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Collide, or, The Cooper-Ballard Convergence	By : FemmeBono Category: 1 through F > The Big Bang Theory Views: 4469 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Big Bang Theory, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: Remember my warning that the rating was for future chapters? We’ve hit those chapters. Nothing major, just a little canapé before the salad round. We’ve got a while til the main course.
Cht 6
Don't stop here

I lost my place

I'm close behind
In the days and weeks that followed, Whitney lost herself in work and routine—namely her work and Sheldon’s routine. With the exception of her first drill weekend with her unit, Whitney had spent most of her off hours in the vicinity of 4A. She was happy with her new friends, and was made to understand that she was welcome in the evenings to partake in everything from nights out at the Cheesecake Factory to Wii Bowling night.
Bowling seemed to be just one of the many things Sheldon Cooper excelled at, along with spouting off random facts about this theorem and that axiom, multiple universes and European physicists who lectured on sub-particles. It made her dizzy, but then if he heard half the acronyms she could spout off in a one minute span, he’d go cross-eyed too. Intel work had its own jargon. She had plenty of things she could claim to be adept at, and if Sheldon kept up her tutelage, bowling would be one more.
At first no one had believed when she told them she couldn’t bowl, but they wound up opting for real bowling tonight, and she had proven her stance was true. She flat could not do it. She asked for bumper guards, and they waved her off and said she’d be fine. She asked for one of those ramp things shaped like a dinosaur, and they wouldn’t have it. Then she got up to take her first turn and the ball went backwards. Penny and Bernadette tried to stifle their laughs, bless them, but the guys just sat there slack-jawed as the ball rolled to a stop at Howard’s feet.
Whitney managed a sheepish, “I told you so” as Sheldon reached down and picked up the ball. He brought it to Whitney, who blushed profusely and thanked him. When she reached out her hand to take it though, he shocked her by taking her hand and sliding her fingers into the holes. Whitney’s breath caught in her throat and she nearly choked. Keeping his hand over hers, he curled the ball into her arm and with his other hand at her hip, gently turned her back to face the lane. She let out a long, shaky breath.
“Be the ball,” he said, his breath tickling the hair near her ear. Lord, did he even realize what he was doing to her? She almost turned her face into his, but she didn’t want to alarm him when he was already this close and actually making contact. Go figure the first person she trusted enough to get close, didn’t even like to get close.
“Draw the ball back to a 45 degree angle from your hip as you walk up,” Sheldon was saying as he gently released the hand that held the ball. “In those last few steps, swing it forward an additional 25 degrees, making 70 degrees total and let the ball go. Aim for the ball to go straight over the center arrow on the floor and try not to twist your hand as you release or it will put a spin on the ball and we don’t want that.”
As almost an afterthought he let go of her hip, but he stayed close behind her and just a bit to the left as she retraced her steps and tried again. She still twisted her hand a bit, sending the ball spinning to the right, but it took out three pins and stayed out of the gutter. Whitney was so elated that she spun and nearly hugged Sheldon before she remembered. Sheldon hates touching. Instead she tried for a high-five, which he returned smiling. There. Not so bad. Casual touching is okay if he’s ready for it.

For the rest of the evening Sheldon coached her from the side and her game markedly improved. He would step up every so often to correct her stance or her grip, and every touch sent flutters through her belly in response.

And that is what brought her to this point. She should have been in her tub, kicked back with a glass of wine, bubbles up to her chin, breathing in the relaxation that was steeped into her lavender vanilla bath gel. Instead she had all of the above—except the key ingredient, which was the relaxation itself.
Without any provocation her mind drifted to the lanky form of her neighbor with his deft, dexterous fingers. The fullness of his bottom lip, how his mouth curved into that sweet guileless smile. And the thing that got her to begin with: that cool blue gaze. Yep, Whitney groaned, I’m in serious trouble. Big, full-blown crush on a neighbor that has more innocence now than you did at 14. And what would you do, corrupt him completely? Nice, normal guys don’t know how to handle your baggage. Hell, even the guys who have been through the same thing don’t know what to do with a girl who has your baggage… If he knew everything you’d seen and done, he’d turn tail and run.
With a frustrated sigh, she flicked the tub stopper with her toe and drained her glass even as the water drained out of the tub. It may have been that last glass of wine loosening her inhibitions, but when she finally crawled into bed her fingers languidly traced a path down her torso under the covers and found that sweet spot that made her mouth his name. In the dark, in her mind, those fingers were his.

Sheldon, meanwhile, had problems of his own. He shifted out of the mummy position in his sleep, sheets and blankets tangled in his feet as he writhed back and forth. Moaning aloud, he woke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed. Clutching the covers with one hand, he raised them and hazarded a glance at his lap.
“Oh dear lord,” he groaned, and collapsed back on his pillow. He could no longer deny it. He definitely did not have an alien parasite. He had not felt this way since Uhura’s and Spock’s coupling in the new Star Trek movie. And before that… he couldn’t even remember. What has that little vixen done, he mused.

Lyrics from Howie Day's "Collide"
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Collide, or, The Cooper-Ballard Convergence