The Roommate Triangulation

By Laura Schiller

Based on: The Big Bang Theory

Copyright: Chuck Lorre & Bill Prady

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It was a warm summer night in Pasadena, and Leonard couldn't believe his luck. Sheldon was away, he'd found a cheese-free pizza that actually tasted good, and Stephanie – his girlfriend, good Lord, he had a girlfriend now - was kissing him in a way that indicated they wouldn't be staying on the couch for long.

He hadn't meant for the evening to turn out this way. He had several issues with their relationship that he wanted to address: the clothes she bought for him, the speed and subtlety with which she had moved in, and last but not least, the way she kept distracting him with kisses when he wanted to have a serious talk. (He'd never in a million have guessed that such a thing would bother him, but it did.)

What kept stopping him, though, even more than the kisses, was the hurt look on her face the one time he had tried to address it. She'd told him about men who said they'd call her back and never did; it was the first time he had seen her cry. Finding out that even such a strong, sensible woman as Stephanie was afraid of rejection had shaken him to the core. It had also made him feel closer to her than ever.

You don't always have to go along with what the woman wants, Penny had told him, but he had never found that to be true. In his experience, whenever he asked a woman for something, she either flat-out refused (No, Leonard, you cannot have a birthday party; being expelled from a birth canal is not an achievement worthy of celebration) or made polite excuses (Listen, Leonard, I think we need to slow things down).

There had to be a middle ground somewhere between loneliness, blind obedience and Howard-style misogyny, but if there was, he hadn't found it yet.

"Hey." Stephanie pulled back and smoothed Leonard's hair back from his forehead; he realized he was frowning. "Is something wrong?"

He looked up at her beautiful face – flushed cheeks, sparkling hazel eyes, soft red hair tumbling in every direction where he had run his fingers through it – and his courage failed him.

"Oh, nothing," he said, pulling her down for another kiss.

So warm. So soft. Such silky clothes and luscious curves beneath them. Even the slight smell of disinfectant she brought home from the hospital didn't bother him. And all concerns about equality aside, Leonard loved having her take charge of him like this.

He was just beginning to wonder if the couch wouldn't be more convenient than the bed after all, when – inevitably – the moment was ruined.

The apartment door opened with a whoosh, shut with a bang, and the green-and-khaki whirlwind that had swept through it resolved itself into a furious Sheldon Cooper.

"Stephanie Barnett," he declared in ringing tones, pointing an accusatory finger at her as she sat up straight and smoothed down her shirt, "You are a liar, a fraud, and a disgrace to the noble profession of medicine! And you," rounding on Leonard, "Some friend you are! Why didn't you stop her?"

"For God's sake, Sheldon, what's all this about?" Leonard grumbled.

He had the sinking feeling that he already knew, however, and Sheldon's next words only confirmed it.

"I do not have an inflamed larynx!" he shouted, scattering paper napkins from Chow's off the coffee table as he loomed over the couch. "I did what any normal patient would do and went to another doctor for a second opinion! Didn't think about that, did you?"

Leonard had to admit, as unkind as that sounded, he was going to miss having a quiet roommate. On the other hand … there was real hurt in Sheldon's eyes beneath the anger. He had liked Stephanie, trusted her even; her calm, matter-of-fact way with him was one of many things Leonard loved about her.

He had to fix this.

If he didn't, Sheldon was fully capable of driving Stephanie away. Having your girlfriend move in without asking you might be awkward, but having her move out because of your obnoxious roommate would be exponentially worse. Feeling responsible for her hurting your (however obnoxious) best friend? That would be worst of all.

As usual when he was overthinking things, Leonard froze. It was Stephanie who stood up, looked Sheldon squarely in the eye, and said: "I know. It was wrong of me, and I'm sorry, but - "

"Oh, you're sorry?" Sheldon spat. "How do you think I feel? Do you have any idea how much valuable brainpower I've wasted on getting you established as Leonard's partner? This is how you repay me, by abusing your position in order to shut me up?"

"What position, Sheldon? I'm not your doctor," Stephanie retorted, hands on hips, her eyes flashing in quite a different way than they had five minutes earlier.

"Good, because if you were, I'd have legal grounds to sue you for malpractice!"

"If you hadn't kept wasting my time with your imaginary symptoms, I wouldn't have done it. I did try telling you to go away."

"They are not imaginary, and is that what you call all your patients, a waste of time?"

"Again: Not. Your. Doctor."

"Why not?" he demanded, in a voice so shrill it made Leonard's ears ring, somehow combining the petulance of a three-year-old with the confusion of someone who genuinely believed himself to be a medical anomaly any doctor would want to study.

"Because … " Stephanie threw up her hands irritably, struggling for words. "Because I live with you and it's inappropriate?"

"But Leonard doesn't even want you living here!"

The change that came over Stephanie was appalling. She lowered her hands and clasped them in front of her, the angry color draining from her face. When she turned around to face Leonard, she looked smaller and paler than he'd ever seen her. "Leonard?" she asked quietly. "Is that true?"

In that moment, unethical or not, Leonard would have cheerfully done whatever it took to silence Sheldon for the rest of his life.

Thankfully, though, his own larynx was still in working order, and since the two of them were finally giving him the chance to use it, he wouldn't let it go to waste.

"No, it's not. Of course I want you here."

"Do you mean that?" Stephanie's eyes narrowed, and a hint of fire returned to them. "Or are you lying again – like that time you said Penny meant no more to you than Mrs. Vartabedian?"

