WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN: A REBOOT HOMAGE

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.

- 6 -

Leonard had left Penny's apartment with an angry stride, but his movement across the hall slowed with every step, and he had been standing still now outside the door of #4A, his hand motionless on the doorknob, for almost a full minute. Not a long time, objectively speaking, but long enough for his brain to explore more permutations and variations of the last five minutes than a Cray supercomputer modeling climate changes. And all of them, so far, had ended with the same conclusion: He, Dr. Leonard Hofstadter, with his IQ of 173, was the biggest fucking moron on the planet.

So Penny had asked for more help when she needed it, from someone whom she'd had every reason to think would want to help; so fucking what? What the hell was wrong with that?—totally aside from the fact that helping was the right thing to do anyway. And if she'd (maybe) crossed a little bit of a line in how she'd manipulated him into saying yes, it was entirely his own fault that he'd yielded to it, and entirely his own fault that he hadn't said something like That's not necessary the moment she'd hinted how she might express her gratitude—after all, by implicitly accepting her terms, he'd done as much to create that dynamic as she had. And it had been nothing but his own stubborn stupid ego that had suddenly balked at the thought of being "rewarded" at the last second, taking all the jealousy, impatience and resentment he'd felt all night and turning them into wounded pride at the first excuse it found.

How could he have forgotten everything they'd shared last night, even above and beyond the sex? How could he have thought for even a second that Penny, who even he could tell had about as much guile in her as a three-year-old, might be using him the way other girls he'd known had tried—from the high school classmates who'd flirted him into doing their homework for them, the girls in college who'd suckered him into bar tabs, and even Joyce Kim, the spy? Was his self-esteem, even now, still so low that he couldn't believe somebody like Penny might actually want him for him, and would look for any evidence at all such a phenomenon was false so that he wouldn't be destroyed once more by hoping he had finally found it . . . ?

Well, the evidence unfortunately suggests that the answer to that hypothesis is: Yes. That the voice in Leonard's head sounded remarkably like Sheldon was only the perfect capper to his self-loathing.

He slumped, his head falling forward to rest against the door. Well, if he'd wanted to destroy any hope of happiness in his life himself solely to spare himself the pain of losing it, he'd succeeded. And now he'd have to avoid Penny as much as possible all the rest of the time either of them lived here, knowing that he'd had a chance with the most amazing person he'd ever met in his life, and had blown it out of sheer stupid arrogance. Because there was no way she would ever forgive him after this. He couldn't imagine it would be worth even trying to ask. No, it was time to go to bed, and in the morning start looking into becoming a monk. Several of the best scientists in history had been monks. He dug into his pocket, got out his key, and put it in the lock.

Then he stopped. Blinked. And said out loud with a flabbergasted expression, "Oh my God, what the hell am I doing?" Without a second's hesitation, he shoved his key back in his pocket, spun on his heels, strode back to Penny's door and lifted his fist to bang on it.

The door was yanked open just before his hand descended; her robe clutched half-closed around her, Penny stepped forward, crying, "Leonard, wait—!" Then she saw him there and cut herself off, jumping back in shock, as did Leonard. They stared wide-eyed at each other for half an instant. There was no way to tell who moved first, but in the next second they had crashed together, mouths locking and arms grappling, hips pressing together in frenzied desperation, their only sounds muffled groans and gasps. Blind with sensation, Leonard made no resistance at all as Penny dragged him backwards through her apartment and into her bedroom, hurling him onto the mattress and flinging herself onto him.

"I'm sorry!" Leonard gasped out between kisses. "I'm sorry, Penny, I'm so sorry, I was a stupid moron, whatever you want I'll do, however, whenever, it's all fine, I don't care—"

"Leonard," Penny panted, "shut—up." She flung off her robe and rolled on top of him, pinning him down at shoulders and hips, burying her face in his neck, half-tempted to sink her teeth in like a vampire. Leonard writhed under her lips, mouth and tongue as if the contact was electrocuting him. She broke away just long enough to rip off her top and hurl it to one side, then grabbed his shoulders and hauled him up, forcing his head down between her breasts. Leonard gladly returned the courtesy, using his lips and tongue on every inch of glorious soft swelling curvy skin until Penny's breasts throbbed heavily with heat and her nipples ached like rock-hard spikes. She ducked down to kiss him again, then shoved him back to the mattress.

