Title: "Shine"
Author: Anna-Yes-Ma'am
Rating: PG-13 (Just because, you know, Barney)
Summary: While walking home from the Hoser Hut, Barney comes to a fascinating realization about Robin's music career past. A fluffy one-shot. Post-"Glitter".
Characters/Pairings: Barney/Robin, hinted Ted/Mother
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Author's Note:In honor of the yellow umbrella at the train station, I offer a little story that considers The Mother's identity...but is mostly an excuse to have B/R flirt and actually talk and come so close in the height of their simple(r) and lovely S6 friendship.
...
Beer bottles piled next to each other, the translucent greens and browns gleaming in the warm light of the Canadian bar. It was that perfect time of night when everything was a little hazy, a little gentler, and when the fizziness of the lager echoed the light laughter bubbling in Robin's chest. Sighing contentedly, she smiled wistfully as she observed Jessica's husband kissing her friend's hair with such love and tenderness, and was surprised to feel nothing that even remotely resembled resentment. Twitching her nose with silent laughter at her alliteration, she ran her fingers through her hair and propped her chin up against the table.
It felt good to finally be happy for her.
She caught her old friend's eye and offered her a quick wink. Jess tilted her head in a way that was at once motherly and free spirited, rendering the present of their newly rediscovered friendship entirely with the past of their wild and rambunctious youth. Running her pointer finger along the rim of her latest half-empty bottle, Robin bit her lip and briefly fluttered her eyes closed, letting the sounds of her integrated life wash over her.
"You guys have almost the same accent, almost the same love of sports-" Jessica argued lightly, clinking her glass along the back of her chair.
"We love football!" Marshall pounded the table with his fist. "It's not the same in a million years. And Minnesotan accents are adorable."
"So are Canadian accents!"
He chuckled. "Yeah. Okay. Sure."
"There is absolutely no tangible difference. We speak exactly the same." Jessica's faux-glare danced happily in the low lights of the bar, while her sweet and handsome husband stroked her hand and tried his best to be supportive in the mock battle of Canada vs. Minnesota. Marshall tilted his head condescendingly and smiled good naturedly.
"Oh, really? Are you sure a-boot that?"
Bursting out with intermittent laughter, Marshall continued to ignore Jessica's (very fair) points about the similarties between Minnesota and a lot of areas of Canada by cracking various jokes about Canada's supposed shortcomings (seriously, though, the dark sucks). And, of course, the tall goofball of a man still managed to send Lily a shower of air kisses while she performed a rousing, off-pitch, and preciously sweet rendition of Bryan Adams' "Summer of '69."
Ted, meanwhile, regaled the young blonde beside him near the bar with a tedious explanation of the meaning behind the title of said song, orating that Bryan Adams would have actually been only 10 years old at that particular moment in time, so the lascivious number in the song did, in fact, refer to an innuendo, known to the French as soixante-neuf, originating either in ancient Chinese cultures or probably during the French Revolution, wherein Mademoiselle de Méricourt had likely coined the term.
"And an interesting thing about Mericourt!" Ted's eyes were bright and passionate. "Oftentimes, people believe she played a large role in the storming of the Bastille, on le quartoze juillet, but she was actually actively involved in..."
(Robin snorted as she realized that only Ted could make a story about oral sex so boring that the poor girl's eyes were glazing over.)
But the world was perfect at that moment. Watching Marshall, Jessica, and Mark join Lily onstage for some group song she wasn't familiar with, she felt more secure than she had in years. All of her friends around her, embracing her culture as much as they could, and all of them talking and joking happily-
Until she realized, that wasn't technically true.
In fact, one of them had been quiet for quite some time.
Too quiet.
And sure enough, when she turned her body towards her blonde nuisance of an ex-boyfriend, she was surprised by two things. First, he was sitting much closer to her than she remembered earlier on in the evening. Second, while he could have easily been flirting with or grinding on any number of 21-year-old Alberta-born girls, he was instead staring directly at her face, without movement and without so much as blinking.
It was weird.
Therefore, she insisted: "Stop being weird."
"I'm not being weird." He was still looking into her pores, his eyes growing more and more devilish with each passing moment.
"Well, then what the hell are you doing?" She really didn't have the energy for any of Barney's games right now. Everyone was having a fun, relaxed time and it wouldn't kill him to just be...normal. For once.
But as he sensed her irritation, his glee seemed to grow and he waggled his eyebrows at her like he figured out something important. Grabbing the napkin from her lap, he pulled out a pen and started sketching some charts and crunching some seemingly random numbers together, his shoulders rounding over his work and his lips persing together in deep thought. Robin tried to push away the little niggle of fondness that grew in her chest - he was always weirdly adorable when he became so serious and focused, even if it was over something (probably) stupid.
So she was especially grateful when Ted flopped down in the other seat next to her with a defeated groan. It offered a blessed distraction.
(Because Barney was being annoying. That's all.)
Ted rested his hand against his forehead and sighed. "Well, apparently that young lady was not interested in a re-telling of the original Fête de la Fédération."
"Imagine that." Robin's lips twitched.
"She'd rather check out that guy's biceps." He pointed at a large, muscular man in a plaid shirt with disgust. Robin hummed and pushed her chest out unwittingly, making Ted roll his eyes. "I swear, all Canadian girls are the same."
