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3rd Person POV - Future
The warm hum of a steel guitar filled the quiet air of the Honky Tonk, nestled between an antique shop and a faded barber's pole just a few blocks from the university.
A dim neon sign buzzed lazily above the bar. In the back, a few older regulars sat nursing their beers, murmuring about cattle prices and weather forecasts.
It wasn't crowded. It wasn't loud either.
"Hey!" Sheldon said, sitting at the bar with a dazed smile, cheeks flushed red despite his best efforts to ignore the sensation.
The woman behind the counter gave him a puzzled glance, "Did you tattle on me?" Sheldon asked, his voice slurred—an unmistakable sign he was drunk.
She looked confused, slipping her phone into her pocket. "What are you talking about?"
He narrowed his eyes at her, clearly not buying her act, "I don't believe you. This is Thursday. Anything-Can-Happen-Thursday!"
The bartender didn't back down. She held his gaze with a quiet challenge in her eyes.
"I'll paint your other cheek if you lay a finger on me," she warned.
Sheldon's mouth twitched. He covered his cheek dramatically. "This is not paint..."
She snorted and returned to polishing glasses.
"You know, I used to think that women wanted me!" Sheldon muttered, taking a deep sip of his drink. "She kissed me, Claire!" He slammed his glass down for emphasis.
Claire, a bartender with platinum hair and a quietly beautiful face, rolled her eyes.
"Even though I don't like being kissed, and she knows that…" he added, raising a brow with conviction. "…And I remember when she kissed me. Even when we drunk, I remember that!"
Claire sighed. "Do you even like this woman?"
Sheldon scoffed. "That's why you're just a bartender," he grumbled under his breath—at least what he thought was under his breath. In truth, his voice was louder than intended, thanks to the alcohol clouding his judgment.
Claire shot him a sharp look, unfazed. She knew exactly who Sheldon Cooper was—and how little control he had over his own mouth.
"I'm a screenwriter, thank you very much! Still an intern, but proud of it!" she snapped, swatting him with a bar napkin.
"That's dirty!" Sheldon flinched, shielding himself.
"Let me tell you again, Claire!" he said, now looking at her with drunken intensity. "She kissed me. That means she likes me!"
Claire blinked. "Sheldon, she was drunk. People do stupid things when they're drunk."
Sheldon looking at her with blinking his eyes, he tried to focus on her face, "...Really?" but quickly Sheldon exhaled exaggerated with relief. "Oh, thank God. I thought she actually liked me."
Just then, another voice entered the scene—a woman's voice, casual but teasing:
"Still trying to be like Big Brother, huh?"
"Brother." she added with a smirk.
Even through the fog of alcohol, Sheldon recognized the voice. He turned a squinting gaze toward Claire, "You told on me!" he accused.
Claire raised her hands but wasn't the least bit intimidated. Instead, she smiled at the newcomer.
"Regular?" she asked as Missy slid onto the stool beside her brother.
"No. It's still early. Just a beer," Missy replied.
Claire nodded and began pouring.
Missy glanced at Sheldon's flushed cheek, still marked with a handprint.
"Yep. Still a nice shade of red," she said with a laugh.
Her laughter only made Sheldon scowl, "That's not funny, Missy!" he huffed, waving at Claire for a refill. "This is the result of a misunderstanding!"
"Big Brother laughed too when he saw it." Missy teased, unfazed by his mood.
Sheldon groaned while Claire busied herself behind the bar, pretending not to listen.
Eventually, Missy leaned in. "Okay, so what happened? Why the red face?"
Sheldon exhaled, then reluctantly recounted the story.
"Still trying to act like Big Brother, huh?" Missy said again with smirked. Sheldon grimaced at the jab.
As Claire listened to the whole story, something clicked. "Oh yeah, he still uses that, doesn't he..." she murmured—only to stop short when Missy shot her a deadpan glare.
"Really? He just… plugs his dick into any woman with dyed hair?" Missy snapped, clearly irritated.
Claire raised her hands, saying nothing to confirm or deny and giving Sheldon his drink.
"I don't get it," Sheldon said, genuinely puzzled. "Why does it work for him but not for me?"
Missy turned toward him. "Didn't he tell you once? He has a superpower." With amazed face, ofcourse she is fooling sheldon.
Sheldon snorted. "He doesn't have a superpower! Unless tricking a nine-year-old counts—though to be fair, that nine-year-old was a super genius..."
He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.