"My turn," she told him in a whisper, and slid down him until her head was level with his jeans. With quick impatient tugs she finished the process she'd started a while ago, undoing zipper and buttons and yanking down jeans and briefs together. Freed from confinement, his manhood sprang up, and she snickered deep in her throat at the evidence of her effect on him. "That's more like it," she told him. "Do you—" she kissed it "—have any idea—" more kisses traced their way downwards "—how hard it was—" with her tongue, she bathed his manhoods's base and jewels "—not to drag you—" licking her way back up "—into the bathroom—" she swirled her tongue around the pulsing, swollen tip "—at that karaoke bar—" took the head wholly into her mouth for a moment "—and have my way with you?" Without waiting for an answer, she took a deep breath and plunged her head down, engulfing him entirely. Leonard let out a sound that was almost a cry of pain, his body fighting to leap upwards, clearly only barely holding himself down to keep from choking her.

She clung to him, gulping him in as she willed back her breath and her gag reflex, half-minded to punish Leonard by mixing pain in with his pleasure through some tricks Kurt had taught her . . . tricks involving teeth. She'd been more than willing to learn such stuff when she'd first met Kurt, and had only grasped in the last few months how the technique was sheer ego gratification for him, a proof of his power over her in what he could get her to do. The realization had soured her on the act and thrown another wrench into their rapidly collapsing sex life. But this was nothing like those encounters had been. Here, the power was all hers—it was her skill, her unhesitating willingness, that was reducing Leonard to such helplessness, as she used the barest movements of lips and tongue, the delicate scrapes of fingernails upon trembling thighs and soft scrotal skin, and the invisible pressure of the muscles of her throat to pin him in place as surely as a spear through his body.

And even as she reveled in that power a distant part of her brain suddenly blinked in amazement. Perhaps, that remote part admitted, this was what Kurt had loved—that sense of mastery, of possession—just as much as she felt now. If so, then maybe she was more like him than she'd wanted to admit. The thought disquieted her enough that she released Leonard, and found herself staring in amazement at the spectacular result of her efforts. Good timing, she thought. Bare seconds more of that and she'd have been left in the lurch. But Leonard didn't seem to mind having been brought to such an agonized magnitude; he was wheezing, his chest rising and falling, trying to get his breath back.

"Oh my God, how do you do that?" he gasped. "Nobody ever did anything like that to me before. I feel like if I even move I'll be done for."

Penny grinned, flattered despite herself. "Eh—you did the same thing to me last night, and way more than once. A little turnabout's fair play, don't you think?"

"Oh, I was actually thinking exactly the same thing," said Leonard. He took off his glasses, lifted up his head and beckoned her, eyes dark and face unsmiling. "Come here," he told her, with no nervousness or doubt whatsoever.

Penny obliged, already giggling in delight. Once she was in range, he grasped her hips and hauled her the rest of the way to him. He slid his hands around to her buttocks, grabbed the waistband of her Hello Kitty shorts and pulled them down over the curves of her rear, then tugged them down in front as well just far enough to gain the access they both so desperately wanted. Gripping her posterior tightly, his mouth closed on her sodden folds and aching nub. Penny shocked both him and herself as her startled cry of, "Oh holy shit oh fuck my fucking God Leonnnaaaaarrrrrrrddddd—!" spiraled upwards out of control far faster than she'd believed possible; within seconds, her brain had shattered in a wrenching firework of light and heat that left her panting and slumped down.

"Already?" Leonard spluttered. "Are you flipping kidding me?" She wasn't sure whether it was the bemused disbelief in his tone, or the way that his voice was still muffled from the position of his face, but Penny suddenly found herself laughing hysterically and falling over. It took Leonard a second, but eventually the sheer hysteria of her mirth infected him too, and he pulled her to snuggle against him, laughing along with her between kisses.

