Title: Mistakes

Disclaimer: I do not own TBBT or its characters and I make no profit from this. It's just for fun.

Spoilers: None

Pairing: Sheldon/Penny

Summary: One night changes the course of Sheldon and Penny's life, but maybe it was part of the universe's plan.

Or: An unexpected pregnancy forces two friends to confront feelings that might have been there much longer than either of them realized.

[Edited & updated 8/31/24]

XXXXXX

Penny would never deny that she'd made more than her fair share of mistakes.

Hundreds, maybe thousands in her lifetime.

Take last week, when she'd made at least a dozen. Like the mixed up orders at work (which cost her way too much in tips), and accidentally locking her keys in her apartment (she had to wait an hour out in the hall for Leonard to get home and let her in with the spare), and forgetting to pay her electric bill (again) which resulted in her electricity being shut off (again). The worst part about that last one was it caused her to miss The Vampire Diaries (seriously, look at that cast, how could she not watch a show filled with such beautiful people?).

Yes, Penny knew all of the many, many things people did that could be labeled 'mistakes'.

But even though she was shaking—quite possibly more terrified than ever before in her life—the moment she learned she was pregnant…

It didn't feel like a mistake.

Up until she was sitting in her bathroom, staring at a positive test, she never thought about what it might feel like to be pregnant. Physically, it was too early to notice any difference, but mentally? Her entire life changed in an instant.

What led her there was something that anyone else, maybe even the past version of herself, would have called a 'mistake'.

It was around a month prior, when she'd been feeling pretty down about the direction her life was going. A dead end waitressing job, no decent romantic prospects in over six months, and her acting career was in a permanent stall. She'd fallen deep into a shameful well of self-pity, so she'd dulled the pain with her usual coping method: alcohol. Not enough to get drunk, just enough to feel better, and lower her inhibitions a little.

Okay, maybe more than a little.

She'd wandered across the hall, looking for Leonard, but he hadn't been home—if he was, she wouldn't have ended up in this position…so in a roundabout way, a huge part of this was his fault!

See, Leonard was supposed to be home at 1 in the morning. (Hell, he was usually home by 6pm most nights!) He always answered the door when she arrived in such a state, lending her a willing shoulder to cry on. He also visited her with similar problems, on occasion—and no, they didn't sleep together. (They'd tried the dating thing briefly a year ago, before quickly agreeing they were better off as friends.)

Most of the time, she and Leonard would talk for a while, or if they were too tired, they'd watch TV together to forget their problems. In truth, all Penny ever looked for across the hall was comfort.

If she was going to assign blame—of which there was plenty to go around—she might as well throw Raj and Howard in there, too. That evening, four weeks ago, they'd dragged Leonard out for a 'night on the town' which ended with the three of them scoring not a single date among them and crashing at some acquaintance of Howard's.

All of that meant when Penny knocked on the door, Sheldon had answered because he was the only one home.

"Penny," he'd begun, rather crisply, "I don't know what you're doing here at 1:20 in the morning, but I presume you're looking for Leonard. Since he's currently out with Raj and Howard, the three of them trying to, and I quote, 'get lucky', I suggest you turn around and go back to your apartment to sleep off whatever state of inebriation you find yourself in."

"Come on, Sheldon." She'd brushed right by him, strolling into his apartment as if he'd invited her inside. "Can't you take a few minutes to talk to me?"

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because we're friends," she said brightly, and it was a lot more true than the joking tone she used. (As far as she knew, she was the only female friend Sheldon Cooper had.)

She didn't know why he agreed to sit on the couch with her that night, listening to her vent about everything going wrong in her life. She couldn't blame it on him trying to be nice, because he didn't ever try to be nice—and certainly not to someone who woke him up at 1:20 in the morning to pour her heart out in some weird emotional catharsis.

But Sheldon had listened, with a surprising amount of understanding and occasionally helpful advice. After almost an hour of talking, Penny felt a lot better, and strangely grateful that Leonard wasn't home that night so she could have Sheldon to herself (it was a rare event, especially when it came to matters of the heart).

She found herself feeling a lot closer to him, and thinking about how he'd been more supportive lately, like he was making a real effort over the past few months.

Of course she had to go and screw it up, like she did with every good thing in her life.

