Characters: Sheldon/Amy and everybody else
Word Count: 113,000+
Author's Note: This is a companion piece to "The Coitus Consideration" and a sequel to The Gamete Indeterminacy, and those stories are mandatory reading to understand this story. So… chop, chop.
Disclaimer: The Big Bang Theory is an American sitcom created by Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady, and is 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.
Rating: M (for language, dialog, suggestive content)
"If I'm being completely honest," Sheldon continued, "I believe the Waldorf system of music education is the ideal method to use with young children, and it perturbs me that it hasn't been integrated more universally into our juvenile music education programs. Not that I'm particularly interested in childhood education of any sort, but I'm still right."
Amy nodded, thinking back to what his profile has said: "Likes the theoretical aspects of music, and most things, more than its real-world application."
"That was a fascinating bit of information on the pentatonic scale," she said, after taking a sip of water, "although I think it is only tangentially relates to my original inquiry."
"Which one was that?" he asked.
"What is your favorite song?"
"Ah… I've long answered this question with 'Love Bites' by Def Leppard," he answered. "After my brother got dumped by his eighth-grade girlfriend, Betty Rouser, he played the song on loop for 13 days until my dad threatened to shoot him with his twelve-gage shotgun. Being but a boy at the time, I couldn't help but be forever branded by the rock tune. As a bonus, it rather concisely summarizes my views on romantic entanglements."
Sheldon pushed away his own glass of water and folded his hands. "My apologies on my previous conversational detour."
"None needed. I think your response provided for very engaging conversation fodder."
Sheldon smiled. Just then, there was the loud ding of a timer going off. Amy lifted her phone, looking at its face.
"And that chime indicates the end of our hour. You have officially dispensed with your duties as my date," she said. "But, before we conclude, do you have any questions for me?"
"Actually," Sheldon began with some chagrin, "I anticipated that this meeting would be a howling fiasco, and prepared little more than a look of haughty derision with which to ridicule my companions."
"Hm," Amy said, with furrowed brow. "Is it always your custom to approach new experiences with such pessimism?"
"Now, now," Sheldon said. "I wouldn't necessarily consider myself a pessimist. I live life with what could be called 'cautious optimism', with the occasional foray into whimsical daydreaming; in fact, it is my life's goal to someday win the Nobel Prize."
Amy nodded absently, her eyes trained on Sheldon, but her mind grinding away elsewhere. Sheldon didn't miss the distant look on her face.
"I thought such a declaration might have been met with more enthusiasm," he said.
"While I certainly recognize that to win such a distinguished award would be the highlight of any scientist's career, I can't help but wonder if it makes for a suitable goal, considering that it requires equal parts determination and luck."
Sheldon found this statement surprising. "How so?"
"Well, might I compare it to winning an Emmy for, say, Lead Actor in a Comedy Series? While an actor may aspire to win the award someday—and thus does everything within his power to perfect his craft—he would also have to rely on factors outside of his control to actually win the award: finding roles in television, versus those in theater or movies; being a part of a popular production that enjoys a broad fan base; and ultimately gaining enough renown among the voting community to actually be selected. For all his efforts, these factors are simply beyond the jurisdiction of the actor."
Sheldon took issue with this analogy. "What you fail to acknowledge, Amy, is that unlike the Arts, which are fraught with largely subjective criteria and stupid people, Science is a quantifiable discipline populated by the intellectual elite."
"While the science of any given researcher may be neatly objective," she argued, "the Nobel selection process is largely the same as any other: a nomination pool, a debate, a narrowing of the candidates, and a final vote."
Sheldon thought on this a moment. "So you find the Nobel Prize to be a trivial accomplishment."
Amy's face registered her horror at being misunderstood. "Far from it," she assured him. Her face took on a tender quality. "In fact, I think that any man who would aspire for such greatness and then exert himself towards that goal—with singular focus and passion for his work—to be among the greatest of scholars and a boon to his field."
Her words touched something in Sheldon and, though he couldn't see it, there was a cheer in his eyes and he wore a smile of contentment.
His friends, who were at a nearby table keeping themselves busy with coffee and Aquaman trivia, could see Sheldon's face as clear as day. Raj began to chant in a singsong manner. "He likes her. He wanna date her."
"If you quote one more line from Ms. Congeniality or any other of those god-awful Sandra Bullock movies, I swear to God I will stab you in the neck with this spork," Howard said.
Raj shook his head. "I hate to say it, but you're turning into your mother."
Howard shot him a dark glare, with an insult rallying on his lips, when Sheldon waved the two men over. Composing themselves, they rose and walked to the table.
"Amy would like for one of you to take a picture of us together so she can post it to her Twitter feed, thus adding credence to this faux-date."
Howard nodded. "Sure," he said, and taking her phone, took a picture. "There."
Amy and Sheldon stood, and she held out her hand. "Pleased to meet you Sheldon Cooper, and thank you for your services." She turned to leave, but Sheldon called to her.
"Amy," he said. She turned around. He bobbed his head once, taking a step forward. "I've enjoyed this brief interlude and, if you would be amenable to the idea, I would like to converse with you again. Specifically on the finer points of the cognitive function of echinoderms."
Amy paused, considering his proposal, and then nodded. "While I anticipated this would be a one-time meeting, I am not opposed to keeping you abreast of my research. Perhaps we can continue communication through text messaging or Facebook chat."
Sheldon nodded. "A splendid idea."
With that, she nodded once and left. Raj and Howard started giggling among themselves.
"Yikes," Raj said. "You got cold dissed."
"Whatever do you mean?" Sheldon asked.
"C'mon, Sheldon," Howard said. "You can't be that naïve. When a girl offers to 'chat' with you, you're never gonna get any nookie out of her. Trust me, I speak from experience."
"Gentlemen, you are once again blindly guided by your rampaging, though sorely disused, libidos. Amy and I enjoyed a connection of the mind. Our relationship will no doubt remain impersonal, though intellectually stimulating."
"Yeaaah," Howard said with a smirk. "You're never gonna hear from that chick again."
Just then Sheldon's phone vibrated. He checked his text messages and burst into one of his gaspy laughs.
"It's Amy," he explained. "She sends a joke: 'What did the grad student investigate when he switched fields from geology to particle physics?"
Raj and Howard stared at him blankly.
"Earthquarks." He laughed again. "Gentlemen, I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful virtual relationship." He practically skipped off as he left through the main door.
"Well, I'll be damned," Howard said, and the two men left after him.
Nine years later.
Sheldon was sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard typing away on his laptop when Amy snuck into their bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind her. She was smiling widely.
He squinted one eye, curious to know why.
ENDNOTE: Save a plotbunny; LEAVE FEEDBACK! Also, my betas (Lionne6 and In the dark. Follow the Son) are made of everything that is awesome. Give them cookies.