Work Text:
The knock at the door startled him from his work. A spike of anxiety swirled in his stomach. For no reason. He readied himself for an interaction.
“Yes?” he poked his head into the hallway. A short, curly-haired man wearing glasses and a hoodie over a sweater stared up at him. Sheldon surveyed him. The man didn’t immediately smell of anything strong, nor did he look like a hooligan, judging by his attire. Sheldon swayed back and forth and looked over the man’s shoulder, not making eye contact.
The man smiled nervously. “I’m Leonard Hofstadter. I called you about the apartment. You said--”
“I know what I said. I know what you said. I know what my mother said on March 5th, 1992,” he said, too fast, cutting off Leonard. Leonard made a face. Sheldon couldn’t tell which one. He paused. “What is the sixth noble gas?”
“What?”
“You said you’re a scientist. What is the sixth noble gas?”
“Uh, radon?”
Sheldon opened his eyes wide. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Telling you?” Sheldon stood up straight in exasperation. Leonard shrunk back. “Telling you,” he corrected. Sheldon nodded.
“Alright, next question,” Sheldon said. “Kirk or Picard?”
Leonard stuttered. Sheldon noted that he seemed to be actually considering the question. “Oh, uh, well, that’s tricky. Um, well, uh, Original Series over Next Generation, but Picard over Kirk.” He sounded uncertain, but he ended his sentence with a period this time, so Sheldon didn’t call him on it.
“Correct,” he said. Leonard smiled. He was looking around in a motion Sheldon recognized as avoiding eye contact. Perhaps this man would be an acceptable roommate. He considered. “You’ve passed the first barrier to roommatehood. You may enter.” He stood aside, and Leonard walked in.
“Oh, this is pretty nice!” he said, looking around. “Uh, the bedrooms are back there?”
“That depends,” Sheldon said, studying Leonard’s shoes. They were dark brown oxfords. Good taste, Sheldon decided, albeit basic. Another point in favor of roommatehood.
Leonard’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t understand, their, their existence is conditional?” he stuttered. He did a lot of stuttering. Sheldon half-wondered why.
“No,” he conceded, “but your ability to perceive their existence is conditional on you passing the second and third barriers.”
“There’s three?”
“Each more daunting than the last,” Sheldon said. Leonard kept avoiding eye contact, which was fine with Sheldon because he was doing the same. “Have a seat.” He motioned at the lawn chairs he had put up. Leonard made his way over to Sheldon’s Spot, and Sheldon rushed over to stop him.
“No! That’s where I sit!” he yelped.
“What’s the difference?” Leonard asked. Sheldon gripped the back of his chair.
“This seat is ideally located both in relation to the heat source in the winter and a cross breeze in the summer,” Sheldon recited, swaying back and forth. “It also faces the television at a direct angle allowing me to immerse myself in entertainment or gameplay without being subjected to conversation. As a result, I’ve placed it in a state of eternal dibs.”
Leonard squinted. That was another thing he did a lot. “Can you do that?”
“Cathedra mea, regulae meae. That’s Latin for my chair, my rules.” Leonard made a face again, but Sheldon didn’t know what it meant. He sat down in his Spot and took his clipboard. He didn’t technically need it because of his eidetic memory, but he loved taking notes.
“Now, you said on the phone that your area of study is physics,” he said, getting back to the matter at hand.
Leonard nodded. “Uh, yeah, experimental physics.”
“Hmm.” Sheldon hunched over his clipboard and wrote ‘The subject is an experimental physicist. A scholar of a lower science.’
“What is that?” said Leonard, craning his head to try to see.
Sheldon turned the clipboard away from him. “Doesn’t concern you. You’ll be going to the university every day?”
“Yes.”
“And you have a vehicle?”
“A car, yeah.” A little shiver of something arose in Sheldon’s stomach. This was promising. Even though he hated cars. But it was so much better than a taxi.
“And you’ll be willing to drive me?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
“Well, can’t you drive?”
Sheldon shifted in his seat, ignoring the spike of anxiety that suddenly shot through him. “I can,” he lied. “I choose not to.” His eye twitched.
“Okay, I suppose I could drive you,” said Leonard. Sheldon sighed minutely and wrote down ‘The subject has consented to being a driver. If he proves inadequate in other areas, this may be his saving grace.’ Leonard once again tried and failed to see what Sheldon was writing. “Well that’s a point in my favor, right?”
Sheldon hugged the clipboard to his chest. “Why don’t you let me do this?” Missy would have said that he whined. But he really just wanted to take notes. He was already on edge enough with a stranger in his apartment. If that man wanted to, he could suddenly decide to kill Sheldon, or break all his things, or any number of horrible things. And all Sheldon wanted was to take notes.
“Come on, I just asked,” said Leonard, dismissive. Sheldon pursed his lips, rocking back and forth a bit.
“Last question. In a post-apocalyptic world, which task would you assign the highest priority: Locating a sustainable food source, re-establishing a functioning government, procreating, or preserving the knowledge of mankind?” He looked at Leonard’s face and watched him deliberate.
“Uh, I’m gonna go with, preserving the knowledge,” he said, tilting his head up, which was something else he often did.
Sheldon inclined his own head. “That’s correct.” Leonard smiled. “FYI,” he added, “I would have accepted any answer other than procreating.” He stood. Second barrier passed. “Come, I’ll show you the rest of the apartment.”
“Oh, good. I passed the barriers,” Leonard said. Sheldon decided Leonard’s smile was a nervous one. He noted that down on his clipboard.
“The second barrier. Don’t get cocky,” he corrected. He motioned to the door in front of them. “This is the bathroom. Are you fairly regular?” He stood poised to write down what Leonard said, but Leonard looked confused.
“Uh, I guess,” he shrugged.
Sheldon sighed. “This isn’t going to work if you’re guessing. When do you evacuate your bowels?”
“When I have to,” Leonard said like it was obvious. Sheldon opened his eyes wide, aghast.
“When you have to?” he gasped. “I’m sorry, I don’t rent to hippies.”
Leonard sputtered. “I, I’m sorry, uh, in the morning. Around eight.”
Sheldon shook his head. “I can’t give you eight. I can give you seven thirty.”
“Fine, I’ll take it.”
“Third barrier passed.” Sheldon wrote down seven thirty for future adding to the bathroom schedule. He looked up to see Leonard smiling. “You have won the right to see your room. Huzzah!”
Leonard followed him down the hallway. “Is this it?”
“No, this is my room. People don’t go in my room,” Sheldon informed him.
Leonard smiled his nervous smile. “So where do you sleep?”
He stopped. “I don’t understand.”
“If people don’t go in there, and you’re people, and… You are people, aren’t you?” Sheldon stared at Leonard. Of course he was a person. And that sentence wasn’t even grammatically correct. Leonard added a nervous laugh to his nervous smile. “...Making a joke.”
Sheldon squinted. “Do you do this often?”
“On occasion,” said Leonard, shrugging, again nervously. Sheldon wrinkled his nose. ‘Subject “makes jokes” “on occasion”. Gauge whether this is a dealbreaker,’ he wrote. He moved past Leonard and opened the door to the now empty room that his old roommate, Sebastian, had recently vacated.
“Your room,” Sheldon said, gesturing.
Leonard looked up at the wall. DIE SHELDON DIE was painted on it in big red letters.
DIE SHELDON DIE. Stupid. Sheldon wasn’t going to die just because Sebastian wanted him to. It didn’t matter that the words made his stomach twist.
Leonard looked aghast at the drippy letters. Sheldon watched him.
“You may want to repaint,” Sheldon said. Leonard nodded quickly.