While she was thanking him for listening to her, Sheldon had done something strange…he'd carefully reached over and patted her arm, like he thought it might help her feel better. For some reason, that small yet significant gesture had caused her to lean over and kiss him.

Part of her had always wondered about Sheldon—if he was really as put off by human contact as he claimed—or if he'd be fine with it, given the right person.

If he might even want it, but not know how to ask.

When he kissed her back, she got her answer, and was so shocked by it that she quickly pulled away.

"Penny," he'd begun slowly, and if she hadn't been listening as closely as she was, she wouldn't have heard the slightest waver in his voice. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?" she challenged, mostly to hide that she didn't have an answer.

"You kissed me."

"You kissed me back."

They'd stared at each other for a long moment, then both leaned in again, meeting each other halfway that time.

Penny wouldn't lie—it felt like such a rush, kissing Sheldon on the couch in his living room. Stoic, unapproachable Sheldon, who didn't like men or women, or perhaps people in general, but he was making an exception for her. She was the only one who could do that. The only one, as far as she knew, who had ever done that.

It thrilled her, and admittedly, they let themselves get carried away. He made a cursory attempt to stop at one point, asking if she was in the right state of mind for whatever they were doing, but she'd easily convinced him she was clear-headed enough to know what she wanted.

That hadn't been a lie, either, because she had years of practice with holding her liquor. Not to mention that making out with Sheldon at 2 in the morning had sobered her up pretty damn fast.

She really, really wanted him—she didn't realize how much until she was finally getting him.

They ended up in his bedroom (with Sheldon making a point to inform her that he was granting her a temporary waiver since no one except him was allowed in there). Maybe neither of them meant for it to go as far as it did, but it felt too wonderful to stop—and it ended up being the best night Penny had spent with anyone.

That wasn't an exaggeration, and she never would have expected it given Sheldon's upfront admission that he lacked experience, but his genius had come in handy. He told her he remembered everything from every biology and anatomy class he was 'forced' to take in high school and college, not to mention every tip or trick he'd heard over the years (many from Howard, which he solemnly swore he would never subject her to, much to her relief).

Sheldon knew things Penny had no idea existed—the nerves of the human body were connected in ways she couldn't have imagined, but which he had apparently memorized.

Penny didn't regret a single moment of their night together, but as she soon learned, there was one small problem. She'd gone into it thinking they could have some meaningless, casual fun, and that would be it…but he's Sheldon.

It had certainly been fun, maybe she could even stretch it to 'casual', but nothing about it felt meaningless. As she laid there afterwards, with Sheldon peacefully sleeping beside her, Penny's heart had become so overwhelmed by everything that she'd barely stopped herself from spiraling into a panic attack.

So like the worst sort of coward, she snuck out while he was asleep.

She couldn't face him right away, but she had to admit, some part of her had wondered…had hoped…

Sheldon Cooper wasn't a man to let things go, so for days she expected him to knock on her door, demanding to talk over everything that happened between them.

But he didn't.

In fact, Penny saw so little of him in the following week that she began to wonder if he was deliberately avoiding her. The very thought made her sick—to know her recklessness had led to a possible rift between them? One which could too easily become permanent?

She had to fix it in any way she could, even if it hurt to let go of something she never truly had.

(Penny was used to wanting more than she got out of life.)

They might have gotten stuck in weeks or months (or forever) of awkwardness and avoidance, but Penny was determined not to let anything—least of all amazing sex and her complicated emotions—ruin one of the best friendships she had. She'd waltzed into their apartment eight days later and cheerfully said good morning to Sheldon and Leonard, like everything was fine. She was fine.

She'd caught one brief moment of…something on Sheldon's face, when he stared at her behind Leonard's back. It made her hesitate, but he said nothing, and did nothing, so she'd smiled at him, a little too hopefully. His face had cleared and he gave her a slight nod.

Sheldon Cooper might have been socially awkward at times, but he was no idiot, and he understood what she was silently asking: if they could move on and not let that night change anything.

He must have agreed, because that was four weeks ago, and things had more or less returned to normal. To Penny's relief, they'd slipped back into their usual dynamic—comfortably friends, though regrettably more distant than before. He hadn't asked one question or made a single comment about that night—and neither had she.

