WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN: A REBOOT HOMAGE

Description: An alternate take on the "Penny and Leonard hook up just before the Pilot Episode" concept. Rated M for smut (if hopefully as tastefully phrased as possible).

Notes: As you may have gleaned from the title, this is an even less original story than most fanfic, because it's a close alternate take on the basic idea of the incredible ongoing series "What Could Have Been" by the respected personage known on this site as son-goku5: what would happen if Penny and Leonard first met in a bar just before she moved into #4B, and how would that change how their relationship took shape? While I continue to be a massive fan of the original story, I was inspired to this reimagination by some thoughts on dialogue and characterization that to me felt a little more like the characters we know from the show (especially as we know them to have later developed), my OCD approach to typography, and an interest in seeing the situation from Leonard's point of view as well as Penny's. Nonetheless, this story's basic plot structure, supporting cast, and much of the smut are all inspired directly by the original. If you like this work at all, I strongly recommend going on to read son-goku5's entire series, and to direct any positive reviews and feedback to son-goku5. Hopefully this tale is taken in the spirit of homage and admiration in which it is intended.

Disclaimer: The author does not own THE BIG BANG THEORY or any of the characters. Much of the dialogue in this story is adapted directly from the 2007 pilot episode script by Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady. The characters of Frank and Harry are owned by son-goku5.

- 1 -

Penny had been storming around downtown Pasadena on foot for nearly six hours, driven by a fury so intense she literally couldn't sit still; by the time that anger finally ran out, leaving behind nothing but a bitter weight of self-loathing and a growing worry that was getting disquietingly close to genuine panic, the clock had slipped past midnight and the day had passed from Monday into Tuesday. Her feet were sore, her shoulder was sore from the weight of her overnight bag, and her eyes were sore from tears both angry and miserable; she finally decided she was tired enough to actually sit down and get herself thoroughly plastered without getting into a brawl. She walked into the first bar she found, passed the big guy sitting in the bouncer's chair by the door and went straight to the counter.

The place was dimly-lit and mostly empty, which didn't surprise her. She'd worked enough part-time service jobs to know Monday nights were usually the slowest times of the week. A man and a woman sat in a corner, nursing pints with the weary but content look of professionals just off their shift; the grey-haired bartender was stacking glasses under the counter; and a single other patron, a smallish guy in a hoodie, leant on his hand at one end of the bar with a beer bottle in front of him. Penny dropped onto a stool at the centre of the bar, sliding her overnight bag to the floor. The bartender came over and inclined his head. "Evening, miss. What can I get you?"

"Shot of vodka. Straight up." She drummed her fingers on the bartop until the bartender came back with the shot glass, and knocked it back, shuddering as it went down. "Beautiful. Can I have another, please?"

"You want to start a tab, miss?"

Penny hesitated. It had been a while since she'd made much beyond minimum payment on her VISA; there was an ATM in the corner, but she'd gutted her checking account to cover what she'd thought would be next month's rent at her old place. "No, I'll pay as I go." She opened her purse and rummaged around for the rent cash envelope. Unfortunately, it only took a few seconds for the unpleasant truth to hit her: she'd left the envelope at Kurt's when she stormed out, and had next to no cash on her at all.

"Ah, shit," she muttered, close to weeping again. She mastered herself and gave the bartender a pleading smile. "Don't suppose you'd let me wash dishes for half an hour?"

"Put it on my tab, Harry." The voice came from her left; she started, and turned to see it was the guy in the hoodie. His voice, though slightly nasal, was a surprisingly firm baritone for his size. "And her next one, as well."

Oh boy. Penny closed her eyes. She normally had no objection whatsoever to this sort of thing, but she just wasn't in the mood for it tonight, or for any of what tended to follow. Not after what had happened. She swiveled on her stool to face him more directly. "Look, buddy, if you want to buy me a drink I won't say no, but I am not looking for a hookup tonight, so just be aware that's not gonna happen."

"Fine by me," was the guy's unexpected answer. He turned towards her, and despite herself, her eyebrows went up—he looked more like the sort of guy she normally saw hunched over a laptop in Starbucks, with large black square-frame glasses and curly dark hair. Behind the glasses, his eyes were dark and a little bloodshot, but still sharp and piercing. "Believe me, I'm not up to trying to hit on anyone tonight. But you looked like you needed it."

Which was undeniably true. And the vodka was already spreading its warmth through her, making it hard to hold on to her peevishness. Maybe she was just being ungrateful. "I did," she admitted at last. "Thank you." She nodded to Harry the bartender as he brought the second shot, and knocked that back too, slapping the empty glass down on the counter and breathing deeply.

"Huh. You do look like you need it," remarked the man in glasses. "You want one more?"

It seemed a harmless enough question, but it raised Penny's hackles. Men buying her drinks was one thing; men buying her a lot of drinks very quickly was usually a warning for something else. Hell, that was how Kurt and she had met. She sized the guy up. He wasn't bad-looking, but a lot smaller than most. That suggested one possible avenue of protection.

"Okay," she finally said. "On one condition: you drink with me. That way I know this isn't just about using booze to get me to where I'll say yes."

The guy's eyebrows went up. "Oh, my God. Has that happened to you?"

Penny shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Oh, sweetie, you would not believe the things some guys have tried to get into my pants. Booze was just the least of it." She slid off her stool, walked over and took the seat beside him. "But if you can match me shot for shot, by the time I'm drunk enough to say yes you'll be too drunk to remember to ask. So we both win."

The guy thought that over, then shrugged. "On any other night that'd kind of freak me out. But on any other night I wouldn't be pissed off enough to make that sound like a good idea. What the hell." He signaled the bartender. "Harry? Can I get one of those shot glasses? And leave the vodka bottle."

Penny raised her eyebrows. "Whoa, stepping up to the plate with the big boys. Well done." She held out her hand. "I'm Penny."