"That's racist." Barney muttered under his breath, still furiously writing and moving onto a second napkin. "Remind me to give you a rundown of the different provinces when I'm not so busy. Until you've come face to face with a moose-antler-tickling fetish, you don't know the Great White North. True story."
"Even though he's completely disgusting," Robin glared pointedly at the top of Barney's head, "our good friend here is not entirely incorrect. You can't discount an entire country of women!"
"Yeah, but they're all just so...Canadian." Ted took a swig of beer and shook his head. "Really, is it even worth trying?"
"Oh, whatever!" She gasped and gave him a harsh slug on his arm, making him wince a little bit. "You would be lucky to end up with a Canadian girl."
"Er, think I've been there and tried that." He replied, casting a knowing glance toward her with a quick nod of his head. Robin paused and sat back, a little startled.
It was so strange. Maybe it was their proximity or the timing or something, but she always seemed to forget that she dated Ted. Which was ridiculous because he was her most important and significant relationship by far. Dating him had been always been wonderful, if bittersweet. She always knew that he held the most special place in her heart, above all (and everyone) else. He was the first boyfriend she ever said "I love you" to. And the only one that actually lasted some real period of time. That meant something, right? Even if she didn't think about it very much?
Shrugging a little, she figured that the only reason it slipped her mind was because they were now in a solid place of being friends first and foremost. The past was the past.
(She just couldn't read into whatever part of her brain always managed to classify Ted as 'friend' and Barney as 'ex-boyfriend.' Because that part of her brain tended to get her in trouble.)
"Besides," Ted continued with a grimace, "all of your sex stuff is super strange and I would never want any part of it ever again." He swallowed and his cheeks went pale. "It was emasculating and hellish."
"Just because you can't handle a woman who actively embraces her own sexuality-"
"Robin, I think there's a pretty big difference between embracing your sexuality and embracing a Halifax Fudge Badger."
"I told you that was a joke!" She giggled shrilly, looking around at the now aghast faces of her fellow countrymen. "Like I would ever actually wanna do that."
"We did it twice." Barney was still writing, beads of sweat now dripping from his forehead. "It was awesome."
"Such a pity you two didn't work out." Ted rolled his eyes. "What a grand romance the world missed out on."
"The point is that Canadian women are smart, self-assured, and poised." Robin rushed forward, trying to ignore the sudden left turn in the conversation. "And yeah, they're a bit freaky in the bedroom, but I don't see how that's a bad thing."
She smirked and crossed her arms. "'Cause when you're a little puck bunny who's three feet deep into a twenty-sixer while crusin' down the Banana Belt, it's literally required to figure out how to rip off those breezers and rock the canoe like a good ol' surrey girl even if you have to stop at a biffy or coulee." She nodded with a small sip of her beer. "Shit gets real."
"First of all, I didn't understand any of that." Ted laughed and leaned forward on the table. "And secondly, from my experience? Canadian women are unpredictable, brash, and violent-"
"Yeah, that's, like, exactly what I said." Robin cocked an eye at Ted.
(Really, sometimes it was like they were speaking two different languages.)
"-And clearly, I'm not cut out for dating them." His shoulders slumped a little. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for dating anyone."
Oh, brother.
But before Robin could launch into yet another pep talk attempting to convince Ted that his future wife was really, seriously just around the corner, Barney's eyes grew manically wide and he started laughing.
"Eureka." He whispered, his laughter growing in volume and intensity. "Eureka!"
"Oh, no." Robin muttered under her breath and shared an exasperated sideways glance with Ted. But before she knew what was happening, Barney's arms were suddenly tightly around her, suffocating her in his ridiculousness and suitedness and his warm, dry face was pressed up against hers and, boy, he really did smell incredible sometimes, huh?
He was hollering Ancient Grecian platitudes and thanking her for...something, but it sounded like a buzzing and Robin felt her eyelashes flutter across her cheek unwittingly. Taking in a deep breath of his cologne, she figured enjoying it just a little couldn't hurt anyone.
Because he smelled incredible. Even Marshall agreed.
As though he maybe became suddenly self aware, she felt his core stiffen and his Adam's apple bobbed against her hair. Pulling back quickly, Robin could have sworn she saw his eyes flash back and forth as he scratched under the edge of his cheekbone with his thumb.
But as soon as it registered, Barney's face became that perfect combination of deadly-serious-and-delightfully-twinkly. Bringing his hands together like an evil mastermind, each of his fingers gently touched the opposite (very dextrous, if Robin remembered) finger in a smooth, slow succession.
"Three." Barney whispered as though he had discovered the Holy Grail. "A trio. The trifecta."
His eyes didn't waver from Robin's and she felt herself gulp unwillingly. The alcohol was really getting to her head because she suddenly felt dizzy and maybe a little numb.
"Dude, are you having another threesome inspired fever dream or something?" Ted's laughing voice shocked her back into the whole of the bar and she physically started. God, why did he have to keep sneaking up on her like that?
"Oh, Ted. Silly, strange, naive little boy Ted!" Barney's voice was gravelly and fluid, and his dark and mysterious eyes still refused to move from their vantage point of Robin's face. "I, too, once had such petty fantasies of long legged, perky breasted, thin waisted, round ass-ed, big eyed, small brained, blonde haired, smooth skinned, full lipped, big titted, tight pus-"
"You mentioned boobs twice." Robin cut him off tersely, suddenly annoyed again. She took a long chug of her beer until it was (oops) all gone.
