Cameos in The Big Bang Theory
Season 1 - Episode 2 Part 2
There was someone else in the bed.
Not on the air mattress—on the actual bed frame Penny had dragged in from somewhere, half-hidden behind a stack of boxes that hadn't been fully unpacked yet. Wilt Berhanu lay sprawled on his back under the thin sheet, one arm thrown over his eyes, chest rising and falling in deep, even sleep. Dark skin gleaming faintly in the moonlight slanting through the blinds, boxers low on his hips, one leg kicked out from under the covers. The sheet had slipped down to his waist, outlining the long lines of his body—lean muscle, defined abs, the unmistakable bulge under the fabric.
Leonard's brain short-circuited for a full three seconds.
He stared—mouth slightly open—then snapped his gaze away so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. Heat flooded his face, ears burning. He risked another quick glance—yeah, still there. Wilt. In Penny's bed. Asleep. Like he belonged there.
Leonard swallowed hard, throat clicking. He backed up a step—slow, silent—and bumped into the dresser. A small bottle of lotion wobbled but didn't fall. He caught it just in time, heart hammering.
Sheldon—oblivious, still on his knees by the bookshelf reorganizing paperbacks by spine color—didn't notice. Leonard hissed under his breath, "Sheldon."
Sheldon didn't look up. "What?"
Leonard jerked his head toward the bedroom, eyes wide. "There's… someone. In the bed."
Sheldon paused mid-motion—hand hovering over a copy of Neuromancer—and turned slowly. His gaze tracked across the room, through the half-open bedroom doorway, and landed on Wilt.
For once, Sheldon's expression didn't stay neutral. His eyebrows climbed—slowly at first, then higher—until they nearly disappeared under his hairline. His mouth opened half an inch. Closed. Opened again.
He blinked. Twice.
Then, in a whisper so quiet it barely carried: "There appears to be an additional occupant."
Leonard nodded frantically, still clutching the lotion bottle like a lifeline. "Yeah. That's… Wilt. From downstairs. The operations consultant guy. The tall one."
Sheldon tilted his head, analyzing. "He is not on the air mattress. He is on the primary sleeping surface. This suggests… cohabitation. Or at minimum, recent co-sleeping."
Leonard's face went from red to nuclear. "We need to go. Now."
Sheldon considered for another long second—eyes flicking over Wilt's sleeping form, cataloging details: relaxed posture, steady breathing, no signs of imminent awakening—then nodded once. "Agreed. Further observation would constitute an unacceptable escalation of intrusion."
They moved faster now—quieter, more urgent. Leonard finished tucking the last cord into the drawer, smoothed the blanket one final time. Sheldon gave the bookshelf a last once-over, adjusted one book spine by two millimeters, then stood.
By 3:45 a.m. the place was transformed—not perfect, not yet lived-in, but livable. Orderly. The new side table box sat neatly in the corner by the wall—still unopened, but positioned at a precise ninety-degree angle to the couch.
Sheldon surveyed the room one last time, satisfied despite the unexpected variable. "Acceptable interim state. Further optimization can occur at a mutually convenient time. Though the presence of a secondary sleeper introduces new variables to the social dynamic."
Leonard was already at the door, motioning urgently—eyes darting back toward the bedroom like he expected Wilt to sit up any second. "Let's go. Now. Before either of them wakes up and sees us."
They slipped out—Sheldon pausing only to lock the deadbolt with the spare key he'd "temporarily borrowed" from Penny's junk drawer earlier (he'd return it tomorrow, of course; borrowing implied intent to return). The hallway was still empty, silent except for their soft footsteps.
They crept back to 4A, door closing behind them with a barely audible click.
Leonard leaned against it for a second, breathing hard, face still flaming. "We're never doing that again."
Sheldon removed his robe, folded it over the back of the couch with precise creases. "We shall see."
Neither of them slept.
Morning light filtered through Penny's blinds, soft and golden, painting thin stripes across the rumpled sheets. She stirred slowly, body heavy with the kind of deep sleep that only comes after a long night of good sex and zero alarms. Wilt had stayed over—slipped under the covers with her sometime past midnight after they'd both been too lazy to make him walk downstairs. They'd fallen asleep tangled, his arm slung over her waist, her leg hooked over his hip, breathing synced in the quiet dark.
She stretched, arms reaching overhead, back arching off the mattress. A yawn cracked her jaw wide. Something felt… different. The air smelled cleaner—no lingering pizza grease, no faint must of unpacked cardboard. The floor wasn't a minefield of clothes anymore. No avalanche waiting to trip her if she swung her legs out of bed.
She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, blinking the sleep away.
Then she felt it.
Warm breath ghosting across her inner thigh—slow, deliberate. A soft exhale that made the fine hairs there stand up.
Her eyes snapped open.
Wilt was already between her legs.
He'd woken before her, clearly. The sheet was pushed down to her hips, her sleep tank rucked up just enough to bare her stomach. His broad shoulders kept her thighs spread wide, dark head bowed between them. No words at first—just the heat of his mouth hovering, teasing.
{Full R-18 Scene Wilt x Penny 1309 Full Word Count aFireFist on p.a.t.r.e.o.n}
Wilt rolled to his side, pulling her against his chest without a word. She curled into him immediately—leg thrown over his hip, cheek pressed to his shoulder, one arm draped across his ribs. Sticky, sweaty, completely sated. The room smelled like sex and clean sheets and them.
They lay there breathing together, hearts slowing gradually. Minutes passed—five, maybe ten—quiet except for the soft hum of the AC and the occasional distant car outside.