"I'm not done, you know," she informed him once she got her breath back.

"Well thank God for that," he riposted dryly, and nodded down at himself. "And here I was worried about me going off too soon."

"Hey, it's not my fault girls recover so much faster than guys," she protested. Pausing only to wriggle out of her shorts, she rolled him over, slithered into position atop him and began grinding down, using her heat, weight and moisture to restore the hardness the outburst of laughter had cost him. In less than a minute he was back almost to where he had been, and she reached down to find him and guide him inside where he belonged. "Aaahhhhhh," she moaned, settling into place, letting herself hold still for a moment. "Oh, fuck, yes, that's what I wanted, all fricking day."

"Oh, God, me too," said Leonard breathlessly, his eyes closed. "I feel like I should start reciting the elements again. Hell, I could sing them. You ever heard Tom Lehrer's song 'The Elements'?" He broke into a giddy, high-pitched version of the "Modern Major-General" tune. "'There's antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium/ And hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium—'"

Penny put one hand over his mouth, cutting him off. "Sweetie," she purred, "whatever you have to do to hold on, that's fine, but if I wanted singing we'd have done this in the bathroom at the karaoke place." She squeezed her internal muscles hard, to take the sting from her admonishment; from his groan and spasmodic thrust upward, it worked. As if in karmic payback, however, the thrust caught her G-spot at the right internal angle again, and she shuddered like someone had stuck her with a cattleprod. "Oh! Oh, Jesus, that's good! Do that again, baby, please, just like that!"

"As you wish," said Leonard, with an odd theatricality; it momentarily made her wonder if she was supposed to recognize the line from somewhere, before he grabbed her hips, kicked his pants off, brought his knees up to give himself some leverage and began thrusting up into her with the rolling movements he'd learned last night and clearly not forgotten at all since. Penny made a breathless sound that was half laugh, half sob, put her hands on his chest and joined in with a will, rolling and gyrating her hips in synchrony with his own movements.

Time passed in blissful oblivion. Pleasure ballooned up inside her core and her stomach, swelling larger and larger, tighter and tighter . . . and seemed to halt, trembling just out of her reach on the edge of detonation, as she realized the fatigue of a long day was slowing her down. She let herself subside, sweat-soaked and shivering, and draped her head down to rest her forehead on Leonard's. "Babe, I'm so sorry, but I'm running out of steam," she gasped. "Can we change positions?"

"Of course! Whatever you want," Leonard panted. "You want me on top?"

"Um . . . actually, you remember last night? When I told you how I really liked it?"

Leonard frowned; then his eyes widened. "Oh." A grin came over his face. "Yeah, I think I'd be up for that." He slid out from her, rolled to his knees, and backed up, patting the mattress where he'd been. "Okay, sweetheart; you know the drill."

Penny laughed. "The drill? Are you going gangsta on me? I like it!" She got on her hands and knees and let her arms fold down, resting her face and chest against the mattress with her backside thrust out, and hissed in anticipation when she felt his hardness nuzzling her entrance. "Leonard, please, come on, just get in there—oh!" She had expected the same awkwardness he'd shown when first doing this last night, but evidently she'd underestimated either his need, or his ability to read her own; the moment he was in position he'd simply clamped onto her hips and thrust hard, burying himself hilt-deep in a single stroke. She wailed and flung her arms out, fisting her hands in the bedsheets to hold on as he drew out and began hammering hard against her, leaning back and pressing on her spine to generate as much internal friction as he could. With the G-spot stimulation even more intense at this angle, the balloon of excitement and pleasure grew massive inside her, and burst at last in a drenching wave of tingling, burning spasms that had her yelling into her pillow. Her knees gave way and she thudded down to the mattress, quivering like gelatin.

