Work Text:
August, 2008
Text from Barney Stinson: !!!!!!!!!
Text from Barney Stinson: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Text from Barney Stinson: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Text from Barney Stinson: I FOUND HIM
Robin looked down at her phone. She was far too tired for this. She barely had the energy to want to scream over Metro News 1’s terrible puns, let alone deal with that many exclamation points from Barney.
Text from Lily Aldrin: Found who?
Text from Barney Stinson: THE NEXT DOPPLEGANGER
Text from Ted Mosby: Can’t tonight, I’m in New Jersey
Text from Marshall Eriksen: Again?!
Text from Ted Mosby: SORRY if I’m deliriously happy
Robin pressed her face to the cab window. It was pouring outside. Who knew it rained so much in August.
Text from Barney Stinson: Fine, Ted’s out. Who’s coming over it’s going to be legen-
Text from Lily Aldrin: Maybe another day? It’s late.
Text from Barney Stinson: dary!
Text from Barney Stinson: Damnit Lily! You didn’t wait for it!
Text from Marshall Eriksen: I’m turning my phone off Lily says she can’t wait for it anymore
Robin huffed out a laugh. Then she realized what was coming and groaned as her phone started to buzz. The texts weren’t in the group chat anymore. This was a targeted, personal assault.
Text from Barney Stinson: Robin
Text from Barney Stinson: Robin Robin Robin Robin
Text from Barney Stinson: Robin have I ever asked anything of you before?
Text from Barney Stinson: Just kidding I still haven’t asked anything of you
Text from Barney Stinson: I’m doing you a favor by inviting you that’s how awesome this is going to be.
Robin sighed and started typing.
Draft: Barney, it's been a really long day and
Then her phone was ringing. She took a deep breath and picked up. “Barney, it’s been a really hard day and-”
He cut her off. “A hard day doing what? Learning how to walk through excruciating pain? Or something less trying than that?”
“I had to-”
“Read puns on the news? Oh poor baby! Do you want pizza, chinese, indian, tacos? I can do whatever.”
“I’m not going home and watching TV, am I?” Deep down, she knew she wasn’t going home as soon as she picked up the phone.
“No, you’re coming here and watching TV!”
“I’ll be there in ten. Indian food?”
“Sounds awesome.” He used that voice, the one she hadn’t heard until a few months ago. The one that made “awesome” sound real instead of cheesy. The one he used when he said she was beautiful, funny, smart, and interesting. The one he used on the phone.
It had started a little while after the accident, when he could barely move, let alone walk. He needed help with everything, and one of them would be at the hospital every minute Barney was awake. He told Robin that her shifts made the pain easier to forget.
Then he just kept doing it. There was always an invitation; to a movie, to a baseball game, to a strip club. And Robin kept saying yes. She said yes when Barney asked if she ever wanted someone to come with her to the range. She said yes when Barney said he was bored and wanted to ride the A train from end to end. She was pretty sure Barney would take no for an answer if she put her foot down, but she couldn’t be certain without wanting to say no. And it hadn’t happened yet.
Robin walked through the lobby and smelled butter chicken and vindaloo. “Is that for Barney Stinson?”
“Yeah,” the delivery man said. “You know him?”
“I’m heading to his place now, I can take it and save you the trip?”
“He paid over the phone, go for it. You his girlfriend?”
“No!” She said that far too quickly. Why did she say that so fast? And so loud!
“What do I care? Either way, are you the reason he asked if there was anything less spicy than butter chicken on the phone?”
“That’s me!” The elevator dinged to signal its arrival and Robin went upstairs. She looked at the bag and found it was from her favorite of the two Indian restaurants that delivered to Barney’s apartment. That was why she saved him the embarrassment of another person learning about his spice tolerance. Of course.
The door was open before she knocked. Barney was there in a full suit, ready to take her purse off her hands. There was a bottle on the counter that probably cost half her rent. If she was less exhausted, Robin might have thought about how this was normal. How bizarre it was that this was normal. She might have thought about how Barney would have skipped the suit in favor of just the shirt and pants if anyone else from the gang was here. But she was tired and uninterested in interrogating that particular thought.
