Ted knows the basics about Barney; he's not a very complex person, unless Ted tries to look deeper. There's a line, one that's quickly passed when it comes to Barney, and Ted likes to stay on the safe side of it.
It's technically second nature for Barney to keep in every last true feeling he has, save for ones that are frankly disturbing. He'll ramble on about his last fuck, and how the girl screamed for more, arching up into him and moaning pitifully. These are things Ted doesn't want to know, but they seem to stand on the same causality level as having lunch to Barney.
Then there are the things Ted wants to know, which are apparently clandestine by the amount of resistance Barney uses not to admit them. Maybe once Ted would like to hear about Barney's father or mother, because sometimes it feels as though Barney has been created out of thin air, as there's no evidence of his childhood.
"My father's Bob Barker." Barney nods, his arms stretched out in his customary, lenient sprawl. "Figures; someone awesome must have done my mom to create someone as legendary as me."
Ted rolls his eyes. "I was just curious. You don't have to make up something."
"True story," Barney insists. "If it wasn't BB, then who do you think it was?"
"Please," says Robin with a disturbed expression, "don't ever refer to Bob Barker as 'BB' again."
"How am I supposed to know?" Ted asks with a perplexed look. He's not sure how he's going to answer, and if he hadn't brought the attention back to himself, he probably wouldn't have to answer, but Barney doesn't let something go once he's invested in it. "I didn't know you when you were younger."
"Think about it, Mosby," Barney says and leans forward, dropping a hand onto the table. "Who is just as awesome—maybe a bit less—as I, Barney Stinson?"
"Uh.. well."
"Exactly!" Barney interrupts with a relieved stare. "It's either Bob Barker or Mick Jagger."
"Mick Jagger?" Lily interjects. "His face, though… it's just… oh God. Why would you want to be related to that?"
"Please," Barney says, "he may not be a looker, but have you seen his daughter, Georgia? You know, she's legal this year."
"That would make her your sister," Marshall says with a grimace.
"Have you seen her?" Barney slides his phone out of his pocket and flashes her picture around the group. Begrudgingly, the rest of the group nods slowly. "She'd only be my half sister, anyway. You can make that work."
"I think I'd rather you be related to Mick Jagger," Ted says unceremoniously, and allows his shoulders to cave in when everyone turns to look at him. "What? I'm just saying… it'd give Georgia less incentive to sleep with you."
"I don't follow," Barney says, "are you telling me you don't want me to sleep with a supermodel? Ted! I am ashamed of you."
"No," Ted stumbles over his words. "I mean, either way, she wouldn't sleep with you, but if you were related, you could give people the excuse that it was because you two were half siblings. It makes it less pathetic, you know?"
Barney scrutinizes Ted's honest face for a few seconds. "I suppose you're right." Still eyeing Ted, he slowly pockets his phone, looking inquisitive. "Still, let it be known that Barney Stinson has a eighty three percent chance of being related to that hot piece of ass."
"Eighty three? Why?"
"Because… that would make it awesome!" He swings an arm up recklessly, almost whacking Lily down in the process. "BB high five!"
Robin makes a disgruntled noise as she sips her drink.
Barney smiles and jokes but keeps in his own little bubble he's created. It looks sturdy, but Ted knows if he so much as presses a bit too fiercely, it's weak enough to burst. It's plastered with posters of nude women and snapshots of his blog, but Ted wonders if maybe on the inside, there's more; maybe on the inside there's pictures of his family, or the objects and people for whom he truly yearns.
Whenever Ted thinks he's close to finding the truth, Barney switches everything around and upside down, and Ted wonders how he ever can think he's ever close to anything.
Ted always says Marshall is his best friend, and he's not quite sure why he hangs out with Barney. Sometimes, though, he'd like to actually get to know Barney, because then maybe he could fabricate a reason to want to hang out with him.
In all honesty, he knows why he wants to hang with Barney; he's Barney.
Barney is the excitement in his life, the unfamiliarity he strives so intensely to push away. Marshall and Lily have always been there for him, which is nice in its own way, but so dauntingly close to what he's had his entire life that it feels dull and a tad redundant. Robin, for a short time, is able to be the excitement in his life, but as they grow apart relationship wise and closer as friends, the excitement wears off, and suddenly, she's just another Marshall and Lily.
Then there's Barney, who, impressively enough, has never led Ted into a tedious moment. Sometimes, even in the dreariest times of his life, Barney can make them entertaining.
