Title: All Things Considered
Author: renisanz
Summary: All things considered, waking up with an armful of Penny was far from the worst thing that had happened that week.
Prompt: paradox plot-bunny proliferation: marikatz - Penny and Sheldon are caught together in a snowstorm/rainstorm/hurricane/tornado
Rating: PG
Words: 1,120
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Beta: Lady Lioness
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.
Notes: The saga continues. Thanks for all the wonderful feedback.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Penny."

She moaned and rubbed her cheek against the warmth of the pillow as she emerged from the cocoon of sleep.

She felt three lights taps against her back, heard her name once more. "Penny."

Geez, what did he want? She thought as she tried to bury her face in the pillow. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of fresh fabric softener.

She felt three more taps, and Penny realized that her "pillow" wasn't very soft at all. Her eyes shot open as her name was uttered a third time. "Penny."

Penny pushed herself up and looked around briefly before her eyes focused on a pair of familiar blue eyes.

"Sheldon?" She said, as if she could mistake him for anyone else.

"Good morning, Penny."

"Uhm, hey," Penny replied, brushing her hair away from her eyes and behind one ear.

"It is now," he looked down and Penny followed his gaze down to the face of his wristwatch, "Thirteen minutes until noon. I hope that you have acquired a satisfactory amount of sleep so as to stave off any throat-punching impulses."

She stared at his watch, his wrist, then his arm - an arm that was wrapped around and resting comfortable around her waist. Huh.

Penny looked back at his face and wrinkled her brow as her caffeine-starved mind tried to decipher his words. She then remembered waking up a few hours earlier. That had been at, like, 8 o'clock. And Sheldon had let her sleep for over 3 hours. And neither of them had moved from the rather intimate sleeping positions, Penny noticed. Her face grew warm at the thought.

And she was still laying practically on top of him.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Penny apologized as she scrambled back and off of him. Sheldon sat up as she moved away, and she noticed him wince as he pushed himself into an upright position, putting his weight on his left arm.

"Are you ok?"

"It appears that your body pressed against my arm in such a way that pressed against the nerves of my arm, causing it to—" He must have noticed the glazed look in Penny's eyes. "My arm fell asleep."

"Oh. You should have woke me earlier, sweetie," Penny said, not understanding why Sheldon would allow himself to suffer unnecessarily.

"I would have, but it appears that the interruption on my usual sleep patterns had an adverse affect on my short-term memory, resulting in me not setting the my alarm for an additional thirty minutes as you requested." He sighed, and she watched as he rubbed his left hand along his arm, likely trying to stimulate some feeling in the limb.

"Anyway," he continued. "My morning routine has been delayed long enough. My bowels should have moved nearly 4 hours ago, and there's still the matter of breakfast..."

"Alright," she waved her hand as she cut him off, "that's really TMI." Penny scrunched up her face. What was it with Sheldon's obsession with his bowels? Seriously.

"TMI?" Sheldon questioned.

"Yeah, 'too much information,'" Penny explained. "Usually when you wake up with a girl, she doesn't want to hear about your poo. Or lack thereof," she added.

He looked at her for a moment like he didn't believe her, and she gave him one in return that said, Uh, yeah, social-interaction expert here. Or something like that, which involved a brief jerk of her neck, twist of mouth and arch of brow.

"Oh. Noted." Sheldon nodded, and Penny suppressed a smile as he looked down and away. She could almost see him writing it down in one of those black, hipster notebooks. An image of Sheldon wearing a fitted, dark colored hoodie, nice slim jeans and Converse popped in her head, and Penny found herself smirking at the thought.

"Penny, are you feeling all right?"

"Hmm?" She blinked and looked up at him as the image faded, replaced by the reality of the man before her whose body covered in dark green plaid pajamas. Sheldon was staring at her, genuine concern written on his usually stoic face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking." She gave him a small smile for good measure.

"Very well," with that he turned pulled the cover from over his legs, revealing more dark green plaid. The mattress bounced as Sheldon got up from his end, and Penn watched him as he opened a large black duffel bag.

Penny slid her legs out from under the warmth of the blanket and got up, only now feeling the chill of the linoleum through the socks—Sheldon's socks—on her feet. She glanced downward, and wiggled her toes, like she needed to confirm that, yeah, she was really wearing them, the dark brown fabric slouching down around her ankles.

Sheldon's shirt was large enough to fit like a short nightgown, and he'd seen her legs before, or if Dr. Sheldon Cooper ever actually deigned to notice such a thing he would have, so she didn't feel weird about it. Penny did though, feel weird about wearing a guy's shirt who she hadn't at least made out a lot with, because if she hadn't, well, then he'd probably expect her to later to repay him for the favor.

Not Sheldon. Never Sheldon. She glanced behind her and saw his lanky figure bent at the waist, taking inventory or whatever, laying out the items he would need for his morning ritual.

The jeans she wore yesterday were draped over the back of a chair. Penny touched the fabric, patting her hand flush against the denim material. The fabric was slightly stiff, but thankfully dry. She slipped them on and zipped and buttoned them up. They fit looser than usual, but that was probably because they needed to be properly laundered like Sheldon had said.

She heard the gentle click of the door closing, and turned to see Sheldon had gone. Who knew when he'd be back. She wondered if Sheldon was worried about her being alone in his office, like she was a three-year-old who'd go pulling things down off the shelves or something. She rolled her eyes at the thought. Her gaze landed on the red cover of Sheldon's laptop as it sat enticingly on the desk. She'd have to step over the air mattress to get to it, though.

She reached down and grabbed a corner of the blanket, pulling it up. She could at least fold up the thing. She stopped paused her actions when she noticed two small objects on top of the one pillow—a toothbrush still in the plastic packaging, and a box containing a travel-size tube of toothpaste.