Title: Three Things That Sheldon Doesn't Do
Description: Sheldon doesn't dance, drink, or engage in coitus… except in these vignettes; the results are mixed.
Fandom: The Big Bang Theory
Characters: Everybody, but mostly Amy and Sheldon
Word Count: 2075
Warning: These are crack fics. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: The Big Bang Theory is an American sitcom created by Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady, and produced by them along with Lee Aronsohn. It is a Warner Brothers production and airs on CBS. All characters, plots and creative elements derived from the source material belong exclusively to their respective owners. I, the author of the fan fiction, do not, in any way, profit monetarily from the story.
1. Sheldon doesn't dance.
"A weeks' supply of tampons?"
Penny glanced over at the duo and rolled her eyes.
Sheldon rifled through the pages on his clipboard. "It appears that you, Amy Farrah Fowler, are ready for a trip to Galveston, Texas. Give yourself a pat on the back."
Amy did so.
"So," Penny said, sitting upright, "this is like the trip where you all take your relationship to the next level."
Amy and Sheldon looked at each other with some confusion.
"Which next level?" Sheldon asked.
"You know, usually when you go home for the holidays and you bring someone, I mean, you're practically engaged."
"I assure you," Amy said. "We are not engaged. We aren't even dating."
"Now, now," Sheldon said. "You'll have to reserve that kind of talk until after you get back. One slip of the tongue and our entire ruse goes straight out of the window."
"What ruse?" Penny asked.
"The ruse that we're a couple," Amy explained. "Sheldon in past years has suffered untold ridicule from his siblings and extended family for the lack of a sexual partner. My visit this year should spare him such mockery."
"Ah, that ruse," Penny said and resumed reclining in the chair. "I did that with Leonard once. Didn't turn out that well."
Sheldon circled an item on his clipboard.
"Now Amy, only one matter remains. I have yet to see which outfit you have chosen for when we go dancing."
"Dancing?" Penny said, perking up again. "I didn't know you danced Sheldon."
"I assure you I loathe the activity with a passion. But growing up in East Texas, learning some basic country line dances was virtually unavoidable. My family usually likes to patronize some non-alcoholic dancing establishment as a group during the holiday season."
"Awww," Penny purred. "That's so exciting."
"Amy, why don't you model for us the outfit you've purchased," Sheldon suggested.
"OK," Amy said and went to the bathroom with a Macy's bag to change. When she returned, she was wearing a turquoise, yellow and fuchsia country western-style vest and skirt ensemble, replete with sequins, fringes, and brass stars. She had boots to match.
Sheldon clasped his hands together in delight. "Absolutely stunning," he said. "And so many colors."
"You really like it?" Amy asked.
"Of course," he beamed. "What do you think Penny?"
She winced searching for something to say. "And you found that at Macy's?"
"Yep," Amy said proudly. "And can you believe it was on clearance?"
"No way," Penny said, feigning shock.
"With that matter resolved," Sheldon said standing. "Would you like me to teach you some basic steps Amy?"
After a moment of thought, Amy agreed. "Oh, what the hoo—sure!"
"Very well then," Sheldon said. He picked up the remote and pointed it at the stereo. "I think I just might have the perfect ditty for our tutorial. It is by a musical group called Little Texas and the song is called 'God Blessed Texas.'"
"Gosh," Penny groaned. "You all really lay it on thick down there."
"Never mind you," Sheldon said, dismissing the comment. "Now Amy," he began. "Stand next to me like so… Good… Now just imitate me as I guide you through one line dance my family likes to do. OK, now, left stomp, right stomp, slide to the left, clap, slide to the right, clap, heel, toe… uh, um... wait, now… ouch."
Naturally, Amy was having trouble following and had stepped on his toe.
"I'm sorry Sheldon. I'm afraid I suffer from the proverbial 'two left feet.'"
'"Fear not. That's nothing that a little practice can't remedy. Let's try it again. Now, one, and a two, and a left stomp, right stomp, slide to the left, clap, slide to the right, clap, heel, toe… ow, ow, ow!" he screamed.
