Emmy for the Win aka The Intrinsic Happiness Quotient - The Sequel (1/?)
For those of you who have not yet read The Intrinsic Happiness Quotient (TIHQ), it (along with my other fics - shameless, I know) is here at my fic comm: http://community.livejournal.com/the8threalm/5396.html
There will be quite a number of references to TIHQ, so I do recommend reading it before you read this. Enjoy!
Chapter One
Dr. Emily Cooper, PhD - eminent, Nobel Prize-winning physicist at the tender age of twenty-five - plopped down on to the ergonomic brown leather chair and resisted the urge to throw her high-heeled feet up onto the gleaming mahogany desk in her new office at Oxford University’s Department of Physics. Instead, she demurely crossed her legs and surveyed the large, tastefully decorated room with its ceiling-high bookcases and large picture window overlooking the traditional English garden that was nestled at the back of the building, sighing delightfully at the pretty vista.
She was finally at Oxford!
It had been a childhood dream to teach at the distinguished academic institution, but there had always been something that had kept her away.
Or rather - someone.
She smirked as her father’s face came to mind.
It had certainly been exceedingly difficult for Dr. Sheldon Cooper, Nobel laureate, and the most gifted, intelligent, obsessive, amazing man of her acquaintance to let her out of his sight, but she had managed this time - just barely - and only with the help of her equally wonderful mother, Emmy Award-winning actress, Penelope Cooper.
It had been a big move - but definitely the right one for her career thus far, she mused.
Captain: Incoming Message, a tinny, trekkie voice sounded from her phone, interrupting her train of thought and alerting her to yet another text from - no prizes for guessing - her dear old dad.
She giggled as she read it: There’s an opening for a physicist at Harvard. Say the word and you’re in.
Dad, I have a legally binding contract with Oxford that is effective in England as we text. It’s my first day.
Your body is still on California time.
Jet lag notwithstanding, I’m not applying for a job at Harvard because I already have a job at Oxford.
Howz ur 1st day so far, sweetie?
Hi Mom. 1st day fantastic. totally <3 my nu office. miss u both tho & evry1 else.
Please refrain from using text lingo. Spelling and syntax are our friends. We miss you too. Will you be on Skype tonight?
Absolutely. Conference call with the Koothrapallis, Wolowitzs and Hofstadters. I have not forgotten.
Excellent. 1700 Pacific.
Can’t wait! I’m so jealous that all of you will be together.
It’s your own fault for wanting to move so far away from us all.
:oP
Emoticons are forbidden. I love you.
I love you too, Dad :o) and u 2 mom! Muahhh! xoxoxo (Deal with it, Pops!) Talk to you tonight!
Emmy smiled as she put her phone away and stood up. There was only one box she had yet to unpack, and it contained the most important things of all.
Her two whiteboards.
She pulled the first one out of the box and propping it onto its easel, eagerly ripped the protective film from its surface. She retrieved a pack of whiteboard markers from her desk drawer and then proceeded to neatly arrange them on the easel shelf, just as she liked, according to colour and in order of point, from fine to broad. She had positioned the white board by the window but it faced her desk and standing back a bit, she decided that the arrangement would work nicely.
There was also a spectacular glass board set up on the wall on the other side of her desk, but she still had a soft spot for a whiteboard and much preferred to doodle ideas on that instead. The more serious work could be thought out on the glass board with its fancy silver and charcoal-coloured markers.
She looked around for a place to position her second whiteboard - the most special one in her possession - and finally decided on the space at the opposite end of her office, in the corner by the bookcase. It would be out of the way there and yet, it was still in full view of her desk.
She set up the easel first and she had just settled the whiteboard into position - this time leaving the extra-thick, protective film still firmly in place - when there was a knock on her door.
Excited at the prospect of her first visitor, she decided to open the door herself.
Two men stood outside, both dressed casually, one of whom had a tool-box.
The other was drop dead gorgeous.
Emmy tried not to gawk at him and instead endeavoured to focus on the man with the tools who was saying something about nameplates and doors and she just kept smiling and nodding and hoping the building maintenance guys wouldn’t think her a silly American.
“So - shall I go ahead then?” The shorter man asked her. She was clueless.
“Go ahead with what?”
“Putting on your name plate, Dr. Cooper,” he said patiently, his English accent sounding quite charming to her ears. “The drilling won’t disturb you?”
“Oh! No - not at all!” Emmy gave herself a mental smack on the forehead. “And please, it’s Emily.”
