. . .

THE WONDER AMY CALCULATION
Chapter Thirteen

"No." Sheldon erased the line of numbers and symbols from his whiteboard. "Maybe this," he mumbled as he wrote something else. Then he stepped back, pressed the top of the marker to his bottom lip and considered what he'd written. "Nope. That's rubbish, too."

As he reached up to erase his revised line of work, a blob of mashed banana landed in the middle of it. "Hector!" He looked down at the baby - no, a toddler now - resting on his hip, the one that had been content to be held and eat his half-banana for several minutes now. "I didn't mean that you should make it literal rubbish."

He kissed the top of his son's head and put him in his play yard before he got a paper towel and cleaned the whiteboard. "Although, at least your banana was edible, and that's more useful than what I've got here. Maybe I should just move to Central America and become a banana farmer."

"Have you seen the size of the insects there? You wouldn't last a week," Amy's voice came from the hallway.

"See, even you're more correct about things today than I am," he said with a sigh and then turned around to look at her. "Wowza!"

Amy stood there with her hands on her hips and a soft smile on her bold red lips. She wore a long, lean red gown, something shiny with a deep V-neck and a slit - a very high slit, Sheldon noticed with a gulp - up one of her legs. The opening exposed a golden high-heeled gladiator-style sandal that laced past her knee, ending in a tassel on her thigh. Attached to her shoulders, she wore a soft cape that cascaded down her back, the outside of it the same red fabric as the dress but the inside a field of white stars on royal blue.

"Do you like it? I had it made while we were in Themyscira." She twirled for him, and he noticed the inside of the dress was also lined with the same starry fabric. "Do you think it's too over the top for a wedding reception? I know they already had a non-superhero ceremony, but I still don't want to steal attention from the bride."

Sheldon gulped again, regaining his speech. "You're Wonder Amy; it's almost impossible for you not to steal attention. And it's a superhero wedding, so a cape seems on brand."

She grinned widely and said, "Only a dress cape. I find it impossible and unnecessary to fight crime in one." Amy stepped over to his whiteboard. "What are you solving? Other than banana farming."

"Solving is not the correct word. I'm attempting - with very poor results - to work on super asymmetry again."

"Super asymmetry?" Amy's eyes sharpened. "But that's what you were - I mean, you made me take all your notebooks and burn them in the biohazard incinerator. You said they were useless."

"I said they were deranged and inflated ramblings, and I was correct. But I thought of super asymmetry years ago, before I ever became . . . ill. Anyway, I gave it up as impossible. And then I met you."

"Me? I love credit but what do I have to do with it?"

"Technically, just the existence of superheroes in general. There is Asgard and all sorts of new realms. Dr. Strange can bend time and matter. I think super asymmetry might have something to do with that. It's not magic; it's science. It has to be." But he sighed deeply. "Not that I'm getting anywhere. I'll still be standing here, no closer to a solution, when you get home. Speaking of, are you leaving now?"

"After I put on my tiara. And after you get dressed for the party and take Hector upstairs for Leonard and Penny to babysit him."

"What?" Sheldon blinked. "As I just said, it's a superhero wedding. Wonder Amy travels this world alone, crime and weddings alike. I stay home and watch my child and do physics."

"Not anymore." Amy put her hand on his arm. "I've been thinking about something Dr. Pemberton said."

"Why? First, he was a failure and then he was a madman who failed. I thought we thought we weren't going to give him another thought. What use do we have for him?"

"I know. Listen, Sheldon, I'm not ready to tell the entire world - or even our friends - about who I really am yet. Maybe in time; I don't know. I still think it's best if everyone in our social circle and at Caltech just thinks you're married to Dr. Fowler, dowdy neurobiologist."

"Of course, that's what we agreed on, ages ago. But you are far from dowdy."

"Well, certainly not in this dress." The smirk faded as she took a deep breath. "But I think it's time for the other superheroes and some of the support staff to know - people who we can trust. I want you to come to this wedding with me. As Wonder Amy's husband. It will be our way of telling them I'm Dr. Fowler."

"But it's not safe. You have to protect your alter ego at all costs; you told me that."

"Not at all costs. If you feel unworthy or shamed by hiding our relationship, then that's too great of a cost."

"No, it's not. Yes, it's troubling that others think I don't have enough integrity to avoid flirting with women who aren't my wife. But it's worth it if it keeps me and Hector safe. And you. This apartment is your safe space, too."