"I'm so sorry!" Amy gasped as she put both hands over her mouth. "Are you OK?"
"Well, considering 'OK' is a relative term, I'm sure under some paradigm I might be considered OK."
"You know what, I'll just watch while you all dance at your family event."
"No, I'll hear nothing of it," Sheldon insisted as he regained composure. "Now, let's try this one more time. Left stomp, right stomp, slide to the left, clap… AAAGGHHH!" he howled.
TWO DAYS LATER
Mary heard a knock at the door, and she jogged eagerly to go and answer it. "That must be Shelly and his—wink, wink—lady friend," she said to the few family members who had already arrived.
When she opened the door she found Sheldon leaning on Amy with a cast on his foot.
"What in the world happened to you?" she exclaimed.
"Mom, I had a little—ahem—accident a couple days ago." He winked at Amy, who looked down awkwardly.
"What kind of accident?" Mary asked.
"Oh, the details are of no consequence. The important thing is that I'm still friends—or lovers, rather—with Amy Farrah Fowler."
Mary looked perplexed. "Why would you hurting your foot affect your relationship with Amy?"
"It… it wouldn't," Sheldon stammered.
Mary let the issue go and waved him inside. "Just come on in, baby, and I'll make you some tea."
She and Amy walked him towards the kitchen. "And Mom," Sheldon began. "I'm afraid I won't be able to help you defeat the Stevensons this year in the Family Line Dance Competition."
"Oh Shelly," Mary said, patting him on the back. "You've never helped us, dear."
2. Sheldon doesn't have sex.
Knock, knock, knock. "Leonard." Knock, knock, knock. "Leonard." Knock, knock, knock. "Leonard."
"Why are you knocking?" Amy asked. "You live here."
"I know," Sheldon said, "But I want to know if Leonard is inside before I enter without alerting him that it's me."
"Sound reasoning," Amy began. "Except that you have a very distinct knock. I doubt you would fool him."
Sheldon paused in reflection. "You're probably right." He held his ear to the door. "No matter… he isn't home."
Sheldon unlocked the door and, with Amy in hand, they scampered to his room. After he shut the door, they faced each other, motionless for a moment, before colliding and planting each other with sloppy, ardent kisses while frantically dedicating themselves to the task of disrobing.
With the job only half done, Sheldon lifted up Amy and placed her on the bed. Crouching over her, he nestled his mouth in the recesses of her neck while fumbling to unclasp her bra. She, for her part, was fumbling with his Frodo belt buckle, which she had specifically asked him not to wear anymore after their last soiree.
He suddenly pulled up, already breathless. "Amy?"
"Yes, Sheldon," she panted, with a mix of desire and impatience.
"Why did we wait so long?"
"Because you grew up in a sexually repressed household with a mother whose good opinion you esteem. This fact, coupled with our mututal preoccupation with our research and general aversion to human contact, made 'coitus' a true long shot."
Sheldon nodded hurriedly in agreement, before resuming his fascination with her earlobe.
He sat up again. "Are we irreparably altering who we are fundamentally?" he asked.
"Sheldon, don't talk," she said, and grabbing his face, treated him to a heart-stopping kiss.
They heard the front door open.
It was Leonard.
"Don't make a sound," Sheldon whispered.
Leonard called again. "I know you're here because your satchel is on the couch."
"Oh drats," Sheldon moaned.
"I need my thumb drive for my lecture later, and I know you have it."
Sheldon sighed and jumped off the bed before quickly re-dressing. "You're leaving me here?" Amy protested.
"I'll be right back." He grabbed the thumb drive off of the dresser and left.
"Leonard, ole buddy, ole pal," he chirped. "Here you go." He handed him the drive and turned to leave.
"Wait," Leonard said. "What happened to you?"
Sheldon's face registered confusion. "Whatever do you mean?"
Leonard peered out over his glasses. "Why is your shirt on backwards?"