"Leonard," said the man in spectacles, shaking her hand.

With the distant part of his mind that was still calm and sober, Leonard thought to himself in stunned bemusement: Oh my God, what the hell are you doing? He did not strike up conversations with strange women in bars, no matter how gorgeous they were—and this girl Penny was quite possibly the single hottest person he had ever seen at this close a range: as tall as he was or even a little taller, perfect features, long golden hair, bright green eyes and an absolutely killer body only barely hidden by that tight blue T-shirt and denim shorts. He knew himself well enough to know that in any other context he wouldn't even have dared breathe in the presence of a girl like this without an excuse to talk to her.

But then again, it hadn't really been her face or her body he'd responded to, had it? It had been her voice. More specifically, the notes of fatigue, despair and hurt he could hear in that voice, the tiny tremble of sudden, desperate fear. It was a tone he recognized; it was the tone of someone at the end of a rope and running out of options. And the look in those green eyes—eyes, he could now see, visibly reddened from weeping, for all their sparkling surface bravado—told its own tale of rage and grief. With the detachment of a buzz he'd already spent a good few hours working on, Leonard decided that what this girl probably needed, more than anything else, was simply a friend; certainly not a come-on from a total stranger, much less a geek like himself.

The thought was oddly liberating—it was so much easier to talk to women when you didn't have to worry about impressing them. He nodded thanks to Harry as the other man left the bottle and glasses, poured them both a shot, then lifted his glass and clinked it against hers. "Na zdorovie," he said with straight-backed dignity, and tossed it back along with her.

The potency of the liquor ripped a cough out of him. Penny laughed as he shook his head. "I'm guessing you're not used to the hard stuff, Leonard?"

"Not on a regular basis, no." Leonard pressed one hand to his breastbone, breathing hard until he got his equilibrium back. Well, you weren't worried about impressing anyone, were you? "In fact I'm kinda remembering why I don't do this. Maybe I'm not that pissed off." He looked thoughtfully into space, then shook his head again. "Nah, you know what? I still am. Want another?"

"Hit me." Penny took the shot glass once he'd filled it, but didn't just throw it back this time. Instead, she tilted her head and gave him a challenging look. "So, Leonard, what's got you so pissed off that you're drinking by yourself in a bar on a Monday night?"

"Oh, you don't want to hear about my troubles," Leonard demurred.

Penny patted the bartop. "No, no, I really do. It'll keep me from having to think about my troubles. So what is it, parents? Boss?" With a sly smile: "A girl?"

Leonard laughed morosely. "Ha! I wish. No, it's my roommate." He considered trying to sum up or diplomatically move on, then chose not to bother; why not vent? "In a lot of ways the guy's my best friend, but he is unbelievably difficult to live with sometimes. You hear all about how geniuses have quirks? Well, this goes beyond quirks. This is full-on whackadoodle crazy."

"Crazy? Like how?"

"Oh, God, where do I start?" Leonard held up one hand, ticking off points on his fingers. "First, there's his obsessive-compulsive adherence to an insanely detailed daily routine; seriously, I've met people on the autism spectrum who handle change better than he does. Then there's the phobia of germs and dirt that verges on the psychotic. And there's the fact that emotionally he's a completely narcissistic child; he always has to be right, always has to be the best—I suppose when you go to college as young as he did it's not that surprising, but it's really enraging whenever he lords it over you." He made air-quotes with his fingers and adopted a mocking tone. "'Oh, Leonard, my IQ is 187 compared to your 173, I'm a full standard deviation smarter than you. Oh, Leonard, I got my first Ph.D. when I was sixteen, you didn't get yours until twenty-four, how do you cope with life as a stupid person?'" He glowered at the back of the bar. "Most of the time I can just write it off, but today, I think I just hit my limit. It was either come here and get drunk, or stay home and kill him."

"Hold on, hold on," said Penny suddenly. "Wait a second here. Did you just say you were twenty-four . . . when you got your first Ph.D.?" Her eyebrows had shot up.

"Oh. Uh . . . ." Leonard shifted in his seat. "Well, actually I'm twenty-six now. And I still only have the one."

"And an IQ of 173?" The eyebrows weren't coming down.

Oh, shit. He hadn't meant to reveal either of those things; after being told details like that, people tended to think he was either an arrogant ass or a complete weirdo, or both. "Yeah, I guess . . . ." He sighed. "Oh, what the hell. Yeah, I'm almost as big a nerd as my roommate, like that wasn't obvious."

"Wow." He couldn't read Penny's expression, but it seemed more bemused than anything else. "What the hell do you do for a living?"

Time to get the topic off him. "I'm an experimental physicist at CalTech. How about you?"

"Ah." For the first time, Penny smiled what looked like a real, pleased smile. "Well, I'm an actress . . . ." Then she trailed off and shifted in her seat. ". . . um, trying to be, anyway," she finished in a lower voice, looking away. "Right now I just got a waitress gig at the Cheesecake Factory, to pay the bills." She gulped her shot and looked gloomily into her empty glass. "One of which is going to have to be rent, now. That's assuming I can even find an apartment I can afford in the middle of the month."

Leonard poured her another shot. "What happened to your old one? Landlord decide he wanted to charge more?"

"To quote you back at you: Ha, I wish. No." She paused, then gave a what-the-hell shrug and turned to face him. For all the benevolent detachment he'd intended, Leonard found himself caught by those green eyes as if by a hypnotist's swaying watch. "My interview today ended a little early so I went back to tell my boyfriend Kurt, with whom I've lived for the past two years, that now I'd be able to contribute to the rent again. But I decided to sneak in and surprise him." Penny spun her hand in a stay-with-me-here gesture. "You see where this is going?"