"I know. But I think that Dr. Pemberton taught us that it's a fallacy, an overconfidence, to believe that we can ever be completely safe, even here. If we're going to be together somewhere, we should fight together. We're better as a team. We should both be able to claim a victory when it is shared."

"I don't know . . ." Sheldon would be lying if he said that he hadn't been rankled to be relegated to a helpless bystander the couple of times he and Amy had fought together. But he was also equally relieved when she left him to give her reports.

"Plus, what do we say if Pemberton starts telling everyone Wonder Amy and Dr. Fowler are the same person? Wouldn't it be best for all the superheroes to already know? To take that power away from him, to help us hide the truth?"

Sheldon gulped. Was Amy correct? Did Dr. Pemberton, even locked away in his electromagnetic-dampening cell, still have the power to harm her, to harm their happiness, in some way? "Well, there's that . . ." his voice trailed.

"And Dr. Hernandez reminded me of something that you taught me," Amy continued, her voice soft but still sure. "That I can trust people, that there are kind and good people out there, who are willing to keep my secret. I cannot sacrifice a life, a life of love and happiness, to fear. And neither can you."

As she reached up and cupped his face in her palm, Amy continued, "Mostly, though, I don't want anyone to think you are just a disposable boy toy. It's demeaning to both of us - and Dr. Fowler. I don't think we can tell everyone yet, but it's a start. This is not a flirtation or an infatuation. I want everyone to know how permanent this love is. How strong and true it is. What this love will do to survive. It will travel to death and back again."

"Was it love at the bottom of the ocean? Is that what brought you back to me?" Sheldon whispered. He remembered how he dared not hope, even as he mourned all he could have had and lost that night.

"Was it love in that MRI lab that brought you back to me?"

"Yes." He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She was right; theirs was a love that survived the deepest and blackest of abysses.

"Is that a yes to love or a yes to the wedding?" Amy asked.

"Yes. Yes to both."

"Good." She patted his arm and pulled away. "Go put on your tux while I get my tiara."

"A tuxedo?" Sheldon whined. "It's that formal?"

"Just think about how good those pants make your posterior look. And hurry; you still have to take Hector upstairs. I'll start the preflight for the jet."

"The jet?" Sheldon groaned. Even with the rug Amy put at his feet, soaring high above the clouds like that terrified him.

"How else do you think we're getting to New York for the weekend?"

"Okay, but I'm not doing the chicken dance," Sheldon said as he started to walk toward the bedroom.

"So you're going to pass on the chance to flap your arms like wings and cluck with both Captain America and Batman?"

Both the chicken dance and Love Shack had long come and gone, and Sheldon stood at the edge of the dance floor, waiting for Amy to return from the restroom. The wedding reception was a festive affair in the atrium of Stark Enterprises east coast headquarters, the space transformed with balloons and streamers and a disco ball high in the ceiling.

The break and the cold punch he was drinking were well-deserved for an evening of dancing with his beautiful wife. Not just a single timid, overly polite dance of an occasional colleague and not the rumor-fueling dance of a lover. Amy was correct; everyone here was only thrilled for them. Sheldon rotated his shoulder, glad that he still had the muscles Amy's blood had given him to withstand all the thumps of congratulations he'd received on the joint.

Amy's smile glowed brighter than the jewel in her golden tiara, flashing more than ever in her new red dress as she introduced him, over and over again, even to those he'd already met. Her radiance continued on the dance floor. Where had Amy learned all those moves? The cha-cha, the rumba, the waltz - Amy knew the steps for every type of music played. Marriage looked especially good on her this evening. And, he suspected, it looked especially good on him. It was a delight and a relief to be out in public with such a capable woman at his side, to allow everyone to see how in love they were.

"Come on, the tango is next." Amy's arm hooked into his elbow and she took his almost-empty punch glass from him.

"How do you know?" Sheldon asked, even as he accompanied her out on the floor, dodging couples as they shifted between songs.

"There's a playlist on one of the music stands. I peeked."

As though she'd planned it, the long sound of a deep violin note stretched through the air, then plucked at the very end. Sheldon put his elbows out wide, in the exaggerated stance of the style, and Amy arranged herself in them. Just as he was about to take the first lunge-like step, she exclaimed, "Oh! I almost forgot!"

"Forgot what?"

"These." To Sheldon's alarm, she reached into the bosom of her dress and pulled out a small gathering of royal blue fabric, sprinkled with white stars. The edges of her lips turned up as she tucked the material into the chest pocket of his tuxedo jacket as though it were a pocket square.

