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Fic: Wait For It...
Title: Wait For It...
Fandom: How I Met Your Mother
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Barney Stinson/Robin Scherbatsky; Marshall Erickson/Lily Aldrin, Ted Mosby
Summary: Robin is down in the dumps at Christmastime, and Barney has something to say about it.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zelempa for Yuletide 2008. I've been holding off on posting this, because this is only about 1/4 of the original plan that I had for the fic -- and then ran out of time to write the other 3/4 of -- and I was hoping to be able to get the whole thing done based on my original plans. Knowing me, that probably isn't going to happen, so posting! Thank you to dynastessa and iamsab for the last-second betas, and to zelempa for the wonderful request in the first place.
Barney throws open the door of MacLaren's, races across the floor (arms flailing away), and skids to a halt against the table hard enough to rattle beer bottles.
The four people in the booth stare at him.
"Can't -- talk," he wheezes, bent over with his hands on the table. "Too much -- awesome."
"Wh--"
"Can't talk!" Barney holds up a dramatic hand and lifts his chin, in announcement mode. "There's been a--"
"Barney," says Ted's voice, from off to the right.
Barney blinks at the ceiling, and looks down to find that he is addressing four bewildered strangers. Not skipping a beat, he winks at the table's lone female occupant (she's a solid six; Barney makes a mental note of her location, her blonde hair, and the backlessness of her dress), adjusts his tie, and saunters across the floor to the table where Robin, Ted, Marshall, and Lily have taken over a horseshoe-shaped booth. Lily, Marshall, and Robin are laughing; Ted is shaking his head with that Ted face that means that he thinks Barney is crazy and this is hilarious.
Coming up to the table, Barney glances toward their usual booth. "Did Doug not--"
There is a universal, jumbled noise -- from four throats -- that essentially amounts to: "No!" Marshall, being closest, is the one to get a handful of suit jacket and yank him down into the empty chair at the end of the table; Barney brushes off his hand and shoots him a look, smoothing the invisible wrinkle in his lapel.
"Doug's kinda on the war path today," Lily explains sotto voce, and as the big man glances their way from the bar, all five of them smile -- big and fake -- and wave.
"You should've seen the guys he threw out earlier." Ted puts his glass down on the table and leans back, his arm across the back of the booth behind Robin. "I swear to God, at least one of them was on American Gladiators."
"Yeah, Ted, nobody's interested in who you may or may not have seen in porn," Barney says, his eyes momentarily tracking Ted's arm, and then they snap back to Ted's face. "What's important here is that--" He stops; frowns at the collection of glasses and uncharacteristic champagne bottle on the table. "Oh my God-- Ted!" He snaps to Ted, horrified. "You didn't ask a girl to marry you again, did you?!"
"No," says Ted, shooting him a deadpan look, and Barney is the oblivious recipient of three 'shut up, Barney!' expressions. "I did not ask a girl to marry me again."
"Great," Barney says, easy and cheerful. "What's up, then?"
Robin leans forward, her eyes bright, and Barney -- who was about to pull his chair in -- stops and just watches her.
Lily lunges in. "Robin got a job!"
"Lily!" Robin protests.
"I'm sorry; I'm just so excited!" Lily's face softens; she shakes her head sadly. "My baby, all grown up." Marshall pats her shoulder, fond.
"Hey, Scherbatsky!" Barney crows, delighted. "Gainful employment five!" Robin reaches across the table and slaps his hand hard enough to sting.
"Not only did Robin get a job; she got the job," Ted puts in. He turns to Robin which, given the closeness of the booth, means that he just tilts his head; Barney frowns a little, watching. "Tell him."
Lily twitches and Marshall covers her mouth with his hand. "Fast," he says.
"I got co-anchor for NBC's New York affiliate." It tumbles out in a tangled mess of words, but the way that Robin's face is shining is absolutely unmistakable (and distracting).
"Famous gainfully employed high five!" Barney cheers, and this time, the slap echoes around the bar.
"That's our girl!" Ted wraps his arm around Robin's shoulders and gives her a playful shake; Robin beams at him, her eyes on his.
Barney takes a drink directly from the champagne bottle.
THREE DAYS EARLIER
"Ten o'clock!" Barney dove, shooting heroically, and landed on his side on the crash mat.
Robin thudded down next to him after several seconds, her vest blinking purple light and her laser gun held loosely in one hand.
