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Sedating Sheldon (or, Initial Calculations of the Relationship Algorithm)

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“Really, this is like trying to make a bunch of particularly insipid children understand why pi is not rational,” Sheldon snapped.


“Why can't Doctor Gablehauser see that I need that new particle centrifuge, as he so charmingly calls it, if I am to successfully prove my thesis?”

“It's just a little theory, Sheldon; not a proper thesis.”

“That doesn't matter! I have an IQ of 187 and the man wants me to work with outdated equipment. This little theory, you condescending mediocrity, could change – oh, wait. A condescending mediocrity is a contradiction in and of itself, isn't it?” Sheldon wondered, abruptly changing tracks as was his wont.

“Sheldon!” Leonard shouted, breaking through his friend's tirade. “Calm down. Just breathe deeply and calm down.”

“Or perhaps it could be considered irony, or some other form of rhetoric device,” Sheldon continued, as if he hadn't heard Leonard. He probably hadn't, at that. “Or it could simply be a measure of your own delusions of grandeur, causing you to be condescending to a man who resides fourteen points above you on the IQ scale.”

Leonard sighed. Sheldon had reached that stage where he became truly Sheldon-y; his long-winded rants were unstoppable and yet if he wasn't stopped, he would talk himself into hyperventilation and possibly paranoia. It had been known to happen.

Luckily, Leonard was the one person who knew how to stop things before they progressed quite that far. It was the reason he was still living with Sheldon, even after several years of seeing his friend at his nerdiest. And nobody else knew of this particular method.

“Come on, Sheldon,” Leonard said, getting off the couch to follow Sheldon – who was pacing furiously. The taller man didn't spare his friend a second glance, but kept ranting loudly about Doctor Gablehauser's perceived iniquities. He didn't notice Leonard, and didn't stop talking, until the latter grabbed his shirt and threw him down on the couch. Leonard followed.

“The state of some of our lab equipment is simply -” Sheldon began.

“Sheldon,” Leonard said firmly, then pressed his lips briefly to his friend's. “Shut up.”

“... simply atrocious,” Sheldon continued, but it sounded weak and confused.

Leonard kissed his friend's throat and knew he'd hit the right button when Sheldon faltered and stuttered. He began sucking, trying to make a hickey – he had yet to succeed in that particular endeavour; he just couldn't seem to get the hang of it – and Sheldon just let out a breathy noise that sounded as if it wanted to be a word, but didn't have the guts to.

“Calm down,” he said, and then kissed Sheldon full on the mouth. If Sheldon was inclined to keep talking, it didn't show; he immediately opened his lips under Leonard's and gave an agreeable little sound. Then Leonard settled himself more properly on top of his friend, and pressed down on him. Shut up. Please.

This; this was why, of course, Leonard had lasted as long as he had as Sheldon's flat mate. He knew how Sheldon worked; nobody understood the manual like Leonard did. The shorter man contemplated this as he began pushing Sheldon's sweatshirt and t-shirt up; he felt the scrawny abdomen shiver under his lips as he lowered his head to kiss along Sheldon's hip bones.

Sheldon's mind, that ingenious clockwork of cold logic and innumerable facts about science in all it's glory, simply didn't turn off. Ever. There was too much capacity there; too much activity to simply power it down. So Sheldon's mind, in it's entirety, had to be refocused. If one wanted to pull Sheldon out of a ranting rut – like the most recent one about his lab equipment – one had to refocus all that brain power into something else.

The problem, at first, had been that Leonard simply didn't know where to divert it. What could be fascinating enough to get Sheldon's single-mindedness to let go? He'd tried any number of Sheldon's hobbies and interests, only to find that Sheldon was no less, well, Sheldon, when focused on science fiction, than he was when he was submerged in physics. No matter what he'd tried, Sheldon continuously worked himself into a one-track state of mind, and kept ranting and talking and being Sheldon until the people around him gradually went insane.

Then one night Leonard had gotten so fed up of it all that he'd just grabbed Sheldon's shirt, placed a hand over his mouth and told him to shut the hell up. Sheldon, eyes wide, had cocked his head to one side and stared at his friend with a look of deep scientific interest.