Sheldon gulped. "What is that?" he asked, even though parts of him - a singular part of him - seemed to already know.

"They're my panties," Amy whispered with a wink.

The music escalated and Amy pulled at him, leaning deeply back so that he was draped over her. He was supposed to be dipping her, keeping her from tumbling, but it was Amy who was in control of the situation.

"If we do that one more time, you'll be showing everything to everyone at this wedding!" he hissed into her ear as she yanked herself toward him. He tried to ignore the extra rocking motion she'd added to her pelvis with the move. Her high-heeled sandals put her at just the right height for what she was trying to accomplish. "And don't you dare twirl!"

Amy leaned in close, nuzzling his neck. "You know when I said I didn't want you to be my boy toy anymore?"

"Yes." Sheldon tried to take small steps in hopes of limiting the gaping of the long split up the front of her dress.

"I wouldn't mind if you were my boy toy sometimes. Like right now." He felt her teeth graze his pulse, causing a full-body shiver that had nothing to do with the beat of the music.

"Amy! We're at a wedding! In a public place! And you're half-naked!"

"That's the point."

Another step, another move, and Amy rotated in his arms, shimmying and shaking her body as she moved down his, her round bottom pressing against his undeniable hardness.

Sheldon pulled her back quickly, trying to cover himself. "Let me take you somewhere private," Amy cooed just before she grabbed his hand and tugged him off the dance floor. Sheldon followed, knowing that fighting her would only draw more attention to his current situation. Hopefully, Amy's stride wasn't so long that she was flashing everyone.

Breathless from the effort of keeping up with her, Sheldon let Amy open an unmarked door just past the restrooms and shove him inside. As she locked the door behind them, he flipped the light switch. "The photocopier room?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Happy accident," Amy said with a smile. "But appropriate."

Each kiss was hungry, a force unto itself between them. Amy pushed him against the tall shelves stacked with reams of various papers, fumbling with his belt as she did so. Sheldon buried his hands in her hair, his fingertips tangling in the curls as his tongue searched for hers, over and over again. She put her knee up on his thigh, and he reached down to tickle her behind it, just between two of the golden straps keeping her sandals on.

As they swiveled and swayed across the room in a completely different kind of tango, Amy pushed his jacket off his shoulders. Sheldon pressed her up against the largest photocopier there. "Amy," he moaned into her chest, running his tongue over the red satin to feel her nipple rising beneath the fabric. She must have removed her bra, too.

His pants and underwear fell to his ankles in one swoop, and Amy reached down to guide him into her and he pushed into her waiting body.

"Faster!" she ordered as Sheldon grasped her bottom to hold her still as her legs encircled him. He plunged deeper into her, each thrust causing her to rock against the machine behind her.

It took almost nothing, her body was so swollen and ready for him, and she cried out, that roar of triumph he knew well. Even as she still rocked with her orgasm, Sheldon knelt in front of her, appreciating how the long slit in her dress combined with the spread of her legs caused it to fall away from her core like curtains. He pushed it aside and buried his head deep within the stars he saw there.

She tasted like everything he remembered and never wanted to forget: power and intelligence and beauty and trust and confidence. He lifted one leg over his shoulder as he heard Amy groan, "Great Hera!"

His fingers slipped easily into her and he timed them with his tongue, one pressing as the other pulled, each motion an opposite but perfectly complementary partner. Amy's pelvis rocked with the rhythm he set, rising and falling against his mouth until she tightened and convulsed around him, another guttural cry from her mouth filling the room.

Only when she sagged above him did he stop and rise, kissing her mouth softly. Then as he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close, he reached behind her and pressed some buttons at random.

"What are you doing?" Amy asked.

"Starting this machine. You're very loud."

"You wouldn't have it any other way."

As the machine started, the first thummmmm-whack! sounding, he twisted her around and pulled her dress up over her waist. Her tall golden sandals winked at him; the angle was such that he couldn't see the top as they disappeared behind the amble curves of her bottom. This time, he entered her slowly, slow enough for her to whimper, a small beg for more. He took his time filling her, letting her surround and engulf him. Then he did it again, even slower, letting her almost cry with the desire to possess him.

"Please, Sheldon," she begged, and she turned to look at him over her shoulder. Her greens eyes flashed and twinkled behind her glasses, and her golden tiara caught the reflection of the overhead light. She didn't look away, and, slowly, a mischievous smile spread over her lips. This was his favorite way to see her, and she knew it. Then, just as he filled her again, she closed her eyes in pleasure, a slow, deep descent of her dark eyelashes.

