Author's notes: Trying my hardest to not prove myself wrong, I was so inspired by koops' prompt to Marina (xLostInTheSun) I just had to be a sheep and write a fic about a Shamy pillow talk after their first time, too. This fic is dedicated to both. If you feel like it, go read Marina's fic, too! It's called The Aftermath Alternative.

As always, huge thanks to my beta Melanie (ZephyrCamida) for the support and everyone that takes their time to read what I write. It's greatly appreciated. Please enjoy.

The Common Destination Synthesis

Amy's hair was a damp, knotty mess. She covered herself up to the nose with the sheets that smelled of fabric softener and talc − eyes clouded, bliss drowning her in sleep − as Sheldon's naked form rejoined her on the bed, tugging at the piece of fabric to use it, too. He pointed out with a half-laugh: "Your hair barrette is out of place."

She turned her head to him in the complete darkness that engulfed the room − in which he could still see apparently − chuckling. He had excused himself to go to the bathroom and wash up, while she took the chance to do the same, cleaning herself with wet wipes they had left on the bedside table for this exact reason; throwing them in the nearby bin, she pondered just how much thinking things through in advance was a comforting choice. She was both amused and somewhat disappointed to not have blood stained sheets to have proof of the consummation the way royals of different times would (her hymen or what was left of it wasn't exactly left alone recently, she thought), but various liquids were still on her. Oh well.

From the way Sheldon was now silently watching her, his hand grazing her midriff, he didn't make much of it either. Everything in the human body (waste, blood, saliva) could be seen as gross if one chose to. Knowledge − and habit − were a good way of getting through that. At times, though, during their experiments, she couldn't help but think if this was really something she wanted after all, if it was supposed to be this awkward and weird, how and why it didn't seem as flawless as sex was sold to be. She had to wonder if something just wasn't off. At times, she felt so frustrated with herself all she wanted to do was to take care of her libido alone and let him handle the rest of her relationship needs. Hit reset. Go back to a simpler time.

Ever since he started to kiss her, it was like she could understand him again. It wasn't easy. She had lived in a world of fantasy romance, but once she was confronted with Sheldon's hands grabbing her hips, touching her face, roaming her body, she was... simply put, afraid. Paralyzed. She wanted him more than words or her own actions could ever express − she wanted him in every possible way. If someday science finds a way to fuse people together, hell, she would do that. The thin line between fantasy and reality was maybe not so thin after all. Getting to where they were now had not been easy.

The first time she held his member in her hand, she thought her hand didn't belong there. Discussing it later with him, she was strangely surprised to hear from Sheldon that she was different − a word with no implicit connotation. He was a man, she was a woman, they had different genitalia. Obvious enough. Once the initial reactions subsided, it was still a matter of having someone else than yourself in the room − next to you, over you, above you − touching and pleasuring you. If there was one thing they could always count in their relationship above everything else, though, was honesty: they both stopped the other, told them to start again, what to do and how to do it, if they preferred to be looked in the eyes or not, etcetera. That, and trust. They had rules. Limitations that could be crossed or added accordingly. All of this would have made her feel stupid in any other situation considering all the escape routes she had, but not with Sheldon. He was the same. She didn't have to explain herself.

Sheldon was eager − he just really liked to touch her. And that left her on the edge between pleasure and terror. During their experiments, sometimes they would get undressed only to have her boyfriend gently − or not so much − press his forehead between her breasts and stay there. That gesture felt more intimate than any base covered, as if he was trying to sink into her. When that first happened, she realized he was as exposed as much as she was during that process − their whole relationship, really. At that time, she really felt stupid for not seeing the point until it was blatantly thrown in her face. So much for being a woman of science.

"Amy?" Sheldon called her, scooting closer to her. He kissed her cheek. "Can we talk?" he said, his voice but a whisper.

"Of course."

She could barely distinguish his nose and mouth in the artificial darkness they had created in the room − she had no idea of the time. They got in bed at 10 PM for their Bed Date and they had spent what seemed a very good time − Amy laughed to herself − kissing and enjoying each other's closeness. They had made their way through all the bases at their own pace in these last months, as they tried to approach sex little by little. Intercourse was just recently added as common destination in the Relationship Agreement − it was there, no longer an option. Waiting.