Leonard dropped down with her, draping himself over her, his hips still working; she realized she'd beaten him to the finish line, and decided to help him along. Turning her head as far back as she could, she whispered filthy encouragements to him, urging him on in her huskiest, most seductive tones, while stretching one arm back to scrape her fingernails along the side of his hips and buttocks and reaching the other up to scratch at his back. To her own mild dismay, the tactics stimulated her strongly enough that she felt herself beginning another climb to orgasm, but she was nowhere near climax when he finally reached his breaking point and erupted inside her with a sound almost like a moan of pain. The limp weight of him as he collapsed over her, gasping and wheezing, guaranteed nothing more would be happening for a few minutes.

Still, she couldn't really complain, Penny thought dreamily; she'd had two phenomenal climaxes inside a quarter of an hour, and before Leonard, that hadn't happened for a long time. And the night was nowhere near over, yet—

—or was it? Afterglow gave way to alarm as she realized that Leonard's wheezing gasps had taken on a distinctly whistling, unhealthy note. She twisted in the bed, her eyes wide in sudden fear at the panicked look on his sallow, bloodless face as he struggled to get up. "Leonard? Baby? What's wrong?"

"Asthma—attack," Leonard wheezed. The iron grip closing his chest was familiar, but hadn't struck as strongly as this in a while; he'd overexerted himself. "Need—inhaler—my jacket—" He tried to roll off the bed, but couldn't seem to find the strength. Looking even more panicked than he felt, Penny leapt from the bed herself, raced round it and found Leonard's hoodie near the door. She shook the inhaler out of one pocket, literally flung herself back on the bed and slapped it into Leonard's hand. Leonard uncapped it, brought it to his mouth with shaking hands, and triggered it. A pressurized hiss split the air; Leonard sucked in the medication, gave a huge gasp, and subsided, his chest opening up. He hit himself with another dose, let himself fall back on the bed, and closed his eyes. His breathing deepened and slowed. He could feel the warmth gradually coming back to his face.

"Holy God." Penny took his hand. "Jesus, Leonard, don't scare me like that again. Next time let's make sure that thing's right here on the bedside table within reach, okay?"

"Okay," agreed Leonard, in exhaustion. Then he realized what she'd said, and tilted his head to look at her, unable to keep a hopeful grin off his face. "So there is going to be a next time, then?"

"Oh, you can bet your sweet bippy on that," she assured him, chuckling, and let herself slide down to curl around him. She sighed in contentment. "I'm not giving this up anytime soon."

"You have no idea how glad I am to hear that," Leonard said as sincerely as he could.

That got him a wry look. "Oh, I'd say I have some idea," she said, and brought his hand to her groin so he could feel for himself exactly how much of a mess they'd made. He withdrew his hand with a grimace, and she laughed. "Well, next time don't have an asthma attack, and we can clean up together."

"Yeah, sure, that's the simplest solution," he agreed in a sardonic deadpan. After a moment, he sighed. "Penny, I really am truly sorry for being such an asshole. I swear to God I had no intention of acting that way, I just—" He sighed again. "I guess I'm so used to expecting to be taken advantage of, I have a hard time believing that it isn't happening. And when all those guys hit on you in the karaoke bar, I just kept thinking, 'whatever I've got to offer over that, it's bound to run out sooner or later' . . . ." He looked beseechingly at her. "You understand, right?"

"Hm. All those guys who hit on me in the karaoke bar," said Penny, with an arch look. "Oh, you mean all the guys I turned down, right?"

"Yeah, but—not before collecting all their telephone numbers . . . ."

"Leonard, I didn't keep any of them. I threw them out in the girls' washroom." She propped her head up on her hand and looked pointedly at him. "You'd rather I acted all offended and prim, and made Sheldon, Howard and Raj start wondering why I was behaving differently? Or even just told them, 'sorry, boys, I'm already sleeping with someone at this table'? Because you wanted to keep that secret from Sheldon, remember—though I have to admit, I'd really rather not have Wolowitz constantly making cheap sleazy wisecracks about us, either."