"Scherbatsky, you've taken a terrible blow," Barney said dramatically, leaning over her. "It's going to be all right; we're going to get out of this."
"We're surrounded by a bunch of 12-year-old boys with light-up plastic space guns," said Robin, bleak and merciless. "If we wanted to get out of this, all I'd have to do was yell that there's a girl in a bikini playing Dance Dance Revolution in the arcade."
"That's the pain talking," he told her. "Sucking chest wounds will do that to you." There was a sudden, strangled silence, Barney visibly biting his lip.
"But my chest doesn't suck, hey-o," Robin intoned, holding up her hand without looking at him.
Barney beamed appreciatively and gave her a high five, then sobered. "Seriously, Robin, you're killing the buzz here. What's the matter with you?"
"I did tell you I didn't want to do this." A kid wearing a red vest dashed into view; Robin didn't move a muscle. Barney squeezed off a flurry of shots, and the kid's vest made a 'bloop, bloop' sad noise. The player looked down at the now-dark lights on his chest, said, "Aw, man!" and stomped back through the maze.
"Yeah, uh, you said you didn't want to do it the first time we came here, too." Barney leaned on his side, propped up on one elbow. "And that turned out totally awesome, remember?"
Lying on her back, legs extended beyond the crash mat, Robin rolled her eyes. She turned her head, cheek pressed to the mat, and she looked at him frankly. "Barney, just because something was fun once doesn't mean it's going to be a good idea a second time."
Barney flinched. His eyes flicked back fast enough that it wasn't obvious that they had ever left Robin's face. "What's this?" he said slowly; it was a bit. "Robin Scherbatsky, has the holiday season managed to make a Canadian Grinch out of you after all?"
"How is it possibly relevant that I'm Canadian?"
He smiled, immediate and boyish; almost chuckled. "It isn't; it's just funny."
She rolled her eyes. "Look, Barney, I'm sorry; I'm not the funnest choice for bro-ing out right now."
"Are you kidding? You're the only choice. Marshall's soaking his dentures and playing canasta with the wife in his place next to a crap factory right about now, and Ted's -- Ted."
Robin slanted a leery glance at him, momentarily distracted. "Oh, God. Is he Tedding out about something?"
"Robin, when is Ted not Tedding out about something?" Barney tilted his head to one side and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "His 'Ted' switch is constantly set to 'out.' "
"--Point," Robin conceded. "What's this one about? Am I going to get sucked into a hair wax-no hair wax debate when I get home?"
"Please." Barney's face said, quite clearly, are you nuts? "I didn't hear a word he said after 'Barney, you need to come over right now.' "
"Ah," said Robin, and she smiled, tight-lipped, and looked back to the ceiling. "Right."
"But, seriously," he said. "What's up with you?"
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, doubtful.
"I won't even-- okay, I might laugh," he revised, halfway through the sentence. "But only a little bit." He held up his thumb and forefinger, barely an inch apart. When Robin still remained silent, he added, "I promise."
A small boy came creeping around the corner with his back to them; Barney raised his gun and put several rounds of light into the kid's back before he could even twitch, much less turn around. The tiny interloper ran, screaming.
"I don't know," Robin said, as if the interruption hadn't occurred. She shook her head dismissively. "It's stupid."
"C'mon." Barney's face was calm, gentler than he realized. "Try me."
"Well--" She brushed a wave of brown hair back. "It's just a bunch of little things at once, you know? It's Christmastime, I'm unemployed, I'm living with my ex-boyfriend, and I'm really far from home."
"You do realize Christmas was last week, right?"
"Well, yeah, but it's still the season," Robin defended, and then she pressed her hand to her forehead and let her arm flop on the mat. "I mean, I don't even know why I miss my family. Katie's in Cancun with her boyfriend, my mom's whole thing this year is a pink doily Christmas, and my dad's my dad."
"You really do have daddy issues, don't you?" Barney grinned, rakish and bright. "Still hot."
Robin stared at the ceiling, picked up her laser gun, and shot him in the chest.
"Okay, okay!" He covered his blinking vest with his hand; glanced at her, sidelong. "What, you're mad because he taught you to like Things That Are Awesome?" The capital letters were audible.
She blinked. "What?"
"Just making sure I've got all the details here. You're not talking to your dad, and it's because he was an idiot who raised you as a boy, right?"
"Hey," Robin objected, rising up on her elbow sharply, bringing herself face to face with Barney. "It's a little more complicated than that."