“I’m Jacob,” he flashed her a friendly smile and shook her hand before pointing to his partner with his thumb. “This is...”
“Marcus,” the gorgeous one piped up himself. Emmy found her gaze rather involuntarily returning to his face, and automatically shook the hand offered to her. She tried not to delight in the way her small hand was engulfed in his large one.
“Emily,” she muttered, swallowing past the lump that had mysteriously materialized in her throat.
“Pleasure.” Good grief - his deep, smooth-as-black-silk voice made the singular word sound positively sinful. Truly the man was so handsome, it was almost impossible to focus her thoughts. He was tall, over six feet, and had the well-built but lean body of an outfielder. She could so picture him in a Dodgers uniform. She just barely restrained a breathy sigh at the thought, and instead gave him a quick once-over. The eidetic memory she inherited from her father was enough to catalogue the rest at her own pace, while she laughed at Jacob’s wry complaints about the English rain.
In her mind’s eye, though, she saw dark brown hair - a little on the long side, a bit wavy and tousled, but at the same time, soft enough to tempt wayward fingers. His face was rather on the tan side for someone from the British Isles, but it suited him and gave him the swarthy look of a pirate. The jet black eyes behind ridiculously long, dark lashes only reinforced that image in her mind. All he needed was a black bandana on his head, maybe a gold earring or two and a five o’clock shadow.
Emmy blinked the sexy, sumptuous image away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“Have you been here long?” Jacob asked her.
“No - I arrived in London two weeks ago and moved to Oxfordshire just last week.”
“And you’re here from California, are you?”
“Yes.”
“You left all that glorious sunshine for that?” he asked incredulously, nodding towards the windows. Emmy turned to see that it had started to rain. She laughed.
“Actually - I enjoy the rain.”
“In that case, you’ve certainly come to the right country!”
“True - oh! I just remembered that I have a wobbly shelf on that bookcase in the corner. Do you think I could borrow your drill to fix it?”
“I’ll do it,” Marcus volunteered before Jacob could respond. “Which one is it?” He asked as he entered her office.
“I’ll show you,” Emmy steeled herself. Really, her reaction to this man was unprecedented. She was from California, for goodness sake - the entire state was filled with gorgeous men. And Texan men could certainly be counted on to take any girl’s breath away. And how hot were the Midwestern boys from Nebraska? So why did this particular man have her tied up in knots?
“Nice office,” he commented as he fixed the shelf she had pointed out.
“Isn’t it? They wanted to give me the one across the hall, but I argued. This one is just gorgeous - that one’s a bit on the stuffy side.”
“Indeed,” his tone was clipped, but Emmy couldn’t think why. She could not have offended him in any way, could she? Maybe it was a British thing - weren’t they renowned for their reserve?
“And don’t you just love the view?” She asked effusively. Then she blinked. What was wrong with her? She sounded like a teenager around her first crush. So what if the man was almost dazzlingly beautiful? Get a freakin’ grip, Emily.
“It’s scintillating to be sure.” All right - that had been sarcasm. She was sure. She pursed her lips in consternation, but before she could think of a response, he nodded to the whiteboard beside the bookshelf. “This looks like some serious stuff - did you do that?”
“No - actually my father did. We work on similar things but he did this a long time ago. That’s quantum mechanics, with a little string theory doodling around the edges - although that part there is a joke; it’s a spoof of the Born-Oppenheimer approximation...” she gulped as she looked up at him. His intense gaze on her face as she spoke was robbing her of her ability to breathe. But not, apparently, of her ability to babble. “Er... my dad was - this was his board. It’s something he was working on the day he met my mother. Apparently she was really impressed and said some really nice things to him and... he saved it,” Emmy smiled at the sentimentality of her usually stoic father. “He would totally deny it, but I think he fell a little in love with her that first day that they met. He never erased it, never added to it. Except for the three hearts in the corner which he let my mom and I doodle there - one for each of us - just before he put the permanent lamination over the top and gave it to me on my fifth birthday. He said he didn’t need it anymore because he had mom - but I think he did. He occasionally came into my room when he thought I was asleep and just stared at it. Sometimes he’s just so sweet...”
Dear Lord, the babbling.
Honest to goodness, any second now the Karolinska Institute was going to call her and revoke her Nobel Prize. Her father would disown her.
She should just shut the hell up already.
Marcus peered at her with a hooded expression, his face not revealing whether or not he thought her an idiot.
