...I am not going to explain this, but I will plead insanity.
Daddy Complex
Another night at the bar ignoring the happy (sickening) couples. Marshall had always been a traitor from the day they met, but Barney had expected better from Ted. Well, not really, but he had expected at least some suiting up. Even if it was only a little.
Some day, Barney told himself. Some day he'd get Ted to suit up. Some day they'd realise the sheer awesome power of a suit, and on that day, the hot chicks would be plentiful. One for each limb, minimum. Maybe one for each limb for each hour. That was going to be so many levels of legendary it would be awesome.
Like that babe by the bar's ass.
Damn, she was fine, in those tight leather pants, with that golden braid down her back, and that little body… Granted, Barney couldn't see much of it thanks to that baggy jacket, but she was little and her ass was hot. In his mind, he could just picture her tanned face, beautiful, young, pouty, defiant and longing for the approval of Daddy. Barney loved Daddy Issues. They always sealed the deal.
Perhaps this is why Barney went over, didn't quite register that maybe her voice was a fraction too deep as she ordered a shot of Philosopher's Stone (no doubt Carl's latest bizarre cocktail), and tapped on her shoulder.
She was beautiful, just like he imagined, and scowling. "What?"
Barney spread his arms wide in invitation. "Daddy's home."
The last thing he remembered was thinking her fist felt suspiciously like steel. Probably because it was.