They ate dinner and it was so normal that Robin could melt into it. Barney teased her about the bullshit they made her say at work and Robin teased him about having the spice tolerance of a seven-year-old girl. Barney asked her about her day and interrupted with no less than three separate dick jokes. Robin laughed so hard she forgot to be tired.
She drank her scotch and let Barney practically drag her to the couch. “Are you finally going to tell me who you found?”
“You’ll see,” Barney said as he plugged a cable into his laptop.
The video opened on a Twilight Zone style title card, then cut to-
“You think Neil Patrick Harris is your doppelganger?”
Barney paused the video and cackled more maniacally than Dr. Horrible. “You see the resemblance!”
Robin looked back and forth between the screen and Barney. “Eh? A little?”
“Really?” Barney was incredulous. He got off the couch to cackle next to the TV, as if that would be convincing.
“You think television and theater sensation Neil Patrick Harris looks just like you?” Robin was laughing.
“He does!” Barney whined.
“Honestly, I think Neil is hotter.”
“You’re killing me here.”
“Sorry!” Robin shrugged, trying to look and sound as not-sorry as possible.
“Fine, let’s just watch.”
“Are these any good? One of the camera guys said they’ve got a bit of a cult following.”
“Good?” Barney quirked up an eyebrow as he sat back down. “Robin, these are the three most awesome videos on the entire internet.”
Somehow, despite the series being called “Doctor Horrible’s Sing Along Blog,” Robin hadn’t really understood that there would be songs until Dr. Horrible started singing. By the end of the third song, she was convinced that Barney knew all the words and didn’t actually realize he was mouthing along with them.
She wished she hated admitting he was right. Doctor Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog was funny and outrageous and the songs were genuinely delightful.
When they finished the first one, Barney hesitated before clicking on the next. “I think more stuff should be made like this.”
“What do you mean?” Robin asked.
“No budget, free to watch, staring the incredibly handsome Neil Patrick Harris, you know.”
“First, you do not look like him. Second, I thought you were all ‘capitalism, gah!’ you want free movies?”
“I just think if you go into the arts you’re choosing not to make any money.”
“Sure,” Robin laughed. “You’re definitely not a secret patron of the arts or something.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Barney said, clutching invisible pearls with offense.
“You’re impossible. Start the next one.”
Robin thought the songs were better in act two, even as she worried Barney would say “look at my wrist, I’ve gotta go” to a real person in the near future.
“Can you actually sing that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Barney shrugged.
“Really? You can do what a broadway actor can do right now?”
Barney responded to that by firing off the quick, precise first verse of “Brand New Day.”
“You were saying?” He smirked.
“Holy shit,” Robin said. Barney practically giggled over that.
He poured them more scotch before the last part. They drank and watched something that managed to be both dark and funny.
“Okay, I’m glad I came,” Robin admitted.
“Most women are, but some just want to come again,” Barney said, holding his hand up.
Robin rolled her eyes, but gave him the high five he wanted. “Anything else good on the internet right now?”
“No, but we could walk to Blockbuster?”
“Or stay here. I don’t want to put those shoes back on.”
They talked about Robin’s job and how much she hated it. Barney launched into the story of his latest conquest somewhere between deciding they should smoke and getting the cigars out to the balcony. Then they were quiet. Robin always thought it was amazing how quiet New York could be.
Barney broke the silence when their cigars were down to the nub. “Do you think I’m like pie?”
“Sweet? No.”
Barney looked at her like she had just told him she’d be plucking all the hairs off of his arms, one by one. Maybe even more pained. He bounced on his toes as he explained. “Like in Doctor Horrible. He said ‘sometimes there’s a third, even deeper level and that one’s the same as the top surface one.’ Am I like that?”
Robin wanted to do what she and Barney always did: make a joke. “I’m not entirely sure you have a second layer.” But something about the face he made stopped her. “Under all the creepy, pervert stuff, you’re a good guy, Barney,” she said. He needed to hear it.
“But below that, what if I’m just pretending to be more than ‘creepy pervert stuff’?”
“Then you do a good job pretending.” Robin could barely look at Barney. He looked like he might cry. “I really think you’re more than that.”
“And how are you sure?” There was that look again, like something was dragging the question out of him against his will.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“I guess you’re still here.” Barney tried his best to make it sound like it didn’t matter that much. Robin appreciated the effort.
