Hello dear people :) I thought it's time for another one-shot of our favourite couple, so here it goes! It's a bit of an ode to summer, but mostly it's just a bit of sexy fluff ;) I hope you enjoy it. I would love to know what you think about it, so feel free to review! :o)

July 2009

"Barney."

"Hmm."

"I can't sleep."

"… So?"

"So do something."

"Hmmmkay."

The mattress dips beneath him as he turns around to reach for her, his hand covering her hip while his lips search the pulse point on her neck.

"Something else," she protests. His hand moves higher towards her breast, but she smacks it away.

"What are you doing?" he whines, leaning back. "You told me to do something."

"Yeah, I didn't mean me," she says into the semi-darkness of his bedroom. It's a very hot night in New York City, and the heat is getting on Robin's nerves. To top it all, Barney's air conditioner is broken, so they had to open the only window in his bedroom in hope for a little breeze. Thus, although the news reporter is almost always up for a little somethin'-somethin', she's far too exhausted and tired right now.

"What do you want me to do, then?" he asks, sitting up against the headboard. She does the same, shrugging. The lights of the skyline are shining brightly into the bedroom so that they can look at each other. Due to the hotness and their previous activities, they're both undressed, something that's inevitably drawing Barney's attention again.

He loves that Robin is the kind of girl who never bothers to cover herself after sex. She would just lie there, sighing contently, her creamy skin exposed to his lingering touches (something he has never done before. Usually, when the sex is done, so is the touching. Robin, however, is exceptional in many a thing).

"Why doesn't the heat bother you?! Seriously, I'm melting over here," she complains.

"That's 'cause I grew up experiencing actual summer, Canada," he teases. She throws him an evil look, but he just grins at her. Then, an idea pops up in his mind, and the grin turns cheeky. "Come on," he says, getting up and pulling on his boxer briefs. "I know how to cool you down a bit."

She lifts her left eyebrow, grabbing her panties and t-shirt before following him. The lights in his living room are glaring when she enters. Barney is already making his way into the kitchen, where he opens the fridge and retrieves a big carafe filled with lemonade.

While he rummages through the kitchen cupboards to get her a glass, she sits down on the counter, observing him in this domestic scene. It's something so rare, so exclusive, something that his friends never get to see. The way he stretches to pull the glass from the shelf (his back muscles flexing appealingly in the process), the routine with which he handles the ice cube tray… She'd probably never admit it to him, but this is one of her favourite parts about their secret fling.

He hands her the lemonade, and she takes a big sip, sighing happily at the freshness as the cold liquid washes through her. "Hmmmm, this is delicious. What brand is this?"

"Stinson," he replies, a bragging undertone in his voice.

"What, you make lemonade?!"

"Nah, mum does."

The minute he says it, he wishes he could back-pedal. However, when he opens his mouth, it's already too late.

"Awwwww," Robin smirks, "did mummy make you lemonade so the monstrous heat wouldn't kill you? Did she also buy you ice cream?"

"Shut up," he answers, suddenly embarrassed.

"No, seriously. Do you have ice cream?" she repeats, sipping on her soda and eyeing him attentively.

"No," he says, averting his gaze. "Even if I did, you wouldn't get any."

"What? Why?!"

"Because you're making fun of my mum bringing me lemonade, which, by the way, is the only reason you're not sticking your head under the faucet, running ice-cold water over yourself." He looks at her with a playful seriousness. "You should be thankful, Robin."

The brunette makes a big show of taking another gulp, letting "Ahhh!" drop from her lips when she swallows, like they always do in commercials.

Barney leans forward, then, catching her lips in a tender kiss. She tastes like lemons and summer and something distinctly her, making him hold her closer. Her free hand brushes over his hair, smiling as he pulls away to nuzzle her neck.

"Hmm, this doesn't feel like you cooling me down," Robin observes.

"Wait for it," he answers, grabbing the tray again to retrieve a single ice cube from it. His eyes search hers as he touches the cube to her left thigh tentatively, making her shiver. He drags it over her warm skin, leaving a trace of water behind. She moans softly.