Leonard nodded slowly. "I think I do, but I'm hoping I'm wrong, 'cause the thought of somebody crazy enough to cheat on you is really scary. And thank you for using 'with whom' correctly in a sentence, by the way."

"Thank you. But sadly, you are not wrong." The light that blazed now in those green eyes was clearly fury. "Instead of napping, like he told me he'd be doing because he has a late shift, I find him riding some strange chick with goth makeup, a belly ring and a lot more tattoos than me. And you know what the worst part is?" She paused to throw back her shot. "The worst part," she resumed, smacking the glass down on the bar, "is that I knew from friends he'd already cheated on me at least three times! But each time, I kept telling myself: 'You know, it's just what guys do; we're not married, he's never cheated with the same person twice so it's not like a full-blown affair or anything, I don't have any proof so he'd only deny it if I accused him, and he hasn't gotten any of them pregnant or given me an STD, so maybe it's just something I have to get over,' you know? But when I actually saw him . . . ." Her voice, which had risen in volume and accelerated, suddenly trembled and broke, and she abruptly turned away and held one hand over her mouth.

"Oh, my God," said Leonard, appalled. "What did you do?"

That got a short, sharp bark of a laugh. "I'm from Nebraska, what do you think I did? Grabbed my baseball bat, chased Chickie out of the apartment, broke his alarm clock and his bedside lamp, then got my stuff and left."

Leonard blinked, startled, impressed and—he had to admit it—more than a little amused. "Wow. That, uh, that isn't what I would have expected after the 'from Nebraska' explanation, but I'll buy it. Well done." He gave her a thumbs-up.

Penny chuckled shakily. "Yeah. Thank God I was still happy about getting the job, or I might have really lost my temper."

"Okay, now I really am scared," Leonard deadpanned.

Penny smiled, then sighed and rested her chin on her hands. "You know the most pathetic thing? I still feel like I'm in love with him. Even though I hate his lying, cheating guts. If he showed up here and apologized, I'd probably take him back. 'Cause I always forgive guys like that." Her voice cracked a little, and she scrubbed angrily at her eyes, which shone wetly. "How stupid is that?" she demanded of him, as if he ought to know the answer.

"No, no, no," said Leonard in distress. Good God, this girl changed moods more rapidly than anybody he'd ever known; mercurial didn't begin to describe it. "It's not stupid at all. It's, uh . . . ." He grabbed for the first metaphor that came to him. "It's a paradox. And paradoxes are part of nature."

"How do you mean?" Penny frowned at him.

"Oh. Um, a paradox is when two apparently mutually exclusive things are nonetheless simultaneously true—like light. You look at Huygens, light is a wave, as confirmed by the double-slit experiment, but then along comes Albert Einstein and discovers that light behaves like particles too . . . ." He trailed off at her blank expression. "Okay, well, the point is this: You both love this guy and hate him, depending on how you think about him. You think about the good times, you love him; you think about the bad times, you hate him." He shrugged. In his own mind, he'd already decided that anybody who made a girl like this as unhappy as she obviously was didn't deserve her love, but that wasn't his call to make. "So I guess what I'm saying is, it seems like you have to make up your mind. How are you going to choose to think about him?"

"That . . . ." Penny took a deep breath, looking pensive. "That is a really good question." She shook her head. "And not one I'm sober enough to answer right now."

Leonard nodded. She probably wasn't wrong, and that was enough hard thinking for one evening. He lifted the vodka bottle again; it was still more than half-full, but he grimaced at it. "You know, I've kinda had my fill of this. Can we get something else?"

Penny smiled. "Sure. Want to get a table?" Leonard did his best to give a cool "lead on, milady" shrug, and she waved the bartender over. "Harry, right? Listen, Harry, can we get a bottle of tequila, a bowl of lime wedges and some salt? Thanks. We're gonna be at that table, over there." She pointed out a booth at the back and leant down to grab her bag. Then, as Leonard slid off his stool, she did something he hadn't expected at all: she took his hand and led him to the table, as easily and naturally as if they'd known each other for years.

This is not a pickup, he told himself, reminding himself en route to breathe. This is not a pickup. This is you being a Good Samaritan. Nothing else.

At the booth, Leonard surprised her again; instead of sliding in beside her, as Penny had half expected he might after she'd taken his hand—most guys she knew would have taken that as a clear cue of encouragement—he had only nodded and taken the bench across from her. Penny wondered vaguely at her own disappointment. She hadn't been in the mood for a hookup, true, but it was always nice to think you had the option; and God knew a change from the muscle-bound jerks like Kurt might be a good thing . . . .

Then she shook her head. What was she thinking? She had come in here to get away from her man problems. She didn't need to throw herself into a whole new set of them.

"So where are you going to sleep?" said Leonard.

Penny sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I have no idea. I tried a couple of my friends but I haven't got an answer yet, and I don't really have the cash for a motel. Maybe I'll just keep walking around until the sun comes up and try Kim or Cheryl again . . . ."

"Well, I'd, uh, I'd offer you our couch—but that'd be sure to push Sheldon over the edge."

"Sheldon. Oh, right, the genius-slash-crazy man you live with. I don't know, I almost want to ask you just so I can see this guy's reaction."

Leonard shook his head very definitely. "No, no, trust me, you don't. Oh, thanks Harry—" The bartender had brought over the tequila shot fixings. Harry set them down on the table and, for some reason, gave Penny a meaningful look before heading back. Penny frowned.

"Does this guy not like women?" she murmured to Leonard.

"Um, he's straight as far as I know. Why do you ask?"

"He just gave me this look. Like: 'Watch out, girlie, I'm keeping an eye on you'—like he was expecting me to bust up the bar or something."

"Well, you do sound like an awfully violent person, Miss Nebraska Baseball Bat." Leonard suddenly grinned at her; the expression brought a startling life to his face and a sparkle to his eyes. He patted her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry about it, that's just Harry; he looks out for all his regulars."

