Robin Scherbatsky is filling out a marriage license. That alone is surreal enough, but the second she lifts pen from paper, she blinks at her own handwriting. "Huh."
The sound, little more than a breath, catches Barney's attention. He cranes his neck to see what she's written. "Are you sure? You don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'm not asking. I would never ask you to do anything like that."
"Asked me to marry you," she says, and rolls her eyes because it's not only ridiculous that she should be here, with this particular document in front of her, but with this particular man filling out his half of it. Not only that, but how good it feels, how right. Natural. She double checks her information. Last name after marriage: Scherbatsky-Stinson. She hadn't meant, consciously, to add his name to her own, but there it is. It looks right. Also kind of fancy; she likes that. It can stay. "This one was my idea. Really."
He takes a moment to process that, squints at the form as though that will let him see through any ulterior motive she might have. His eyes crinkle in concentration , long enough to give her pause. "Okay, then. Give me the pen. I missed something."
She hands it over. His shoulders block her view of the paper as he fills in another blank with smooth, deft strokes. He steps back, puts the pen down. Last name after marriage: Scherbatsky-Stinson. "Are you sure about that?" She knows, then -truth be told, she always knew, from the time she came out of her old bedroom in a crappy Brooklyn apartment with her battered game of Battleship, to find him half naked in her living room - that he will never stop surprising her. The name looks fancy for him, too. That, she definitely likes. They can be fancy together.
"Yes," is all he says, and leans in to plant a kiss -a good one, not some formal City Hall variety, just for show- on her mouth as his final public word on the subject. "I thought about it," he whispers for her alone. "It sounds good."