That night, kissing led to a lot of other things and after his long and slender fingers brought her to orgasm in a way that made her of think of a building being blown up and collapsing on itself, she uttered there and then: "I want you inside me."

Exhaling deeply, he draped himself over her. "Yes" he said.

"Are you sore?" he asked, bringing her back to the present.

"I am" she answered, neutral. "You know, I think I might wake up with bruises on my hips tomorrow − your bones stick out" she laughed and he gave her a playful: "I'm sorry" in response.

After a few quick pecks during which they both couldn't stop smiling − it really just was a big clashing battle of teeth − he breathed in her mouth: "I'm sorry about the other thing, though."

Amy broke the kiss, trying to locate where his eyes were. "Sheldon, you gave me an orgasm."

"Before I entered you" he clarified.

"Depends on which part of the body we're talking about here."

"Amy."

She cupped his cheek. "Sheldon." His face muscles tensed up for a moment under her touch. "I told you to not restrain yourself." She then bit her lip, looking down. Her voice lowered when she said: "The way you hold onto me when you come is one of the sexiest things I can think of."

His hand moved from her midriff to her left hip, holding her.

Looking up again, she continued: "If we want, when we want, if we want to, we can try again. It's no-one's fault. You remember when I tried to give you a handjob the first time and you lost your erection?"

"You think I don't?" he blurted, taken aback.

"What I mean is, there is nothing to worry about."

He nodded slightly. "I know that. I just... don't know what to do."

She stroked her nose against his. "Then do nothing."

"I thought having intercourse with you would satisfy me once and for all. It did on a sexual level, but it really doesn't. The more I am, the more I want. I want to be alone, then I come to you and demand your attention. When you can't dedicate your time to me, I get angry. I'm selfish. Does love really make people better? What fool in their right mind would think that?"

His speech was getting more and more stunted.

She couldn't stand not being able to read his facial cues any longer; she reached for the lamp close to the bed, lighting it up. They both squinted their eyes making funny faces at each other, then felt all at once very self conscious naked under the sheets next to one another − which was absurd enough, his penis was touching her thigh. But they never kept the lights on before.

She pressed her forehead against his, gazing deep into his eyes. He could probably notice she was holding back tears. It didn't matter. "I don't have an answer to that myself. What I know is that I want you and I don't want to lose you. I know that just spending time in a room with you makes me happy. You make me happy. Meeting you was unexpected, unplanned, but still the best thing that ever happened to me. Maybe we're two selfish people. Maybe we should go back to devote our entire existence to science and knowledge and gifting humanity with it. We can have both. I don't want to go back. I was fine by myself and I would've lived my life alone with no regrets. But you gave me a different perspective, one I don't want to lose."

He was lost in thought, taking it all in. He finally said: "Sometimes I wish I didn't have to deal with this. I wish I didn't meet you."

"You're not the only one" she both admitted and reassured him at the same time.

"And then?" he prompted.

"As long as we don't give up on each other or ourselves, we'll be okay." She had to add: "I think."

Unexpectedly, Sheldon pushed her farther on the bed, settling his face on her sternum as he liked to do. Her hands reached for his neck to stroke his hair at the nape − he once told her that had a calming effect on him.

"I'm sorry" he said, barely audible.

"You're forgiven."

"I'm tired."

They wanted each other, they needed each other, they liked each other, they loved each other. Words were not enough. Physical acts were not enough. Not finding a definitive answer was troubling. Having to descern how much is enough and how much is too much was even more so.

"I wonder what time is it?" she wondered, still stroking his neck with the tip of her fingers.

He shivered under her touch. "It should be almost dawn based on my current state due to lack of sleep."

She smiled to Dr. Cooper. "Shall we rest? I don't feel like sleeping without my night gown on, though."

"And I can't put on my pajamas without taking a shower first."

"And then we should change the sheets."

They were going back and forth, completing each other's thoughts.

"I'll put on water for tea while you shower" he suggested.

"English Breakfast for me, please. I need something strong."

He raised his head at her.

She smiled, mischievous. "I need to recover soon."

"Take it easy there, little lady."

Some things never change, she thought.

He squeezed her left breast with an equally playful smile, making her gasp.

Only some.