Romancing the nerd: a (painstakingly) slow love story

Chapter 1: About Back Flipping Monkeys

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All hail Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady!

Dr Amy Farrah Fowler had lived her life with the inscrutable certainty that if her personal life were to be a desert, her laboratory would be where she would express her most intimate self. Designing experiments was her art: making them happen needed impeccable technique and perfect timing. Finding sense into the results needed both intuition and logic. It was, in a way, a quest towards perfection. Not through the results per se, but through the undeniable beauty of her methodology and analysis. But then, as she had learned a few years ago, her focus could be altered. Especially when a tall, blue-eyed and indecently brilliant physicist bushwhacked his way to her heart.

Perhaps against his will. She'd be the first to admit it.

When Amy stepped into her lab one very early Sunday morning of July, her actions were efficient and devoid of preciousness. She threw her purse on a chair, dropped her keys on her worktable, got rid of her cardigan and slipped into her lab coat. She took a few steps towards the electric kettle, rinsed it with care (one could not be careful enough with possible Legionnella flourishing in stagnant water) and poured exactly a quart of tap water into it. Then, she flipped the switch, turned around and opened her notebook.

As she underlined a few keywords for a test protocol she hoped to write down before noon, the golden sparkle of her keychain distracted her. She hesitated a second, her pen suspended above her notes. Diving into Sheldon-related distraction was easy, way too easy these days. The pen fell to the table as she reached for the keychain. She smirked at the small mechanical monkey holding clash cymbals.

Amy winded it up and put it back on the worktable. The monkey stroked the cymbals together with maniacal glee, just before executing a backflip and falling back on its feet in a wobble. She softly chortled as she winded it up again. It was a gift, an actual gift from Sheldon. As her fingers traced the contour of the figurine, she pondered on how he would have preferred licking the sidewalk before freely admitting he was offering her a gift.

Sheldon had pulled it from the pocket of his windbreaker as they were leaving the movie theater on their date night, a few days ago. He'd swing it in front of her, as if he'd wished to hypnotize her. 'You might find interesting that I found this as I was leaving the university two days ago. It was lying on the street.'

'You picked something off the street.' She'd found herself breathless as he detailed her eyes and her mouth with hungry curiosity.

'Are you mocking my safety measures against germs and bacteria? To be honest, Amy, I'd have thought you knew better.'

'I'm not mocking you!' Amy protested. 'Haven't I provided you with incontrovertible proof about what's reproducing and evolving in the streets of Pasadena? I'm merely expressing my surprise that you, of all people, would take such a risk.'

Sheldon had cocked his head, still watching her with intensity. 'Oh. I apologize for the misunderstanding. I must admit I was surprised by my actions as well. You'll be glad to know that I've immersed it into an hour-long hydrogen peroxide bath before drying it clean with disinfectant wipes.'

'I wouldn't expect anything less from you.' Amy had looked away from Sheldon's inquisitive gaze, her eyes attempting to focus on the mechanical monkey. 'Well, it's cute.'

'I am very glad you think so.' She couldn't help looking up at him again: he'd spoken with eerie softness, his eyes now on the keychain. 'It's yours now.'

Without batting an eye, Sheldon had reached for her hand, and turned her palm towards the sky. She'd watched his fingers gingerly circling her wrist, astounded by how the smallest contact with him made her feel in the throes of yellow fever.

He'd spoken again in a husky tone that initiated a shiver between her shoulder blades. 'Well, you are my girlfriend. I thought you'd enjoy it.'

The keychain was still warm from the contact of his fingers, and she'd stared at it with genuine happiness. Before she could refrain herself, she'd blurted out, 'Oh, Sheldon! This is a lovely gift!'

Great job, Fowler. Right on the G-spot.

When he'd huffed and let go of her wrist, she'd closed her eyes and sighed as he'd asked her how could she confuse the keychain for a gift, because this was not a gift. He was transferring it to her, because the protocol of giving something to your girlfriend implicitly meant having the drive or the desire to seek it, and would you believe that, he'd almost tripped on it and injured his ankle before he'd decided to spend an hour and a half disinfecting it – yes, it had been a complete fluke - so transferring her a mechanical monkey was not the same thing as giving it to her.

He'd shaken his head with emphasis. 'Not the same thing at all.'

Amy could have destroyed his reasoning in five seconds flat. Sheldon was making it too easy. Picking up the monkey had been a proof of intentionality that could not be refuted. But she'd decided to let him ramble until he'd uttered with both palms to the sky, 'I'm merely passing it to you.'