"But this!" Barney pounded the table, now focused on an increasingly apathetic Ted. "This is bigger than bimbos. Bigger than you, Ted. Bigger than me. Because it's three. It's the keystone. The cryptex leads to it."
"Isn't that from The Da Vinci Code?" Ted scrunched his nose up. "Did you actually read that dreck?"
Barney suddenly stopped short and glared. "It was fun and suspenseful, and full of exciting action-adventure and religious-politico intrigue. But can we just...?" He motioned forward, wanting to get on with his story. "Okay?"
Ted snorted and held his hands up in surrender. Robin rubbed her eyes and tried not to think about what special kinds of idiots she apparently dated.
"Okay, Barney, I give." She sighed and set her mouth in a straight line. "What are you talking about?"
He smiled slyly at her. "Oh, I think you know."
"That my ex-boyfriend is a babbling moron?" She tilted her head and raised her voice ever so slightly. "Yup, did know that."
"Hey, Ted is right here." He reached behind her and patted Ted's shoulder
"You're an ass." Ted rotely mumbled, yawning a little into his balled fist. "And you're going to tell us eventually, so why don't you just get your little song and dance over with and-"
"There's a third Space Teen!"
Robin's gut jumped into her chest and twisted. It was impossible. There was no way he could know, not from a bunch of charts and numbers. Sure, Barney was good, but even he wasn't that good. He was totally bluffing. He was letting his fantasies run wild and it was merely a coincidence that he landed upon something nearing a truth.
It was fine. It was all good.
Taking a calming breath, Robin smiled serenely and brought her eyebrows together. She decided that the only way to keep her cool in a scenario like this one was to be as truthful as possible.
"There is not another Space Teen."
There. Technically true.
Barney rolled his eyes and sighed, leveling her with his most disbelieving stare. "Robin. Come on. Let's make this easier on everyone and cut out the lies, shall we?"
"I'm not lying. There is not another Space Teen." Avoiding Barney's glare, she stepped blithely away from the table and patted her friends on their shoulders. "But there is going to be another Yukon Jack in my mouth, so scoot out, eh?"
"This isn't over, Scherbatsky." Barney insisted menacingly, pulling his chair in to give her better access to the bar.
She shrugged in response and raised her eyes innocently to the ceiling. Barney shook his head with a dissatisfied grunt and hid a small smile before turning to Ted, presumably letting the conversation go. Twisting her hips as she pranced over to the bar, Robin turned away and let out the breath she was holding. She was probably being silly. Yes, Barney was still freakishly obsessed with her music career past and, yes, she was becoming more and more open about all that it entailed. But what her friends - and even Barney - didn't realize was how intrinsically tied to her identity everything that happened in Canada really was. And for some reason, holding onto this one last piece of information made her feel safe and guarded from having to be completely vulnerable to them.
But while chatting up the muscular and charming Nova Scotian as she drank her favorite whiskey liqueur, she caught his eye one more time. Giving her one of his rarest smiles and nodding (perhaps a little sadly) in approval at her choice of potential bed-mate, Robin's heart swelled against her will.
Maybe letting him in just a little bit more wouldn't hurt anything.
...
The night winded down to nearly a halt and before anyone knew it, the bartender was announcing last call. Barney turned his hazy eyes to the window and cursed under his breath. As he took in the gently yet rapidly falling snowflakes and the ice forming along the sidewalk, he realized that walking back to his place would be faster than trying to hail a cab. While young Canadian women were much more attuned to the cold weather, having to walk back and (ugh) talk to a sloppy, wet, and cold blonde in the current conditions sounded more like a chore than his normal idea of a good time. Besides, he was a bit tired and Ted was right: Canadian women were never worth it.
(Most of the time.)
Lightly sipping his disgusting but potent Canadian whiskey, he stole a glance at Robin standing in the corner by the small coat rack. He watched her wrap her scarf around her neck, pushing her soft hair out around the red fabric with frustration; clearly, she had noted the weather as well and wasn't looking forward to her walk home either. But at least she had that stupid Canadian lunk to accompany her, he considered as he tightened his grip on the table. Better that one of them was getting lucky.
He finished his scotch in a single gulp.
But surprisingly, Robin turned to the idiotic meathead and simply handed him a small piece of paper before he headed out into the night, probably off to corral oxen or eat twenty Tim Horton maple logs as a late-night snack or both. Robin craned her neck to watch him (or more specifically, the dude's ass) leave and pushed her lips together appreciatively. Snorting at that, Barney moved over to the coat rack and glanced sideways at her while grabbing his coat.
"Giving up on a sure thing, Scherbatsky?" He asked, only marginally curious for her response. Robin shrugged.
"You know, milk for free and all that. Besides, it's late and I'm drunk, so I wouldn't really be at my best," she explained, belting her coat closed.
Barney bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from vehemently disagreeing with her. When Robin had a few drinks in her, sex with her had always just a bit more open, more present, more...well, lots of dumb things that he didn't really want to think about. Plus, she always was way more willing to do some crazy dirty stuff that she pretended to be too prudish to do while sober. He grinned as he recalled the night they tried to complete Canadian Sex Acts Bingo. That had been one of the best nights of his life. Lots of whiskey, cigars, maple syrup, and the hottest chick in North America. Well, probably the world. But whatever.
Quantity over quality had always been the name of his game and he was winning.
