Ali POV
The faculty mixer at Caltech was exactly the kind of event I usually tried to avoid—stuffy, intellectual, and full of people trying to one-up each other with obscure data and ego. But Sheldon had asked me to be his plus one, and truth be told, I was curious to see what his world looked like outside of the apartment. Besides, the food smelled decent, and I needed a break from staring at my manuscript.
Sheldon introduced me to at least eight different theoretical physicists, three engineers, and one guy who claimed to be in charge of the particle accelerator's maintenance—but really just wanted to talk about his kombucha brewing setup. Sheldon was oddly charming in this environment, at ease as he floated between conversations about quantum states and non-linear dynamics. I stuck close to his side, occasionally chiming in when I actually understood the topic, and sipping my wine when I didn't.
Eventually, we found ourselves sitting at a small table in the corner, both of us relieved for a moment of quiet. That's when the discussion took an unexpected turn.
"I've been thinking about your manuscript," Sheldon began as he pushed a piece of shrimp around his plate. "Specifically the chapter where your characters are trapped underground with no source of light."
I blinked at him. "Okay...?"
He leaned forward, his eyes sparking with interest. "You mentioned bioluminescence as a theoretical possibility for lighting, correct?"
I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I did. I was thinking fireflies or glowing algae. Why?"
"What about genetically modified luminous fish?"
I paused, my fork halfway to my mouth. "Fish?"
"Yes, they produce steady light under low-energy conditions. It's efficient and sustainable. If I can isolate the right protein structures and induce expression in a controlled environment, we could test their efficacy for emergency or off-grid lighting applications."
My mouth dropped open slightly. "You want to... genetically engineer fish... for my book?"
He nodded, perfectly serious. "I've already begun the paperwork to request a small lab space and initial funding."
I laughed in disbelief and amazement. "Sheldon, that's—actually kind of brilliant."
Later that night, back at the apartment, Sheldon immediately sat down at his desk and began typing away. I curled up on the couch with my laptop, outlining a new scene based on his idea. The apartment was quiet except for the sound of keys clacking and the occasional hum of approval from Sheldon.
Leonard wandered in from his bedroom, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Sheldon filling out a requisition form titled: "Bioluminescent Aquatic Specimens – Phase I."
"Uh... Sheldon?" Leonard said, stepping closer. "What are you doing?"
"Initiating formal lab allocation procedures."
"For... glow-in-the-dark fish?"
"Correct."
Leonard blinked. "Are you having a breakdown? Should I call someone?"
Before I could stop him, Leonard had disappeared into the hallway with his phone. I groaned and buried my face in my hands. "He's calling your mom, isn't he?"
Sheldon didn't even look up. "Undoubtedly."
The following afternoon, there was a knock at the door. Sheldon's mom, Mary, swept into the apartment like a tornado in sensible heels.
"Sheldon Lee Cooper, what in the Lord's name is going on? Leonard said you were building a fish army."
Sheldon calmly swiveled his chair. "Mother, I assure you, the fish are not militant. They're for a scientific inquiry related to Ali's upcoming novel."
Mary turned to me, her brow raised.
I stood and gave a nervous wave. "Hi, Mrs. Cooper. Sorry for the confusion. Sheldon's just helping me test out an idea for a scene."
"And what kind of idea involves glowing sea creatures and has my son filling out government forms at midnight?"
"A post-apocalyptic survival chapter where my characters need to create sustainable lighting in an underwater cave necessary for mining," I offered.
Mary stared at us both for a long moment, then sighed and set her purse down. "Well, if you two are gonna be up all night playin' God, the least I can do is make y'all dinner."
Ten minutes later, Penny was summoned from across the hall by the scent of cornbread and fried chicken. Mary insisted on getting to know "the other pretty girl my son seems to be buzzing around," and pulled her and me into a lengthy interrogation about our goals, families, and opinions on Sheldon's sock-folding method.
By the end of the evening, the living room was filled with laughter, full bellies, and even a half-hearted group viewing of The Price is Right. Mary leaned over to me as the credits rolled and said, "You're a good influence on my Shelly. I can see he respects you. And that's rarer than a barrel racer in sequins at high noon during Nationals."
I blushed and smiled, touched by the compliment.
Before heading off to her hotel, Mary hugged both Penny and me and gave Sheldon one last reminder to wear sunscreen and call her once a week.
"Oh, and Sheldon," she said as she stepped into the hallway, "helpin' Ali with her book doesn't mean you get to name a fish species after yourself."
Sheldon looked mildly offended. "But it's a scientifically sound name. Sheldonichthys luminari."
Mary rolled her eyes and left with a chuckle.
As the door clicked shut behind her, a moment of silence lingered before Penny flopped back onto the couch with a sigh. "Your mom is intense. But I kinda love her."
Sheldon looked contemplative as he adjusted the stack of lab forms. "She does bring a unique blend of southern hospitality and judgmental pragmatism."
I chuckled. "She just wants what's best for you. And I think she sees that you're doing something meaningful here."
Penny grinned at us both. "Well, if this glowy fish thing works out, maybe you can use it to pitch a reality series. Like... The Luminous Bachelor."
Sheldon blinked. "That title is fundamentally misleading. The fish would not be bachelors, nor would they engage in courtship rituals suitable for human broadcast."
I leaned back, laughing as Penny winked at me. Despite the chaos, these strange, nerdy boys—and now their strong-willed Texan mother—had officially wormed their way into my life. And honestly? I didn't hate it.