Sheldon Cooper is nothing if intense. Over the years as I have readjusted my life around my fanatical roommate, I’ve come to recognize and understand his four main facial expressions. The one he has on now is his Physicist Face, which he wears about sixty percent of the time. His brows were constricted above glowing eyes as he chattered on excitedly about the topic of the day. This flushed façade often evolved into the Arrogant Face (thirty-two percent of the time) if anyone dared to question him or say something he deemed stupid, which was basically every time someone else opened their mouth. The last two faces I had seen progressively more often lately: the carefully blank expression he put on when Howard said something that scared him, and finally the Shocked slash Awkward look, usually formed when Penny challenged Laundry Night or when he was put into a social situation that he was not familiar with.
“So, if we take in account that Wien’s formula is considerably flawed if we placed the medium in a vacuum, and that no thermal radiation, or black body radiation, if you will, will take place unless the density approaches absolute zero, Planck’s law is no longer valid!”
He’s been in my office for the past thirty-five minutes; enough time for me to calculate the speed of his mouth. (432.7 words a minute in case you were wondering). Never mind the fact that maybe I would like to work without the verbal constant motion that is Sheldon’s thought process. I wonder if his brain still processes information at warp speed when he’s asleep. Scientifically, it depends on if one is in REM state N2, but Sheldon is no ordinary homo sapiens, as he frequently likes to point out. I’m sure mother would be absolutely fricken delighted to give him a brain scan at her earliest convenience.
My face must have reflected some of the disgust produced by that last thought, because Sheldon pauses momentarily, giving me an odd look. I categorize it as a byproduct of the Blank Face, since he usually wears that when he genuinely doesn’t know how to react. It doesn’t last, though, and Sheldon picks up where he left off, plowing through two hundred years of research with gustso only an insane supervillan can manage. I sigh, but he takes no notice.
Another fifteen minutes pass before I reach my breaking point. We don’t spend 24/7 with each other, but pretty damn close. That’s a lot of time to spend with anybody, let alone with the bundle of ego and idiosyncrasies that is Sheldon Cooper. So I did what any other sane physicist would do when trapped in their own office by an insane supervillian-physicist: I leaned over the desk and kissed him.
Let it be noted that it’s hard to kiss someone who’s still talking. His lips quiver underneath mine, but I could hear the wheels in Sheldon’s mind derailing faster than the St. Louis train Number 4. But that’s ok; Sheldon likes trains. I have no idea how he’s reacting; my eyes are shut too tightly to allow any 400 – 700 nm wavelengths through, let alone for me to see if Sheldon’s optics are closed or doing a deer-in-the-headlights imitation. I do feel him tense, but at least the noise has stopped. Taking advantage of this occasion, I lessen the pressure of the chaste kiss, gently nibbling on his frozen lower lip.
After a moment, we, meaning I, break for air, and I started to sit back down. Unfortunately for me, either I was too drugged from the taste of Sheldon to pay attention to where I was going or the force of my abrupt standing repulsed the chair backwards exponentially. Both explanations reached the same conclusion, and I stumbled and fell flat on my ass.
“Shit! Owwww…,” I couldn’t help the whine that escaped from my mouth. Crap crap crap! Where were my glasses?
“Leonard?” came the hesitant reply. The way he says my name is different-- a nice change over hearing it pronounced dripping with condensation or in that whiny indignant pitch. Too bad I was the one whining now. At least we balance each other out.
“Leonarrrrrd, I don’t think our conversation warranted that response. Was that even normal social protocol?” Sheldon continues, ignoring my curses as I finally locate my displaced optics. Sheldon understands more about the world than he lets on. He doesn’t always know the proper reaction to take in social situations, but he is far less innocent than one might think. Even so, he was twitching uncomfortably, his words carrying all the child-like innocence that existed within him.
“Ehehe, you were talking and thinking too much, and I was trying to keep your neurons from overheating. And you know…radiation...that’s hot,” I babbled. Oh dear god, what was I saying? I finally got the chair upright and successfully navigated my ass into it. “Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work, can you pleeaaaase go think in your own office?”
“You’re dismissing me?” Sheldon’s voice increased in pitch, sounding halfway in-between indignant and relieved. It’s amazing that no matter how often I throw him out, he always seems surprised.
“Fine! I’ll go. But if I change the course of physics, you’ll be the last to know,” he sniffs, nervously running the tip of his tongue over the lip had I assaulted. His twitching has calmed down from ‘epileptic blender’ to ‘jittery goldfish’.
“Thanks for the heads up…I’ll see you when it’s time to go home, alright?” Impatience was creeping in my voice unrestrained, and Sheldon’s flight instincts kick in. He shuffles towards the door, but glances back before he crosses the threshold.
“Would you have taken the same methods to keep Wolowitz or Koothrappli’s neurons from overheating?” Supervillian!Sheldon was back to collect the facts. Neither rain, snow, nor intimate human contact could prevent him from overanalyzing everything. Of course, we don’t really get snow here in this part of California, but, wait…what was the question?
“Nope. I would’ve thrown something at them. Something heavy. Then donated the bodies to Kripke for wobot fodder.” I smile, and he really does flee this time.
Experimental physicist: 1
Theoretical physicist. 0