'Passing it?' She'd clasped her fingers on the figurine and pursed her lips. 'Like a venereal disease?'

The kettle whistled and Amy shook herself out of her memories before pulling the plug. In her fantasies, where Sheldon wasn't trying so hard to hide what made him endearing and enjoyed letting her call him lover, she had endless patience and answered him with sparkling intelligence and wit. But on that night, she'd been disappointed that he couldn't admit what was obvious.

Amy poured boiling water in her cup as she attempted to drown a teabag. She had read her fair share of bodice ripper novels. She thought there was something profoundly erotic about a man driven up the curtains with lusty madness at the sight of a delicate wrist or a sliver of skin. She doubted that Sheldon had been driven up any curtains because of her.

But there had been the highly arousing Donjons and Dragons games and the charged silence that followed after he'd whispered as he'd stared at the dice, 'I make love to you.'

Amy hadn't been able to answer back. She'd choked on the opportunity. She'd feared her voice would break if she'd murmured, I reciprocate.

As his long fingers had made her hand steady on date night, there had been something between them that went way over their mind connection, way over relationship arrangements and other silly things like love spells. She had felt something in his touch - perhaps a desire to linger? - that rendered his defensive rant moot.

Amy blew on her hot tea before tentatively sipping on it. There had been a time where she knew exactly where she belonged (alone), where she was going (straight ahead). And now, as she was stuck in the lab on a Sunday, she yearned to be freed of idiotic colleagues that couldn't be trusted with doing a good job on experiment designs. She desired nothing more than to be out of the lab and getting ready for the brunch Penny had arranged. She wanted a mimosa with two – make that four - raspberries in it. She wanted to be sitting in a restaurant with her friends laughing, where jazz music would snake through the room, where Sheldon would rant against the social conventions of brunch and would want to hear what she had to say about whatever subject came to his mind.

Amy sighed. She desired so many things.

Maybe too many.

She grabbed her pen and jotted down a few ideas for the experiment. All those unfulfilled desires would have to wait. She needed to buck up and concentrate on the task ahead.

She absorbed herself into work. Soon enough her mind was working with variables and triangulation possibilities, and she sighed with happiness when she retrieved four papers in scientific journals that validated her design.

Amy drew her head up when she heard faint cries that sounded suspiciously like overexcited monkeys. She listened for a while, only to hear the commotion inflating to an alarming shriek. She unlocked a drawer and retrieved the magnetic key to the monkeys' quarters.

As she stepped out of the lab, the ruckus sounded more intense than she thought. If the night technician was still there, he might be in need of some help. She hesitatingly looked at her keys and her purse. Perhaps she should lock the lab before leaving. But then, it was eight o'clock a Sunday morning, and she was quite certain no one else was on her side of the floor.

I'll be out just a second, she reasoned. She walked into the corridor toward the origin of the noise, her magnetic keycard in hand.

Dr Sheldon Lee Cooper was a creature of habit. He had lived his life so far with the inscrutable certainty that if a personal life were mostly a burden, his white boards would be where his genius would be freed. He had a mission in life: Unravel the Mysteries of the Universe and Win a Nobel Prize. Or two. So many discoveries to make, so many equations to balance and to ponder on… and gosh darn it, so little time. Anything that would lead him astray needed to be terminated, Sarah Connor-style.

He had attempted to terminate his friendship with Amy, after one hell-raising argument. He had come to the conclusion that severing this tie was absurd. He needed her no-nonsense advice, her unusual outlook on situations, and her immensely enjoyable companionship. And all the rest he could desire from her…well, he was working towards its mastery with the help of Kolinahr. And he hated to admit it to himself, but it wasn't working very well.

On one particular Sunday morning, Kolinahr was thrown out the window altogether as he pestered while fiddling with his tie in hopes of producing a perfect Windsor knot.

It was all Penny's fault.

Leonard-less Penny was quite more demanding that Leonard-and-Penny. He felt sorry that Leonard had to leave for him to make this observation, A few days before Penny had been roaming around his apartment with the gaze of a manic woman. He'd tried to ignore her by keeping focused on the movie he was watching.

She'd planted herself in front of the TV with her fists on her hips. 'Sheldon!' she'd blurted out, finally stopping her gallivanting around the room.

'Move away, woman,' he'd shot back as he scooted on the couch to get a glimpse of the movie. She'd reached for the remote and the screen went black. 'Why are you where? Why are you not in your apartment, doing whatever women do when their coitus partner is at sea?'