Amy didn't turn back around and he locked eyes with her. Sheldon let the photocopier set the rhythm, both filling her and emptying her with every sharp whack!, moving in and out of her with the thummmmm. This was the only type of overwhelming synesthesia he wanted, the only way he wanted every one of his senses and every part of his brain alive and crackling. There was the sound of the machine, the crescendo of every motion it made echoed in the mew of pleasure from Amy. There was the smell of hot paper and Amy's indescribable scent, never stronger than when she was so aroused. There was the taste of her, still lingering on his lips and his tongue. There was the feel of her, so many feelings: her hot, slick inner-self, the firm roundness of her hips as he held them, and then, the swollen bud of her that he found with his fingertip. Amy changed her angle to give him more room to touch her and she gripped the edge of the photocopier so hard he saw her knuckles whiten and the plastic beneath dent. Through it all, though, she never once took her velvety green eyes off of him, looking over her shoulder in that way she had, even as he heard her mews gave way to long, strong moans of her approaching orgasm. Still, he didn't increase the pace, and only when he felt the first flutter around himself did he drive faster into her, both of them crying out as long waves of release and satisfaction washed over them in unison.

Still within her, Sheldon collapsed against her back, reaching over to turn off the photocopier. The silence that filled the room was almost as deafening as all that had come before, their panting breath mere shadows. He brushed Amy's hair away from her neck and kissed her gently there.

"Where did you did you get that stamina?" Amy managed to pant out.

"I think you gave it to me, along with my new muscles." But he, too, was spent and thirsty for more punch.

"Then I should have committed unsanctioned medical procedures on you years ago." She chuckled and Sheldon kissed her again even as he whispered, "Don't get any ideas."

As they redressed and made themselves presentable again, Amy said, "Huh. I wonder if this would work for your super asymmetry problem."

"What?" Sheldon looked up from his bow tie he was straightening. Amy was bent over at the waist, working on the long strings on her sandals that had twisted in their joyous fray.

"Look at this. The knots are only slightly misaligned at the bottom, but, owing to the curvature of my leg, by the top -"

"There are asymmetric knots is all dimensions!" Sheldon said, his mouth gaping slightly at the sight of Amy's retying her twisted sandal over her knee.

"Exactly. From the very beginning, at the initial moment of creation, the fundamental forces - the very first knots - have to lack symmetry before they can affect the whole."

"The amount of asymmetry grows as the knots . . . well, bootstrap themselves up." Sheldon took a deep breath. "You did it!"

Amy tied the last knot on her thigh and stood up, letting the long red dress cover her legs again. "No, we did it."

"Wonder Amy Farrah Fowler, will you author a paper on super asymmetry with me?"

She put her hand on the doorknob and the door cracked open. "Only if you agree to dance this next song with me."

"Deal." Sheldon started to follow her but then yelled, "Wait!" When she turned to look over her shoulder at him, a hand resting on her hip, he asked, whispering, "Did you put your underpants back on?"

It was her wink that answered.

THE END

If writing itself is a solitary activity, the plotting of a novel is not. In this particular case, two people were instrumental in bringing this story to life.

First, my wonderful husband, who has never been less than supportive of my writing, gave me the seed of this story. Two years ago, when I was in the middle of The Wonder Amy Paradox, he said, "You know, at some point Wonder Amy will have to fight Sheldon. It's the most common trope in comic books, that the hero has to battle what he or she loves the most." He's correct; more than one Marvel movie centers on this plot point. I filed his idea away in the back of my brain, only occasionally returning to it and thinking through how it could transpire.

Then this spring, I said to my dearest friend and Beta, Melissa, that I had the idea for a Wonder Amy story in which Sheldon begins to turn into a super villain after being bitten or infected by something and Wonder Amy has to battle him, along with several other details I had settled upon. However, I knew it wasn't enough. It was too linear, too expected, it needed more beats. It was the fabulous Melissa who suggested an "evil scientist" and it was she who mentioned Dr. Pemberton. It was this wonderful idea that allowed me to add, not just more set pieces, but also further depth to my tale. And that, of course, was on top of her usual and priceless proof-reading, idea-bouncing, and hand-holding.

And there is no way my writing would ever continue without the kind words and reviews from you, my dear readers. Thank you!