“And you invite me over too often to pretend about anything.” Robin could pretend that their conversation never drifted away from the levity they both preferred.
“I’ll have you know that I can still lie to you about whatever I want!”
“For example?”
“I’m definitely not cold and I’m going to go inside now for other reasons!”
Barney spun on his heel to face the sliding glass door. Robin would probably stay a while longer. It was too late to do anything other than go home, even for Barney. Maybe they’d watch another movie? Or Robin could talk Barney into just the right drink and he’d get board game drunk.
First, however, she had to turn around and go inside. She couldn’t believe her eyes. For the briefest of moments, Barney was smiling softly at the reflection in the glass. And he was looking at her. Smiling in a way he didn’t want her to see. She followed him inside and accepted another scotch. If this was normal now, maybe soft, secret smiles would be normal in a few months.
October, 2018
“Okay, so the list before bedtime is Great Pumpkin and the David Pumpkins animated thing,” Lily reviewed.
“And after bedtime it’s Over the Garden Wall, Rocky Horror, and Doctor Horrible,” Tracy added.
“Let’s get this party started!” Barney shouted, picking up Penny and spinning her around in the air.
“My turn next, Uncle Barney!” Marvin demanded.
Robin watched him pretend to struggle with the seven-year-old’s weight and smiled. He really wass a great uncle. He’d make a great dad, if either of them wanted that. He managed to get the two older kids situated on beanbag chairs while Ted and Marshall settled Luke and Daisy on their laps.
October 30th wass movie night. It had been for years, and Robin had it listed as one of the days she refuses to work. Usually, Barney argued for a real horror movie to close off the night. This year, he made the pitch that Doctor Horrible counted as a Halloween movie. Robin guessed it was because of his most recent Neil Patrick Harris obsession, brought on by the Series of Unfortunate Events show
Just like every year, there wasn’t nearly enough space in Ted and Tracy’s living room, but they didn’t mind. It was an excuse to be silly with the kids before bed, and it was an excuse to couple up and cuddle once the kids were asleep.
After five movies, Ted and Tracy headed to bed. Lily and Marshal took the guest room (They won the Mario Kart Tour bet) leaving Robin and Barney on the pullout sofa. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it did lack some dignity.
“Should we just head back to the city?” Barney suggested as Robin wrestled with the sheets.
“Marvin would be devastated if Uncle Barney wasn’t at breakfast, but god does our bed sound nice right now.”
“It’ll be even nicer if we wait for it,” Barney pretended to consider.
“Are you really doing orgasm denial but actually it’s a bed?” Robin laughed.
“Come on,” Barney said, “let’s get some sleep.” He climbed onto the sofa and patted the space next to him. Robin slid into place and nudged Barney onto his side, facing her.
“You are like pie,” she said, finding his eyes in the dark.
“Sweet? Yeah,” Barney laughed.
“No. People see you being great with the kids and supportive of all my travel and work and they think you’re just this great guy, but then they go down a layer and find out about the one-night stands and the evil corporations and think you’re terrible.”
“Hey, I’m not-”
“I’m not done yet! Then they go down another layer and find out that you talked a big game but you never did anything to a girl she didn’t want you to do and you worked for the FBI. And they were right all along, you’re just this great guy.”
Barney shook his head against his pillow. “And how do you know for sure?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
And there was that look. The one Robin had first noticed on a cool August night on Barney’s balcony. This time, it was just as soft as the very first time. This time, it wasn’t a secret.
“I fell in love with you that day,” Barney said.
“I thought you fell in love with me when we watched Sandcastles in the Sand,” Robin teased.
“I thought I fell in love with you the first time we played laser tag together!”
“I thought you fell in love with me the day we met!” They both laughed, just like they did every time they made this stupid joke. This was normal. It wasn’t even bizarre anymore.
“I fell in love with you all over again every time I saw you. I still do.” This was normal too.
“I love you so much,” Robin kissed Barney’s forehead.
“I love you more than anything.” Barney kissed Robin back, on the lips.
This moment, on Ted and Tracy’s pull out sofa, Lily and Marshall and four children just down the hall, wasn’t like pie at all. It was just, simply, good.