“You sound like a close family. It must be hard moving to a new place, especially when you don’t know anyone yet.”
“Yeah - I didn’t really feel it with the initial excitement of moving, but now and again it surprises me how much I miss home and family and friends.”
“Well, we can change that,” Jacob added as he surveyed Marcus’ handiwork with a nod of approval. “I’ve finished putting the nameplates on both doors. Now it’s time for coffee - why don’t you join us?”
“Oh - that would be lovely!” Emmy gushed, grateful for his gracious invitation. “Let me just grab my wallet. Coffee’s on me!”
“Lovely! Thanks a million! Shall we meet you by the lifts?”
“Perfect,” she called out as they exited her office. She retrieved her wallet from the locked drawer of her desk and took a full minute to calm down and give herself a severe mental reprimand for her behaviour with Marcus.
She would be better during this little coffee break.
She would restrain herself.
She would be mature and professional while still maintaining her friendly demeanour.
She would not make an ass of herself on her first day.
And if she had a fantasy or two or ten about Marcus-the-hot-handyman, then she would hide it and hide it well. No one needed to know - especially not him.
Satisfied that she would be able to spend the next fifteen to twenty minutes on her best behaviour, she left her office and locked the door behind her, glancing as she usually did, to her almost-office across the corridor and smirking to herself at her negotiating skills.
She had already taken three steps towards the elevator when she came to a sudden halt.
She blinked, slowly allowing her eyes to transmit their message to her brain. Then she backpedalled and stared at the brass nameplate on that other office door.
Dr. Derek Gablehauser.
What the fuck?
Derek Gablehauser?
Firm proponent and advocate of the preposterous idea that loop quantum gravity was the explanation to reconcile the theories of quantum mechanics and general relativity?
That Derek Gablehauser?
The spawn of Leslie Winkle and Eric Gablehauser, and therefore the mortal enemy of any physicist that bore the Cooper name?
That Derek Gablehauser?
What the hell was Oxford’s Physics department thinking?
Actually, had the Head of the department been thinking at all? Everyone who was anyone in the world of Physics knew of the legendary animosity between Sheldon Cooper and Leslie Winkle-Gablehauser!
And someone actually had the audacity to put the Winkle-Gablehauser's pathetic-excuse-for-a-son in the office across the hallway from hers?
Good grief, her father was going to have a stroke.
Perhaps it wasn’t too late to make that call to Harvard after all.
***
There will be quite a number of references to TIHQ, so I do recommend reading it before you read this. Enjoy!
Chapter One
Dr. Emily Cooper, PhD - eminent, Nobel Prize-winning physicist at the tender age of twenty-five - plopped down on to the ergonomic brown leather chair and resisted the urge to throw her high-heeled feet up onto the gleaming mahogany desk in her new office at Oxford University’s Department of Physics. Instead, she demurely crossed her legs and surveyed the large, tastefully decorated room with its ceiling-high bookcases and large picture window overlooking the traditional English garden that was nestled at the back of the building, sighing delightfully at the pretty vista.
She was finally at Oxford!
It had been a childhood dream to teach at the distinguished academic institution, but there had always been something that had kept her away.
Or rather - someone.
She smirked as her father’s face came to mind.
It had certainly been exceedingly difficult for Dr. Sheldon Cooper, Nobel laureate, and the most gifted, intelligent, obsessive, amazing man of her acquaintance to let her out of his sight, but she had managed this time - just barely - and only with the help of her equally wonderful mother, Emmy Award-winning actress, Penelope Cooper.
It had been a big move - but definitely the right one for her career thus far, she mused.
Captain: Incoming Message, a tinny, trekkie voice sounded from her phone, interrupting her train of thought and alerting her to yet another text from - no prizes for guessing - her dear old dad.
She giggled as she read it: There’s an opening for a physicist at Harvard. Say the word and you’re in.
Dad, I have a legally binding contract with Oxford that is effective in England as we text. It’s my first day.
Your body is still on California time.
Jet lag notwithstanding, I’m not applying for a job at Harvard because I already have a job at Oxford.
Howz ur 1st day so far, sweetie?
Hi Mom. 1st day fantastic. totally <3 my nu office. miss u both tho & evry1 else.
Please refrain from using text lingo. Spelling and syntax are our friends. We miss you too. Will you be on Skype tonight?
Absolutely. Conference call with the Koothrapallis, Wolowitzs and Hofstadters. I have not forgotten.
Excellent. 1700 Pacific.
