Author's Note: This epilogue is for ChaliceInnana. Please leave a review if you've enjoyed this, or let me know how you think it could be better. Regardless, I'll be writing more Shamy (because they're awesome.)

One year later

"Why do you care, anyway?" Amy snapped. "You are no longer my boyfriend, our relationship agreement is terminated; and therefore, it is no longer your concern who I do and who I do not associate with."

"Oh, never fear Dr. Farrah Fowler, I most certainly DON'T care," Sheldon shot back. "In fact, if it were possible to care less than not at all, I would fall into that category. But in the interest of dispassionate scientific inquiry, I feel compelled to note that you don't actually see him as your intellectual equal, and your assertion to the contrary offends me on an epistemic level."

Amy regarded him then with a strangely hopeful expression. "Are you jealous?"

Sheldon's mouth dropped open. "What? Am I—good grief—" he sputtered indignantly. "Jealous of that troglodyte? He's one DNA sequence away from the primates that you 'study' together."

Amy scooted closer to him on the couch. Sheldon's eyes widened and he attempted to scoot back, but he encountered the arm.

"Perhaps I misspoke," Amy continued, staring directly at him, "does the thought of David defiling my body on our lab table provoke feelings of disgust and/or virulent anger in you?"

Sheldon looked ready to murder David. "Yes!" He spat out.

"Good," Amy said, and kissed him.

Two Years Later

"Come on you old pest, fetch a bottle of your best, what's the nectar of the day?" Sheldon was inflecting his voice to mimic the different Broadway singers for each line. Amy grinned as Sheldon turned up the volume. She couldn't help it – Sheldon was adorable when he got into his show tunes.

"MASTER OF THE HOUSE, DOLING OUT THE CHARM," he belted out, "READY WITH A HANDSHAKE AND AN OPEN ARM." He flung his arm out, almost smacking her in the face. The car swerved slightly.

"Good heavens, Amy!" He exclaimed, interrupting his tune. "No need to drive like a maniac – we're making excellent time."

Amy rolled her eyes.

"Have you called to confirm our reservation for this evening?" he asked.

"Yes, Sheldon."

"And this hotel received five stars on cleanliness from Trip Advisor and Expedia both?"

"Yes, Sheldon," Amy sighed.

"Well I'm sorry, but at least one person between the two of us should be concerned about bedbugs and the rampant disease factories that hotel rooms can be."

At this, Amy smiled slightly and laid a hand on his arm as he continued to pout.

"Sheldon, as a biologist, I can tell you that slight exposure to germs only strengthens your immune system."

"You study smoking monkeys fascinated by hour-long TBS dramas."

"I'm fairly competent in some other areas, as well."

They were both silent for a moment.

"There weren't ANY more shows in California?"

"By the time I realized you were being forced on another vacation, the show had stopped playing in California. And I know Return of the King is your favorite."

Sheldon nodded reluctantly.

"Michigan was the only option." Amy smirked slightly. "And I am not certain whether or not our supplies budget could withstand another Dr. Cooper stint in the biology lab."

"Now you listen here, you little vixen, the last time that I was there—" Sheldon was ready to launch into a tirade.

Amy held up one of the signs that Leonard had made for their road trip.

Sheldon stopped short. "Sarcasm?" He asked.

"Oh, I meant—" she rustled around on the floor and picked up a different sign.

"Oh… teasing. I despise teasing…" he grumbled petulantly.

"Awww Cuddles," Amy intoned, intentionally emphasizing his despised nickname, "I only tease you because I love you—" Amy's mouth snapped shut suddenly. They were normally fairly reserved in the use of that word. And it was mostly communicated by electronic means.

Sheldon's silence indicated to Amy that it hadn't gone unnoticed by him, either.

She gripped the wheel harder, frantically thinking of some way to change the subject.

"I dreamed a dream of life gone by!" blared abruptly out of the speakers, saving her the trouble. Sheldon's face lit up, and he joined Fantine with gusto. From his face and mannerisms one wouldn't have guessed that the song was about abject misery.

After the Grand Rapids Symphony's live scoring of the Return of the King, Amy took Sheldon into a pub so that they could get a snack; and frankly, so that she could access some liquid patience to more fully appreciate Sheldon's rhapsodizing.

To Amy's utter shock, Sheldon ordered an "extra-despoiled" piña colada from the bartender, which he had to clarify meant with alcohol.

"Did I just witness your intentional purchasing of an alcoholic beverage?"

"Indeed," Sheldon said nonchalantly, sitting down on one of the barstools and chomping on a piece of pineapple.

"I thought that you abstained from alcohol."

"I promised my mother I would not go down the slippery slope of drug and alcohol indulgence in California. As we are in Michigan, this promise is inapplicable. Plus, isn't one supposed to commemorate a major life event with a toast of an alcoholic beverage?"

"Generally, yes," Amy conceded, privately wondering if anyone else would consider this a major life event.

"Then a toast is in order." Sheldon raised his giant curving glass full of white ice and fruit to Amy's white wine. "To Mr. Tolkien and his seminal work of fantasy fiction, without which we would not have had the opportunity to travel hundreds of miles to see a live symphonic score of the third and final movie based on the same property, all of which were satisfactory, though in my personal opinion too many crucial storylines were altered or jettisoned completely—"

"Cheers," Amy interrupted him, clinking her glass against his and taking a rather large gulp of wine.