And, sometimes Ted truly looks up to him in a brotherly sort of way, as though Barney is the cool older brother—so cool Ted cannot even aspire to be as suave as him. At the same time, however, he reminds himself that he's getting caught up in Barney's mask, the one that all the girls fall for before they're tricked into sleeping with him once and being kicked out.
Ted doesn't want to be kicked out of Barney's life simply because he hero-worships him a tad too obsessively at times. He's able to keep up his resistance almost consistently, because it's Barney, and even with all the girls he gets, and all the smirks he gives, he's just a insecure man sleeping with woman to prove himself, and Ted tells himself that it isn't want he wants as a role model.
Barney isn't his role model. There's no way Barney will ever be his role model, but there are times when Ted wishes he could be Barney's role model, because sometimes he really hates the way Barney slides up next to a girl, drink in hand, and wink seconds behind his clever pick up line. He tells himself he's disgusted by it—disgusted at how speedy and sleazy Barney's tactics for picking up women are, and sometimes he truly is disgusted by it.
Then there are other times, when he's either impressed, or bitter. At times when he's impressed, he rarely tells Barney, as it can only lead to a confidence boost, and though it seems sometimes as though Barney needs such, he truly doesn't. If Ted seems bitter of it, Barney will laugh a little mockingly, and tell him to "suit up, because I'm your wingman tonight, bro, and if you thought you were jealous of me, just wait until you see the babe I'm going to help you pick up".
That's not what Ted wants when he acts bitter. When he does, he never mentions it, as he sometimes mentions how impressed he is—more so impressed with the things Barney can, in actuality, get away with—because being jaded around Barney rewards him merely with laughter and a promise of getting him laid.
He doesn't want to get laid.
Being astringent should mean he wants to get laid, and is simply jealous of all the lays Barney receives, and for so many years Ted thinks that he's got it all figured out.
He never has if figured out, though, as much as he tries.
Sometimes, when he's alone, he even manages to let a thought race through his head that perhaps he's bitter of all the girls, rather than of Barney. Those are lonely nights that he convinces himself are a mere cause of a near empty bed, and a cold, empty space next to him, and the soft hum of the heater, rather than a person's breathing.
The lonely nights are the worst.
Then there are the times when he's not alone, but the same thought returns, which sometimes seems worst, and sometimes not, because at least he can distract himself. There are times when he's sitting at the bar, with Marshall, and Lily, and Robin, and especially Barney, and Barney says something witty, but gross, and makes a crude gesture and a wink, but he's laughing, and Ted is pretty sure the laugh is genuine, and sometimes it seems like that's the best thing in the world, except, he's not quite sure why.
And then Robin will roll her eyes and sip her drink and space out a little, allowing herself the chance to glance at the single men around the room. Marshall and Lily will dissolve into their own little world, and then it will be Ted and then it will be Barney, or maybe it should just be TedandBarney.
Barney will glance over and meet his eyes, because everyone else is off away, and he'll give him a small smile that doesn't really have a base of anything—smiling just to smile, because he's Ted's best friend, because he wants, needs to be Ted's best friend, and he's smiling for reassurance then—and Ted will smile back, and Barney will shift his drink around for a little until he finally takes an awkward sip when the two of them can't hold back blinking any longer.
Those nights are the best, and then the worst, because then Barney will slide out of the booth and hop on over to a nearby girl.
The other three laugh. Ted just stares.
There has been one time when Ted almost thinks it might work out, but of course, it doesn't.
They're at Barney's apartment, which they don't usually end up with, but Ted has a key, and Barney has a pretty amazing television.
They're just sitting on his pillow less couch watching the game when Ted glances over and just watches him for a while. Luckily, his voice seems gone, which is only lucky because he says pretty eccentric things at times without intention.
He remembers the time he tells Robin he loves her after the first date.
He's done that to Barney, too. It's when they're playing laser tag, which Ted truly doesn't like, but he's having fun for some reason, and right as Barney shoots a kid and laughs, Ted leans in and tells him he loves him.
Barney plays it off as a "bro" thing and they don't speak of it again.
Except then there's the time Ted's just staring at him in the apartment, and Barney takes a sip of his scotch, and just pauses, like he knows something is up, so he turns, eyebrow raised, to watch Ted back.