"Either way, there's no way I'm walking all the way back to the apartment in this storm. Should have just taken a cab back with the rest of the gang." She glanced out the window again with a little frown. "Mind if I crash at your place?"
Barney's mouth went a little dry and he chuckled softly. "What am I, The Sexless Innkeeper?"
"No." Robin smirked. "Because you know we were never going to have sex to begin with."
"Touche." Barney smiled even though he couldn't quite feel it in his chest. He scratched his neck. "Well, I guess I'm not taking anyone home since Canada totally sucks. Just don't mess with the settings on the television again."
"It made the contrast clearer!"
Buttoning his coat and ushering her out into the snow, Barney tried his best to explain to the stubborn brunette that if the contrast was too clear, it would over-saturate and warp the colors which strained his eyes, particularly on that large of a screen. But she wasn't really listening or taking him seriously.
Instead, she was holding her bare hands out into the wind, catching snowflakes and smiling brightly. He forgot how much she loved the snow, especially compared to his absolute hatred of it. Not only did the melted ice wreak havoc on his wool suits, the freeze in the air always made his toesies cold underneath his Italian leather. So he covered himself with every reinforcement he could find, which made Robin look totally ridiculous with only her light jacket and scarf and goofy grin.
Even though, you know, it was kinda cute. In a dumb way.
"Going home with Ted would have been easier, but way less fun." She sighed contentedly. "I love snow."
"Plus, I'm way more awesome." Barney chimed in and shivered a bit.
"Well, at the very least, Ted would make a huge stink if I did this." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Interested?"
He pulled a face, "Lucky Strikes? Are you a Swedish hipster or something?"
She rolled her eyes as she lit up and he begrudgingly took one of his own. She blew out smoke with a delighted and gentle smile and Barney watched the wisps disappear into the cold lamplight surrounding them.
"I went to school in Montreal. They taste like home to me."
"McGill is in Montreal?" Barney cocked an eyebrow. At her nod, he snickered. "Huh. So you lived in hoighty-toighty, French-speaking, performance-art-loving Quebec for four years. That explains a lot. Like why you would have ever been interested in Ted."
Robin actually laughed at that and nudged him good-naturedly. He jostled back against her frame, smirking at the ground and suddenly feeling warm. They walked in companionable silence for a little, passing empty restaurants and the occasional stray cop car. The ground shone as the ice solidified in patches, reflecting back the warm light of the lamps and the blinking orange 'CLOSED' signs from the nearby bars. Everything was quiet.
"You've been surprisingly nostalgic these past few days." Barney commented softly, dragging out a long breath on his cigarette. "I didn't think you had a sentimental bone in your body."
Robin tilted her head a little at that and paused. Her eyebrows pulled together as she blew smoke onto the ground and she shrugged.
"Well, I do." She stated simply.
"But just for Canada. Which I swear, I will never understand. Yeah, sure, it's the place you grew up, it made you the woman you are today, blah blah blah. But really, isn't it more like a disease you should be trying to get rid off? Just because you're born with diabetes doesn't mean you shouldn't treat it, Robin."
"I'm nostalgic about people too."
At that surprising admission, Barney almost baldly questioned her on what she meant. But he probably didn't want to know, since she was probably talking about that idiot Simon or, worse, Don. And it wasn't like she even had to be nostalgic about their past relationship because they saw each other all the time and they were good friends and everything was awesome. It was why he wasn't ever all sad or sentimental himself, because they were moving forward legendarily with their lives and looking back to the past was just...really freaking stupid.
And maybe she wasn't even nostalgic about relationships at all.
Maybe she simply thought fondly on past colleagues or roommates or friends or...
Or...
It suddenly hit him.
Bingo.
"The third Space Teen!" His heart pounded as he rounded on her. Of course! It had been under his nose the whole time. He smirked triumphantly and felt his heart pound vigorously in his chest, his spirit entirely renewed.
He poked her shoulder: "Ha-ha, Scherbatsky! You thought you could distract me but instead you lead me right to her."
"Jesus Christ." She muttered, throwing her butt on the ground and stepping on it with the toe of her boot. But Barney was not to be deterred again.
"Let me weave you a little story," he began, pointing his gloved finger in the air, "about a young, nubile blonde Canadian pop star named Robin Sparkles and her two sidekicks, Jessica Glitter and...Oh no?! We don't know her name! The narrative is incomplete!"
"You're insane." She responded dryly.
"The conclusion is elementary, dear Scherbatsky." Barney smirked down at her unamused face. "According to my computer's video docket, I have watched 'Let's Go to the Mall' exactly 3,721 times to date-"
"Wow. That's not pathetic."
"-So you must believe me when I state that I am a bonified expert, far more than you ever were yourself." He pointedly ignored her defensive remarks; she just didn't want to admit the truth. "And I began noticing strange things around the thousandth mark, which incidentally coincided with the discovery of 'Sandcastles in the Sand.' Though the events of that night, er, overshadoweda lot of my knowledge base, there were some puzzling inconsistencies that finally started coming together in my brain."
"Your brain is a puzzling inconsistency."
"For starters, at about 2:03 minutes into the first video, you claim 'I don't care, 'cause all my friends are gonna be there.'" He opened his arms wide and gave a scoffing cough. "Now one could easily chalk that up to the surrounding extras and even, say, The Robot. But then! Then, during your rap at approximately 3:52, you state 'I went to the mall with a couple of friends.'"
"Yes, Jessica and The Robot." Robin shrugged. "Not exactly seeing the problem."