He arched an eyebrow impossibly high; she stared back at him, unflinching. Barney caved first. He sighed. "Look. Some people can't just pick up a phone and call their father." He shook his head faintly, quiet. "You know, some people don't even know who their dad is."
Robin's eyes widened. A teenage boy came around the corner, hollering. Without looking, she raised her gun and put him out of commission with one shot. "Oh my God," she said, as the teenager went back the way he went, scowling. She pressed a hand over her heart. "Oh my God, Barney, I'm so sorry. I didn't think about how insensitive that was."
"Darn right you didn't," he told her, sage and calm. "Not everybody can be as lucky as you and me, Robin."
"...What?" Robin managed.
"You can call your dad whenever you want; I can turn on GSN and watch mine spin that grand old wheel." He gave her a reproving look. "Not everyone can do that."
Robin smiled, tight and rueful and not entirely cheerful. "Of course not. My mistake. So, just to be clear, what you're saying is--"
"That you should strap on a pair and call your dad."
"Thanks, Barney," she said, deadpan. "Thanks a lot."
"You don't believe me?" He shot her an arch, doubtful look. "Bring it, Scherbatsky. What makes this so," he performed air quotes, " 'complicated'?"
"He totally messed with my entire sense of self worth," Robin shot back. "He basically disowned me because I didn't have a penis. In what universe is that okay?"
"Tch, please," said Barney. "You're Robin Scherbatsky."
"That -- doesn't mean anything."
"It means plenty!" he objected, and when she raised her eyebrows challengingly, he continued. "It means, you're too cool to let anybody else dictate your self worth."
Robin stared at him.
"And -- stuff," he finished, lamely. "Look, what did your dad do?"
"Well," she said slowly, recovering from Barney's answer. "He called me 'Junior,' he made constant reference to the fact that God had not blessed him with a son, and he dropped American pretzels all over the drawing room when he caught me making out with my peewee hockey team's right wing." (Barney grinned, approving.) Robin smiled, suddenly. "And he totally freaked when he saw the video for 'I'll Be Underneath the Christmas Tree (Waiting).' But that's a fun mem--" She froze, approximately 1.3 seconds too late.
Barney's eyes were wide. "Robin," he said.
"No," she said. "No, no no, no, no, no no no no no, it's not like that--"
But it was too late.
Barney's smile was already curling from ear to ear, like the Grinch in the old cartoon.
TODAY
"So, Barney," Marshall says. "What's the big announcement of awesome?"
"I've got to hear what was so important that you walked away from a smokin' blonde with a lower back tattoo," Lily puts in, motioning toward the four people sitting at their usual table.
Barney looks at Robin. She's grinning under Ted's arm, watching him expectantly; she's glowing. She's beautiful. He says, "You know what? Doesn't matter." He shakes his head, and as the expressions of surprise register, he hurriedly pulls out his wallet and continues. "What does matter is how much it would take to get Robin to do the Safety Dance on-air at her new job."
"Huh," says Marshall, thoughtful. "That's actually tame."
"Yeah, Barney, I think you're losing your touch." Ted points at him with his champagne glass.
"Buh buh buh." Barney holds up a finger. "Let me finish. I want to know how much it would take to get Robin to do the Safety Dance on-air at her new job -- while wearing Marshall's Buttafuoco pants."
Lily spits champagne into her glass, the other three laugh uproariously, and Barney gets a high five or two out of the deal.
Great.
Hands tucked into his pockets, Barney steps up out of the stairwell and onto the sidewalk -- and finds Robin Scherbatsky standing by the bus stop, wrapped up in her coat and smoking a cigarette.
"Robin," he says.
Her eyes fly open; she whirls, shoving the hand holding the cigarette behind her back. Her eyes focus on his face. "Oh, Barney." She breathes out, smiling, and she puts her hands in front of her again. "God, I thought you were Ted."
Barney's jaw tightens.
"You know how he nags," she says, rolling her eyes and taking a drag off the cigarette, and the fist that Barney's hand curled into in his pocket relaxes, just a little.
"That's our Teddy boy," he says, light and disinterested.
"So," Robin glances at him, "you're leaving early. Alone." 'Alone' sounds like 'aloone'; Barney valiantly doesn't comment. Everybody knows Robin gets more Canadian when she's been drinking.