Penny thought about that. Her eyebrows went up. "Wait—you mean he's trying to protect you . . . from me?"

Leonard looked sheepish. "I've . . . been taken advantage of by girls before. Financially, I mean. And once informationally—though that time Sheldon actually did save me from getting in real trouble. So Harry tries to give me a heads up when he thinks it might be happening again." He held up one hand as he saw the outraged look in her eyes. "Which is not what's happening now. I am covering the tab tonight because I want to, not because I want anything out of this."

Oh, you don't, do you? Again, for some reason, Penny felt irritated. The bartender's implicit accusation that she was the kind of girl who'd casually use some poor guy for her own benefit didn't sit well, but she supposed she could understand it. On the other hand, no matter how sure you were you didn't want a hookup, being told someone didn't want one with you was still a little insulting. Sure, Leonard seemed like a big enough nerd that maybe he really did just mean to be a gentleman, which part of her found rather sweet . . . but another part—the Nebraska part, the part which tended to come to the forefront when drunk and the part which had ordered the tequila—felt distinctly like it had been challenged, and felt very much like answering it. This guy thought he could pretend he didn't want her, did he?

Leonard glanced at the tequila bottle and the limes, then rubbed his hands together, looking a little apprehensive. "So. Uh, tequila shots. Never done this before. How does it work?"

"Ah. Well, it's very simple. Somebody as smart as you should have no trouble with this." Penny gave him her best heavy-lidded look, and was rewarded when he visibly gulped. She poured the golden spirit into the shot glass, put a lime wedge on the table beside it, then picked up the saltshaker. "First, you put some salt on the back of your hand, like this—it helps if you moisten your hand first." Suiting actions to words, she licked the back of her hand (noting with glee that he had swallowed again), sprinkled salt on the wet area, put down the saltshaker and picked up the glass. "Then, as quick as you can, you . . . lick the salt—" Lick. "—drink the shot—" Gulp. "Ugh!—and bite the lime." Squirch, went the lime in her mouth; she sucked down the juice, tossed her head like a horse and coughed out the rind. Salt, sour, bitter and sweet mixed together in her mouth and lit a fire that rocketed up into her brain and down to her belly. When she'd gotten her equilibrium back, she carefully filled his shot glass, then put a lime wedge beside it and held out the saltshaker to him, never taking her eyes from his.

Leonard's eyebrows were almost to his hairline. Slowly, diffidently, he licked his hand and anointed it with salt, then picked up the shot glass. He paused a second, clearly marshalling his nerve, then licked the salt, gulped down the tequila and bit the lime wedge. The shudder that took him was even worse than the one he'd given at his first vodka shot. He spat out the lime, took off his glasses and wiped his streaming eyes. "Wow," he croaked. "That is both amazing and disgusting." Abruptly he grinned through the tears. "Huh, there's another paradox for you right there."

It was no doubt in part the tequila, but Penny had to admit that with that grin, and without the glasses, Leonard was actually startlingly cute. And sitting down—or lying down—his lack of height wouldn't be nearly such an issue. She nodded serenely. "Yes," she agreed, "yes, it is. Have another."

"Hit me," said Leonard, with remarkable aplomb.

The second shot went down easier and the third even more so. By the time the bottle was half empty, Leonard's grin had become distinctly giddy and the fire in Penny's stomach had spread to heat up other parts of her further south. Without quite consciously intending to, she slipped off her sandal and began running her foot very gently up and down Leonard's left leg. She'd meant it as just another flirtatious tease, but for all his skinny build, the muscles under her toes seemed pretty firm. And when his startled eyes snapped to hers, the goofy grin vanishing in surprise, she only gave him a slight smile and refused to look away, extremely aware of the tingling gooseflesh the shared stare was triggering across her skin.

"Um." Leonard cleared his throat. The obvious effect of her caresses only heightened her enjoyment, as did the audible crack in his voice. "I, ah, I may be misreading things here, Penny, but . . . didn't you say you were in no mood to be hit on?"

Penny nodded again. "I did," she said airily. "I did say that." She gave him another heavy-lidded look and lowered her voice. "I never said I wasn't in the mood to do a little hitting myself."

"I, uh . . . I see." Leonard took a deep and shaky breath. "Yes, that's a valid and important distinction."

Oh, my God. Is she actually coming on to me? Leonard had only kept up his façade of coolness by firmly repeating to himself, over and over: This is not a pickup. This is not a pickup. He could handle himself perfectly well as a gentleman helping a lady in distress without thought of reward. He had absolutely no clue how to react when the lady in question turned out to have her own ideas about the matter. He supposed this might be some kind of joke—he'd suffered things like this before in high school, and usually wound up in a locker as a result—but there really didn't seem to be any audience here for something like that. And while he was no expert in reading women's expressions, Penny's catlike smile really didn't seem to have the bright edge of mischief he'd always seen in those joke-flirtations. She looked—as best he could tell in his drunken state—like she meant it.

Now what was he supposed to do?

He was spared having to answer the question when an unfamiliar, deep and slightly slurred voice snarled at them out of the gloom of the bar. "Here you are! Goddammit, Penny, what the hell d'you think you're doing?"

Leonard's eyes bulged. The man striding up behind Penny was one of the biggest guys he'd ever seen, with shoulders like an ox, a shaved and sweat-shiny head, and dark eyes blazing with fury. Penny only let out her breath in an annoyed sigh and turned around. "Kurt, I don't know what you want, but . . . ." She trailed off as she looked up at him, suddenly a little less nonchalant. From the slight swaying in his stance and the sheen of sweat on his head, Leonard guessed that this man was just about as drunk as he and Penny were, and maybe more. Fear gnawed at Leonard's bowels. This guy looked like more than a high-school bully. This guy looked like the sort of guy who sent people to hospitals.

