Title: The Pie Crust Exercise
Fandom: The Big Bang Theory
Pairing: Sheldon/Penny
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own them, just borrowing them for my nefarious ideas.
Spoilers: General show spoilers. AU after the end of Season 2.
Word Count: ~2100
Summary: Sheldon tries to teach Penny how to bake. Established Sheldon/Penny relationship.
Notes: For K who gave me the prompt "Sheldon tries to teach Penny how to cook" and I morphed it just a tiny bit. Probably been done a million times, but hey, it's new to me! And what the heck, how did I end up basically giving a baking lesson in this fic?

Special lovins to S for fixing my tense problems. I don't know why I'm stuck in present tense, these days...

I actually wrote this a while ago, but forgot to post to FFN. Whoops.

Penny saunters into 4A with a letter and envelope in one hand and an index card in the other.

"Sheldon, why did Meemaw send me a recipe?"

Sheldon, who's sitting at his laptop, slowly turns all the way to the side and raises an eyebrow.

"You received a letter from Meemaw?"

Leonard, who's also sitting at his laptop, stands and looks at the envelope in Penny's hand.

"Huh," he says, squinting and bending at an angle to read it. "It says, 'Meemaw Cooper'."

"What does the letter say?" Sheldon asks, rising and walking towards her.

"It says I'm supposed to make this recipe." Penny flaps the card in his face as he draws near.

Sheldon grabs Penny's wrist to stop the movement and stands behind her to peer at the letter in her other hand.

"I don't to see why you're asking why Meemaw sent you a recipe when it explains the reason in the letter," Sheldon admonishes.

Penny and Leonard exchange an exasperated look.

"No, Sheldon, she's asking why your Meemaw sent her the recipe, not why Meemaw sent her the recipe," Leonard tries.

"I fail to discern a distinction."

Penny sighs and tugs her arm out of Sheldon's grasp, turning to face him.

"Your Meemaw doesn't even know me, Sheldon," Penny says. "Yet she sent me this recipe and basically said she expects me to make this pie for her upcoming visit with your mother and sister."

"Yes," he agrees. "Your point?"

"How does she know I can even cook?"

"Bake."

Penny blinks. "Huh?"

Leonard, having had years of experience, recognizes the signs of an impending Sheldon Explanation and carefully steps away. "I'm going to just finish what I was doing. In my room."

Neither Penny nor Sheldon pay Leonard any mind as he picks up his laptop and heads to the relative safety of his bedroom.

"You said 'cook'," Sheldon continues. "But really you mean 'bake'."

"Whatever," Penny rolls her eyes. "Same thing."

"A common misconception, but I can assure you, cooking and baking are not the same thing."

"Oh, really." Penny crosses her arms and regards Sheldon.

Sheldon takes a breath but pauses when he notices the expression on Penny's face.

"I can see you are not in the mood for an complete explanation," he says carefully. "I will use a simple metaphor instead: cooking is akin to art whereas baking is akin to science."

"Go on."

Sheldon pauses again, a little apprehensive. His ability to read body language, especially Penny's, has significantly improved since his relationship with her began, but he still sometimes misreads cues, especially when combined with terms that may or may not be sarcastic.

"Sarcasm?" he asks, tentative.

Penny smiles, then, and puts a hand on his arm. "Actually, no, sweetie. I do want to know, just...not the full Sheldon Cooper dissertation, please."

It's his turn to give Penny a look but he lets it slide.

"Speaking in generalities," he starts, pointedly ignoring the obviously exaggerated gasp Penny makes, "when cooking, exact measurements are not always required and substitutions are more easily made on a one-to-one basis. When baking, though, straying from the exact measurements in a recipe can be perilous. If a recipe calls for a quarter teaspoon of salt, using half a teaspoon could change the chemical makeup of the recipe enough that the taste would be completely undesirable."

"Oh, come on," Penny exclaims.

Sheldon clasps his hands behind his back and leans forward slightly. "Tell me. Have you ever accidentally switched baking soda and baking powder in a recipe?"

