Hello guys :) Just a little one-shot, exploring why Robin is so unbelievably resistant to the cold (read: an excuse to write B/R fluff) :') Hope you enjoy!
February 2015
Robin Scherbatsky likes emphasising the fact that she's Canadian.
Whenever autumn slowly transitions into winter, Robin would still wear t-shirts or shorts, making her friends shake their heads at her (except Marshall, who totally understands her as Minnesota is like a light version of Canada).
Her scarves, coats and boots would not come out until December, when there's the smell of snow in the air and the anticipation that temperatures would slowly sink below zero (Celsius, not Fahrenheit, thank you very much).
She's proud that, after living in New York for ten years now, she's still the last to surrender to winter's icy claws, still the last girl in town to wear summer dresses – and totally pulling it off.
However, being a true Canadian at heart doesn't mean you have to dislike warmth. In Robin's case, in fact, warmth is what makes her all the more cold-resistant these days.
It's an early Friday morning in February. The city is covered under a thick blanket of white powder, and the rising sun makes the little crystals shine in competition.
Robin slowly opens one eye as she feels the sunlight peeking through the curtains of the bedroom window. She loves leaving the house on this kind of day: the air is crisp, clear and clean; the smell of coffee and hot chocolate in the streets is more distinguishable; and there is a light sparkle, a little glitter on the pavements, the cabs, even on the branches of the naked trees. She honestly cannot see why so many people despise winter.
One of these people with a plain aversion against the cold quarter of the year is pressed against her back right now, his arm draped languidly across her, his breath warm on the back of her neck. She stirs in his hold, trying not to wake him as she reaches for her alarm clock (thirty minutes until it goes off).
However, the person behind her does wake up and pulls her against him, touching his lips lovingly to her neck.
"Morning," Barney whispers in that adorable "I just woke up"-tone.
"Morning," she parrots, stroking the hand that's lying on her belly. "How did you sleep?"
The blonde yawns and entwines their fingers. "Fine." Then, he buries his face in her hair, whining, "But I don't wanna get up."
Robin chuckles, slowly turning around so that she can face him. His hair is all ruffled and he's squinting against the light streaming into their bedroom.
She's been waking up next to him for two years now, and every morning, she finds herself marvelling at how warm, how solid and reassuring he feels when he's wrapped around her like this. Next to him, her body feels deep-freezed, which makes sense as she always seems to melt against him. It occurs to her that, if she's like winter, Barney feels like summer, like sunlight dancing on waves and sand between toes and ice cream cones in hands.
"What?" he asks, seeing her dreamy expression.
She says "nothing," leans in and kisses him shortly, but softly on his lips. He wakes up now and lifts his eyebrow (which still makes him look ridiculously sexy), a playful smirk crossing his features.
"What?" she says, mirroring his exact tone from a second before, and he grins even more.
"We should warm up before we get out of here," he states with a wicked gleam in his eyes, his finger dancing over her hip. "Wouldn't want you to freeze to death out there, y'know…" His lips find hers as he easily rolls on top of her.
"I'm Canadian," she says, and even though she's a little breathless, her pride still shines through. "I'm never freezing."
Barney trails his kisses from her lips to a spot just below her ear. "I know," he whispers, sucking at her skin, making her shiver. "Doesn't mean I can't help you fighting the cold…"
His hands slip beneath her shirt, touching her bare. This, she muses, is like lying on a beach in late August, absorbing every last ray of sunlight to store it away for later, much cooler days.
"Hmm… gonna warm you up real good," he sing-songs as he showers her belly with kisses. Robin smiles happily, moaning softly as he tongues her navel.
Waking up next to Barney Stinson really has its advantages, she thinks before her mind goes blissfully blank.
One and a half hours later, Robin is showered and dressed to go to work. She's packing her bag as Barney pours himself a coffee, throwing her his trademark grin.
"Are you all warmed up now to face the day, Scherbatsky?" he wants to know.
Robin winks at him. "You know it. See you later, Stinson." The door closes behind her with a soft click.
Robin Scherbatsky likes emphasising the fact that she's Canadian.
She knows that her ability to resist the cold is because she's from the great, beautiful North. But, she thinks, smiling to herself as she leaves their building in a light jacket without a scarf, she is pretty sure that a certain man who happens to wake up next to her every morning has a rather great impact on her cold-defence.