"What I want is for you to come home. Jesus, you know how many damn blocks I had to walk 'round Pasadena lookin' for you?" Kurt folded his arms, muscles bulging, and suddenly Leonard realized: Come home—Kurt—oh, shit. This was the guy Penny had left! The gut-gnawing fear was sliding rapidly towards real terror.

Penny, however, only gave the guy a disdainful sneer. "Looks like this wasn't the first bar you stopped into while you were looking," she observed acidly.

"Yeah, an' you're so clean and straight yourself, aren'cha? Come on, let's go home." Kurt reached down and tried to grab her shoulder. Penny jerked herself out of his grip with a glare, and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, for Chrissake, babe, will you stop overreacting?"

"Overreacting?!" Penny jumped to her feet, looking furious. "Seriously, I'm overreacting? In the time we've been together I know you've cheated on me at least three times, and tonight I caught you for a fourth time in our own goddam bed! Did those steroids fry your brain to the point you think I'd just let that go?!"

Kurt just grinned; with a startlingly quick move, he grabbed her by the elbows and tugged her closer to him. "I think you know how good I can fry your brain, baby. I think I know how hard it's gonna be for you to walk away."

Penny stared up at him with a look that seemed to mix disbelief, fury and—for the first time—something like fear. But her voice lost none of its firmness. "Oh my God, you're a pig when you want to be," she told him. "Get this through your thick skull, Kurt: I am never getting back together with you, ever. Now get the hell out of this bar and the hell out of my life."

"No," said Kurt, with the frightening finality Leonard remembered from every year of school: the finality of a bully tiring at last of playing around. He let go of Penny's elbows and grabbed her upper arm with one hand; Penny gave a sudden high-pitched squeak, blinking down at his iron-handed grip. "Babe, you're being stupid and childish. You'll see in the morning, it'll all make sense. Let's get home and—"

"I think you should let the lady go, sir."

For a second Leonard had no idea who'd spoken. Nor did he understand why Kurt now looked at least a little bit shorter. It was only when both Penny and Kurt turned to stare at him that he realized: He'd said that. And stood up to stare directly into the bigger man's eyes. "And I think," Leonard found himself going on, with a kind of cold fury he'd had no idea he was even capable of, "that if anybody's being stupid here, it's you."

Kurt stared at him, then gave a short bark of laughter and leaned in with a glare. "Okay, little buddy, you shut your mouth right now or I'll shut it for you. You hear me?"

"Lay off him, Kurt!" Penny snapped. "He's my friend, and I can already tell you he's a better man than you'll ever be. God knows he's definitely smarter."

Leonard wished he was less terrified; it would have been nice to be able to appreciate the sentiment, even if he suspected it was meant more as insult to Kurt than compliment to him. Kurt only laughed even harder. "This, this dwarf? Oh, come on. I could eat this guy for breakfast and have room for donuts!"

"In principle, yes, I think you probably could." Leonard gulped as Kurt swung slowly back to glower at him even more fiercely. He could hear the quaver in his own voice, but the cold anger underneath drove him on. All he needed to do was keep this up for just a minute or so more. "In practice, there's, ah, there's a very good reason why you're not going to do that right now."

"Really," said Kurt. He let Penny go and, before either she or Leonard could move, grabbed up the half-empty tequila bottle by the neck and smashed it on the table. The stinging smell of the spirit filled the air. Penny yelped and jumped back. The sharp points glittered in the bar's gloom as Kurt swung the broken bottle towards Leonard, a snarl of rage distorting his face. "Exactly what are you gonna do to stop me, little man?"

Leonard's pulse hammered in his ears; his face felt cold. The alcohol he'd drunk roiled in his stomach, and it took all his willpower to keep from throwing up. "Well," he managed, "it's not something I'm going to do, per se, it's, well, it's something I've already done. Did a long time ago, in fact." Come on, come on, he thought, let me stall you just a few more seconds . . . .

"Oh yeah? And that was?"

Leonard drew breath to answer . . . and movement from behind Kurt caught his eye. He let out his breath in a massive sigh of relief and, stunning himself, found a smile. And said, simply:

"I made friends with the bouncer."

Before Kurt could process that a massive hand came out of nowhere and seized his wrist, squeezing hard.

Kurt cried out and dropped the bottle, which burst apart on the floor; Penny yelped again and hopped backwards, grabbing onto Leonard's shoulders to keep from falling. Eyes wide, she gaped up at the huge man who'd grabbed Kurt. He had to be at least six-foot-eight or -ten, maybe close to three hundred pounds, none of it fat; his T-shirt strained tautly around his shoulders and biceps, which were even more massive than Kurt's. But the grin he sent Leonard's way was astonishingly cheerful. "You okay, Dr. Hofstadter?" he said, in a voice like a tractor-trailer engine rumbling into motion.

Leonard nodded, closing his eyes as if he was fighting to stay on his feet. "Yeah, Frank, thanks. And look, I told you, out of the classroom you can call me Leonard. Especially when you're saving my ass."

Frank shrugged amiably. "I'll try, Doc, but I was brought up to respect my teachers. And the ass-saving's just part of the job. Okay, buddy," he said to Kurt, "time for you to clear out of here."

Kurt's snarl deepened. "I'm not going anywhere 'til that bitch leaves with me!" he shouted, and tried to wrench his wrist out of Frank's grip. The shock on his face when he failed was almost worth this whole night just to see, but he didn't give up, throwing himself into a flailing struggle as he struck at Frank with his free hand, lurching back and forth and knocking down several chairs. Frank huffed out an annoyed breath and with startling speed spun Kurt around, slamming him face-down onto another table; Kurt's yell this time was wordless, and in real pain. For half a second Penny wanted to shout Let him go! . . . but as if reading her mind, Leonard glanced at her, his dark eyes sad but unyielding. Penny shuddered and stuck her hands under her armpits, holding them fast.

