Work Text:
The Freudian Cookie Paradigm
The cookie sat on the plate, glistening and untouched.
Amy Farrah Fowler sidled in, eyeing it sidelong.
Slowly, she circled towards the plate, gradually closing in, like a spiral with the cookie at its epicentre.
Just as she reached out to touch it, Penny appeared from nowhere and slapped her hand away.
"Amy! No!"
"But, Penny," Amy objected, "that's my cookie!"
"No, it's not. It's on my coffee table, in my apartment – it was mine first!"
"But you left it here," Amy pointed out. "It's been here ages, and you never touched it."
"Only because I didn't know I wanted it," Penny countered.
The corners of Amy's mouth turned down in a frown; her hand crept out towards the cookie again.
Penny went Junior Rodeo on her ass.
Squaring up until they were toe-to-toe, she widened her eyes and bared her teeth in a snarl. The voice that emerged was somewhere between a growl and a roar:
"MINE!"
Amy quailed and fled.
Smiling in triumph, Penny grabbed the cookie and sank her mouth into its biscuit, mallow layers.
She was unprepared for the pleasure which exploded on her tongue.
Eyes rolling, she found herself torn between warring impulses to cram as much of the cookie into her mouth as she could and to savour every bite.
She compromised by lovingly lapping at the fluffy filling, drawing its sweetness down into her throat.
She had chocolate all over her hands; she had chocolate all round her mouth.
She didn't care.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Penny moaned in bliss.
"Mmmm: Moonpie."
The sound of her voice woke Penny up.
Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings – flushed cheeks, crashing heartbeat, the sheets twisted round her body – then bolted upright in shock.
Penny might not be as smart as a certain theoretical physicist, but even she knew a Freudian dream when it smacked her in the face.
Hand stealing to press against her forehead, her voice emerged as a stunned whisper:
"Ho-ly crap on a cracker!"