"Wolowitz will make cheap sleazy wisecracks about you whatever he thinks is going on," Leonard pointed out. "And you could have just told them you had a boyfriend, you didn't have to say who . . . ." He trailed off as Penny looked away, her expression changing in a way he really didn't like. "I mean—aren't we boyfriend and girlfriend, at this point? Because if we aren't . . . what are we?" He tried very hard to keep his voice from cracking on the last question, and mostly succeeded.

"I don't know, Leonard." Penny sighed and looked back at him. "Look—I like you an awful lot. I even kinda like your goofy friends. And the sex is amazing, and I don't want to stop seeing you. And I owe you an apology too, while we're at it—I shouldn't have tried to set up the whole 'favour' thing as an excuse to get you back into bed. I never wanted to be one of those girls who just used sex to get what she wanted out of a guy . . . heck, half the time sex was all I wanted out of the guy." She chuckled, but then seemed to notice his sourly unamused look, and cleared her throat. "Anyway, point is: I want you. I want to be with you. But . . . ."

"Oh, boy, there's always a 'but'," Leonard muttered, not able to stop himself.

"But," Penny repeated, "I just got out of a four-year relationship with a guy who left me with a pretty low opinion of all the old-school romantic words, you know, 'love', 'soulmate', 'forever', all that. I just—I'm not sure I'm ready to jump right back into that kind of thing, you know? Especially since we really don't know each other all that well, yet. I like the idea of taking it slow, and that we aren't going to demand anything of each other that the other isn't ready to give. Does that make sense?"

Leonard thought that over, not liking it much but unable to find any counterargument likely to be effective. "More than I'd like," he grudgingly admitted at last. "I mean, you know, as long as 'taking it slow' covers everything other than actual sex. Which I have to tell you is not at all how I was brought up to think about this. But . . . like I said . . . I'm in for whatever you're willing to give. Because I'd be an utter moron to turn you down."

Penny reached out and ran one finger down his chest. "So you're okay if the two of us just . . . keep this a private, casual thing? For now?"

Leonard sighed, exerting some effort to repress a shiver at the contact. "I think so, but I have to ask one thing." He reached up and took her hand; he really didn't want an answer to this question, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without it. "Does 'casual' mean 'able to date other people'? 'Cause I gotta tell you, casual or not, I'd have a really hard time seeing you with someone else at this point."

Penny blinked, suddenly somber. Leonard wondered hopefully if that meant she didn't like the idea of seeing him with another girl either—although he had to admit, the likelihood of her seeing that before he saw her with another guy was extremely low. "Tell you what," she said at length. "Call it free to date, on the condition that we promise each other anybody else we date will also be only a casual thing. No competition, in other words. If anything else looks like it's starting to get serious, we'll give each other a heads-up and . . . re-evaluate the situation. Deal?"

Leonard let out his breath and nodded. "Deal," he said at last, and shifted his hand to grip hers as if they'd just shaken on it. "I promise. No serious dates with anybody else unless I clear it with you first."

"Likewise." Penny suddenly pointed at him and looked earnest. "Oh, but there's an exception if I get a chance to jump Johnny Depp. Or Leonardo DiCaprio. Or Keanu Reeves."

Leonard smirked. "Fine. Leo, Keanu and Johnny are on your auto-clearance list." He put his hand to his breastbone with affected dignity. "And I'll make the same reservations for Jewel Staite, Summer Glau and Christina Hendricks."

Penny frowned. "Who're they?"

"They're famous actresses!"

Penny shrugged. "Never heard of 'em."

"They were on Firefly! And the movie Serenity!" Leonard's voice rose indignantly.

"Never heard of those either. You know, Leonard, you're allowed to name anybody, here, like really famous people."

Leonard gave up. "Fine. Uh, Meryl Streep, Sandra Bullock, and—oh, what the hell: Betty White." Penny burst into laughter, and Leonard sat up, not sure whether he was offended or amused. "Hey, you think I couldn't get with Sandra Bullock if I had a chance?"

"Oh, honey," Penny chortled, sitting up herself, "you wouldn't stand a chance with Betty White. Unless you were both really drunk and she was coming off a bad relationship." She got herself under control, saw his hurt look, and threw her arms around him in a sudden hug. "Because only then would she be lucky enough to find out how awesome you are. Okay, baby?"