"There are plenty of other bars in New York, Scherbatsky," Barney says loftily. "Bars where the crowd isn't so-so." He waggles a hand; strikes a heroic pose. "Bars where there are bachelorette parties just waiting for someone to make their night a memorable one."
Robin watches him for a moment, her mouth set wryly, and then she says, "You found the video, didn't you?"
He reaches into his coat, pulls out his phone, and holds it up without a word. The first few bars of a swelling power ballad begin to play, backed by synthesizer and Christmas bells. On the tiny screen, blonde, teenaged Robin Scherbatsky steps into view, wearing a red-and-green minidress and pointy-toed elf shoes.
"Oh my God." Robin looks, for a moment, like she's debating between leaning over and throwing up, or putting her cigarette out on Barney's arm. "You have it on your phone?"
"Robin, Robin, Robin. I need something to watch on the cab ride between par-tays. Yeah. I said it. Par-tay is officially coming back. It's in my blog." He turns off his phone, tucking it back into his coat. "Oh, and speaking of--" He waves an imperious hand and flags down a passing taxi.
"--Barney?" asks Robin's voice.
Barney turns back, eyebrows raised. She has taken several steps in while his back was turned.
"You were -- really sweet, the other day." She half-laughs, and he smiles faintly, too, quizzical; it's a reflex. "You know, in your own way. And tonight, for not showing," she gestures vaguely in the direction of his inner coat pocket, "that. So--"
Robin leans in; she has had a little too much champagne and she smells like cigarettes, and Barney's expression has fallen slack, but thankfully, Robin is too close to notice.
"--Thank you." She kisses his cheek, slow and lingering. It is not the kiss of one bro to another bro.
Not that bros typically cheek-kiss, of course. But Robin has always been the exception to the Bro Code rule.
"Ehh," Barney tells her, grinning from ear to ear. "It's Christmastime. If you're gonna be nice once in a while, it might as well be now."
Robin crosses her arms, but she's still smiling. "You could just say 'you're welcome.' "
"Besides." Barney pulls open the waiting cab door. "I know what I want underneath my Christmas tree; pa-kow!" He holds up his hand for a high five.
Robin rolls her eyes, but slaps her glove against his.
End note: If listening to people talk about things that they wrote is something that interests you, I babbled a little about writing this over here, when I was finally able to talk about it after the Yuletide reveals.
Fandom: How I Met Your Mother
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Barney Stinson/Robin Scherbatsky; Marshall Erickson/Lily Aldrin, Ted Mosby
Summary: Robin is down in the dumps at Christmastime, and Barney has something to say about it.
Notes: Written for
zelempa for Yuletide 2008. I've been holding off on posting this, because this is only about 1/4 of the original plan that I had for the fic -- and then ran out of time to write the other 3/4 of -- and I was hoping to be able to get the whole thing done based on my original plans. Knowing me, that probably isn't going to happen, so posting! Thank you to dynastessa and iamsab for the last-second betas, and to zelempa for the wonderful request in the first place.Barney throws open the door of MacLaren's, races across the floor (arms flailing away), and skids to a halt against the table hard enough to rattle beer bottles.
The four people in the booth stare at him.
"Can't -- talk," he wheezes, bent over with his hands on the table. "Too much -- awesome."
"Wh--"
"Can't talk!" Barney holds up a dramatic hand and lifts his chin, in announcement mode. "There's been a--"
"Barney," says Ted's voice, from off to the right.
Barney blinks at the ceiling, and looks down to find that he is addressing four bewildered strangers. Not skipping a beat, he winks at the table's lone female occupant (she's a solid six; Barney makes a mental note of her location, her blonde hair, and the backlessness of her dress), adjusts his tie, and saunters across the floor to the table where Robin, Ted, Marshall, and Lily have taken over a horseshoe-shaped booth. Lily, Marshall, and Robin are laughing; Ted is shaking his head with that Ted face that means that he thinks Barney is crazy and this is hilarious.
Coming up to the table, Barney glances toward their usual booth. "Did Doug not--"
There is a universal, jumbled noise -- from four throats -- that essentially amounts to: "No!" Marshall, being closest, is the one to get a handful of suit jacket and yank him down into the empty chair at the end of the table; Barney brushes off his hand and shoots him a look, smoothing the invisible wrinkle in his lapel.
"Doug's kinda on the war path today," Lily explains sotto voce, and as the big man glances their way from the bar, all five of them smile -- big and fake -- and wave.