Barney lifts his head in a sign of affirmation of whatever, and then Ted stops thinking and starts to lean closer.
"Whoa," Barney says and jerks away. He stands up, taking another step back from Ted. "What do you think you're doing?"
Ted blinks. "I…"
"No." Barney shakes his head furiously. "You're not doing what I think you're doing, because if you were doing that, you wouldn't be doing what you're supposed to be doing at all."
Ted scrunches up his face. "What?"
"You're not gay, Ted Mosby," Barney says. "Even if your hair, and your clothing, and your… wait a moment."
Ted scowls. "Forget it." He stands up and heads for the door.
"No, wait!" Barney says.
Ted waits.
"Does this mean you're officially a girl?"
They don't talk about that, either.
It takes some time for them to get back to normal when such things occur. On the outside, it looks as though Barney forgets it in an instance, but Ted is sure for at least a few months after the incident Barney looks at him differently.
And maybe it takes longer than usual for Barney to get over it, because it's kind of happened twice, and now that it's happened after Ted has admitted love, it kind of might make things different.
Sometimes Barney looks at him like he doesn't want to be his wingman anymore, either, which in itself, isn't very terrifying to Ted.
A few months pass, though, of strained conversations, worried looks from Lily and Marshall, and oblivious and sometimes daring looks from Robin. Finally, one night, Barney stands and swishes his drink around.
"Ted, get up," he says. "And get ready, because we're going to the greatest bar in town tonight."
Marshall eyes light up, but before he can invite himself, Barney is dragging Ted away from the bar ruthlessly.
Robin sips her beer. "Has anyone noticed Ted is a total Negative Nancy nowadays?"
Ted lets Barney drag him into a cab before he starts asking questions.
"Where are we going?"
Barney winks. "A true magician never reveals his secrets."
"Barney, your magic is playing with fire and burning yourself. It doesn't count."
Barney blinks at him a few times before pulling a coin from behind Ted's ears. "Ooh? Ooh! Where did that come from?"
Ted snatches the penny from Barney. "Seriously, Barney. I'm not—holy shit is this from 1927?"
Looking satisfied, Barney shrugs. "Maybe."
"Do you know how much money this could be worth? I could… I could build a museum for this and only this."
Barney stares him down. "Ted, don't make me regret giving this to you."
Ted watches the cab drive down street after street. Barney doesn't usually take him places without the rest of the group, and they usually don't stray from their typical bar. Of course, Barney likes to every now and then, but it's usually alone.
"Where are we going?" Ted repeats.
Barney gives him a look. "Trust me, okay? You'll love it."
Ted, of course, always receives an uneasy feeling when Barney says such.
Ten minutes later, the cab finally slows to a stop on the outskirts of town.
"Barney… how far did you take me?"
Barney shrugs and pays the cab fare. He doesn't say anything else until the two enter the bar.
Ted scans the room. "Is this… did you seriously just take me to a gay bar?"
Barney's smile erupts from his face. "Yes, Ted Mosby, I did, and I am going to help you get laid. In the ass. By a dude."
"I get it," Ted interrupts. "I just don't understand what I did to deserve this."
Barney sighs, and his shoulders slump. "You've been a total downer for the past three years, and I'm going to help out you of this rut."
"Barney, I… you didn't know I liked guys until only a few months ago."
"I know."
Ted grimaces. "I don't… You know I want a deep relationship, so why take me here?"
Barney cocks his head. "Why not take you here?"
"I'm not having a long term relationship with a guy."
"I… am not following." Barney leads him to the bar and orders two bourbons. "Are you afraid of taking it in the ass? I mean, I know you don't look like it, but I'm sure plenty of guys would be perfectly happy to take it in the ass from you."
"Barney, shut up. You don't know anything about gay sex."
Barney looks offended. "Excuse me? I happen to know a lot. James has informed me of so much in the past month."
"I just." Ted fidgets, and Barney hands him his drink. He takes a long sip, trying to find the best words. He feels Barney stare him down. "I'm going to marry a girl, have a wife, live in a house, and have two kids. That's it, you know? That's the end of my story. I'm not looking to fool around—I'm looking to have a real relationship, so there's no point in you bringing me here tonight."
"Why can't you do that with a man?" Barney asks. He's beginning to look offended again.
Ted makes a frustrated noise. "If I were to get with a guy, it would just to be to fool around. I mean, can you imagine starting a family with another guy? I can't… Neither of us could even have children."