Frank directed a look at the two patrons in the corner, who'd been watching with what looked like professional appreciation. "Rick, Dana? Little help, guys?"

"Oh, c'mon, Frank, we're off duty," the woman complained.

"Ah, quit whining, Danes," said the man, getting up. "Besides, for this jerk this'll be a pleasure." He walked over, leant down so Kurt could see him and flashed a badge. "Okay, buddy, Pasadena police; you're under arrest for disturbing the peace, assault, damaging private property and being a gigantic ass-douche. Danes, you wanna call it in?"

"On it," said the woman, evidently the cop's partner and already on her cellphone. Rick pulled a pair of handcuffs out from under his coat and slapped them on Kurt, hauling him back upright and steering him towards the door as he reeled off Kurt's rights in a bored monotone. Kurt didn't stop yelling, but from his stumbles he was clearly still too dazed to put up much of a fight. The female cop, Dana, followed them outside. Within minutes a squad car rolled up, and they bundled Kurt into it with blunt efficiency. Penny stared as the car drove away, and the off-duty cops came back in.

"I really don't ever, ever want to see that man again," she said. Infuriatingly, her voice trembled a little. If he'd even just tried to reconcile, part of her knew, if he'd made even the most token gesture towards contrition and apology, she might have given him yet another chance . . . but she knew she'd finally seen Kurt's real character, and she'd never really be able to unsee it ever again. That particular paradox had been permanently resolved. Adrenalin coursed queasily through her veins, making her shake. Leonard put his hands on her shoulders, and in sheer reflex she leaned back against him, taking comfort from his warmth.

"Well, odds are you won't have to for at least twenty-four hours," said Rick. "If nobody bails him out, that's how long we hold the disorderlies if we're sure they're still dangerous. Or if we really just don't like them." He grinned. "Hey, Harry, can we settle up?"

"Sure thing," said Harry, from where he was cleaning up the mess Kurt had made. He glanced at Leonard and Penny. "We're gonna be closing soon. You guys want anything else?"

"Um—" She exchanged a look with Leonard, then shook her head. "No. No, we're good. Just the bill, Harry." She sat down, her knees suddenly weak. Leonard rubbed her shoulder gently, then got out his wallet as Harry came over with the bill.

When he reached for it, however, Harry held it back and grinned. "Okay, Doc. Do your stuff."

Leonard groaned. "Harry, come on . . . ." He reached for the bill, but Harry easily held it out of reach, and after a moment Leonard sighed. He closed his eyes and put his hand to his forehead, lips moving furiously for a second or two, then opened his eyes and held up one finger. "Sixty-three dollars and seventy-five cents, before taxes."

Harry laughed and flipped the bill open. Penny gaped at it. It was, indeed, for exactly $63.75. She stared at Leonard. "How the hell—? Do you read minds or something?"

"Nope," said Harry, grinning hugely. "Just remembers everything he's had and does the math in his head quicker than I can with a calculator. And that's drunk as a skunk, too!"

Leonard forced a distinctly pained-looking smile and gave the bartender some bills. "Keep the change, Harry." He went to Frank and shook his hand. "Frank, I'll see you on Friday—remember, we're using really powerful magnets in the demonstration, so for the love of God, take your earrings out. Okay?"

Frank chuckled. "Gotcha. Goodbye, Leonard; goodbye, miss." He shot Leonard a sly smile. "Have a good time, you two."

Leonard blushed and shifted his weight awkwardly. "Frank, no, it's not—" Then he stopped as Penny deliberately threaded her arm through his, hanging off his elbow, and gave him a very feline smile. His flush deepened, and he glanced back and forth between them, clearly having no idea what to say. Penny solved his dilemma by simply ushering him out the door.

"Goodnight, Frank," she caroled back.

The warm night air did a good deal to settle Leonard's stomach and head as they ambled along the sidewalk, though the feel of Penny's arm still firmly entwined with his gave him an all-new set of butterflies. This was not at all how he'd expected things to go. Despite her closeness, Penny hadn't said anything for a while, and he wondered suddenly if perhaps she was as uncertain as he was. The thought was oddly reassuring.

"That guy, Frank," said Penny at length. "Is he really one of your students?"

Leonard nodded, relieved to be talking about something relatively innocuous. "Oh yeah. He's taking my applied physics class. Doing pretty well, too. He's thinking of going into teaching the college-prep courses in high school."

"Wow." Penny blinked. "You know, I'd have thought somebody built like that, he'd be a wrestler, or a football player or something."

"Well, for what it's worth," Leonard confessed, "the first time he came into class and sat down, I kinda thought the same thing. But like I said, he turned out to be a great student, and we're both Star Trek fans. It was a real lesson to me, actually."

His smile faded, and he looked thoughtfully into the distance, remembering the epiphany. "I got bullied a lot as a kid . . . I know, I know, big surprise. So you'd think I'd know better than anybody not to judge by appearances. But I can make that mistake too, and there's so much you miss by just looking at the surface. Some of the people I knew back then, they've probably spent their life just running at the surface level. But one day that's gonna go: people lose their looks, their bodies, their hair . . . what'll they have left, after that?"

He glanced at Penny, and realized she was staring at him like he'd grown an extra head. His face heated, and he looked down. He had been rambling, hadn't he? "Not that I would ever indulge in schadenfreude about it, or anything," he added in a deliberately self-mocking tone.

Penny frowned. "Shodden-what?"

"Oh. German word. It means, well, there's no direct English word for it, but it's the happiness you feel when you watch someone else get taken down a peg, or get what's coming to them. The Chinese have a proverb: 'There is no pleasure so great as that of watching a friend fall off the roof.'"

Penny laughed. "Oh, is that the word for that? Back in Nebraska we just called that auditioning for America's Funniest Home Videos."