“What physiological reactions, if any, should normally arise from such a situation as the one we find ourselves in, Leonard?” Sheldon asked, once he was given back the use of his mouth.

Leonard hadn't understood what his friend meant until he accidentally glanced down and noticed Sheldon's tented trousers. And then, just like the moment in second grade when he realized how gravity works, everything fell into place on it's own. He held the key to Sheldon's previously undecipherable manual.

Ever since, sex had been the only thing which could properly distract Sheldon and his magnificent brain. At least, it was the only thing Leonard knew about, and since he liked it so much, he wasn't about to try and find another variable to the equation.

While he was struggling with Sheldon's trousers, Leonard felt his friend tense up a little and he knew the distraction hadn't proceeded far enough.

“Really, Leonard, you shouldn't call my thesis a -”

Luckily, it was at that exact moment Leonard got Sheldon's dick out of his shorts and began stroking it. Sheldon gasped, his back strained into a taut arch and his slender limbs began trembling. The look of vulnerable trust and pleasure on Sheldon's face, made Leonard grin. Gone was the cold and unsociable man he usually knew; here was Sheldon, affectionate and exceptionally eager to be pleasured. It made Leonard uncomfortably hard.

“Come to the bedroom,” Leonard ordered. “And get naked.”

The theoretical physicist could only purr and sigh; Leonard hadn't released his erection. His mind was wiped blank; the only thing that existed to his high-strung neurons, was the feeling of Leonard's keyboard-induced calluses on his heated skin. He writhed under the sensations.

Leonard realized his friend wasn't going anywhere until slightly more coherent, and released him. “Come on, now. You know you don't want us to ruin your seat.”

That argument always worked. Sheldon did not relish the idea of stains on his couch; much less in his particular seat. The taller man quickly rose to his feet and followed orders; moving awkwardly after Leonard into the latter's bedroom.

Leonard sucked Sheldon's earlobe into his mouth (having to stand on tiptoe and pull his friend down to do so), and just like that, Sheldon didn't mind that his clothes were thrown haphazardly to the floor item by item. He didn't care about anything until he and Leonard were both naked, and then Sheldon whimpered and pressed cat-like into his friend. For all he claimed he didn't like cats, he certainly brought the felines to mind at times, paradoxically most often when he was having sex.

Or was he being had sex with? Leonard was always the one who initiated their sexual contact, and Sheldon never took any initiative – he merely let everything happen to him. Leonard loved that submissive side of his friend.

Then Sheldon was on his back on the bed, mewling again. Leonard hadn't released his grip on the other man's shoulders for an instant; the moment he did, Sheldon would start being Sheldon again. No, Leonard needed to keep his friend sufficiently focused on sex until he climaxed; then his mind would reboot and go back to its neutral state.

Or as neutral as Sheldon ever got, at any rate.

Leonard ran a soothing hand down Sheldon's side, putting enough pressure on it that it wouldn't tickle. Sheldon disliked tickling. Reaching the taller man's hip, Leonard pulled his friend over onto his side so they were facing each other, lying on their sides. Leonard kissed him again, and Sheldon sighed contentedly and pressed a little closer. Good.

They were entwined; Sheldon's long arms and legs seemed to seek out Leonard's more stocky ones and curl around them, perhaps for warmth or maybe stability. The shorter of the two men certainly had that; he was all the stability Sheldon could ever want. Leonard grinned sheepishly and curled right back, the both of them pulling closer until they were pressed chest to chest, hip to hip.

Sheldon made little noises of contentment, and Leonard knew if he'd just kept kissing his friend the other man could have remained in this state for hours. He'd tried. The current record stood at three hours, twenty-four minutes and nine seconds, and Leonard had only kissed and gently jerked Sheldon off at the time. Until the taller boy was actually brought to climax, he seemed to exist in a serene state of equilibrium – all the sexual stuff (and Leonard didn't really have names for all these things) and all the mental powers balancing each other out until Sheldon was a peaceful kitten, content to be touched.

