Chapter 33: Roommate Agreement
The two of them returned to the living room. Sheldon looked deeply uncomfortable.
"This is extremely awkward."
"Really? Leonard and Ethan have brought girls back before, haven't they?" Penny asked.
Sheldon shook his head. "Ethan rarely brings women here. He says—"
At that moment, keys rattled at the door.
"Speak of the devil," Penny muttered.
Ethan walked in holding a bag of coffee. "Hey, Sheldon. I stepped out to grab—" He noticed Penny. "Oh, hi, Penny. Good thing I got an extra—why do you both look weird?"
"Sheldon-style weird," Penny said.
Sheldon answered solemnly, "Leonard's bedroom has been sealed by a tie."
"…Sealed?"
Penny bit back a laugh. "Translation: Leonard and a lady are busy in there."
"They went to his room to rehearse—" Ethan paused, then got it. "Oh. Rehearse-rehearse."
Penny leaned in, whispering, "Do you know who it is?"
"There is a high probability it is Leonard," Sheldon said.
Penny rolled her eyes. "We got that part."
Sheldon moved a violin case aside. "The female participant is either Leslie Winkle… or a 1930s mob associate."
"Right," Penny said. "So—congrats to Leonard."
Ethan took out the coffees. He'd grabbed an extra in case Leslie stuck around. Technically correct. Practically useless—no one in that room was pausing for caffeine.
Sheldon turned to Ethan. "What is the proper roommate protocol? Do we remain to preserve apartment order? Or vacate to avoid auditory exposure?"
Ethan put on a serious face. "Normally, you pretend you hear nothing. When they emerge, you offer a warm beverage—hot milk, cocoa, tea. A gesture of civilized society."
Sheldon nodded slowly. "A mature social strategy."
His eyes suddenly lit up. He spun toward the bookshelf.
"Wait—I was joking."
Too late.
Sheldon had already pulled out a thick binder labeled:
ROOMMATE AGREEMENT — Version 27
Penny leaned over. "What is that?"
"The cornerstone of this apartment's long-term stability," Sheldon said proudly.
He flipped it open and began writing.
Article 135 (Addendum) — Doorknob Tie Clause
If any resident suspends a tie, scarf, belt, or similar object from a doorknob, it shall be interpreted as an official signal of "Coital Activity in Progress — Do Not Disturb."
He continued writing rapidly.
Subsection A: Other residents must refrain from knocking, shouting, vacuuming, microwave use, or emotionally charged discussions outside said door.
Subsection B: Upon conclusion of the activity, the involved parties are entitled to one (1) complimentary hot beverage and a five-minute reintegration buffer period.
Subsection C: Repeated failure to remove the signal object within a reasonable timeframe (defined as 90 minutes) will trigger a wellness check conducted at low volume.
Penny was staring. "You're legalizing sex with paperwork."
"Civilization depends on rules," Sheldon replied calmly.
From behind Leonard's door came a muffled thump.
Sheldon froze. "…I'm adding Subsection D: no wall-impact events after 10 p.m."
Ethan sipped his coffee. "You know, most people just say 'don't knock.'"
Sheldon didn't look up. "Barbarians."
After writing that, Sheldon turned around.
"Ethan, what do you like to drink?"
"…What?"
"I'm recording everyone's preferences. In case a similar incident occurs, I can prepare accordingly. For the record—moderate sugar and hydration help reduce physical fatigue.
For men, it restores electrolytes.
For women, it replenishes blood sugar.
Therefore, the most romantic post-coital gesture… is not a cigarette. It's sharing a warm glass of milk."
Ethan opened his mouth to argue, then gave up. "Milk."
"Noted. Penny?"
Penny, who had been quietly laughing, suddenly got dragged in. "Uh— I live across the hall. I don't think I need to be in this database."
"Just in case," Sheldon said seriously. "One day you and Ethan, Leonard, or I—"
"YOU?!" Penny's eyes went wide.
Ethan silently shook his head at her.
Penny sighed. "Whatever. Honey water."
"Excellent. I'll have tea. I'll ask Leonard when he re-enters society."
Ethan couldn't help smiling at Sheldon's solemn expression.
Honestly, they'd lucked out. Even if Sheldon ever got a girlfriend, that clause would probably be activated… once a year.
---
Sheldon began transferring the handwritten clause into his laptop, generating a digital copy, then printing a hard copy for binding.
The apartment grew quiet again.
Penny sighed. "Okay, I admit it. I thought my old place was peak crazy. I was wrong."
"You mean the Roommate Agreement," Ethan said, "or the 'post-event beverage service'?"
"Both." Penny gestured. "He actually formalized after-sex drinks. I've met weird. He's legendary weird."
"You get used to it," Ethan said, sipping coffee. "Honestly, when you're exhausted and someone hands you something warm? Kinda nice. We can call it Sheldon-style care."
"You're defending him??"
"I minored in psychology. I can extract positive meaning from any abnormal behavior."
"Wow. You two are perfect together," Penny said. "One writes the clause, the other rationalizes the clause."
"Teamwork," Ethan said with a shrug.
At the desk, Sheldon aligned the pages carefully, clipped them, and stood.
"Done."
He placed the agreement on the coffee table with ceremonial dignity.
Penny stared. "Tell me you're not sending that to a government office."
"Of course not. The government is not qualified to handle this level of efficiency."
He turned and walked to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, he returned with a tray holding three drinks.
"Testing phase."
"Testing?" Penny asked.
"Obviously. To ensure clause effectiveness, we must simulate implementation. Otherwise the policy lacks experimental validation."
Ethan laughed. "So we sit here, imagine being physically exhausted, and test the recovery protocol?"
"Correct." Sheldon set the tray down.
"According to recorded preferences:
Honey water — Penny.
Hot milk — Ethan.
Tea — myself.
Proceed."
Ethan and Penny exchanged a look and picked up their cups.
Penny took a sip and closed her eyes. "Okay… still weird. But surprisingly nice."
Ethan nodded. "Sometimes the difference between a weirdo and a sweetheart… is just one warm drink."