"Tell me something about you," he murmurs somewhere near her ear, all the while running the ice over her leg.

She puts down the glass. "Like what?"

The cube reaches her knee. "Something I don't know about you yet."

He can sense her closing up a bit, a reaction that he's well used to by now. In those two and a half months they have been sleeping together, Robin has been very open and sure about what she wants. She finds herself amazed at how easy it is to talk to him not only about her sexual preferences, but also about things that bother her at work, or how Ted gets on her nerves with his new cleaning roster. It's like they're kindred spirits, and she absolutely enjoys it.

When it comes to moments like this, however, her old defence mechanisms kick in, even if she doesn't really mean to close up on him. Nevertheless that's who she is, even though she wishes she could change that for him.

"I secretly like Gilmore Girls," she improvises, his touches making her slowly go insane. "I always say that I hate it, but the truth is that I… really don't."

"Stop lying, Scherbatsky," the blonde says, his voice low. "A couple weeks ago, you said you only watched one episode because the coffee dude was hot."

"… And I stand by it," she breathes helplessly. The ice cube is almost gone, leaving nothing behind but a wet trail on her upper leg.

"Tell me something about you," he coaxes softly. "Anything." His lips move against the outline of her jaw.

"I'm boring. There's nothing I could tell you that you don't know already."

He snorts, but doesn't reply, and instead keeps kissing her while grabbing another cube from the tray. This time, he touches it to her kneecap.

"How about this," he suggests, trailing it further south. "I'll tell you something about me first." He puts his other hand under her calf, stretching her long, long leg out before him as he runs the cube over her tanned skin slowly.

So he whispers, "When I was eight, this girl, Melissa, dared me to steal lip gloss for her." His fingers tease her ankle. "We had this little supermarket not far from school, so I went there during lunch break…" The last droplets of water cling to the skin of her heel. "… and asked the owner if he'd let me get away with it if I paid for it beforehand."

Robin smiles at that. "Did it work?"

He sets his hand under her knee and leans down, touching his lips to her smooth skin. "We went back after school," he says, kissing just above her knee. "And she and some of her friends watched me do it."

"I bet they were very impressed," she says, closing her eyes in enjoyment.

He pulls away and places both his hands on either side of her against the counter. His eyes are dark and unreadable as he answers, "No, they weren't. The only thing Melissa cared about was that I picked the wrong gloss. I wanted peach, not cherry," he says in a high-pitched voice, rolling his eyes.

"Awww," Robin says, running her fingers through his hair affectionately. "What a bitch."

"And instead of the kiss that she promised me if I did as she told me, she went inside and told the shop-owner what I did."

"No way!?"

"Way. Luckily, the guy was sharp and didn't tell her that it was all rigged in advance… Because then… they would have talked even more shit about me."

The brunette slings her arms around his shoulders in comfort. "Screw that little stupid cow. You were way too awesome for her, even back then."

He grins at her and places his hands on her thighs. "Okay. Your turn now."

Barney can see the discomfort etched on her face, and it hurts him a little bit. He just told her one of his most embarrassing childhood memories and more than deserves a reward for that, given that he isn't the greatest talker either, at least when it comes to feelings and secrets and long forgotten emotions.

But he also doesn't want to push her, so he leans down once more, stretching her leg again as he resumes kissing the length of it.

She gasps as she feels his lips tracing her calf. The way he does this, this nonchalant seduction, it's driving her crazy. The feeling that he gives her… this tingling sensation in her stomach, in her limbs, in her chest… It's been a long time since she felt like this.

His mouth latches onto her ankle and his eyes lock with hers. There's the shadow of a charming grin before his tongue darts out, just a bit, barely there, licking over her skin, drawing a moan from her.

"When I was thirteen," she begins in spite of herself, "my dad caught me doing my nails."

There's a pause, an almost impossibly short skip before he resumes his task, never taking his gaze from her face as she continues breathlessly.

"He got really, really mad. Said he never wanted me to do it again. He –" she hisses as he sucks at the skin above her ankle. "He made me throw it away. But I was so sick of him always complaining about my 'girlish attitudes', and I guess it was my type of rebellion, so I'd secretly buy new nail polish at the mall (she feels him smirk against her). And I'd paint my toenails instead."