Sheldon looked down to find pure green where a lantern insignia should be.
"Um, um," he stuttered, stumbling through a lie. "I am, um, protesting the horrible turn that the comics took with the Green Lantern's story in the last issue. I mean, zombie vampires—really?"
Leonard nodded incredulously. "Wait a minute," he stood closer. "Why do you have lipstick on your eye?"
"Further protest," he answered.
"And why do you smell like Amy?"
"I insist that I don't," Sheldon declared.
"She's in here, isn't she?" Leonard said. "You're having sex."
"YOU DID IT FIRST!" he blurted.
Leonard face grew stern. "You didn't even have the courtesy to tell me in advance—in blatant violation of the roommate agreement."
After a weak attempt at defiance, Sheldon shrunk in shame. "It's true."
But Leonard wasn't done. "And after all your self-righteous lectures."
Sheldon dropped to his knees, clasping his hands together. "Please forgive me. It won't happen again."
Leonard stood over him, severe and unrelenting. Then started snickering. "Bazinga!"
Confused, Sheldon scrambled to his feet. "So you're not mad?" he said.
"Of course not." Leonard punched him in the arm. "Ride 'em cowboy," he said and promptly left.
Sheldon stared at the door a moment—confused but relieved—before making his way back to the bedroom. "Bazinga," he muttered under his breath. "Can I keep nothing for myself?"
3. Sheldon doesn't drink.
"Sheldon," Amy pleaded, "You're hurting me." She promised herself this wouldn't happen again. Why had she opened the door?
"Amy Farrah Fowler." To him, this was funny. "What a name." He gripped her arm tighter.
"Sheldon," she began, more calmly. "You need to let me go."
"But see, you're not listening to me," he shot back, agitated. "And that's why I can't let you go."
"Sheldon," she said—insisted, really—with all the fierceness she had. "Let me go. Please."
He snatched her up and slammed her against the wall. She writhed against him, trying to get free, but he just pinned her harder. "Calm down, Amy, OK? Just… calm… down." She stopped fighting. And then he looked behind him quizzically.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Did you hear something?" he replied.
"Sheldon I didn't hear anything and you have to put me down."
"Because see," he said, beginning again. "We are like… well… I know you're into neurons and I'm into neutrons—but, don't you see? It's all the same. We—you and me—we're like that elusive, perfect, transcendent Unification Theory. It's like—we definitely exist and yet, no one understands it. No one can figure it out. You know what I mean?" He cackled inches away from her face. "We are the fucking Unification Theory Amy!" he yelled.
She could smell the whiskey on his breath. He'd been like this ever since he lost his nomination for the Nobel Prize. Something in him had… snapped.
"Yes, I understand," she said, "I understand Sheldon."
"Really?" he said. "Because I don't think you do. Because if you did, you wouldn't have left me."
"But I just wanted you to get better," Amy said. "You needed help."
"I NEEDED SUPPORT!" he roared, inches from her face. A few tears escaped from her eyes. "Why are you crying?" he asked. His tone had dropped an octave and she could tell he was upset.
"I'm not crying," she lied. "Allergies. Remember? I have allergies."
He grabbed her face and squeezed hard. "You don't understand anything!" he growled. He dropped her to the ground and she fell in a heap on the floor. He took a few paces, and buried his face in the palm of his hand.
Amy ran for the door and opened it.
"Get out!" she demanded. "Or I'm calling the police."
"The police?" he scoffed. "Amy, you can't call the police," he said, drawing closer. "The laws of humans do not supersede the laws of the universe."
"Sheldon just leave," she pleaded. "We'll talk tomorrow. I'm tired."
He ran to the door—slamming it shut—and grabbed her by the hair. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready," he snarled. He dragged her to the couch forcing her to sit down. Then he crouched in front of her and took both of her hands in his.
"Just say you care for me Amy," he said, pitiful and cheerless. "That's all I want."
Amy slumped over and began to cry.
Feedback: Accepted with love and squees.