"You should've seen the guys he threw out earlier." Ted puts his glass down on the table and leans back, his arm across the back of the booth behind Robin. "I swear to God, at least one of them was on American Gladiators."
"Yeah, Ted, nobody's interested in who you may or may not have seen in porn," Barney says, his eyes momentarily tracking Ted's arm, and then they snap back to Ted's face. "What's important here is that--" He stops; frowns at the collection of glasses and uncharacteristic champagne bottle on the table. "Oh my God-- Ted!" He snaps to Ted, horrified. "You didn't ask a girl to marry you again, did you?!"
"No," says Ted, shooting him a deadpan look, and Barney is the oblivious recipient of three 'shut up, Barney!' expressions. "I did not ask a girl to marry me again."
"Great," Barney says, easy and cheerful. "What's up, then?"
Robin leans forward, her eyes bright, and Barney -- who was about to pull his chair in -- stops and just watches her.
Lily lunges in. "Robin got a job!"
"Lily!" Robin protests.
"I'm sorry; I'm just so excited!" Lily's face softens; she shakes her head sadly. "My baby, all grown up." Marshall pats her shoulder, fond.
"Hey, Scherbatsky!" Barney crows, delighted. "Gainful employment five!" Robin reaches across the table and slaps his hand hard enough to sting.
"Not only did Robin get a job; she got the job," Ted puts in. He turns to Robin which, given the closeness of the booth, means that he just tilts his head; Barney frowns a little, watching. "Tell him."
Lily twitches and Marshall covers her mouth with his hand. "Fast," he says.
"I got co-anchor for NBC's New York affiliate." It tumbles out in a tangled mess of words, but the way that Robin's face is shining is absolutely unmistakable (and distracting).
"Famous gainfully employed high five!" Barney cheers, and this time, the slap echoes around the bar.
"That's our girl!" Ted wraps his arm around Robin's shoulders and gives her a playful shake; Robin beams at him, her eyes on his.
Barney takes a drink directly from the champagne bottle.
THREE DAYS EARLIER
"Ten o'clock!" Barney dove, shooting heroically, and landed on his side on the crash mat.
Robin thudded down next to him after several seconds, her vest blinking purple light and her laser gun held loosely in one hand.
"Scherbatsky, you've taken a terrible blow," Barney said dramatically, leaning over her. "It's going to be all right; we're going to get out of this."
"We're surrounded by a bunch of 12-year-old boys with light-up plastic space guns," said Robin, bleak and merciless. "If we wanted to get out of this, all I'd have to do was yell that there's a girl in a bikini playing Dance Dance Revolution in the arcade."
"That's the pain talking," he told her. "Sucking chest wounds will do that to you." There was a sudden, strangled silence, Barney visibly biting his lip.
"But my chest doesn't suck, hey-o," Robin intoned, holding up her hand without looking at him.
Barney beamed appreciatively and gave her a high five, then sobered. "Seriously, Robin, you're killing the buzz here. What's the matter with you?"
"I did tell you I didn't want to do this." A kid wearing a red vest dashed into view; Robin didn't move a muscle. Barney squeezed off a flurry of shots, and the kid's vest made a 'bloop, bloop' sad noise. The player looked down at the now-dark lights on his chest, said, "Aw, man!" and stomped back through the maze.
"Yeah, uh, you said you didn't want to do it the first time we came here, too." Barney leaned on his side, propped up on one elbow. "And that turned out totally awesome, remember?"
Lying on her back, legs extended beyond the crash mat, Robin rolled her eyes. She turned her head, cheek pressed to the mat, and she looked at him frankly. "Barney, just because something was fun once doesn't mean it's going to be a good idea a second time."
Barney flinched. His eyes flicked back fast enough that it wasn't obvious that they had ever left Robin's face. "What's this?" he said slowly; it was a bit. "Robin Scherbatsky, has the holiday season managed to make a Canadian Grinch out of you after all?"
"How is it possibly relevant that I'm Canadian?"
He smiled, immediate and boyish; almost chuckled. "It isn't; it's just funny."
She rolled her eyes. "Look, Barney, I'm sorry; I'm not the funnest choice for bro-ing out right now."
"Are you kidding? You're the only choice. Marshall's soaking his dentures and playing canasta with the wife in his place next to a crap factory right about now, and Ted's -- Ted."
Robin slanted a leery glance at him, momentarily distracted. "Oh, God. Is he Tedding out about something?"
