Characters: Sheldon/Amy and very put upon Leonard
Word Count: 1236
Author's Note: Blame the sex maniacs on tumblr for this one. I'm definitely not one of them. Definitely not. At all.
Disclaimer: The Big Bang Theory is an American sitcom created by Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady, and is produced by them along with Lee Aronsohn. It is a Warner Brothers production and airs on CBS. All characters, plots and creative elements derived from the source material belong exclusively to their respective owners. I, the author of the fan fiction, do not, in any way, profit monetarily from the story.
Ever since Amy and Sheldon had first had sex, a switch got turned on in Amy and she was having trouble turning it off. Not that she was particularly trying to. Despite his misgivings, however, Sheldon found resistance, well, difficult.
He was in the kitchen making himself a sandwich when he remembered something.
"My apologies, Amy," he said. "Would you like a sandwich as well? If you require an additional selling point, I bought an exotic mustard that I think you will find rather pleasing to the palate."
Amy stood from where she was sitting on the couch and walked to the kitchen. "I'll decline on the mustard, though I would like a sandwich. If you wouldn't mind, I would like to preside over your preparation of it."
Sheldon looked up surprised. "I can't imagine why. With my eidetic memory, I can easily recall exactly how you like your sandwich to be assembled."
"Well, you may be surprised to find that I would like to vary from 'the usual.' You forget, Sheldon, that, unlike you, I like to entertain a passing whimsy on occasion."
"Very well then," Sheldon said, ceding the point. "Feel free to preside over the proceedings." He cleared his throat. "Am I wrong to assume you would like bread?" he asked, rather facetiously.
"I would indeed," she said, and he pulled two pieces of rye from a bag on the counter. "However, I would like that kind." She pointed to a loaf of Wonder Bread on top of the refrigerator.
"Come now, Amy," he said incredulously. "Just last week you said that white bread was the appendix of the bread world—ubiquitous and familiar but devoid of any discernible value."
"Well, I've changed my mind," she said unapologetically.
"Then you should also know that that loaf belongs to Leonard."
"Surely he won't begrudge me a slice or two."
"He will if he counts the slices."
"I believe that is your practice, not his."
"Fair enough," Sheldon said, and he pulled two slices of white bread from the bag. "Now, on to cheese?"
"No. No cheese. But I would like tomato."
"Wise choice," he said, cutting a slice from one he already had on the cutting board.
"I would prefer,"—dramatic pause—"two cherry tomatoes," she said.
"Now Amy," Sheldon protested, "cherry tomatoes are more suited to salads, not sandwiches. Besides, garden tomatoes provide more bread coverage."
"As true as that may be, I would prefer two, juicy, round, spheres of luscious tomatoes, please." She licked her lips as she said it.
"As you wish," he said, and fought to balance two cherry tomatoes on the slice of bread. "And ham?"
"Yes," Amy said, her voice lowering to a low purr. "Please cut a nice, thick, cut of meat to put between those two slices of white bread."
