Penny prepped for game night with the kind of nerves usually reserved for meeting in-laws or diffusing bombs.
Because tonight?
Tonight she was introducing Amy Farrah Fowler to the guys.
Early-Amy.
Literal, monotone, socially feral Amy.
…Who was also brilliant, hilarious without trying, and about to drop like an adorable grenade into their living room dynamic.
Penny could practically hear the sitcom audience laugh track in her head.
She checked her phone.
'On route. I have prepared conversational contingencies,' Amy had texted.
Penny smiled. Oh yeah. This was gonna be good.
---
Three knocks sounded at her door.
Not Sheldon's.
A hesitant, uncertain rhythm.
Penny opened it.
Amy stood on the threshold clutching her purse like it was a battle shield.
Her cardigan was buttoned wrong.
Her hair was attempting mutiny.
She looked equal parts ready to socialize and ready to flee.
"Hello, Penny," Amy said stiffly. "I have arrived for the—"
She checked her handwritten note.
"—human recreation ritual."
Penny bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Game night. You can just say game night."
"Game night," Amy repeated. "Yes. Calibrated."
Penny squeezed her arm. "You're good. Come on."
---
The moment Penny led her in, the room froze.
Howard's eyes widened like he'd spotted an alien in a grocery store.
Raj nudged him sharply, whispering, "Be cool."
Howard immediately failed by tripping over nothing.
Leonard straightened defensively as if Penny had brought home another possible Nobel laureate to compete for attention.
Sheldon looked up from organizing the wooden settlements with precision.
He froze.
His eyes sharpened — curious, calculating.
Not romantic.
Just fascinated.
The way he looked at high-level puzzles.
Penny braced herself.
"This is Amy," Penny announced. "Be nice."
Amy raised a stiff hand. "Good evening, strangers."
Howard whispered, "I love her already."
Raj nodded fervently.
Sheldon stepped forward first.
"Which fields of study do you specialize in?" he asked, skipping all pleasantries.
Amy blinked. "Neurobiology. Behavioral endocrinology. Long-term memory consolidation."
Sheldon lit up like someone had flipped his On switch.
Penny mouthed 'oh crap.'
"Fascinating," he said. "Your work must offer unparalleled insight into the biological limitations of romantic attachment."
Amy perked up. "Indeed. Humans have alarmingly fragile neurochemical infrastructure."
Sheldon beamed.
"Finally. Someone who understands."
Penny shook her head, amused.
Two supercomputers meeting in the wild.
But then she caught Leonard watching the exchange, jaw tight.
He spotted the same thing Penny did:
Amy gravitating toward her.
And Sheldon… drifting closer to Penny's orbit lately.
Leonard swallowed, insecurity flickering across his eyes.
She hated the twist of guilt she felt — but she wasn't shrinking for anyone anymore.
Not even him.
Howard leaned down to Raj. "She talks like Sheldon."
Raj whispered back, "I know. It's terrifying. And kind of adorable."
Amy turned.
"I can hear both of you. I have clinically above-average auditory sensitivity."
Howard squeaked.
Penny grinned.
She liked introducing people who could stun Howard into silence.
They gathered around the table.
Penny guided Amy to the seat next to her.
Amy sat with rigid posture and whispered, "Is this correct seating protocol?"
"For tonight?" Penny whispered back. "Yes."
Amy relaxed by 4%.
A personal best.
---
Midway through the first round of Settlers of Catan, Amy observed, in absolute seriousness:
"This game appears designed to provoke low-stakes tribal conflict."
Sheldon nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! That's why Penny isn't allowed to talk during trades anymore."
Penny elbowed him.
He smirked.
Amy watched the exchange with forensic interest.
Then she turned to Penny and said, in her soft monotone:
"You are the first normal friend I have ever acquired."
Penny's heart clenched.
"Amy… honey…" she said gently, smiling. "I'm not normal."
"That makes this even better," Amy said.
Sheldon paused mid-dice roll, studying Penny with that quiet, warm interest he'd developed lately — the kind that wasn't romantic yet but was definitely something.
Leonard noticed.
His expression tightened again.
Penny ignored it.
---
By the time they wrapped up the night, Amy had:
– Told Howard his flirting attempts resembled "courtship rituals of underdeveloped primates."
– Asked Raj why he refused to speak, offering to diagnose him.
– Explained to Sheldon why adults didn't like hearing about bowel regulation.
– Asked Leonard if his ophthalmic asymmetry was congenital or traumatic.
And Penny?
Penny had laughed more than she had all week.
When Amy finally stood to leave, she turned to Penny with surprising softness.
"Thank you for inviting me," she said. "I… do not often feel welcome. I felt welcome."
Penny touched her hand. "That's because you are."
Amy swallowed, clearing her throat like the feeling was new.
"I would like to attend again," she said.
"Good," Penny smiled. "You're stuck with us now."
Sheldon glanced between them, thoughtful.
"Penny is highly effective at integrating new people," he observed plainly.
Leonard's jaw tightened again.
Penny didn't look away.
Because this — this widening circle, this growing life — was hers now.
And she would not apologize for shining.