Shelnard Oneshots (fluff)

2) Sick

Word Count: 1002
*Sheldon's POV*

I woke up at my usual time of 6:30, following my usual Saturday routine as I did every week. However, by 7:23, I noticed that Leonard had not yet actually moved from his bedroom. I paused my colouring from the trains colouring book that Penny had gifted me last Christmas and listened for anything worthwhile. I knew that he hadn't been with a girl the previous night, thank my mother's fictional God, and we had been home all evening watching Star Trek, which ended early enough to still get a good night's sleep. Ruling out the possibility of him simply oversleeping, I decided to cautiously go over to his room and check on him myself.

"Leonard?" I knocked cautiously, letting myself in. The man in question lay on his back, staring at the ceiling with an expressionless look on his face. "Leonard, are you okay?" He turned his head ever so slightly to stare at me instead, a slightly glassy look in his eyes as he smiled groggily. I nervously sat down on his bed, one leg on the floor in case I needed to make a sudden run for it, for example if it turned out he had transformed into a zombie or, you know, a geologist.

"Good morning, Sheldon," he whispered. I edged further away from him, but his eyes met mine and he blinked them into focus so that the glassy look was gone.

"Why are you whispering?" I asked in my normal voice, but upon seeing him wince slightly at the noise I repeated the question in a much quieter pitch to match his. He smiled gratefully at my rare consideration.

"I think I'm a bit sick," he muttered. I recoiled much too obviously, so he continued, "I know you don't like it; that's why I didn't call you in. You can get Penny or Raj or Howard if you prefer." His voice sounded weak, and pathetic. I'm not really sure why I didn't take his offer to abandon him and the entire state for a month, but for some reason I felt myself not being able to stand up and run. It was if an invisible force was tying me down, and when he caught my attention again by asking, quite surprised, if I was staying, I noticed an unwelcoming fluttery feeling in my stomach and my heart beating a little faster. A lump in my throat that I had only ever experienced when around my bullies as a child or before giving a speech meant that I was unprepared in a response. I quickly got up and fled into the kitchen, leaving Leonard confused and alone in his bedroom.

After a few minutes pacing in a desperate attempt to work out what was going on, I half-snapped back to reality and started making some soup for Leonard. Still sort of spaced out, I made far too much, and split it into two bowls so I could have the leftovers later. Walking slowly so as to avoid spilling it, I took Leonard's bowl into his room, where he had turned so he lay facing the window. His head swivelled when I came in, most likely expecting someone else, but I gave him a small smile and he returned it, sitting up in bed to have his soup and putting on his glasses.

"It might be hot, so be careful," I told Leonard in a low voice, sitting cross-legged on the bed opposite to him and fidgeting with my pyjama trouser leg to avoid eye contact, "are you feeling a bit better now?"

He nodded but still ate his soup slowly, muttering a "thank you, Sheldon" gratefully. I got up to fetch my train colouring book and my pencils, taking them back to Leonard's room and returning my position on his bed.

"What are you doing?" he asks, not in an unkind tone. I show him my progress so far with an old steam train on the Nevada Northern Railway, watching him carefully as he admires the almost obsessively neat colouring, accurate the the last tiny details. He flicks back to look at some of my completed work, smiling adorably and gazing full-heartedly at it. Wait. Adorably? I feel myself turning red very quickly indeed, and rapidly avert my stare back to my pyjama trousers to hopefully hide my blush. What was happening? Why was my roommate and best friend suddenly sparking these feelings inside of me?

Of course, I already knew that I was gay. I had even dated a couple of guys in the past, but neither made me feel quite what I was feeling now, sitting on Leonard's bed as he ate soup. Hearing the clink of my friend placing the bowl on his bedside table, I look back up, immediately meeting his eyes. Was he staring at me? Is it weird that I'm sitting on his bed? Should I go?

"Sheldon," the man breaks through my panicked train of thought, "come here." he pats the bed next to him where he put my colouring book down, scooting over a little to give me space to sit next to him. I follow his gesture cautiously, warily moving my book as I crawl under his duvet next to him and feeling my heart pounding when he leans against me tiredly. Leonard's breathing sounds ragged and painful, so I help him lie down, him pulling me after him with a cute hint of neediness.

"Soft kitty, warm kitty.." I sing softly to him, feeling all jittery as he smiles and rolls over so his head is resting against my chest. Finishing the song, I give in to the temptation of nuzzling into his hair, smelling its chocolate-and-lavender scent from his hair spray stuff not quite washed out fully. Maybe I'll think about feelings and all that a different day, I think as we both fall back asleep in each other's arms, everything in the world suddenly feeling perfectly okay.