Leonard really did think he was entitled to be offended here, but it was remarkably difficult to maintain any degree of sincere outrage with Penny's magnificent breasts pressed against his bare chest. He began sliding his hands down Penny's back, planning a surprise attack on her posterior, but was interrupted when she suddenly pulled away and looked down at herself with a grimace. "Ew," she said. "Okay, I really need a cleanup break. Things are . . . uh . . . heading south, down there."

"Shower?" suggested Leonard.

Penny nodded, then did an abrupt double-take and smacked herself in the forehead. "Aw, crap, I forgot. Mine still isn't working."

For a change, Leonard's brain actually worked as fast as he liked to think it always did. "My place? If we're quiet, I can sneak you in with me. I mean, Sheldon'll give me my second strike for using the shower after ten p.m., but it'll be worth it." He tried for a naughty grin. "And you know, I think I've had enough time to reload now; we actually could try full-on shower sex. I'll even bring my inhaler along."

Penny returned the grin approvingly. "Dr. Hofstadter, getting kinky! I like it." She kissed him, then tilted her head. "But you've really got to explain this whole 'strike' business to me one of these days."

"No, no, trust me, I really don't."

Getting to sleep had always been difficult for Sheldon. The downside of a brain which was constantly working at the speed, pitch and fury it did, and was always looking for new ideas and distractions, was that it took real effort to slow down and shut it off, especially given the basically sedentary nature of his preferred daily activities. It was one reason he tried to keep his schedule as fixed as possible; he could handle minor alterations like the occasional dinner out, but major irregularities could significantly disrupt his ability to properly wind down. Worse still, the sensitivity of his hearing meant even when he had successfully achieved REM- or trans-REM sleep, it rarely took more than one aberration in the noise patterns surrounding his bedchamber to bring him bolt upright. Much as he knew it annoyed Leonard occasionally, the proscription against showering after 10:00 PM that he'd codified into the Roommate Agreement was more than a thoughtless selfishness; it was a necessary self-care mechanism, and a convenient control on water bill expenses as well.

As a result, when he found himself abruptly kicked out of an odd but interesting dream where he was conversing with an anthropomorphic version of the E=mc2 formula (it had Einstein's German accent and was complaining that lazy writers used it as a cheap shorthand for characters to look smart), his first reaction on realizing he'd been woken by the noise of the shower was an annoyed, "Aw, frickety-frack!" He jumped to his feet and was about to storm into the bathroom when he suddenly realized something else: there was more going on than just showering. He could distinctly hear the mutter of speech beneath the water's roar, although making out who the voice belonged to was beyond him unless he got closer. Sheldon put his palm over his forehead. Oh, wonderful, now he's gone and started talking to himself like that senile tenured old fool Dr. Rothman . . . .

But wait—Leonard didn't normally talk to himself at a volume that bothered anyone; it was one of the first habits he'd operantly conditioned into his friend, back when they'd first become roommates. Sheldon suddenly stiffened, his hands flying to his mouth to hold in his squeak of panic. Was someone else in their shower? Had a homeless person broken in, finally so desperate to get clean that he'd resorted to crime? Moving as quietly as he could, Sheldon clambered out of bed, grabbed his robe, put it on, and tiptoed out of his room—his door opened without a sound, thanks to his regular oiling of the hinges for just such an emergency.

Back pressed to the wall, the noise of the shower and the muffled murmurs, whispers and grunts concealing his catlike steps, Sheldon slipped down the hallway. With one knuckle he tapped on Leonard's door as quietly as he could. taptaptap "Leonard!" he whispered. taptaptap "Leonard!" taptaptap "Leonard!" There was no response. He flattened his palm on Leonard's door and pushed it gently open, until the light spilling in from the corridor revealed the truth: Leonard's bed was unoccupied. Sheldon gasped, this time clapping both hands to his mouth. Leonard wasn't even back yet! He was alone in the apartment, with a stranger in his bathroom! Using his shower!