Penny knew he hadn't told their friends, either, because they weren't great actors, and she would have been able to figure it out within a day: Howard would have upped his annoying come-ons ten-fold, Raj would have stared at her with shocked amazement every time he saw her, and Leonard…well Leonard probably would have fainted dead away and never recovered.

In a different universe, she and Sheldon might have been able to simply ignore that night forever…but in this universe, they'd created another human being.

It completely derailed her plans for an eternity of denial.

For the first three days after learning she was pregnant, Penny wasn't thinking too clearly.

She was ashamed to admit that one of her first thoughts was she never had to tell Sheldon—she never had to tell anyone. She could move back to Nebraska and have the baby there. Her family would welcome her home and support her however she needed. And while she would have loved to go back and see them, raising her baby with a similar childhood to her own…in her heart, she knew she couldn't.

She couldn't leave her friends or her life in California.

She couldn't leave Sheldon.

Some part of her had known, since she was holding that test in her hands, that she had to tell him.

She had no idea how he might react, since she never heard him share his thoughts on children, in general, let alone whether he wanted any of his own. But he had a right to know he was going to be a father—and she really hoped he'd want to be a part of their life.

Penny worked herself into such a state of nervous worry that she started fearing what Sheldon's response might be. What if he was upset? Or disappointed? Or angry?

What if he blamed her?

Her anxiety was made even worse by the unfortunate fact that her go-to method of stress relief (alcohol) was unavailable for the next eight months or so. Also, it was partly what led to her situation in the first place…so yeah, drinking was out.

After struggling for days over the best way to do it, she decided to just rip off the band-aid. She waited for Leonard to go out one Saturday for his usual errands, then marched across the hall, asked Sheldon to sit down on the couch, and just…came out with it.

Penny explained everything, trying not to show how goddamn scared she was over the future (though who knew how successful she was at hiding that from Sheldon). She told him that she didn't mean for any of this to happen, but she also didn't regret it, and she planned to have their child—alone, if necessary. She admitted how much she wanted him to be involved, but promised that she'd never ask him for more than he was willing to give.

She also, a bit tearfully, took the blame for it all. Yes, they were both responsible, but Sheldon had been the one to bring up birth control that night. Penny had assured him they didn't need to use anything because she was on the pill…forgetting, in her minor drunkenness, that she occasionally missed taking it, especially when she wasn't in a relationship and the stakes were low.

Sheldon patiently waited for her to finish without interrupting her—or maybe he was in too much shock to speak, she honestly couldn't tell. He absorbed the news without a change in expression, staring at her in silence after she finished speaking. Penny's anxiety was spiking, expecting the worst…

But then Sheldon told her he fully intended to play an active role in their child's life. He promised he'd be there for anything she or the baby might need. He also insisted there was no blame to be placed—and even if there was, neither of them was more at fault than the other.

Finally, he informed her that he had a lot of planning to do, so would she mind if they spoke the next day?

Penny might have been offended by the way he quickly cast her out of the apartment, but she was too relieved she got the hardest part over with. (She also understood that Sheldon might need time to deal with everything on his own…and she needed time to process his reaction, as well.)

The next day, Sheldon arrived at her apartment with a detailed prospectus that had probably taken him all night to draw up. It included financial arrangements, custodial agreements, and documents which meticulously detailed every need a child could possibly have. Penny was surprised, but grateful, because if he was worrying about those things, that meant she didn't have to—at least, not as much.

The next two months went along those same lines. They decided to keep the pregnancy a secret from the others until more time passed, but whenever they were alone, Sheldon pulled out some new graph or chart about infant development, or projected college tuition costs in 18 years (maybe less if they inherited his genius), or a detailed analysis of the top 50 'local' pediatricians (not just in their city, but in Nevada and Arizona as well—"Our child's health will not be compromised because of an arbitrary state line, Penny.")

Sheldon had good intentions, but no way in hell was Penny driving hours to see a pediatrician.

Every time Penny imagined the future playing out the way he described, she felt twinges of self-doubt and uncertainty—but also, somewhere deeper, a kind of excitement she'd never known before.

The way Sheldon thought of every small detail helped alleviate the fear and anxiety she'd been carrying since she learned she was pregnant. Penny was grateful for the logical way he approached things, but one day, out of the blue, she realized…

It wasn't enough anymore.

It was around week 14 that things changed.