"Robin, when is Ted not Tedding out about something?" Barney tilted his head to one side and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "His 'Ted' switch is constantly set to 'out.' "
"--Point," Robin conceded. "What's this one about? Am I going to get sucked into a hair wax-no hair wax debate when I get home?"
"Please." Barney's face said, quite clearly, are you nuts? "I didn't hear a word he said after 'Barney, you need to come over right now.' "
"Ah," said Robin, and she smiled, tight-lipped, and looked back to the ceiling. "Right."
"But, seriously," he said. "What's up with you?"
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, doubtful.
"I won't even-- okay, I might laugh," he revised, halfway through the sentence. "But only a little bit." He held up his thumb and forefinger, barely an inch apart. When Robin still remained silent, he added, "I promise."
A small boy came creeping around the corner with his back to them; Barney raised his gun and put several rounds of light into the kid's back before he could even twitch, much less turn around. The tiny interloper ran, screaming.
"I don't know," Robin said, as if the interruption hadn't occurred. She shook her head dismissively. "It's stupid."
"C'mon." Barney's face was calm, gentler than he realized. "Try me."
"Well--" She brushed a wave of brown hair back. "It's just a bunch of little things at once, you know? It's Christmastime, I'm unemployed, I'm living with my ex-boyfriend, and I'm really far from home."
"You do realize Christmas was last week, right?"
"Well, yeah, but it's still the season," Robin defended, and then she pressed her hand to her forehead and let her arm flop on the mat. "I mean, I don't even know why I miss my family. Katie's in Cancun with her boyfriend, my mom's whole thing this year is a pink doily Christmas, and my dad's my dad."
"You really do have daddy issues, don't you?" Barney grinned, rakish and bright. "Still hot."
Robin stared at the ceiling, picked up her laser gun, and shot him in the chest.
"Okay, okay!" He covered his blinking vest with his hand; glanced at her, sidelong. "What, you're mad because he taught you to like Things That Are Awesome?" The capital letters were audible.
She blinked. "What?"
"Just making sure I've got all the details here. You're not talking to your dad, and it's because he was an idiot who raised you as a boy, right?"
"Hey," Robin objected, rising up on her elbow sharply, bringing herself face to face with Barney. "It's a little more complicated than that."
He arched an eyebrow impossibly high; she stared back at him, unflinching. Barney caved first. He sighed. "Look. Some people can't just pick up a phone and call their father." He shook his head faintly, quiet. "You know, some people don't even know who their dad is."
Robin's eyes widened. A teenage boy came around the corner, hollering. Without looking, she raised her gun and put him out of commission with one shot. "Oh my God," she said, as the teenager went back the way he went, scowling. She pressed a hand over her heart. "Oh my God, Barney, I'm so sorry. I didn't think about how insensitive that was."
"Darn right you didn't," he told her, sage and calm. "Not everybody can be as lucky as you and me, Robin."
"...What?" Robin managed.
"You can call your dad whenever you want; I can turn on GSN and watch mine spin that grand old wheel." He gave her a reproving look. "Not everyone can do that."
Robin smiled, tight and rueful and not entirely cheerful. "Of course not. My mistake. So, just to be clear, what you're saying is--"
"That you should strap on a pair and call your dad."
"Thanks, Barney," she said, deadpan. "Thanks a lot."
"You don't believe me?" He shot her an arch, doubtful look. "Bring it, Scherbatsky. What makes this so," he performed air quotes, " 'complicated'?"
"He totally messed with my entire sense of self worth," Robin shot back. "He basically disowned me because I didn't have a penis. In what universe is that okay?"
"Tch, please," said Barney. "You're Robin Scherbatsky."
"That -- doesn't mean anything."
"It means plenty!" he objected, and when she raised her eyebrows challengingly, he continued. "It means, you're too cool to let anybody else dictate your self worth."
Robin stared at him.
"And -- stuff," he finished, lamely. "Look, what did your dad do?"
"Well," she said slowly, recovering from Barney's answer. "He called me 'Junior,' he made constant reference to the fact that God had not blessed him with a son, and he dropped American pretzels all over the drawing room when he caught me making out with my peewee hockey team's right wing." (Barney grinned, approving.) Robin smiled, suddenly. "And he totally freaked when he saw the video for 'I'll Be Underneath the Christmas Tree (Waiting).' But that's a fun mem--" She froze, approximately 1.3 seconds too late.
Barney's eyes were wide. "Robin," he said.