Can’t wait! I’m so jealous that all of you will be together.
It’s your own fault for wanting to move so far away from us all.
:oP
Emoticons are forbidden. I love you.
I love you too, Dad :o) and u 2 mom! Muahhh! xoxoxo (Deal with it, Pops!) Talk to you tonight!
Emmy smiled as she put her phone away and stood up. There was only one box she had yet to unpack, and it contained the most important things of all.
Her two whiteboards.
She pulled the first one out of the box and propping it onto its easel, eagerly ripped the protective film from its surface. She retrieved a pack of whiteboard markers from her desk drawer and then proceeded to neatly arrange them on the easel shelf, just as she liked, according to colour and in order of point, from fine to broad. She had positioned the white board by the window but it faced her desk and standing back a bit, she decided that the arrangement would work nicely.
There was also a spectacular glass board set up on the wall on the other side of her desk, but she still had a soft spot for a whiteboard and much preferred to doodle ideas on that instead. The more serious work could be thought out on the glass board with its fancy silver and charcoal-coloured markers.
She looked around for a place to position her second whiteboard - the most special one in her possession - and finally decided on the space at the opposite end of her office, in the corner by the bookcase. It would be out of the way there and yet, it was still in full view of her desk.
She set up the easel first and she had just settled the whiteboard into position - this time leaving the extra-thick, protective film still firmly in place - when there was a knock on her door.
Excited at the prospect of her first visitor, she decided to open the door herself.
Two men stood outside, both dressed casually, one of whom had a tool-box.
The other was drop dead gorgeous.
Emmy tried not to gawk at him and instead endeavoured to focus on the man with the tools who was saying something about nameplates and doors and she just kept smiling and nodding and hoping the building maintenance guys wouldn’t think her a silly American.
“So - shall I go ahead then?” The shorter man asked her. She was clueless.
“Go ahead with what?”
“Putting on your name plate, Dr. Cooper,” he said patiently, his English accent sounding quite charming to her ears. “The drilling won’t disturb you?”
“Oh! No - not at all!” Emmy gave herself a mental smack on the forehead. “And please, it’s Emily.”
“I’m Jacob,” he flashed her a friendly smile and shook her hand before pointing to his partner with his thumb. “This is...”
“Marcus,” the gorgeous one piped up himself. Emmy found her gaze rather involuntarily returning to his face, and automatically shook the hand offered to her. She tried not to delight in the way her small hand was engulfed in his large one.
“Emily,” she muttered, swallowing past the lump that had mysteriously materialized in her throat.
“Pleasure.” Good grief - his deep, smooth-as-black-silk voice made the singular word sound positively sinful. Truly the man was so handsome, it was almost impossible to focus her thoughts. He was tall, over six feet, and had the well-built but lean body of an outfielder. She could so picture him in a Dodgers uniform. She just barely restrained a breathy sigh at the thought, and instead gave him a quick once-over. The eidetic memory she inherited from her father was enough to catalogue the rest at her own pace, while she laughed at Jacob’s wry complaints about the English rain.
In her mind’s eye, though, she saw dark brown hair - a little on the long side, a bit wavy and tousled, but at the same time, soft enough to tempt wayward fingers. His face was rather on the tan side for someone from the British Isles, but it suited him and gave him the swarthy look of a pirate. The jet black eyes behind ridiculously long, dark lashes only reinforced that image in her mind. All he needed was a black bandana on his head, maybe a gold earring or two and a five o’clock shadow.
Emmy blinked the sexy, sumptuous image away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“Have you been here long?” Jacob asked her.
“No - I arrived in London two weeks ago and moved to Oxfordshire just last week.”
“And you’re here from California, are you?”
“Yes.”
“You left all that glorious sunshine for that?” he asked incredulously, nodding towards the windows. Emmy turned to see that it had started to rain. She laughed.
“Actually - I enjoy the rain.”
“In that case, you’ve certainly come to the right country!”
“True - oh! I just remembered that I have a wobbly shelf on that bookcase in the corner. Do you think I could borrow your drill to fix it?”
“I’ll do it,” Marcus volunteered before Jacob could respond. “Which one is it?” He asked as he entered her office.
“I’ll show you,” Emmy steeled herself. Really, her reaction to this man was unprecedented. She was from California, for goodness sake - the entire state was filled with gorgeous men. And Texan men could certainly be counted on to take any girl’s breath away. And how hot were the Midwestern boys from Nebraska? So why did this particular man have her tied up in knots?