Penny opens her mouth to reply but pauses, thinking. "Hmm. Okay. I see your point. But still, it can't be that...specific. Or no one would ever bake."

"Certainly there are margins for error," Sheldon agrees. "But much less so than in cooking."

Penny looks up at Sheldon. "Okay, fine. But back to the original point. Why does your Meemaw want me to make this? Does she even know if I can bake?"

"Clearly she doesn't or she never would have sent you her prized apple pie recipe."

"Hey! That's not nice." Penny pouts.

Sheldon, alarmed, leans down and softly kisses her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

A slow smile spreads across Penny's face and she sets the papers down on the key bowl before winding her arms around Sheldon's neck.

"Why don't we head to my place and you can help me with that recipe..." she suggests, pressing into him.

"Hmm, no," he replies, wrapping his arms around her.

"No?"

"I'll teach you."

Penny surveys her kitchen with a critical eye. Which is just amusing since she'd been banished to the couch for the duration of Sheldon's cleaning spree. When he's satisfied with the state of her counter tops, he lays out the ingredients needed for a pie crust.

"That's it?" she asks.

"Pie crusts are very simple, Penny," Sheldon explains. "This is actually more than what both my Meemaw and mother use. But, since neither of us really wants to handle lard..."

Penny shudders.

"So," she says, trying to clear her mind. "Flour, salt, ice water, butter, and shortening. Why shortening?"

"Butter may make a flakier crust, but it also melts too quickly when handled and makes the dough unmanageable after a time."

Penny purses her lips and ponders. "Can't you just make the crust for me? You clearly know how. They wouldn't have to know."

He levels a look at her and she already knows what he's going to say. "Penny."

"I know, I know. They'll probably ask or something and you definitely can't lie to your Meemaw. Okay. Let's get this started."

After convincing Sheldon her hands are clean and, yes, her fingernails are, too, he sits on the other side of the kitchen island and instructs her on a few basics.

"I find that the butter is easier to deal with if cubed and chilled," he says, pushing a knife towards her. "Slice the stick of butter lengthwise into 4 equal parts, rotate the stick 90 degrees and repeat, then slice on the short edge into pats. Each pat should have 16 cubes of butter which happen to be the correct size for 'pea sized' pieces of butter often called for in recipes."

Penny stares at Sheldon, then at the stick of butter, and back at Sheldon.

"Or whatever you can manage," he hedges.

She shakes her head in exasperation but gets started. Cutting butter is harder than she thought it would be but she manages to get 9 cubes of mostly the same size in each pat. Thankfully, Sheldon doesn't insist she start over and she puts the cubed butter in the freezer for a few minutes. She's handled it so much many of the cubes are mushy.

On instinct, she licks a finger. She feels a little proud when Sheldon doesn't actually make a noise at her, but just raises an eyebrow. She washes her hands without protest.

"Hey, I just realized, that butter isn't salted."

"Correct," Sheldon says. "A stick of salted butter can have anywhere from 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon of salt in it."

"Really? I guess that wouldn't be good for baking, then."

"In cases where it is especially important, a recipe will explicitly call for unsalted butter," he explains. "But, yes, if you use salted butter when you are instructed to use unsalted butter and you add the salt called for in the recipe, the taste can be affected."

"Huh. So what do we do while the butter freezes?"

"You measure the flour."

"Okay," Penny answers, getting a mixing bowl. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't as simple as it sounds?"

The corners of Sheldon's mouth turn up in the little boyish smile she finds so endearing.

She grins in response. "So, what's the deal with flour?"

"Well..." he drawls, leaning forward. "I prefer to measure flour in weight since it's more accurate, but Meemaw's recipe is older and doesn't have weight equivalents; we'll have to be careful not to pack the flour."

"Isn't there a conversion?" she asks. "Well, it's not like I have a scale, anyway."