Should he call the police? No; the average response time for the Pasadena police service in this neighbourhood was well over seven minutes, easily enough time for the interloper to finish his ablutions and resume his campaign of domestic terror. Why, Leonard might be about to walk into the homicidal vagabond's path any minute—or worse, the invader's path might be aimed at his own room, ready to butcher any helpless innocent genius scientist who got in his way before curling up comfortably to sleep in the bloodsoaked bed! Sheldon gulped, summoning every last shred of his physical courage. Clearly it was up to him, and no one else, to defend their home.

He ducked into Leonard's room, grabbed his friend's lightsaber from the closet, activated it (Zzzrrroommmsh!) and advanced down the hall towards the bathroom, the blade's glow casting an eerie green light before him. The shower was still running; the person inside sounded like he was in pain, giving off little moans and grunts that reminded Sheldon of nothing so much as someone coping with horrible belly cramps. Sheldon's own bowels contracted in fear. Oh, no, he's in withdrawal! It's a junkie! His mother had warned him of the horrors which addictions could make of men. He paused on the threshold of the bathroom door, breathing deeply, planning to leap into the bathroom with a karate-scream kiai . . . but his courage failed him at the last minute. A person could get hurt that way. Better to fall back on the tactic he'd learned from watching his father's poker games: Bluffing and intimidation.

Hovering just outside the door, he drew a deep breath and yelled, "Attention, sanitary interloper!"

A weirdly echoing yelp of shock and panic split the air within the bathroom, followed by a horrible thumping and banging, so forceful it sounded like there was more than one body in there—but that was just too unlikely; even Sheldon wasn't prepared to bet on murdering burglar-hobos showering in pairs. Still, the interloper was clearly on the defensive. Heartened, Sheldon raised his voice again. "Listen to me, interloper! I am the rightful resident of these premises and I am armed! Nobody has to be hurt here, so I'm going to give you one opportunity to—"

"Sheldon!" This voice Sheldon recognized. "For God's sake, Sheldon, it's me! What the hell?!"

"Leonard?!" Sheldon blinked, deactivated the lightsaber and came in, finding Leonard peering myopically out around the shower curtain, gasping for breath. "Why were you talking to yourself in the shower? I thought you were a home invader."

Leonard gaped at him, his hair frothy with shampoo and sticking every which way; his expression was a mix of flabbergasted shock and outrage so clear even Sheldon could read it. "Sheldon, what in the name of God would make you think a home invader would use our shower before killing us?!"

Sheldon thought that over. Leonard did have a good point, rare as that was. "I suppose you're right," he admitted. "It would have been much more efficient to kill us first and then wash himself off. I'll remember that." He turned to go, then paused and turned back. "Did you just giggle at me?"

Leonard's expression went through the most extraordinary array of changes, finally winding up in something Sheldon thought might be resignation. "I, uh . . . laughed in hysteria. You did scare the crap out of me."

"Oh! Then the tactic was effective. Excellent, I'll remember that too." He turned to go again. Then he stopped, as something occurred to him, and turned back a second time. "Leonard? From your presence in the shower, I'm assuming your installation of Penny's TV equipment is concluded?"

"Uh, yes, yes. Yeah, I fixed her right up." Leonard gave an odd little smile—a peculiar thing to be proud of, given the task's simplicity, but Sheldon supposed Leonard had to take his satisfactions where he found them.

"Good. And from the fact that you're here rather than, as I believe the colloquialism is, 'spending the night', I'm assuming that any attempt at coitus was unsuccessful?"

Leonard turned red. "I'd really rather not talk about that right now, Sheldon—uuuuhhhuuh!" His eyes crossed slightly with the involuntary-sounding exclamation; he looked as if something very surprising, or very pleasing, had just occurred to him. His eyes flicked down at himself and then away, and he swallowed.

Sheldon frowned. "Are you all right, Leonard?"

"Uh, yes! Yes, I'm fine, absolutely, fine. Just a momentary burst of ahhahhaahaa, cold water." Leonard blinked furiously, his face twitching.