“Nice office,” he commented as he fixed the shelf she had pointed out.
“Isn’t it? They wanted to give me the one across the hall, but I argued. This one is just gorgeous - that one’s a bit on the stuffy side.”
“Indeed,” his tone was clipped, but Emmy couldn’t think why. She could not have offended him in any way, could she? Maybe it was a British thing - weren’t they renowned for their reserve?
“And don’t you just love the view?” She asked effusively. Then she blinked. What was wrong with her? She sounded like a teenager around her first crush. So what if the man was almost dazzlingly beautiful? Get a freakin’ grip, Emily.
“It’s scintillating to be sure.” All right - that had been sarcasm. She was sure. She pursed her lips in consternation, but before she could think of a response, he nodded to the whiteboard beside the bookshelf. “This looks like some serious stuff - did you do that?”
“No - actually my father did. We work on similar things but he did this a long time ago. That’s quantum mechanics, with a little string theory doodling around the edges - although that part there is a joke; it’s a spoof of the Born-Oppenheimer approximation...” she gulped as she looked up at him. His intense gaze on her face as she spoke was robbing her of her ability to breathe. But not, apparently, of her ability to babble. “Er... my dad was - this was his board. It’s something he was working on the day he met my mother. Apparently she was really impressed and said some really nice things to him and... he saved it,” Emmy smiled at the sentimentality of her usually stoic father. “He would totally deny it, but I think he fell a little in love with her that first day that they met. He never erased it, never added to it. Except for the three hearts in the corner which he let my mom and I doodle there - one for each of us - just before he put the permanent lamination over the top and gave it to me on my fifth birthday. He said he didn’t need it anymore because he had mom - but I think he did. He occasionally came into my room when he thought I was asleep and just stared at it. Sometimes he’s just so sweet...”
Dear Lord, the babbling.
Honest to goodness, any second now the Karolinska Institute was going to call her and revoke her Nobel Prize. Her father would disown her.
She should just shut the hell up already.
Marcus peered at her with a hooded expression, his face not revealing whether or not he thought her an idiot.
“You sound like a close family. It must be hard moving to a new place, especially when you don’t know anyone yet.”
“Yeah - I didn’t really feel it with the initial excitement of moving, but now and again it surprises me how much I miss home and family and friends.”
“Well, we can change that,” Jacob added as he surveyed Marcus’ handiwork with a nod of approval. “I’ve finished putting the nameplates on both doors. Now it’s time for coffee - why don’t you join us?”
“Oh - that would be lovely!” Emmy gushed, grateful for his gracious invitation. “Let me just grab my wallet. Coffee’s on me!”
“Lovely! Thanks a million! Shall we meet you by the lifts?”
“Perfect,” she called out as they exited her office. She retrieved her wallet from the locked drawer of her desk and took a full minute to calm down and give herself a severe mental reprimand for her behaviour with Marcus.
She would be better during this little coffee break.
She would restrain herself.
She would be mature and professional while still maintaining her friendly demeanour.
She would not make an ass of herself on her first day.
And if she had a fantasy or two or ten about Marcus-the-hot-handyman, then she would hide it and hide it well. No one needed to know - especially not him.
Satisfied that she would be able to spend the next fifteen to twenty minutes on her best behaviour, she left her office and locked the door behind her, glancing as she usually did, to her almost-office across the corridor and smirking to herself at her negotiating skills.
She had already taken three steps towards the elevator when she came to a sudden halt.
She blinked, slowly allowing her eyes to transmit their message to her brain. Then she backpedalled and stared at the brass nameplate on that other office door.
Dr. Derek Gablehauser.
What the fuck?
Derek Gablehauser?
Firm proponent and advocate of the preposterous idea that loop quantum gravity was the explanation to reconcile the theories of quantum mechanics and general relativity?
That Derek Gablehauser?
The spawn of Leslie Winkle and Eric Gablehauser, and therefore the mortal enemy of any physicist that bore the Cooper name?
That Derek Gablehauser?
What the hell was Oxford’s Physics department thinking?
Actually, had the Head of the department been thinking at all? Everyone who was anyone in the world of Physics knew of the legendary animosity between Sheldon Cooper and Leslie Winkle-Gablehauser!
And someone actually had the audacity to put the Winkle-Gablehauser's pathetic-excuse-for-a-son in the office across the hallway from hers?
Good grief, her father was going to have a stroke.
Perhaps it wasn’t too late to make that call to Harvard after all.
***