Penny was having lunch with Sheldon on a Saturday that Leonard had to work. Since Sheldon took every opportunity of their friends' absences to discuss the future, he decided it was the perfect time to figure out how much money they should save for unforeseen circumstances. He started rambling on about financial analysts' predictions for the state of the economy in 5 years time and Penny just…snapped.

"I don't care, Sheldon!" She was unaware, even as she got increasingly upset, where the emotions were coming from. "For once, would you just quit it with the graphs and charts?!"

Sheldon stared at her in shock, seeming truly baffled by her outburst. Until that day, she'd always happily listened to his presentations, and most of the time she agreed with his plans for the future.

"Penny," he cautiously began, "I'm not sure what brought this on, but my guess is that it's a complex mixture of pregnancy hormones causing you to—" He never got to finish, on account of her storming out and slamming the door behind her.

She paced her apartment, trying to figure out why she felt such a rising sense of fury at him. He'd been nothing but supportive over the past two months. He thought of—and planned for—virtually every need their child could possibly have.

So what was grating on her so badly that she almost didn't want to look at him?

But if she was honest with herself (which she was trying to get better at), she knew deep down what the problem was. She'd tried to forgive Sheldon for it, too, because she knew the way he operated.

Practical. Logical. Clinical.

He never showed any emotion when it came to Penny or their baby. He spoke not a single word about feeling happy or excited or any of the other ways Penny was cautiously starting to feel as time went on. It was like he was writing an exhaustive instruction manual for how best to raise a child, all without any of the feelings that should be involved.

What child could thrive when every situation in their life was met with so much…detachment?

While she was struggling over Sheldon's behavior (and her own), he entered her apartment without knocking or calling her name, which proved he was just as upset as her.

"Penny." He leaned back against her front door after shutting it behind him, as if he wanted to keep as much distance between them as he could. "What is the problem?"

"You!" she accused, against her better judgment. "You are the problem!"

"I have done everything I possibly could to—" He broke off, frustrated, and made a visible effort to calm himself. "What more do you want from me? All you have to do is ask."

"That's the problem, Sheldon." To her horror, she found herself on the brink of tears. "I shouldn't have to ask for this."

When he spoke again, there was trepidation, perhaps even fear, creeping into his voice. "Tell me what I've done wrong so I can rectify it immediately."

"I can't tell you when you should already know."

"Despite what you may think, I am not able to read minds, Penny."

She wiped at her eyes while taking a seat on her couch. "Do you ever stop and think about what we're doing?"

"You mean embarking on parenthood in such an unconventional way?" He shrugged, the action seeming oddly like one of defeat. "I have given significant thought to the matter, but we cannot change anything about it."

She shook her head, wondering if he'd ever get it. "Sheldon, you can make up a dozen plans, or a hundred, or a million, but it takes a lot more than that to raise a child. This baby isn't a work assignment or an experiment. It's not a project. You can't adjust every variable to ensure that 18 years later, there's a healthy, perfect adult."

"I don't see why not," he protested.

"That's the problem," she said, brokenly. "You can't put all these expectations on a child and then…when they don't meet them…" Her voice cracked and she helplessly trailed off.

"I assure you, I will not spend my life being disappointed in our child." Sheldon was studying her in a way she found piercing, but not uncomfortable. "I am not my father, Penny. Nor am I yours."

She glanced away to hide her tears. How could Sheldon have known that about her? They'd never discussed it, so how did he learn that she'd spent her childhood trying to mold herself into the perfect son her father always wished she was? (Sheldon must have been paying closer attention than she'd thought, all this time.)

"I know you're not either of our fathers," Penny managed to whisper, once she pulled herself back together. She stood up and crossed the room until she was standing in front of him, where he was still at the front door. They were less than a foot apart and she realized they probably hadn't been that close in three months. Not since… She shook off the thought as she looked up at him. "But Sheldon, what about love?"

Something in his eyes shuttered. "I don't follow."

"A child—our child—isn't going to care about lists and graphs and plans." She could feel herself getting worked up again. "What truly matters to a child is that you love them!"

His face darkened further and he took a step toward her, closing those final inches between them. He took hold of her arms, staring down at her with such intensity that Penny couldn't breathe for a moment. "What I find appalling is your implication that I do not already love our child."