He looks down at her toes, her nails shining in a dark, glossy shade of purple. Her fingernails, however, though also perfectly manicured, lack any colour.

"So, every time he'd say something that would upset or hurt me – and I don't have to tell you how often that happened – I'd lock up in my room and get out the polish. I'd always have to put on socks so he wouldn't notice, but I knew that I was revolting against him, even if he didn't. And it kind of just stuck."

He stops kissing her hobble, still looking at her.

"I mean, Robin Sparkles did paint her fingernails," she goes on, smiling insecurely, "but after that, the most I'd use is pale nail polish." She wiggles her foot at him carefully. "But I always use colours down here."

It's then that he pushes up, his hand running from her calf to her thigh lovingly. Once they're face-to-face, he rests his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling.

"I love you," Barney says, tangling his other hand in her hair.

She looks away shyly, not sure how to respond. He kisses her urgently, his arms moving around her slender waist and pulling her as close to him as possible without lifting her from the counter.

It's not the first time he tells her this. And it's not like she never said it to him before. It is, however, still new territory for both of them, and thus also kind of unsettling, unhinging… in the best possible way.

"You're awesome," he groans into her cheek. "Don't think for one second that you're not."

The brunette smiles, still feeling uncertain. "If you keep saying these things, I might do something crazy…" she murmurs, her legs wrapping around his hips with practiced ease.

"Like what?" he asks, unabashed curiosity in his voice.

"Like… believe them."

Barney's hands dip beneath her shirt, touching the small of her back. "Believe them, baby. Event though at words poetic, I'm so pathetic that I always have found it best… instead of getting 'em off my chest, to let 'em rest… unexpressed," he sings slyly.

Robin laughs lightly, shaking her head at him. "You're an idiot."

"But if this ditty is not so pretty, at least it'll tell you how great you are!"

She drops her head on his shoulder, giggling. "Why are you singing?"

"It's a song, duh," he replies, equally amused. "Don't they have musicals in Canada?"

"Stop hating on Canada," she says with her best stare. "But do keep going."

"I don't really remember the lyrics in the middle. It's mostly about stuff from Europe." He throws her a mischievous grin before he says, "But I do remember the most important line."

"Which is?."

Barney lifts her up and carefully walks down the hall to the bedroom. He starts to kiss her passionately, slowly sitting down on the bed with her on his lap as he starts to pull her t-shirt off.

"Wait, what's the line?" Robin asks distractedly.

"Later," he retorts, and they stop talking for a while.

Half an hour later, Robin is sprawled on top of him, too tired and satisfied and worn out to move. Barney doesn't seem to mind.

"I think I might be able to sleep now," the news anchor says, her eyes already closing on their own accord.

His chest rumbles slightly as he chuckles softly into her messy hair. "Wait," he says, "you need to hear the line first."

"Hmmkay. Is it dirty?"
She peeks at him through her eyelids, and he's just looking at her as if saying 'who are you talking to?'

He clears his throat in an overdramatic manner, humming to himself for a bit, before he sets his mouth to her ear.

"But if, baby, I'm the bottom… you're the top!"

Robin bursts out laughing against his collarbone, which is exactly the reaction he's hoped for.

"That's a good one," she giggles. "… So that's why we're in this position…"

"You've got me there."

She sighs contently, rolling off him, but tangling her legs with his and wrapping her arm around his torso.

"You're a nut. But I think that's why I love you, so just keep it up," Robin says very quietly, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Barney kisses the top of her head. And as he closes his eyes, slowly dozing off himself, he thinks of lemons and ice cream cones and white sundresses, and he cannot help but think that summer is the best of all seasons… especially with Scherbatsky right by his side.

That's it, lovely readers :) Cultural references include Gilmore Girls, which I, unlike Robin, really love (and so does Marshall, I suppose). The 'hot coffee dude' is, of course, Luke. Furthermore, the song that Barney sings is You're the top from the musical Anything goes. I've never seen it, but I'm pretty sure it's not meant the way Barney and Robin interpret it here... Naughty kids! x)