She'd blown him a raspberry. 'I'm going crazy, Sheldon. I wanna do something fun for a change. We're going out Sunday. You and me. Oh and Amy, too. Gosh, I should call Bernadette and Howard…yeah, and Raj. We'll have brunch! I've passed by this posh little café with a courtyard. It'll be awesome!'

'I hardly think so,' he'd curtly replied as he attempted to retrieve the remote from her hands. Penny had pursed her lips, and she'd swiftly tucked it down her tee. 'Penny…really?' he cried out. 'I'm not going down there, not even with latex gloves.'

She'd plopped down on the armchair with an infuriating smile. 'Good. Then I don't have to bite your hand off, sweetie. Sunday brunch it is.'

'It's merely an excuse to drink wine with breakfast food,' he'd countered as Penny absent-mindedly tinkled on the remote through her tee.

She'd huffed. 'Bubbly and eggs AND Hollandaise sauce are decadent and totally enjoyable. You should try it sometimes. Like this Sunday.'

'No, thank you.' Sheldon had brought himself to the edge of the couch. 'I will not be trying brunch on Sunday because I'll be eating a sensible breakfast of cream of wheat, fruit and yogurt.'

This statement, of course, had lead Penny to pound on his door Sunday morning, requesting for him to 'drag his ass' (her words) out of the apartment after knotting a tie around his neck. The worst was that Amy wouldn't be there. She would have cheered him with charming folksy tales about cultural habits and perhaps, if she had been feeling particularly whimsical – he chortled with delight – she would have presented him some anthropological perspectives.

As he caught his reflection daftly smiling in the mirror, he froze and sighed. Amy. He shook his head at his reflection before running the comb through his hair. Things were both so simple and complicated with her. Simple, because he felt understood and respected, even admired, and the fuzzy feeling expanding in his abdomen when he was around her was pleasant enough and nothing like stomach flu.

Complicated, because he had no idea what went through her mind, like on date night perhaps, when he had gifted her with the monkey.

Sheldon reached for his toothbrush. Admitting it had been a gift would have been a terrible mistake. He had hoped she'd understand. Amy excelled at reading between the lines, and he had recently begun to understand how it made her brilliant, and by consequence, formidably dangerous. It would have provoked unnecessary tension. She would have perceived his gesture as a form of cultural offering pressuring her into answering with sexualized behavior, thus pushing her to express her interest in coitus in an inopportune moment.

He didn't want to mislead Amy Farrah Fowler. He wanted –

'Sheldon, get out!' Penny cried out as she knocked on the bathroom door. 'We're going to be late!'

He rinsed his mouth before spitting in the sink. 'Can't a man brush his teeth?'

'All right, all right. Make it quick.'

'I will not make it quick. Dental hygiene requires a deft touch.' He gargled for thirty seconds before spitting back in the sink. He wanted to tell Amy he often felt like a mechanical monkey when he was around her. She had a way of winding him up until he became overwhelmed with – hippies would say feelings, he wasn't so sure the word was appropriate – and he couldn't deal with it. The need to jump away from her consumed him. Afterwards he'd stand there slightly shaking, unable to look into her eyes, troubled and ashamed by his cowardice.

He dabbed his mouth with a fresh towel and walked to the door. Penny broadly smiled when he opened it. 'Look at you…Looking sharp, sweetie.'

'Thank you.' He nodded in her direction. 'You look appropriate for a drunken breakfast.'

Penny chewed on her lips before she opted for the high road as she followed him in the apartment. 'Wow, ok. Hum. I wanted to thank you.'

Sheldon spun around, his windbreaker neatly folded on his arm. 'Why?'

'For doing this.' Her lips curved into a sad little smile. 'I can't be around here today. I miss Leonard so much…I mean, it's harder on Sundays. We used to stay in bed a bit, have coffee, do the crossword puzzle together, you know-'

'Yes, I do know. I was looking forward to a Sunday morning without having to wear my noise-canceling headphones,' he said as he whisked away a lint from his shirt.

'I'm sure you, of all people, can understand this, Sheldon.' He frowned as he watched her nose reddening and her eyes filling up with tears. She cleared her throat before shrugging. 'It was, like, our routine. It made me feel safe. It made me feel so happy. You know what I mean, do you?'

Sheldon licked his lips. The memory of a recent text message from Amy slithered its way to his conscience.

Can't make it for brunch this Sunday

Got so much work

Talk to you later?

'Yes.' Sheldon handed her a tissue. 'I know exactly what you mean, Penny.'

A/N It's been so long since I've written anything. I've found myself in the throes of Shamy fever! I hope you enjoy this story. Thanks for reading and reviewing if you find yourself in a generous mood!