Wilt shifted slightly, glancing over her shoulder toward the open bedroom door. The living room was visible in the morning light: boxes mostly gone, surfaces clear, and right there by the couch—
He squinted.
"There's a new table set up out there," he said, voice still rough from exertion and sleep. "Fully assembled. Wasn't there yesterday when we crashed."
Penny lifted her head slowly, blinking. She followed his gaze. The IKEA box was gone. A sleek black side table sat neatly in place—level, stable, even had the little instruction manual folded on top like someone had been proud of their work.
She frowned, brain still fuzzy from the orgasms. "What the hell?"
Wilt propped himself on one elbow, looking amused. "You do that in your sleep or something?"
Penny sat up a little more, sheet slipping to her waist. "I didn't touch it. I was too busy getting railed to play handyman."
He chuckled low. "Then who…?"
Her eyes narrowed as realization hit. "Those fucking nerds."
Wilt chuckled low. "They break in to play interior decorator?"
Penny was already swinging her legs off the bed, the sheet pooling around her waist as she reached for the thin robe slung over the chair. The fabric was cool against her still-heated skin. "I'm gonna kill them," she muttered, more to herself than Wilt, voice low and dangerous.
She yanked the robe on, tied the belt in a quick knot, and stormed out—bare feet slapping the hallway floor, hair a wild tangle from sleep and sex, cheeks still flushed deep pink. The short walk across the hall felt longer with every furious step. She reached 4A's door and banged on it—hard, insistent knocks that made the peephole rattle and the frame vibrate.
Leonard opened it mid-knock, still in his pajamas, glasses crooked on his nose, hair sticking up at weird angles. His eyes went wide the second he saw her face. "Penny! Hi. Uh… morning?"
Sheldon appeared right behind him, already fully dressed in his khakis-and-button-down uniform like he'd been up for hours prepping for a TED Talk. He looked mildly alarmed—eyebrows raised half a millimeter, which for Sheldon was basically full panic.
Penny didn't wait for more greetings. She pointed a finger straight at both of them, arm rigid. "You two. In my apartment. Last night. While I was asleep. Explain. Now."
Leonard's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "We—uh—"
Sheldon stepped forward one precise half-step, hands clasped in front of him like he was about to deliver a lecture. "We were merely performing a civic service. Your living quarters were in a state of unacceptable disarray—bordering on biohazardous conditions. We restored order. You're welcome."
Penny's jaw actually dropped. She stared at him for a full two seconds. "You broke in? While I was sleeping?"
"The door was unlocked," Sheldon said calmly, as if that single fact nullified every possible objection. "And technically it was not breaking and entering if no force was applied to the locking mechanism. We simply… entered. With benevolent intent. And minimal disruption to your REM cycle."
Leonard winced hard, rubbing the back of his neck. "We didn't touch anything personal. I swear. Just cleaned up a little. Organized the obvious stuff. The table's assembled now. Looks nice, right? Sturdy. Level. No wobble."
Penny stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "You assembled my IKEA table. At three in the morning. In my apartment. Without asking. Without knocking. Without even a note saying 'hey, we broke in but it's cool'."
Sheldon nodded solemnly, completely missing the sarcasm. "Assembly required precision and adherence to protocol. We followed the instructions to the letter. No missing Allen keys. No leftover screws. You now have a structurally sound side table with a load-bearing capacity of approximately forty-seven kilograms, assuming even weight distribution."
Penny pinched the bridge of her nose so hard her knuckles went white. "That's not the point! You can't just sneak into someone's place and rearrange their shit like you own it!"
Sheldon tilted his head slightly, considering. "But you were asleep. We minimized disruption. The probability of waking you was calculated at less than eight percent based on observed sleep patterns from prior hallway interactions. Leonard was reluctant, but I convinced him it was the neighborly thing to do. A gesture of goodwill. Community enhancement."
Leonard shot Sheldon a look that could've melted steel beams. "Thanks for throwing me under the bus. Again."
Penny's eyes flicked between them—furious, yes, privacy invaded, boundaries stomped flat—but underneath the anger, a tiny, traitorous part of her brain registered the facts. The place did look better. No more sock graveyard by the couch. No mystery food smells lingering. The books were even in alphabetical order on the shelf. It was… nice. Annoyingly nice.
She exhaled hard through her nose, shoulders dropping just a fraction. "You're both insane."
Sheldon opened his mouth again, undeterred. "In Leonard's defense, he is a gentle and thorough lover—"
Penny's head snapped up so fast it almost whiplashed. "What?"
Sheldon blinked once, unfazed. "I was attempting to contextualize his reluctance to participate fully. He is conscientious in matters of intimacy and, by extension, in matters of household tidiness. His reluctance stemmed from ethical concerns regarding consent, which I found overly cautious given the unlocked door and—"
"Stop. Talking." Penny held up both hands like she was warding off evil spirits. "Just… stop. Right now."
She turned on her heel, robe flapping around her legs, and marched back to her own door. The slam echoed down the hallway hard enough to make the overhead lights flicker once, twice.
Inside, Wilt was still lounging on her bed in just his boxers, arms folded behind his head, looking far too amused for someone who'd just heard the door slam like a gunshot.
"So," he drawled as she stormed in. "How'd that go?"
Penny dropped onto the mattress beside him with a dramatic flop, face buried in her hands. "They're lunatics. Sweet, well-meaning lunatics, but lunatics."
Wilt chuckled—deep, low, vibrating through the mattress. "They set up your table. Gotta give 'em points for effort. And execution. No wobble, right?"
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