"No," she said. "No, no no, no, no, no no no no no, it's not like that--"
But it was too late.
Barney's smile was already curling from ear to ear, like the Grinch in the old cartoon.
TODAY
"So, Barney," Marshall says. "What's the big announcement of awesome?"
"I've got to hear what was so important that you walked away from a smokin' blonde with a lower back tattoo," Lily puts in, motioning toward the four people sitting at their usual table.
Barney looks at Robin. She's grinning under Ted's arm, watching him expectantly; she's glowing. She's beautiful. He says, "You know what? Doesn't matter." He shakes his head, and as the expressions of surprise register, he hurriedly pulls out his wallet and continues. "What does matter is how much it would take to get Robin to do the Safety Dance on-air at her new job."
"Huh," says Marshall, thoughtful. "That's actually tame."
"Yeah, Barney, I think you're losing your touch." Ted points at him with his champagne glass.
"Buh buh buh." Barney holds up a finger. "Let me finish. I want to know how much it would take to get Robin to do the Safety Dance on-air at her new job -- while wearing Marshall's Buttafuoco pants."
Lily spits champagne into her glass, the other three laugh uproariously, and Barney gets a high five or two out of the deal.
Great.
Hands tucked into his pockets, Barney steps up out of the stairwell and onto the sidewalk -- and finds Robin Scherbatsky standing by the bus stop, wrapped up in her coat and smoking a cigarette.
"Robin," he says.
Her eyes fly open; she whirls, shoving the hand holding the cigarette behind her back. Her eyes focus on his face. "Oh, Barney." She breathes out, smiling, and she puts her hands in front of her again. "God, I thought you were Ted."
Barney's jaw tightens.
"You know how he nags," she says, rolling her eyes and taking a drag off the cigarette, and the fist that Barney's hand curled into in his pocket relaxes, just a little.
"That's our Teddy boy," he says, light and disinterested.
"So," Robin glances at him, "you're leaving early. Alone." 'Alone' sounds like 'aloone'; Barney valiantly doesn't comment. Everybody knows Robin gets more Canadian when she's been drinking.
"There are plenty of other bars in New York, Scherbatsky," Barney says loftily. "Bars where the crowd isn't so-so." He waggles a hand; strikes a heroic pose. "Bars where there are bachelorette parties just waiting for someone to make their night a memorable one."
Robin watches him for a moment, her mouth set wryly, and then she says, "You found the video, didn't you?"
He reaches into his coat, pulls out his phone, and holds it up without a word. The first few bars of a swelling power ballad begin to play, backed by synthesizer and Christmas bells. On the tiny screen, blonde, teenaged Robin Scherbatsky steps into view, wearing a red-and-green minidress and pointy-toed elf shoes.
"Oh my God." Robin looks, for a moment, like she's debating between leaning over and throwing up, or putting her cigarette out on Barney's arm. "You have it on your phone?"
"Robin, Robin, Robin. I need something to watch on the cab ride between par-tays. Yeah. I said it. Par-tay is officially coming back. It's in my blog." He turns off his phone, tucking it back into his coat. "Oh, and speaking of--" He waves an imperious hand and flags down a passing taxi.
"--Barney?" asks Robin's voice.
Barney turns back, eyebrows raised. She has taken several steps in while his back was turned.
"You were -- really sweet, the other day." She half-laughs, and he smiles faintly, too, quizzical; it's a reflex. "You know, in your own way. And tonight, for not showing," she gestures vaguely in the direction of his inner coat pocket, "that. So--"
Robin leans in; she has had a little too much champagne and she smells like cigarettes, and Barney's expression has fallen slack, but thankfully, Robin is too close to notice.
"--Thank you." She kisses his cheek, slow and lingering. It is not the kiss of one bro to another bro.
Not that bros typically cheek-kiss, of course. But Robin has always been the exception to the Bro Code rule.
"Ehh," Barney tells her, grinning from ear to ear. "It's Christmastime. If you're gonna be nice once in a while, it might as well be now."
Robin crosses her arms, but she's still smiling. "You could just say 'you're welcome.' "
"Besides." Barney pulls open the waiting cab door. "I know what I want underneath my Christmas tree; pa-kow!" He holds up his hand for a high five.
Robin rolls her eyes, but slaps her glove against his.
End note: If listening to people talk about things that they wrote is something that interests you, I babbled a little about writing this over here, when I was finally able to talk about it after the Yuletide reveals.
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