"But The Robot keeps you out of trouble!" Barney stepped away, pacing. "And you very clearly explain that you and your 'couple of friends' A.K.A. you and your two friends, went there to 'shop' and went there to 'flirt.'"
Leveling a serious look at her, he tilted his head and smirked. "And you're really going to claim that such a such a stabilizing figure as the Robot would actually encourage flirting? With that punk? Uh, I think not. He knew that dude was no good. Just no good at all."
"Oh my god." She shook the ice out of her hair with annoyance, though her twinkling eyes gave her angle away too easily.
Barney continued: "But all of this could be chalked up to lyrical problems, I recognized. Fine, sure. A little unexpected and disappointing from a seasoned pop star like yourself, but it is Canada. They're always unexpected and disappointing."
"I hate you."
"But then," He turned to her with wide eyes and a wider smile, "I saw in the 'Sandcastles' video that your friends - again, plural - said that you were a fool. Now, everyone knows The Robot can't talk, so once again you have more than one human friend. And then the image of a major pop star, Tiffany, clearly representing your inner psyche is flanked by not one, but two other girls. Two, Robin. Two."
Leaning in close to her and taking another cigarette from her coat pocket, Barney whispered: "And it's tough not to notice that 'Sandcastles' is verging on three-quarter time. Three."
She crossed her arms and tilted her head. "But it's not in three-quarter time."
He rolled his eyes. "I said verging. Just...c'mon."
"No, you come on." Robin sighed heavily. "It's getting cold."
"You're never cold. And I'm almost done." He quickly promised, lighting the cigarette. "So I was fairly certain that you had a sidekick and the discovery of Jessica seemed to put that to rest. But it still didn't seem to fit. There should have been two! It scratched at my core for days... until tonight, when I finally saw the light."
"That's probably a brain tumor."
"I get it, you're hilarious." Barney snapped a little, irrationally annoyed that Robin wasn't budging. It wouldn't kill her to be honest, especially when he had put so much work into figuring something out. But when Robin pulled back and blinked her eyes with confusion at his outburst, he smoothly transitioned back into his sly smile. "The point is that the most important piece of evidence had been right in front of me, staring me down from the start."
He cleared his throat and gave her his best evil smile. "Tell me, Robin. Can you recall the first two lyric lines to your most important hit?"
And on cue, Robin's eyes widened and her cheeks went pink. Barney's grin broadened.
"I'll start. Of course, the famous first line is: 'Come on, Jessica.' Correct? Who we now know is a real person?" At her heavily swallowing nod, Barney clapped her back. "So then what's the next line? You'll have to remind me."
She mumbled something under her breath and he sucked a harsh breath in through his teeth.
"Sorry! Couldn't hear you! Can you repeat that?"
Her eyes met his and he could have sworn that underneath the layers of annoyance, he spotted the tiniest glimmer of laughter. His heart twisted and jumped just the tiniest bit. He swallowed it down and kept focused.
"'Come on, Tori.'" She half-whispered, crossing her arms and shaking her head, biting the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling (or so he assumed).
"Tori." Barney clapped his hands together gleefully and let out a maniacal laugh. "There is a third Space Teen and her name is Tori. What up, Scherbatsky?!"
"There is not another Space Teen..." Robin looked down at the ground.
He felt his stomach implode a little. Of course, she still wasn't going to give in. Yeah, sure, he could hound her until she told the truth, but honestly? He just wanted to tell her to forget it. Sometimes it really wasn't worth it if he always had to push her and pushher to actually tell him anything. And besides, he wasn't Ted. He didn't think she owed it to him or that he deserved to hear it the way Mosby always did; he wasn't a sappy, lovesick jerk or anything. He just thought that by now-
"But there was another girl. It was-it was a different band." She swallowed. "We performed for public broadcasting. In honor of the Thanksgiving Harvest."
Robin swallowed harder: "For the Prime Minister. About the History of Canada."
The hardest: "Surrounded by dancing Mounties."
And then Barney was paralyzed.
As the awe from realizing how huge of an admission this was for Robin slowly started to spread warmly from his stomach, another more primal instinct took over Barney. Imagining a young Robin surrounded by tap dancers in Mounted Forces costumes in front of the entire governing body of Canada found his shoulders to slowly starting to bounce. Then before he could take much more, howling laughter erupted from his frame and he doubled over, clutching his knees.
"You're not really endearing me to tell you more." Robin twisted her lips to the side of her face and tapped her foot impatiently. Barney wiped at his laughter-crying eyes with the back of his hands and tried to compose himself, but each time found himself imagining crazier and crazier scenarios (Robin Sparkles wearing a Mountie hat, Robin Sparkles singing 'Happy Thanksgiving' all purringly to the Prime Minister, Robin Sparkles performing 'The Beaver Song' with actual beavers...) and nearly fell over into the nearest pile of snow as he kept barking out more and more laughs, barely able to catch his breath.
"I-I'm sorry-" he choked out, still shaking and his lips trembling with glee, "-there is truly nothing I want to hear more about, trust me. I desperately want to know-" he twitched and burst out with pure giggles - "EVERYTHING!"
Robin smacked him on the back. "Get a hold of yourself, man! It's not even that funny."
"Oh, I beg to differ."
Choking back at her still freakish strength as she hit him again, Barney composed himself and stood straight and tall, adjusting the top of his tie from underneath his coat. He turned seriously to Robin, ignoring his spasming lips and the deep desire to laugh the rest of the night away.