Missy laughed, slapping the bar, while Claire simply blinked, confused.
"What is he talking about?" she asked.
Missy gave a dismissive snort, then muttered under her breath, "Shut up, skank."
Claire's mouth twitched. She pointed a finger at Missy.
"Hey! He was the one who made the first move!"
Both Sheldon and Missy looked at her and responded in perfect, flat unison:
"Please."
"...Yeah." Claire lowered her finger, silenced by the truth.
Suddenly, Missy's phone rang. She checked the screen.
"Oh, it's Penny." She placed the phone on the bar. "I wanna play. Don't say a word." Her tone left no room for argument.
Both Sheldon and Claire nodded—Sheldon swallowing hard, remembering what happened the last time he disobeyed her.
Missy answered, switching to speaker.
"Hey Penny, what's up?"
"...uhm, do you know where Sheldon is?" Penny's voice came hesitant and uncertain.
Missy chuckled quietly, covering her mouth.
"Why? Didn't you find him earlier?"
They heard Penny sigh.
"...I don't know. He just disappeared. I asked Leonard, but he says Sheldon hasn't come home."
Missy looked over at Sheldon, who merely shrugged. It seemed Penny wasn't telling the whole truth.
Turning back to the phone, Missy smirked.
"Huh! Missing my twin brother, are you, Penny?"
There was a pause. Then Penny replied, voice small.
"It's not like that..."
Missy and the others waited. They could tell Penny wasn't finished.
"...Look, something happened between Sheldon and me, okay? Just—"
"What? Are you dating my twin brother or something? Do you even like him?" Missy cut her off, scowling at Sheldon, who seemed ready to speak.
"Of course not." Penny said.
Missy, who had studied psychology, couldn't tell from Penny's voice whether she was lying. She sounded… calm. Too calm.
Sheldon sighed deeply. This time, he didn't hold back.
"Thank you for the clarification, Penny! I thought you liked me or something. It's like Paige episode all over again!"
There was silence on the other end—but the call was still connected.
Missy glared and punched Sheldon's arm, knocking him off his stool.
"Ow!!!" he yelled, but she simply snorted at his pain.
She glanced down at the phone.
"I'm sorry, Penny, I—"
But she didn't finish. Someone had started playing music at the bar. Penny heard it too, through the speaker.
Still sprawled on the floor, Sheldon slowly sat up, wincing. But as he recognized the melody, his expression changed.
"Oh... it's Big Brother's song," he murmured, then looked at Claire. "Give me a scotch, please!"
Before he could say more, Missy clamped a hand over his mouth.
"I'll call you back, Penny." She ended the call without waiting for a response.
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Third-Person POV
The spotlight still bathed the Astrodome in gold that night. Its energy hadn't dimmed—as if time itself refused to move forward. The air pulsed with heat and adrenaline, echoes of the earlier frenzy still lingering in every corner of the stadium.
No one had taken their seats yet. The crowd remained standing, cheering, some kissing their partners with reckless passion, others lifting their last bottles of beer in a ritual salute to an unforgettable night.
Their spirits were unbroken. They were still hungry—for one other 'miracle.'
Onstage, Georgie watched it all with a quiet smile and a faint chuckle. Amid the glow and shadow, he gave a subtle nod to the crew. The spotlights began to dim slowly, casting a mysterious veil across the stadium.
"That song was fun, right?!" Georgie's voice echoed through the mic, laced with a low laugh.
"Dancing around, forgetting you've got work tomorrow and a shitty boss... and a shitty client!"
Laughter bubbled up from different pockets of the crowd. A few playfully booed him, but the atmosphere stayed warm.
Georgie raised a hand, grinning, accepting it all with ease.
"All I'm saying is… there's gotta be someone special…" he said, stepping slowly toward the edge of the stage.
"No matter how shitty your day's been…"
He glanced at his mother in the front row, who frowned slightly. Georgie swallowed hard.
"...Yeah, I said 'shitty' too much, didn't I?"
Laughter broke out again—freer this time. A moment of tension gave way to warmth. Georgie let it flow.
"All I'm saying is… there's always that one moment. Just one."
His tone shifted—softer, deeper, like he was speaking straight to the soul.
"You look at her… or him. And then… they look back. With a smile."
He gazed out into the distance. Silence began to descend.
"Maybe it's just a smile tonight… but when she kisses you—just a little kiss on the cheek…"
Georgie looked down, a gentle smile blooming on his lips. A moment suspended in the air, like a dream not quite finished.