Leonard chuckled. "Well, you know the old joke: Those Germans, they've got a different word for everything."

"Yeah, it's almost like a whole 'nother language," Penny deadpanned. Then she arched an eyebrow at him and grinned mischievously. "So, you're a Star Trek fan too? Can't say I'm hugely surprised. At least you don't live in your parents' basement—do you, like, dress up in costumes and go to those big events? Whole rooms at home full of action figures, that sort of thing?"

Leonard cleared his throat, the old awkward feeling returning. "Not rooms," he said. "Maybe a bookshelf. Or two."

Penny squeezed his arm, nestling closer. "Chill, Leonard, I'm just teasing you. Look, every guy I've ever known had something he was obsessed about. Sports teams, World Series stats, rock bands, muscle cars, fishing—even my dad used to go into these over-the-moon raptures when he found something new for the garage tool set." She grimaced. "At least your obsessions don't work in the adult film industry."

"Oh, well, if that's your standard for creepiness I'll have to introduce you to my friend Howard. Next to him I'm a positive beacon of mundanity."

"Yeah, I'll pass on that, thanks." But she smiled warmly at him, and for the first time, the thought he'd been clinging to—This is not a pickup—really hurt.

Still, it wasn't every night you got to spend walking along the boulevard with a beautiful girl on your arm, even if nothing else came of it. He smiled back and, for the first time, allowed himself to settle comfortably against her as well. After all, if it wasn't a pickup, there was no risk in it. Right?

For someone as astonishingly smart as he was, Penny thought, it was remarkable how easy it was to talk to Leonard, now that alcohol had lubricated him out of his awkward shyness at least—she hoped he wouldn't freak out as he sobered up. They strolled along, chatting amiably about friends and life and past mistakes, while Penny ooh'ed at some of his scientific factoids and he laughed at her stories of misadventure in Nebraska. But fatigue, post-adrenaline crash and tequila were bound to catch up with her sooner or later. Presently she yawned.

Instantly she felt Leonard tense against her, and frowned at him. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing! Nothing. I guess I just realized maybe I was keeping you out too late, or something. I know you still need to find someplace to sleep, and I didn't want to be a bother . . . ."

She gave him a bemused look. "Leonard, I yawned because I was tired. That's all. You always overthink things this much?"

After a moment, he smiled ruefully. "Yeah, actually, I do, it's a chronic weakness. Seriously, though, we should think about finding you a bed, it's coming up on two a.m. You sure there's nobody you can call?"

Penny sighed and shook her head. "You sure I can't crash on your couch? Never mind," she cut him off at his unhappy look, "I know, I know, crazy roommate. No, I already tried everybody I can. You got any other ideas?"

Leonard snapped his fingers. "Yes I do, as it happens. There's a motel not two blocks from here. Come on." He grabbed her hand and started pulling her after him.

"Oh, Leonard, no—I can't afford a motel, and I'm sure as heck not going to make you pay for it—" But he wasn't slowing down, and she sighed and relented. It wasn't like she had much other choice. She could get his number and pay him back in a couple of weeks, maybe.

Or you could pay him back tonight, whispered the Nebraska part of her, and before she realized it she'd snuck a quick glance at his butt. She stomped on that impulse firmly. She had said she didn't want a hookup, and she meant it. She was sure of that. (Wasn't she?) And while she wasn't above flirting with guys to get stuff, there was a big difference between undoing a couple of buttons for a drink and putting out in exchange for a roof over your head—and being expected to put out as payback only pissed her off. That wasn't who she was.

Yes, the Nebraska part acknowledged, that's all true. But you have been known to call it a "reward" . . . at least when you were looking for an excuse to do what you really wanted to do anyway. So if you're thinking about it so much now, what do you think that means, huh?

Penny told herself to shut up. But she didn't let go of Leonard's hand.

The motel was a typical travelers' stopover, a long two-floored building with parking spaces before each door. Leonard took her into the main office, where he tapped the bell until a heavyset female clerk came wandering out of the back with a yawn. "Help you?"

"Yes please," said Leonard, getting out his wallet. "A room for the night; I'll pay up front. And could I book some breakfast in the morning, please?"

"Sure thing, mister," said the clerk, typing into the desk computer. "Breakfast for two, that'll be, let me see . . . ."

"No, no, just for one."

The clerk stopped, glanced at Penny, then gave Leonard the fisheye. "Look, young man, I don't want to know what you do in your private life, but this isn't the kind of establishment that sells rooms by the hour, if you know what I mean . . . ."

Penny's mouth dropped open. But to her considerable surprise, Leonard exploded before she could. "How dare you!" he snapped. "What do you think, somebody books a room on a friend's behalf when she gets thrown out of her home, and that means prostitution has to be involved? Do you want me to come back tomorrow and tell your manager about this? Or write about it on every review website from Craigslist to Yelp? Lady, you've got about three seconds to apologize, or we are out of here—"

"All right, all right, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" The clerk cringed back, looking flummoxed, but Penny felt absolutely no sympathy. "Here, tell you what—I'll add breakfast for two to the bill free of charge. That make things better?"

"No, we don't need—" Leonard broke off and sighed, clearly giving up any attempt to explain. "Okay, fine, that'll do. Thank you." He grabbed the key from the clerk and stomped out, then led her along the row of doors to the one marked on the key. Penny followed, thinking hard about what it meant that he'd been so willing to stand up for her, and so insistent that he didn't want anything from her. Thinking about being alone tonight, and liking the idea less and less by the second.

"Sorry about that," said Leonard, as he opened the door. "I guess maybe they get the wrong type of customer once in a while. If I'd known they'd react like that . . . ."

"No, it's okay." The room itself proved to be far better than she'd feared: clean and warm, with a large well-dressed bed, a bathroom with an actual bath, a TV set and a small closet with a full-length mirror on one of its doors. Penny put her overnight bag on the dresser and looked around. "I've handled worse stuff than that before. And I can put up with it for a decent bed."