"Okay." He breathed out and cleared his throat. "Okay. Go on, please."
She stared at him for a few more minutes, presumably to ensure he wasn't going to burst out with another round of hysterics. When he raised his hands in mock-surrender, she sighed and grabbed the cigarette from his hand and took a suprisingly long, pensive drag.
His eyebrows came together in confusion at her melancholy stance.
"I was at the tail-end of 14, right after my mother had finally taken me away from my father, and off to several agencies and series of auditions. It was all very manufactured." She looked to the ground and they kept walking along the empty streets of New York. "But I finally landed a great gig as part of a children's educational touring band with two other girls. Our focus was mostly on Canadian history and over the next year, we gained more and more popularity and our handlers changed our image considerably. By the time we were performing for Prime Minister Chretien, we were called Sparkle, Glitter, & Shine."
Turning to him and smiling, Barney raised his eyebrows a little. Robin shook her head and stared off into a distance space.
"Yes, you were right." Her voice was gentler than usual. "There was a third girl. Tori Shine."
He started humming the opening notes to 'Let's Go to the Mall' and Robin lightly smacked him. Normally, he would have burst into a full-scale performance of the song, especially since (let's face it) he was a far more accomplished and awesome singer than Robin. Not that she couldn't carry a tune, mind you. And even when she was younger, there was a distinct brassy sultriness to her songs that made her stand apart from the squeaky-voiced pop stars of yore. In all his watchings and re-watchings, the thing that amazed him the most were the glimpses of the Robin he knew now shining through the mess of 80s hair and clothes and the ridiculous sets. Robin so badly wanted to differentiate herself entirely from that teenager, but the more Barney observed, the more he wasn't so sure that was true.
And something felt different tonight, as they walked toward his apartment still blocks away. Almost like she wanted to talk about it all. Like it actually mattered or something.
Normally, he wasn't particularly perceptive but he figured he could keep quiet for just a bit more.
For now.
"She was the youngest." Robin explained, shivering uncharacteristically. "She wrote most of the songs. I mean, like, she was a total weirdo. She obsessed over Canadian history books and wrote long manifestos about politics that she would use as background points for her music. And Jess and I would just sneak out for smokes and beer."
"She sounds lame." Barney rolled his eyes.
"She wasn't. Not really. Tori was totally was killer on the bass." She smiled. "She was the first to get out, which was smart. Really, really smart. She moved to New York and now has a legitimate music career with this jazz band. Ted actually brought home one of their flyers when we were dating, but I thought it would be too weird to go. I would've had to tell him about everything and that-that wasn't going to happen."
Robin finished his cigarette and crossed her arms. "We had coffee about a year ago. She's doing really well. Pursuing a PhD on top of everything, which is nutso."
Catching something imperceptible in her voice, he turned and twitched his hand towards her arm a little in that pathetic way he tended to, where he wanted to offer comfort but felt like it wasn't his place or that she'd laugh at his attempts. So instead, he adjusted his merino-wool and rabbit-fur earmuffs and uttered a wrangled:
"Robin..."
Of course, as she always did, she turned away with a plastered smile and a self-deprecating laugh.
"I know, I know. It's not like she was even that important to me. We weren't 'BFF's or anything." She shrugged and sighed. "But I don't think you guys realize how different my life used to be."
"Uh, we've seen the tapes, bro."
"Not just the tapes." She rolled her neck and her eyes at the same time. "It was everything. I used to have all these different friends and fans and there was so much possibility in front of me. And look at me now. I'm still a total joke who's being overshadowed by a dumb blonde on a dumb news show when I should be a real journalist. And I could have been."
Looking to the ground, she heaved a heavy breath that almost sounded like a sob. "I mean, I did an adult diaper commercial to try to prove that I was likable. Talk about pathetic."
"Perhaps, but think of the comedic value you added to the world." Barney tried to smile brightly, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the serious trajectory the conversation suddenly took. "No one can take that away from you. And if they try, I have copies backed up."
But she ignored him: "When I think of someone like Tori, I think of someone who has always known what she wanted and never faltered in getting it. And that could have been me too, but I've squandered so much by making crappy decisions over and over again."
Robin looked into the distance a bit and bit her lip. "Sometimes I miss it. Maybe it would all be better if I could just go back. Do it all over again."
Something that felt like white hot panic ripped through Barney's core.
"Okay." He clapped his hands, frustrated and incredulous. "Someone needs to snap out of that crazy line of thought right about... now."
"It's not crazy." She argued with a huff. "What, like you don't have any regrets?"
Uh, was she kidding?
"Robin. Please. Who are you talking to here?" He cocked an easy eyebrow at her and laughed. "I'm The Barnacle! If I were any more awesome, the universe would simply fold over onto itself and implode because the direction of time would be reversed and the magnitude of my being would discontinue its expansion."
"So all the stuff with your father last week?" She leaned forward and raised her eyebrows back at him. "You've got no thoughts on that?"
It was always strange when someone just completely refused to respond to his points, but it was especially strange when they just used odd clicking and buzzing sounds. Barney pondered how surprising it was that Robin, of all people, had been making noises like that a lot lately. Usually it was Lily who was constantly humming and chirping at him. The craziest phenomenon!
