares about him, in a whole load of ways that she really shouldn't.
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Sheldon unfreezes.
She's probably made him sick again, he can feel a tightness in his chest. His breathing appears to have become curiously erratic, and his heart rate has noticeably increased...
Thoughts of finding the thermometer evaporate when he enters his own apartment, finds Leonard pacing, and jabbing at his cell phone.
“...nny, it's Leonard again, could you pick up, huh?”
“Where have you been?” Sheldon demands.
“The quartet rehearsal ran on...” Leonard takes in Sheldon's attire, and he stutters to a halt. “Hey, where have you been?”
“Penny required my help.”
Leonard has a sudden sick feeling. (And you are the one she always asks, aren't you?)
“What did she do this time? Did she hurt herself again?”
Sheldon's eyes flicker slightly, but he sets his jaw.
“She required an escort.”
“A what?”
“An escort. She was obligated to attend a social gathering.”
Leonard feels truly sick, now, as he looks at this sharply-dressed stranger with his room-mate's face.
“You took my girlfriend out to a party?”
“She has a name, Leonard.” Sheldon snaps. “Penny mentioned this party to you at the beginning of the week, and you should have put it into your schedule.”
“What?”
“Tuesday evening, when she brought us our drinks. She informed you then that Tammi was expecting your attendance.”
Leonard scrambles back through his mind, but he can't recall much about the evening, besides the fact that Penny had claimed to be really tired after her shift, and had chucked him out after some rather perfunctory petting.
He's missed a party? Damn. Wonders what the hell Penny was thinking, taking Sheldon. But another part of his mind is going 'Penny, party, party, drinking, drinking, sex'... Starts edging towards the door.
“I better, you know, go and apologise and stuff, for forgetting...”
“You cannot go over there now, Leonard. Penny has gone to bed.”
“Maybe I'll go and join her.”
Sheldon stares at the rapidly closing door. Pain in his palms, and startled, he unclenches his fists.
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He's hoping for 'party Penny', giggly and fun. Instead, Penny is in her comfy pyjamas, the overlarge flannel ones.
She has a most unwelcome moment of clarity. He's come over because he thought she might be 'in the mood' after a party - which translates to 'had a few drinks'. She feels a bit sick, and really glad she hadn't hit the tequila. And she doesn't want him in her bed, not now, not with the mess in her head.
“It's late, I'm tired, and I just want to sleep. Alone, okay?”
He looks like a wounded puppy, but she's not playing that game, not tonight. And she realises that she's counting down, waiting for the reversal, the blame, when he starts in on her for taking Sheldon instead of him, and she's not playing that game, either. She's got every right to go out with...a friend, when her boyfriend stands her up, and he better not even start.
The faces change, the language is more complicated, but 'sorry, babe, I forgot' is an old, old story. And she's been here before. Just because he smells of the lab, and not cheap scent - hell, she's coming second to a laser, rather than a stripper, still doesn't make it right.
She's just too tired and confused right now to deal. Accepts the apology, but he's still not getting make-up sex, because hell no, he doesn't deserve it. He has enough sense to back down and back off.
And she finds that she turns her head, so his goodnight kiss lands sloppy on her cheek, where she can clean it away with her make-up.
(her mouth still tingles though, even after she's cleaned her teeth.)
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Leonard does not bother being quiet, slams his way back into the apartment. Part of him hopes that Sheldon is still around, so that he can vent his frustration.
But Sheldon has decided that he will retreat to his room. He is not in a receptive frame of mind for Leonard's self-pity. (Cannot deny a certain relief at hearing him return so swiftly.)
He is beginning to become...aware of things, now. Spooling through his capacious memory, experiences aligning with his new perception. Shivering with the sensation of self-discovery.
Penny's smile up at him, her lips parted, her eyes wide...
Lurch in his stomach, his breath hitching and his pulse erratic...
He has been here before. These are the same feelings, the same sensations. And the common factor is the proximity of Penny, Penny's lips on his...
“Oh, good lord.” he whispers softly.