"I have a scale, but that's not the point. If flour is packed into the measuring cup, the amount will differ than if you sifted or gently shook flour into the measuring cup. Besides, Meemaw always relied on sight, feel, and taste when she baked. I never had the opportunity to weigh the ingredients when she baked in my presence, but I did pick up enough to mimic her technique."

Penny grabs a measuring cup and a spoon and looks at Sheldon expectantly.

"Shake the flour into the measuring cup until it overflows, then level off the top with a knife," he instructs.

"That's not so bad," she muses as she complies.

The rest is pretty simple and aside from a few tips Sheldon learned from his Meemaw, Penny figures it out. Measure the salt and toss it in, mix it around with a fork. Cut the shortening in with a fork until it looks like wet sand. Toss in the butter cubes and coat with flour, break up any big pieces with fingers but ultimately it doesn't matter. Add water until it just barely comes together. Turn out onto parchment and press down to really make it come together but not overwork it.

It's in the middle of the "come together" part when Penny's phone rings. Penny recognizes the ring tone as her mother's and she looks at her fingers coated in pie dough and curses.

"Sheldon, honey, can you get that?"

He retrieves her phone from the coffee table and answers it.

"Penny's phone," he says. He listens for a few moments before looking at her. "It's your mother."

"I know, Sheldon. What does she want?"

"Shall I turn on the speakerphone?" he asks both women.

Penny cringes. "Doesn't work. Guess I dropped the phone one too many times. Besides, Mom doesn't like speakerphone."

Sheldon gives Penny a look, then resumes talking to her mother. "I'm sorry, she's unable to handle the phone at the moment. I'm teaching her how to make a pie."

Penny frowns when she hears the distinct sound of her mother's laughter coming from the phone.

"She is doing quite well, actually."

Penny smirks.

"Can she call you later?"

Pause.

"Oh. One moment."

Sheldon looks at her. "She says she's about to board a plane with your father to go on vacation, but she wanted to talk to you before they left."

Penny nods. "Yeah, they like to call all the kids before they go anywhere. Um, hang on, I'll just clean up and finish this later."

Sheldon stands up straighter in alarm. "But you'll be wasting precious pie dough."

"What? Never mind. Unless you have another suggestion...I'm not getting pie dough all over my phone and you wouldn't allow it anyway."

He ponders for a moment. "I believe I have a solution."

Penny raises and eyebrow and watches as Sheldon moves to stand behind her. With one hand, he brushes the hair away from her ear, making her shiver. Then, he presses her phone to her ear and wraps his other arm around her so she doesn't feel like she has to lean into the phone.

She tries very, very hard not to react because moaning into the phone with her mother on the other side would be a very bad idea.

"Hey, Mom," she says, voice shaky.

Penny completely misses what her mother says because Sheldon shifts and he's pressed up against her so all she can process is the feel of him.

"What was that?" she asks again, trying very hard to ignore Sheldon.

They chat for a few moments and hurriedly say goodbye when Penny hears her father say they just called their flight.

"You can hang up now," she breathes, but all Sheldon does is put the phone on the counter.

Penny can't help herself, she pushes back into him. She smiles as she hears-and feels-the breath whoosh out of him.

"I underestimated the effect of being in close proximity to you." His voice is husky and his Texas drawl is more pronounced.

He's kissing her neck now and Penny's finding it difficult to form coherent thoughts.

"We're never going to finish this pie if you keep doing that," she manages.

"I'm finding it difficult to care," Sheldon says.

His voice is a low growl in her ear and she's gone. Penny twists in Sheldon's embrace and her lips crush against his. Her hands are anywhere they can get, pie dough be damned.

Later, much later, the remains of the aborted pie dough lesson are in the trash and Penny and Sheldon are in the basement doing an emergency load of laundry.

"So, if I'm supposed to make this pie," Penny says as she hops up onto a washer, "you're going to have finish the lesson sometime."

Sheldon leans in close but he's looking up, thinking. "I'll remember to turn off the phones next time."

End