"And really, Scherbatsky," he continued, forgiving her the weird native tongue that came out, "it's insulting to me, to you, and to the universe that depends on both of our tempered yet still god-like existences that you would think my First Mate of Awesome should change literally anything about herself. And I mean the word 'literally' literally, not like how you Canadians insist on butchering it."
Barney kicked at a small piece of ice with his black boots and felt his eyebrows draw together of their own accord. The snow was falling faster and the sharp edges of the flakes burned the rims of his eyes.
"Besides," he ran the edge of his teeth over his bottom lip, startled by his own quiet tone, "it's not like you would want to give up everything, r-right?"
He dared a quick glance up at her and cursed inwardly at the equally knowing and curious look in her soft eyes. Rolling his in response, he set his jaw and stared off into the distance, allowing the luminous falling ice to gently hypnotize him. Better than having to deal with Robin thinking whatever it was she was thinking which wouldn't even be what he meant anyway, since all he really meant was that it would suck. Because it was just... that they were friends and, you know, that kinda mattered. But it wasn't romantic or anything because...that would just be stupid. Please.
He stiffened as he felt Robin sidle up next to him. Her cheeks were red and bright, and they only brightened further as she smiled at him.
"Barney..." Her voice was as soft as his and she trailed off, tilting her head thoughtfully. Shaking her hair a little, she chuckled. "Of course I wouldn't want to give up everything."
She looked back up at him and crinkled her eyes. "Not even close."
The cold suddenly made him feel lightheaded and his extremities tingled until they were numb. But his chest felt hot and ferocious, while his heart pounded wildly. Blinking back errant and idiotic thoughts, Barney sucked in a harsh breath and nodded, keeping his exterior as cool as the whipping wind around them.
"That's good to know." His voice was even. "Because, you know, my life would suffer from a Serious Awesome Deficit if you weren't around." He quickly clarified: "As my wingwoman."
Her smile widened into a grin. "You'd suffer from a SAD?"
"And as my wingwoman-" Barney knew he successfully transitioned the dangerous conversation when she rolled her eyes and snorted. "-you must hook me up with this Tori chick!"
"Nope." Robin strode ahead purposefully, but her hips twisted with each step, giving away her teasing demeanor. Barney smirked and caught up with her, fueled by a sudden spring in his step. Playing with Robin always guaranteed a good time.
"Come on, I only got to third base with Jessica-"
"You got nowhere with Jessica."
"Fine, second."
"Zip, zilch, zero."
"Well, all the more reason why you owe me Tori." Barney cut across her path and rounded on her with his most charming and devious grin. "What's that saying? 'Two outta three ain't bad'? Just give me her general location and I'll find her. Because as of five minutes ago, she's an imperative add to my scrapbook and/or trading card roster."
"Canadian musicians are not trading cards!" Robin's eyes blazed as she lifted her chin proudly. But then faltered a little, remembering: "Well, except for New Brunswick Bob's Canadian Musician Trading Cards. But they're only used for sex sometimes."
Barney raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you have the ones of Paul Anka and the dude from Nickelback in your dresser drawer?"
"The point is," Robin rushed forward, "you wouldn't want to ruin the treasure chest of info that Tori has. Did you know that she was the one who came up with the idea of The Robot?"
Barney brought his hands to his chest, "The Robot is my favorite!"
"Yeah, well, she was completely obsessed with them." She shook her head in amusement. "Again, total weirdo. She used to make these paintings-"
But he didn't really care about that and thusly cut Robin off: "Does she have old recordings? Anecdotes? Robin Sparkles dolls? Ooh, maybe more than one Sparkles doll and then I could take two or three of them and put them together in some mood lighting and..." He paused, somewhat abashed. "Study them. For science."
Robin smiled slowly. "She has all that and much, much more."
He huffed in the cold air and licked his lips, looking to the sky in concession. "Fine. It would probably be stupid to sleep with such a valuable source of intel." But then he turned to Robin and slowly started raising his hand in the air. "But as soon as she's tapped out, I'm gonna tap that. What up!"
Robin stepped forward to half-heartedly slap his hand. But as their palms touched, her feet buckled under her as a small patch of ice threw her body against him. She yelped and clutched to his lapels. He smirked as he considered that God himself couldn't have planned it better.
That is, if he had been with any woman other than his ex-girlfriend.
And as her thin and warm arm tightly wrapped around his torso and he caught a whiff of her hair, Barney was more and more certain that The Devil himself had made the spot beneath them slippery. Steadying his own hand on the small of her back, he held an unwitting breath as she maneuvered her lithe body against him, cursing adorably under her breath as she struggled for grounding.
"Sorry. Goddamn ice." She breathed out, glancing up at him in embarrassment as her fingers curled around the pocket of his coat. He could feel her warm breath against his neck and her perfume was becoming dizzyingly overwhelming. His smile tightened in tandem with the inseam of his pants and he stared up at the starless sky, waiting to be put out of his misery.
He bit back a laugh. When it came to Robin, that was asking a lot.
But as she pulled away with a blush and a chuckle, Barney was suddenly hit with the realization that she must have been pressed against him for two, maybe three seconds at the most. And, like the pattern that was most of his life, the moment she separated from him, he felt empty and remiss. His whole body was cold except for the fading imprint of her body against his and the wind whipped at the nape of his neck mockingly.
"I used to be able to walk in stilettos on winter streets." Her face was laughing and a touch self-deprecating. "I'm losing my edge."