Then, when Leonard did bring him to climax, both brain power and sexual urges drained out of him simultaneously and left a neutral, happy Sheldon who didn't even tell Leonard how inferior his work was. That was Leonard's favourite Sheldon.

They rolled over again and Leonard was on top of his friend, their cocks rubbing together between their bodies. It felt sweeter than any Halo victory could ever feel, and more elating, even, than turning on the table lamp from around the world. Leonard got his knees down to the duvet, one to either side of Sheldon's left leg, and he rocked until they were brushing together just so – his favourite angle. Sheldon's voice left his throat in a high whine; he was very easily affected by that particular motion. Leonard grunted and buried his face in Sheldon's neck; he was at the perfect longitude to do so, considering the difference in height between them.

“Sheldon,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Hey.”

Sheldon gasped and opened his eyes. His pupils were dilated, his gaze unfocused, and there was a very slight trembling about his lips. When those eerily large eyes finally focused enough to meet Leonard's own, they were wide with surprise.


And that, right there, was Leonard's favourite part of it all. Sheldon was so adorably unaware that he needed calming at all, and each time he found himself being treated so by Leonard, he reacted with a pleased sort of surprise, as if it was the first time they'd done this. As if he was perpetually astounded that Leonard would do this for him. To him. With him.

Leonard grinned at his friend and thrust a little harder against him. “Think you wanna bring this experiment to its inevitable conclusion any time soon?”

Sheldon's eyes fluttered and his mouth hung slightly open; his long-fingered hands were skittering over the sheets. Leonard rocked faster; Sheldon's breath quickened. He shivered. His limbs twitched. That strangely appealing pout shaped his mouth, and Leonard kissed it again. Then he murmured his friend's name against those very lips – “Sheldon.” – and almost laughed with joy when he felt Sheldon quiver violently, his hips bucking minutely, and felt a splash of salty warmth on his abdomen.

Sheldon's arms went around him, then, and tightened. Leonard grunted again and rocked against Sheldon until finally, he could feel himself go and his come mingled with Sheldon's between their stomachs. Leonard groaned long and low, as if he hadn't been getting any for months (though before Sheldon he'd really only gotten any twice in his whole life) and had finally found completion with his best friend.

Of course the last part was true, even if the first part was a blatant lie. Sheldon got Sheldon-y at least every other day, and sometimes Leonard wasn't even horny. Then he'd just jerk Sheldon off and make him warm milk.


Leonard grinned. Sheldon was always funny when he tried to be serious post-coitus, though the jokes were never intended. Sheldon was just too Sheldon to say anything about sex without making Leonard laugh.

“I think I would find, if I devised a relationship algorithm, that you would be the ultimate stage of it.”

Leonard grinned to himself. This sounded suspiciously like Sheldon getting emotional and serious. “Really.”

“Yes. I believe that, should I devise such an algorithm, I could follow it's logical steps through the early stages of courtship and romantic overtures, and so on and so forth, until I found love of a logical and enduring nature. That's you,” he added helpfully.

Leonard had stopped grinning. He was now smiling hopelessly. “Logical, eh?”

“Yes. What could be more logical than the attraction of two great minds such as ours? It's just a shame that you're not a woman; there can be no mixing of our DNA to create a more perfect offspring than each of its originators,” Sheldon said. His mind was meandering again. His voice wasn't urgent with the need to communicate, though; it was lazy with orgasm and contentment.

Sheldon was happy, if Sheldon could feel such things as happiness without the aid of strong medications.

“You're cute, Sheldon; really.”

“How can you say such a thing; you know there are no possible parameters for measuring such ideals. You can't possibly say with any certainty that I am cute.”

Leonard sighed and rolled over again, lying down almost on top of his friend. He kissed Sheldon's neck wetly, and the theoretical physicist immediately fell silent and pliant.

“It's called feelings, Sheldon. Learn to deal with it. After all, we've reached the final stages of the relationship algorithm; it's time you learned to do the initial calculations.”