"Cheers!" Sheldon repeated, unperturbed at her interruption and lowering his mouth to his straw. Amy raised an eyebrow as the level of piña colada in the glass rapidly diminished. "L'chaim!" he added, smacking his lips.

He continued talking animatedly about the different parts of the movie in inexhaustible detail. As Amy listened, she leaned her cheek against her hand, smiling softly as he dissected his experience of the Mordor scenes with the live musical accompaniment versus the normal audio. She was feeling sort of warm.

"And Dumbledore… I mean Gandalf!" he giggled suddenly. "Even though they are in archetypal terms the exact same character, they're both…um…they both are…" he giggled again uncontrollably.

Another wine glass was placed in front of Amy as Sheldon struggled to contain himself. "On the house," the bartender muttered, glancing at Sheldon.

Amazing, Amy thought dreamily. Our love must be as infectious and obvious as an airborne flesh-eating virus.

"I'm really glad you enjoyed it," Amy said as soon as he had control of himself again, still leaning on her hand.

"Enjoyed it? Actually I really...loved it," he said quickly, ducking into his drink again.

Amy quirked her head to the side at that admission—even in her rapidly increasing state of intoxication she realized Sheldon was intentionally going off of their established emotional reservation.

Before she knew what she was doing she put a hand on top of his. "I'm glad," she said with unexpected emotion in her voice.

Sheldon turned to face her without moving his hand. Then, suddenly, he kissed her.

Sheldon very seldom kissed her first, and had never done so in public.

After her initial shock, she came to life and kissed him back, closing her eyes tight and feeling like her chest was opening up and all of her guts were pouring out and some other substance was rushing in to fill their places, but in a pleasant way. She felt this way whenever Sheldon cupped her face during intercourse.

He put a hand on the back of her head, and she gasped as she felt his lips actually open up against hers first. He was practically ravishing her, she thought gleefully. He broke the kiss for a moment. "We must go back to the hotel immediately," he said gravely.

Code Red. Amy frantically pulled a twenty out of her purse and slapped it on the bar, hurrying Sheldon out before he changed his mind.

Three Years Later

"And just where do you think you're going?" Sheldon shouted angrily with his hands on his hips.

Amy viciously snatched her hanging keys. "What does it look like, Dr. Cooper?" she quipped over her shoulder as she savagely groped around on the counter for the handle of her purse, "I'm finally LEAVING!" Belatedly, she realized the ominous ambiguity of her words. Well done, she thought with malicious satisfaction.

She flung the door open dramatically, expecting to hear him either running after her or commenting on the probability of the door encountering her backside on the way out. But there was only silence. She glanced over her shoulder again to see whether or not he was even still in the room.

Sheldon was standing still under the main overhead light, white with what looked like terror. Amy felt her sense of righteous indignation rapidly deflating, already being replaced with guilt. "Sheldon," Amy sighed, putting her keys and purse on the counter, and making her way back to him.

Sheldon did not acknowledge her change in tone, nor did he move to meet her. She stopped in front of him and leaned her cheek carefully against his chest, resting her hands very lightly on his arms.

"Sheldon, I meant that I was simply extricating myself from my immediate surroundings after a long and heated confrontation. I didn't mean to imply…" she swallowed. She had meant to imply. She put her arms around his neck and squeezed him closer, but he did not squeeze her back as she clung to him. Finally, she felt his hands lightly touch her hair.

"Don't do that again," Sheldon said hoarsely.

"I won't."

Five years later

"Amy, we have to go downstairs!" Penny called into the bedroom. "The photographer is here. And don't forget your bouquet."

Amy looked in the mirror, putting on one last coat of red lipstick. "Coming, Bestie of Honor."

She gathered up the mountainous layers of sparkling tulle and carefully descended the staircase.

"Oh Sweetie," Penny said emotionally, kneeling before Amy to straighten out her dress, "you look just like a princess!"

Well of course I do, thought Amy, adjusting her tiara.

Ten Years Later

"Vulcans learn to keep a tight reign over their emotions, Stephen; it keeps them from making the same mistakes of inferior species. Now, let me see your meditation face." Sheldon made an especially serene Koala face at him. Stephen smiled and babbled happily at Sheldon. Sheldon shook his head. "It's your mother's side," he muttered, a tiny smile flitting across his face. He very precisely wiped a sliver of drool from the corner of Stephen's mouth and became serious again. "As an ambassador of the homo novus, though, it's useful to have ways to relate to the hominids among us—"

Amy smacked him. "Ow!" Sheldon yelped. "That hurt, woman." He looked at Stephen again and readjusted the Starfleet symbol on his onesie for the 8th time. "Your mother is a cruel vixen."

Amy smiled, tugging on the skirt of her own Starfleet uniform. "When you are developmentally capable, Stephen, ask your father about his driving lessons. Also, about whose idea this photo was."

"Alright, take your places," the photographer said, smirking. Sheldon, sober as a judge, grabbed Amy's hand and made the Vulcan salute with his other. Amy put her free hand on Stephen's head and attempted a serious expression. Stephen laughed right as the picture was taken.