He knew he was supposed to respond in a crude and gregarious manner, but his words were lost in the back of his throat. He was supposed to say something about how at least 'The Canada' was seeping out of her or about how stilettos are hot but especially on super tall girls or how all women over thirty were constantly losing their edge, so she was right on track. Anything to take himself out of his head and back into the reality where Robin was not some lost (ugh) 'love,' but simply his good friend and bro who gave him shit and he gave shit back to without batting an eye. Who also happened to be super hot. Since, you know, he was still a man after all.
And as they kept walking, he became increasingly aware that his lack of response was during the companionable quiet into awkward silence with each passing second. He cleared his throat and blinked.
"For continuity's sake, I do think the whole gang has got to meet the final of the threesome." He raised one eyebrow and grinned. "And yes, I mean that in the sexual way."
Robin rolled her eyes. "Barney, we didn't-"
"It happened and you will never take that image away from me."
"Fine. And yes, maybe someday I'll get back in touch. She's a good egg." She bit her lip and her eyes glimmered in amusement. "Plus, weirdos do tend to get along with other weirdos pretty well."
Barney gasped and turned toward her violently. "Weirdos? Sure, Theodore Evelyn may have a few screws loose with his shitty indie music and Will & Grace marathons... and just the fact that Marshall and Lily are actively trying to have children puts them on a freak pedestal, but you could not by any chance mean me."
Robin cocked an eyebrow. "Uh, you more than any of them."
"Fie, madam!" Barney pointed out his finger towards her chest in half-joking fury. "May the world scorn you for such blasphemy!"
"See? Who talks like that?" Robin laughed and shook her head, crossing her arms. "Channeling Barnabas Stinson, are we?"
"Well, you're a Canadian." He nudged her side gently with his elbow. She turned and smirked.
"Magician." Robin nudged him right back.
"Gun freak." He nudged her again, moving his body a bit closer.
"Metrosexual." She pressed his hip with hers, closing the gap further before turning to him squarely.
"Barbecue glutton." Barney lightly pushed on her arm, but didn't pull his hand back. He ran his fingers around her shoulder in slow circles and felt his heart start to pound.
"Pathological liar." Her hand rested against his chest and her eyes blinked hazily. Her fingernails drew lazy patterns against his coat and everything was on fire.
"Canadian." He whispered, his eyes drooping almost closed and his forehead lightly pressing against Robin's. Her breath hitched.
"You said that already." Her voice was soft and Barney could almost feel her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. He swallowed hard and ran his other hand along her warm back.
"Umm..."
His mind was blank and all he could see was white and the snow and Robin. Screw it, maybe he was a lost cause. Maybe he was a lovesick jerk and maybe he always would be, especially when it came to her. Maybe it didn't matter how much posturing he did or how much he tried to convince himself that he wanted one million chicks over the single, sexy, amazing, Canadian three piece suit in front of him. Maybe he was a joke, a fraud, everything that he always promised he would never be, but fuck it, he didn't care.
It was worth it.
Closing his eyes, he leaned in toward her lips.
But before he knew what was happening, Robin pulled briskly away from him and only the falling snow contoured itself against his mouth. Blinking frantically, he pushed his arms to his side and oriented himself to his surroundings.
His chest deflated as he saw Robin with her hand firmly in the air as an empty taxi waited at a light.
Right.
Adjusting his tie under his coat, he cracked his neck harshly and closed his eyes until they would look believably impassive. A moment later, he opened them and walked over to Robin just as the cab pulled up. She opened the door and turned back to him, her face conflicted and guilty.
"S-sorry." She pulled her lips together with uncertainty. "I just saw the cab out of the corner of my eye and I thought it'd be...easier. Than, you know, walking the whole way."
Barney simply nodded.
"Plus, I'll be out of your hair in the morning." Her eyes were wide and her voice shook. "Which is also...easier."
"Much more convenient." Barney agreed, keeping his tone leveled and his smile serene.
"But I'll see you tomorrow?" She scratched her neck. "2 for 1 rail drinks at MacLaren's."
"Of course." He clasped his hands together and sucked in his cheek. "But you should get going."
"Want to split?" She gestured toward the cab. He hummed out a little laugh and shook his head.
"Nah," he determined. "I think I'll walk."
Once he bid her a final and awesome farewell, he closed the door for her as she slid along the leather seats. Offering a friendly (platonic) wave as the taxi drove away, Barney let out a heavy breath he didn't know he was holding. It lingered before him in the cold for just a moment before disappearing into the ether of the street lights like the shared cigarette smoke before it, and he was acutely aware of how alone he was.
Good, he thought. Kissing Robin now would have been a mistake. Kissing her at all might even be. But either way, there was no rush. Though he wasn't exactly known for his patience, he figured she was still spooked by their break-up. Hell, he was still spooked by their break-up. They had become shells of themselves, so different than the people they were actually attracted to and maybe even loved. Could he really risk that again? Having Robin in his life as just a friend pretty regularly sucked, but it couldn't suck more than not having her at all.
So he knew they couldn't even backslide without it becoming, like, A Thing. He wasn't sure how he felt about them reuniting forever and ever. Just that thought still gave him hives, though (he had to admit) they were lessening with time. Regardless, he could wait. Whether the result of waiting would result in them being together or him losing interest or always living in exquisite torture, he didn't really care.
He had all the time in the world.
And a final Robin Sparkles minion to track down.
...
fin.