A soft piano entered—like golden mist weaving into every chest.
"…If they kiss you like that…"
Georgie lifted his head, this time with a wide smile.
"You know it ain't just a kiss anymore."
(Toby Keith – "You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This)
🎵 I got a funny feelin'... 🎵
A soft golden light cascaded from above, falling like stardust. The melody unfurled gently—like a wave that refused to break.
Georgie stepped center stage, hand over his heart, eyes lost in the invisible.
🎵 The moment that your lips touched mine... 🎵
His voice wasn't just singing. It was a story unraveling, word by word, straight from the marrow of his soul.
Every syllable landed like a pulse in the crowd's chest.
🎵 Something shot right through me
My heart skipped a beat in time... 🎵
His voice wasn't just singing. It was a bullet of emotion. The audience was no longer a collection of strangers—they were a part of something greater.
🎵 There's a different feel about you tonight... 🎵
The backdrop lit up—soft pulses of amber, like a heartbeat synced with the song.
Then he looked at Veronica.
Not just looked—saw her.
He reached a hand in her direction, not to ask, but to offer.
🎵 It's got me thinkin' lots of crazy things... 🎵
Veronica smiled shyly, and that smile spread like a soft contagion across the stadium.
🎵 I even think I saw a flash of light
It felt like electricity!!! 🎵
The lights flared. Not violently—but with an elegant burst. A thousand tiny bulbs shimmered overhead like fireflies frozen in place.
Georgie's voice soared, trembling with conviction.
Georgie's voice soared, and suddenly the stadium came back to life.
🎵 You shouldn't kiss me like this, unless you mean it like that
'Cause I'll just close my eyes and I won't know where I'm at... 🎵
Eyes searched for eyes. Hands found hands. And lips finally met.
No one knew who started it, but the Astrodome became a garden of kisses.
Georgie closed his eyes, his body swaying gently. He was no longer on stage. He was in a ballroom of dreams—held in the arms of love.
🎵 And we'll get lost on this dance floor, spinnin' around
And around and around and around... 🎵
When he opened his eyes, thousands were caught in their own silent dances. Glances. Smiles. Souls entangled.
🎵 They're all watchin' us now, they think we're fallin' in love... 🎵
Georgie walked to one edge of the stadium. His gaze drifted—not to Veronica, but somewhere deep in the crowd. For a fleeting second, each person believed Georgie was looking at them. Every heart felt seen. Recognized.
🎵 They'd never believe we're just friends
When you kiss me like this, I think you mean it like that
If you do, baby, kiss me again!!!! 🎵
Georgie threw his arms wide, his voice ablaze. He wasn't just singing—he was offering a prayer, a wish, a confession of love.
🎵 Everybody swears we make the perfect pair
But dancing is as far as it goes... 🎵
He looked back to Veronica. His steps were light, his smile radiant—like a knight returning to his princess.
🎵 Girl, you've never moved me
Quite the way you moved me tonight
I just wanted you to know… 🎵
He whispered it. With certainty. With vulnerability.
Then James's guitar struck like a meteor, exploding in sound.
🎵 I just wanted you to know!!! 🎵
No applause. No noise. Just awe. The world had melted into Georgie's voice… and their own trembling hearts.
The music faded slowly in the background. Like closing the layer of stage slowly.
🎵 You shouldn't kiss me like this, unless you mean it like that
'Cause I'll just close my eyes and I won't know where I'm at... 🎵
Georgie returned to center stage, eyes shut.
🎵 And we'll get lost on this dance floor, spinnin' around
And around and around and around... 🎵
The audience leaned into each other. Forehead to forehead. They weren't at the Astrodome anymore—they were inside a fragile, glowing world spun by a single song.
🎵 They're all watchin' us now, they think we're fallin' in love
They'd never believe we're just friends... 🎵
Georgie opened his eyes. His gaze—sharp, tender—was caught by the camera. Blue eyes like a storm-lit sea.
🎵 When you kiss me like this, I think you mean it like that
If you do, baby… 🎵
Georgie gripped the mic tight.
🎵 Kiss me again!!! 🎵
His cry pierced the night. A plea… and a declaration.
But when the music stopped, there was no applause.
There was only… kissing.
Thousands of kisses. Unbothered by silence. Unmoved by the song's end.
Georgie took it all in—and for the first time that night, he said nothing.
Because he knew...
Tonight, it wasn't just him singing.
Love itself had taken the mic.