Leonard folded his arms and nodded in satisfaction. "Well, then, looks like you're all set. And . . . I guess that's my cue." He turned, and was heading back to the door when she spoke up.

"Leonard, wait a minute. Can I ask you something? Why are you doing all this?"

He stopped, adjusting his glasses nervously. "What do you mean?"

She put her hands on her hips and gave him the most direct look she could. "Is it just because I'm a pretty girl and you're trying to play white knight? Because I have to tell you, I don't like feeling like a charity case."

Leonard opened his mouth, then hesitated, visibly thinking about the question. With a sigh, he lifted his hands and letting them fall. "I won't lie and say that isn't part of it," he said at last. "But honestly, Penny? This is more about me than you, when it comes down to it." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "I really don't like being angry about things. And tonight I was so mad at my roommate, and at myself for being mad, I just needed to do something nice for someone to feel better about myself." He smiled wryly. "It didn't hurt that you are a pretty girl, but the fact that you took me seriously and listened to my problems, without making fun of me for being a nerd or trying to get something out of me, was a big factor as well."

He paused a second, then put on a bemused look. "Also, I'm still quite drunk," he added with a pedantically lifted finger, and she laughed. "Without being drunk and pissed off enough not to think about it, I'd probably never have had the nerve even to just say 'hi' to you. Because you really are quite astonishingly amazing."

Penny's face felt hot. "Oh, come on. Seriously, Leonard, I'm not that special. Why would you be afraid to talk to me?"

Leonard stiffened, blinking as if she'd hit him. "'Not that special'?" he repeated incredulously. "God, Penny, have you seen you? Why do you think I told you any guy who cheated on you would have to be crazy? Look—come here. Over here." He steered her to stand before the mirror, taking up a position just behind her, his hands on her shoulders. In the mirror she could see both his face and hers, his chin just above her left shoulder; his breath was warm on her ear. "Okay. What do you see?"

"I see me. And your big floating head," she snickered. At the same time, she was acutely aware of his touch, his warmth, his closeness. She shifted her weight, and suddenly realized she wanted to feel his hands on her hips, as a guy making a more deliberate pass might have done.

But Leonard was too focused on her reflection to notice. "Very funny. You know what I see?" He swept one hand down her image, like a game show hostess showing off a prize. "I see a woman so unbelievably beautiful she doesn't even realize how, how absolutely breathtaking she is. And yeah, that includes things like the hair, the body, the eyes, whatever, but it's not just that. You're warm, you're funny, you're friendly, you're caring, you're tough enough to roll with life's punches and stand up for yourself against a brute like your ex . . . and your smile literally lights up a room." Somewhere in that amazing speech, he had turned to face her, his hands still on her shoulders; she stared at him, eyes wide. "Which is why I still can't believe anybody in their right mind would cheat on somebody like you. If I had somebody like you I'd—"

He broke off abruptly, flushed, and looked away. "Well. That's not really the point." He took a deep breath and let go of her, and the loss of contact actually made her draw in her own breath. "The point is, you deserve a good turn. Because you're a good person."

No I'm not, she wanted to say, but couldn't find the words. She looked at the mirror again, taking in her own poleaxed expression. Leonard's words echoed in her head. For a moment she felt dizzy, and strangely light, as if she'd come off a carnival ride into a cool breeze blowing straight through her. She tried to tell herself that it was the alcohol, and knew that it was not.

The sound of the doorknob opening made her turn. Leonard paused in the doorway, determinedly casual. "Anyway," he said, rubbing his hands, "you're all set for the night, and there'll be breakfast when you wake up. But I need to get home, I've got work in the morning. It was . . . ." He trailed off, and their eyes locked once more; he swallowed. "It was really good to meet you, Penny. Good luck."

For a moment, neither moved. Then Leonard turned away again, and it was that movement—that moment in which Penny realized not only that if she didn't do something he actually would leave, because he really did just want to be a gentleman, but that she didn't want him to leave—that pushed her over the edge.

She dashed across the room, caught him by one shoulder and dragged him back around to face her; he was so much lighter and smaller than Kurt that it was no effort at all. For less than half a heartbeat she hesitated, their faces inches apart, staring into his wide startled eyes, and then she pulled him into her arms and pressed her mouth to his, tasting the tequila they'd shared on his lips and his breath. Shock held him immobile in her grasp; she took advantage of his surprise to deepen the kiss, parting her lips, sliding her tongue in to find his and burying one hand in his dark curls. Then, in just that fraction of an instant where she had the barest flicker of wondering if she'd misjudged everything, his arms came down to lock around her waist and crush her against him, where she could feel beyond a shadow of a doubt how badly he wanted this too. The kiss became mutual, a gasping exploration of mouths and tongues. Penny's heart hammered in her ears while her core ignited with the heat the tequila had first touched off. She could feel the hard plastic of his glasses jammed against her cheek, and didn't care.

Without warning, Leonard suddenly pulled back, breathing heavily. She stared at him, still marveling at the newness of being able to look straight into someone's eyes without looking up. "What?" she gasped. "What is it?"

"I, uh . . . ." Leonard resettled his glasses with one hand, though he didn't remove his other arm from her waist. "Penny, I just—I need to make sure that . . . that you're sure. You said you didn't want a hookup. And I don't . . . I don't want to be something you regret. Or—or to be your charity case."

Penny swallowed, suddenly feeling like she wanted to cry. "Leonard," she husked, "trust me, I am never going to regret this. Or you. And believe me—" She smiled suddenly, and quoted his own words to him. "I'm doing this tonight . . . because I want to."

He stared at her. Then, quite deliberately, he reached behind him with one foot to kick the door shut, took off his glasses, tossed them onto the small table by the bed, and pulled her mouth back to his.