"Really?" she choked out. "Because the past few months, you haven't said anything about…how you feel. About any of this."

"You don't know how I feel?" He was incredulous, disbelief clear in every line of his body. "What do you think I've been doing with every free minute of my time these past two months? What do you think all these preparations are for? Why would I have devoted this much time and energy to our child if I didn't love them? If they weren't the most important thing in my life, aside from…" He trailed off with a brief shake of his head.

Penny felt an overpowering wash of shame, because she knew better than anyone that Sheldon often expressed his emotions in unusual ways. In truth, it was mainly his attitude towards her, and nothing to do with their baby, that had been filling her with doubt.

"Oh, Sheldon," her eyes were welling up again, "that was awful of me and I'm sorry. I know you'd love our child, of course I know that. It's just the way you've been acting. You've been almost…cold." She tried not to think about the way she'd left him that night, or the way he hadn't followed. "To me."

"What, exactly, do you expect from me?" Sheldon gripped her more tightly, a bitterness in his voice that she hadn't been aware he had in him. "The day you told me you were pregnant, I could see your worry. I have been doing everything I can to try and help it. The more I plan, the less you have to deal with."

"What?" she breathed, as every action on his part, over the past two months, rewrote itself.

"How else am I supposed to care for you when we both know that any other actions—beyond platonic friendship—would be unwelcome?"

Penny's mind whirled as she tried to understand. He was still holding onto her, but even though he was upset, his grip didn't hurt. It was an odd thing to notice, but it hit Penny with such force that it felt like the wind was knocked out of her. Sheldon Cooper had never hurt her. As a point of fact, he went out of his way to avoid it, even when it might happen too easily, or by accident. He'd been this way since the day they met, and it drew her to him with a gravity she couldn't escape. (She had tried and look where they ended up.)

"Sheldon," this time her voice was the one trembling, "do you feel something beyond platonic friendship for me?"

He closed his eyes and it was more than answer enough.

"I had no idea—"

"Don't," he sharply ordered. "Don't try to placate me with niceties or platitudes. I know what our relationship is and I'm fine with it, so long as we both play an active role in our child's life."

"No, Sheldon." She had no idea how to explain, but she had to try. "You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly." He finally let go of her so he could pace a short distance away, towards her kitchen. His back was to her when he accused, "You made your feelings, or lack thereof, abundantly clear."

"What are you talking ab–"

"You left!" He spun around to face her, his outburst causing her to freeze in place. "You waited until I was asleep and you left without a word and pretended like nothing happened. What was I supposed to think? Other than clearly you have no feelings for me, and I was a fool to—to ever think that—just because—" He broke off and turned away again, running his hands through his hair, distraught to an extent Penny had never seen him before.

And it was because of her. She had done this to him, hurt him immeasurably, and had no idea she'd even done it.

"Sheldon, sweetie, I'm so sorry," she whispered to his back. "Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do."

He came back over to sit down on the couch, not looking at her while he took a few moments to compose himself. "Penny…maybe you can separate the physical and the emotional, but I cannot. You are the only person I have been intimate with. The only one I ever wanted to be intimate with. I let myself get caught up in that night, thinking that…perhaps it meant… But I know I was wrong." When he glanced at her, his expression was so bleak that Penny hated the past version of herself. "I knew it when I woke up to find you gone."

"No, Sheldon, you weren't wrong." Penny brushed away some of her tears while she gingerly sat next to him on the couch. "I was wrong to leave."

His expression was thawing, but he was still guarded. "What do you mean?"

"I wish I could go back and redo it. Fix all my mistakes." There were too many in her life, but leaving him was the worst one she'd ever made. "I should have stayed with you that night."

"I looked for you." His admission was stark, full of resigned acceptance. "I thought you might be somewhere else in the apartment. Even when I couldn't find you, I thought…you might come back. But you never did."

Every word he said caused another stab of guilt. "I know it's three months too late, but I owe you an explanation." She took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart. "The truth is…I was scared. I'm still scared—I'm freaking terrified, Sheldon, and when I'm scared of something, I avoid it. I run. That's what I do, what I've always done."

"I thought we established there's nothing for you to worry about. We're both responsible for this child and I'm going to be there for anything you might need."

"Not scared about the baby," she explained. "I mean yes, that's terrifying in its own right, but at the time, there was no baby that we knew about. I left because I was scared about us."