"Cold water? Really?" Sheldon's frown deepened. "Might be worth calling the landlord in the morning, then."

Leonard closed his eyes. "Sheldon, is there a reason you're still here? And still . . . talking?"

"Well, there's the business of your violating the ten o'clock shower curfew and the consequent second strike, but we can leave that for the morning too," said Sheldon. He put the toilet seat lid down and sat on it, ignoring Leonard's groan. "No, Leonard, what I really wanted to discuss was your obsession with our new neighbour. It's obvious to me that, to paraphrase a popular saying, your libido is writing checks your personality isn't going to be able to cash. This futile attempt to gain Penny's favour is already leading you to disrupt our whole routine, and I only foresee it getting worse when you finally comprehend that futility yourself." He gave Leonard an earnest look. "I'm looking out for you here, Leonard. I don't like to see my best friend moping around in despair. It upsets me . . . ." He trailed off. "Are you sure you're all right? You're giving off more tics than a malfunctioning cuckoo clock."

"No, no, Iiiiiiii . . . I'm just fine, Sheldon." But Leonard's breathing had increased to a rapid, shallow pace as if he was trying to manage pain; only the fact that his mouth's weird contortions looked more like smiles than grimaces broke the pattern. As if noticing Sheldon's scrutiny, he harrumphed and seemed to master himself, though his eyes still looked glazed. "Thank you for thinking of me, Sheldon, but I really—I'm sure I'll be oooookay!" He shuddered.

"Oh. Well, if you're sure." Sheldon hid his disappointment at the failure of his "tics" joke. Maybe he should try it with a different pun next time. "Well then, goodnight."

"Good night, Sheldon!" With a groan that sounded almost as if he was in physical agony, Leonard yanked the shower curtain closed.

Sheldon sighed and left the bathroom, but got only partway down the hall before he caught one last detail of interest in the shower's soundscape. Deciding to be conscientious, he went back to the bathroom and simply called through the door, rather than delay things by distracting Leonard. "And by the way, Leonard, I'd sincerely recommend against washing yourself so vigorously as you clearly were. I could hear the friction halfway back to my room. I'm sure I don't have to tell you about the heartbreak of excess chafing."

Leonard's breathing sounded even faster. "Thank you—Sheldon," he called back, half gasping. "I'll be—sure to—bear—that—in—miiiiiiinnnnddddd . . . ." His voice broke up in a long, quivering moan and died with an exhausted grunt. Sheldon frowned. Had he heard another giggle in there? No, surely not; it must just be a sonic artifact of the bathroom's acoustics. He shrugged and went back to his bedroom.

Poor Leonard, he thought, getting into bed. A legitimately decent intellect, wasted on this pointless pursuit. Well, people did grow and change. Maybe one day he would realize the lunacy of society's whole obsession with coitus, and dedicate himself to higher things, as Sheldon had. On that day, he truly would be the perfect best friend . . . .

Sheldon snorted. No, that was about as likely as the idea that Sheldon himself would ever find any point in the whole matter, or meet a woman who shared enough of his intellect and his values to make it worthwhile trying. Such a being almost certainly didn't exist. He smiled scoffingly at the absurdity.

He lay his head back, compensating in his mind for the ambient sound of the shower, and within a few minutes was asleep.

THE END

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As you can see, though the beginning part of this story owes almost everything to son-goku5's original idea and work, this story took its own direction in terms of plot and resolution, and allowed me to indulge the fact that I am much more of an overwriter and rambler (and the fact that I'm old enough to remember the Police Academy movies). As I am also nowhere near as good as SG5 at keeping smut fresh, original, arousing and interesting over the course of close to a million words, I have no intention of continuing on this timeline the way he has, and strongly recommend any reader who enjoyed this go back to "What Could Have Been" and sign up for updates. Any positive reactions should go to son-goku5; any negative reactions should be directed to me. Thanks again to everyone for indulging me, and rest assured I will be returning to updating The Metahuman Transfiguration soon!