"Oh, you caught that?" Leonard offered up a weak smile of apology. "Of course you did."

"I'm not stupid, Leonard. And you're a terrible liar."

Sheldon let out a dramatic snort, probably at the idea of Stephanie calling out someone else's lie, but they both ignored him.

"Okay, listen. Yes, Penny does mean more to me than Mrs. Vartabedian, but that's because we're friends. I did have a crush on her once, but you … that's so much more than a crush, it shouldn't even be measured by the same metric."

Penny might be prettier than Stephanie by conventional standards, but the one time he'd kissed her, there had barely been enough heat for a single candle. Stephanie? Fireworks. When they came up for air (and didn't get interrupted), they could talk and laugh for hours without anyone getting bored. They were on the same level, both intellectually and financially; these things shouldn't matter, but they did.

Then there was Sheldon. How many more women was he likely to meet who could deal with Sheldon? She was a miracle, honestly. He'd be a fool to let her go.

"Really? So why … "

"Hold on, hold on. My turn to interrupt, okay?" Feeling rather amazed by his own recklessness, Leonard went on. "What I've been trying to say for the past couple of days is that, yes, I want to live with you, but I also want a say in how it happens. No more buying clothes for me, please – you meant well, but those pants itched like crazy and this sweater makes all the guys laugh at me."

That last sentence came out as a boyish whine despite his best efforts at maturity. Stephanie's mouth twitched with suppressed amusement even as her eyes lit up with a new flash of indignation. "How was I supposed to know? You should've said something."

"Yeah, well, you kept interrupting me. Also … in case that wasn't obvious … I'm new at this whole relationship thing."

"Yeah? Me too." Stephanie sighed. "I know I come on too strong sometimes. Most guys don't stick around as long as you have."

"Their loss."

"C'mere." She beckoned him forward and, with one brisk and well-practiced movement, and pulled the blue bird sweater right over his head. "Better?"

"A little chilly," said Leonard, shivering in his thin cotton shirt, "But I know how we could warm up."

She flung the sweater onto the couch and threw her arms around him.

It landed in Sheldon's spot, which seemed to have a triggering effect. Their roommate, who had been listening to them with a sulky, bored expression and slowly edging toward his room, bustled over and pounced on the item in question as if it had personally offended him.

"Are you reconciled now?" he asked loudly, "Can we please return to the topic at hand, namely Stephanie's denying me medical attention and how that will affect our situation as roommates?"

Leonard felt a familiar wave of exasperation and came within seconds of saying something nasty; he knew perfectly well it would be no use, but sometimes he just couldn't help it.

It was the word roommates that stopped him. He took a second look at Sheldon, who resembled a Green-Lantern-shirted windmill as he made a show of perfectly folding the sweater; then back at Stephanie, who was trying not to laugh.

"Sure, Sheldon," he said. "Let's do that. You know those modifications you wanted to make to the Roommate Agreement? I think all three of us should get a say."

"I thought you'd never ask," said Sheldon, rolling his eyes. "Let me get my laptop."

They were up half the night negotiating, but after several cups of tea and some judicious bribery on Leonard's part (goodbye, Bat Signal), they managed to hammer out a few extra rules:

Clothing shall be purchased exclusively by the intended wearer. This includes tops, bottoms, undergarments, outerwear, costumes, protective gear, and hero/-villain insignia in the event of one of the Roommates gaining superpowers.

Advice regarding the fit, style, price and/or comfort of said clothing can be requested before buying. Paisley, Leonard, seriously?

The above does not apply to clothing purchased by non-Roommates, i.e. Sheldon's Mom.

Medical ethics shall be followed, specifically those regarding objectivity. One Resident may not provide medical care for another. This means you too, Leonard, the cut from that glass jar was a one-off.

Exceptions can be made for a clear and present emergency. Tinnitus in your ear is not an emergency, Sheldon.

Warning signals must be given before engaging in coitus so that the non-participating Roommate can put on noise-canceling headphones.

Such signals may include any or all of the following: (1) a tie on the doorknob; (2) candles at dinner; (3) Josh Groban – Stephanie's a fangirl, deal with it; (4) Jacqueline Du Pré – Leonard's a fanboy, deal with it.

In the event of a pregnancy, the progenitors of the fetus will move out as soon as possible.

For God's sake, Sheldon, it's too early to talk about that!

On the contrary, Leonard, it's never too early. Incompatibility in your future goals is one of the main reasons why relationships fail.

Boys, if you don't stop bickering right now, neither of you will be getting anyone pregnant, is that clear?

All discussion of sexual topics is hereby prohibited during Roommate Meetings.

Stephanie's bathroom schedule will proceed as follows …

Stephanie's bathroom schedule is her own d**n business.

As long as it does not interfere with either Resident's punctuality at work or other appointments.

Any and all comments regarding Stephanie's menstrual cycle are hereby prohibited on pain of a kick in the a**.

L.L.H.

S.L.C.

S.B.

"This sounds so unprofessional," Sheldon complained. "We really should have a lawyer look it over."

"Congratulations," said Leonard, clinking mugs with Stephanie across the coffee table. "You're one of us now. Welcome to the madhouse."

"Oh God," said Stephanie, shaking her fiery head. "What did I get myself into?"

But as she scribbled her last initial, tossed down her pen over the heap of papers in front of them, and nestled into the couch cushions, she was smiling.

It was a sight Leonard would never forget.