"…Us?"

"That night, after we…" Penny couldn't help her blush, like every time she remembered (fantasized about) their time together. "When you fell asleep, I was lying there, thinking about everything. About you and me and what we'd done. The way it felt."

"How did it feel?" he prompted, when she didn't go on.

Penny was trying to hold herself together. "Like…it meant something."

He leaned forward the slightest bit, into her space. "It did."

"That's why I was scared. I thought I was the only one feeling that way." Penny slid closer to him on the couch, as if she could make up for their distance these past three months. "I panicked and left, which was selfish of me. I convinced myself you'd find me later if you wanted to talk, so when I didn't hear from you for a week… I figured that was my answer."

"You thought I was avoiding you?" He was shaking his head in disbelief. "I thought you were avoiding me."

"Maybe that first time," she still felt ashamed of her actions, "but not after that. I never meant to make you feel like I didn't care about you, because that could not be further from the truth." She steeled herself to face what she had run away from, all those months ago. "I've loved you for a long time."

"Penny." His voice was shaking the same way it did after she kissed him for the first time. "If you are…trying to make me feel better…"

"That's not what I'm doing." She reached over for his hand, relaxing a little when he allowed it. "I'm not sure when it began, but it wasn't until the night we spent together that I realized my feelings for you were deeper than I thought. I tried to ignore it and deny it, but they've only gotten stronger as I imagine us in that future you've been planning. Seeing how invested you are, and hearing what you told me today… How could I not love you, Sheldon?" She hoped he could see how much regret she had. "I'm sorry I ran away."

"You are not the only one at fault. I could have spoken to you about my feelings at any time, but I feared losing you in a way I could not recover from." He laced his fingers with hers. "It sounds crazy to admit, even to myself, but I might have loved you from the day we met."

"You…what?" she breathed.

"Your warmth and kindness. Your spirit and humor. Your innate desire to care for everyone. The way you challenge and infuriate me, in equal measure. I could go on for a while, but suffice to say, I have only ever wanted more of you, Penny." He slid his other hand over her abdomen, which made her take a sharp breath; he'd never touched her like that before. "In this instance, actions truly speak louder than words."

"I guess we should have listened to ourselves better." She could hardly believe he returned her feelings, and for longer than she'd dared imagine. "We've talked about everything in regards to the baby, but not this." She pressed her free hand over his, where it still rested on her stomach. "What's wrong with us, Sheldon?"

"Nothing," he insisted (though Penny wasn't certain she agreed). "This was a series of wrong assumptions. It seems two people having a child together should make it a top priority to discuss their feelings for each other." He brushed his mouth over hers, there and gone before she could react. "I should have put it in the prospectus."

Penny started laughing, and maybe she was crying a little, too. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and he pulled her into a hug which she fiercely returned. "We can fix that from now on," she whispered.

"In the interest of honesty…" He leaned back so he could meet her eyes. "You are the only person I ever want a child with. I could not do this with anyone else, Penny. I don't know if you understand…what I mean by that."

"Yes," she swallowed around the ache in her throat, "I think I do."

"We've done things all out of order," he lamented, but there was a lightness to it that had been missing from their entire conversation thus far. "Fair warning, my mother will likely try to protect my honor by forcing you to marry me in a shotgun wedding."

"Protect your honor?"

"Yes," he said, so straight-faced that she didn't think he was kidding. "I'll try to hold her off."

"I don't think the order matters if something's meant to be." She tilted her head up to kiss him, sighing into it when he kissed her back. "Maybe it's fate or…destiny."

"I don't know if I believe in your version of destiny," he countered, sounding so reassuringly like himself that it left her smiling. "But, for my part, I've always believed this child was a m–"

"Don't," she interrupted sharply, suddenly on edge. "Don't even think it."

"God knows—no pun intended—that neither of us are what we'd call religious, but what possible objection could you have to my belief that our child is a miracle?"

Penny stared at him in astonishment, because it was so far removed from what she thought he was going to say—and because Sheldon Cooper was the one saying it. "None. I have no objection to that, whatsoever."

Miracle was indeed the perfect word, one she'd been searching for the past three months.

His answer caused the last of Penny's worry about the future to vanish—after all, if both of a child's parents believed they were a miracle, what more could they need? (Other than a few hundred more detailed lists and plans, according to Sheldon.)

"Why did you get upset?" Sheldon's question was filled with concern. "What did you think I was going to say?"

She fidgeted a little, feeling embarrassed over all the ways she'd been wrong. "That our baby is…a mistake."

"Penny, I won't deny that unforeseen events sometimes happen, in my life as much as anyone else's, however…" He leaned down to promise, right in her ear, "Our child is not a mistake."

"Sheldon Cooper." She tilted her head back, with exaggerated teasing. "Are you saying you knocked me up on purpose?"

"No, I'm saying—and mark this down because I might never say it again—that you're right. Some things are meant to be."

"Our baby?" she carefully asked. "Or…us?"

"Can't it be both?"

"Yes, it can." She broke into a wide grin. "I like that."

"I like you."

Penny hummed her joy when he leaned down to kiss her again, throwing a leg over both of his so she could make herself comfortable by straddling his lap. (What surprised her more than her newfound boldness with him was that he not only let her do it, but he was smiling all the while. As far as she was concerned, they had a lot of missed time together to make up for.)

"Am I really the only person you ever wanted?"

"Yes. I tried to stop thinking of you, after that night, but I couldn't." He slid his hands into her hair, setting them on either side of her head. "I'm confident I will never be able to."

Her heart flipped over a few times at his admission. "Since we're confessing things… That night I spent with you was the best I ever had—and the hottest, by far." His intrigue emboldened her to keep going. "I still…think about it. When I'm alone."

"You fantasize about me?" He was a bit skeptical. "Out of allllll your sexual experiences—"

"Sheldon—"

"And the maaany men that you've been with—"

"Sheldon."

"I am the one who occupies your thoughts?"

"Yes!" she huffed, but she couldn't keep up her irritation with the way he was looking at her. "Are you trying to piss off your pregnant girlfriend?"

"It's hardly my fault that you're easily annoyed." He tilted his head, studying her while he caught up to her question. "…You're my girlfriend?"

She nervously shifted in his lap, realizing how forward she must sound when they hadn't discussed anything about the future (other than having a baby together, that is). "Yeah, if—you want that?"

"I want a lot more than that. If you knew even half of it…" He ran his thumb over her cheek, carefully at first, but bolder when she leaned into his touch. "My questions were genuine, by the way. I do not understand why you would fantasize about me, given your selection of past partners."

"Weren't you there?" She couldn't help that she was blushing again. "You must remember how amazing it was… You know a lot, like shockingly a lot."

"I have an eidetic memory," he reminded her, with no small amount of pride. "Who knew it would serve me so well, in ways I never could have anticipated."

"That's not all, though," she confessed, deciding she might as well keep up the bravery and tell him everything. "My favorite part of that night was being with you. Maybe because we're friends, but the way it felt between us… I never had anything like that. Not with anyone."

"I have not, either." He was playing with a strand of her hair, eyes bright in a way Penny might never have seen before. "Though as you know, my experience is limited."

"We could get you some more," she offered.

He actually recoiled at her suggestion. "I have no desire to compare you to anyone else."

She affectionately kissed his check, inwardly thrilled over how much he only wanted her. "More with me, Sheldon."

"Oh, then yes, that would be more than acceptable."

"We need to figure out if that first time was a fluke," she continued, with a mischievous grin. "Who knows if we could repeat it?"

"I never turn down a challenge, Penny."

"That's what I'm counting on."

"In the name of science, of course." He was teasing in a way she almost didn't catch. "A valid hypothesis should produce repeatable results. And it's not like you can get pregnant a second time…" There was a definite gleam in his eyes. "Yet."

Penny was laughing when they kissed again, overjoyed with this newfound change in her life, much different than the way it had shifted three months before.

Welcoming their first child would lead to yet more changes, in some of the most monumental ways possible—but until then, it was just the two of them, reveling in their newly admitted feelings and making plans for forever. Not because they were having a baby, but because they agreed they never wanted to share a life with anyone else.

Yes, Penny made a lot of mistakes over the years. Too many to name, really, and plenty of them had shaped her life in countless, unforeseen ways.

But loving Sheldon Cooper—having children with him and marrying him and spending decades of happiness with him—could never, in any lifetime, have been a mistake.