Barney looks at him in a way Barney never has really looked at him before. "My brother adopted."
"I know, but, I want a…"
"Ted, I swear to God, if you say you want a real family I am going to sock you in the balls right now."
Ted's never expecting Barney to care at certain times, which he sometimes does, but then it gets turned around, and in the end he's only cared because it's landed him some hot chick, or something.
Ted isn't sure how Barney can turn this one around, though, especially if they're in a gar bar.
Barney gives Ted a rough pat on the shoulder. "Come on, Ted! I'll set you up with a hot Puerto Rican."
"Barney, I really don't want to." Ted tries to twist out of Barney's grip. "We should just leave."
Ignoring him, Barney pushes his way through a mass of guys and ends up in front of a dancing, sweaty one.
"Have you met Ted?"
He starts to turn his head, and Barney starts to leave, but Ted grasps on to him. Barney's flung back and they bump chests, and Ted's chest is beginning to feel queasy, and Barney's looking at him like he's crazy.
Maybe he's crazy.
The guy seems to have the same idea, because he makes his way back to his previous partner without sparing another glance toward Ted.
Barney hisses, "What was that for?"
"I don't want to be groped by random men," Ted says. "Seriously."
"I am an awesome wingman," Barney insists. "Even for gay guys! Just look at how often I scored my brother some sweet ass. Now! Go have sex in the bathroom with someone. There's always a glory hole in gay bars, right?"
"Barney," and Ted has to laugh a little, "I'm not doubting your wingman skills. I'm doubting my want for this, which, at this point, is nonexistent."
"Ted," Barney says through a whine. "Just give it a chance!" He sobers up. "Besides, even if you want to leave, MacLaren's is about thirty five miles away."
"Thirty five miles! Barney!"
Barney smiles. "So, you might as well enjoy it, right?" He's staring past Ted, at something—someone, so Ted follows his eyes.
"A half an hour," Ted says. "That's the longest I'm staying."
"Sure," Barney says, arms up, and then he's disappearing into the crowd.
"Wait," Ted calls after him. Another man fills up the space and soon Ted is lost in a crowd of dancing men.
He vaguely remembers the other time he went to a gay bar and was hit on; he didn't like it then, and he doesn't like it here. It feels weird, off. It's not a matter of sexuality this time, though, but just the wrong fellow.
"I'm an architect," Ted explains to the fifth guy asking his job. There's a slight hesitance in his tone; he's pretty sure they're asking only because they've heard of the porn star 'Ted Mosby' and are mistaking him.
With that follows either a grimace and shrug, as though "what can you do about your job"—which is stupid, because Ted loves his job—or a smirk, as though they still believe the notion of him being a porn star to be accurate.
Sometimes the architect move doesn't shoo them off, so he tries harder, and the third time he's said something off-putting and the man is still lingering, he says, "I probably shouldn't tell you this. I mean, we barely know each other. But what the Hell, I'll just say it. I sometimes have gay dreams about my best friend."
It works in a regular bar, Ted notes.
Here, however, the man wraps an arm around him, smiles, and says, "Let me help you with that."
"No, really," Ted insists. "It's all right. Uh, he's here, tonight, in fact. And, I'm just drowning my sorrows in alcohol. No point in hitting on anyone else. I'm too miserable and depressing to stay around too long. You should watch out. Another ten minutes and you might want to off yourself."
He leaves, after that. And if he hadn't, Ted might have been worried.
He finds Barney ten minutes later, hitting on two lesbians.
"You're ridiculous," Ted says. "Let's get out of here."
"But the night is so young!" Barney makes a face. "Let me guess. You did the whole 'I'm a successful architect' spiel, and it scared away some hot guy. Ted! I keep telling you! No one is interested in architect."
Ted makes an indignant face, but doesn't say otherwise. "Seriously, Barney. It's getting late."
Barney sighs and downs his drink. "Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted."
"Barney?"
Barney holds up his hand. "Ted, Ted, good old Ted. Maybe you're just meant to be alone?"
Ted's cheeks turn a reddish color. "Oh, lay off. Can we just leave now?"
"Fine, whatever the great 'Ted Mosby, Architect' wants."
The cab ride is silent for the most part, because Barney refuses to contribute to the conversation.
"Look, Barney," Ted says. "I—are you...why do you want me to get with a guy so badly?"
Barney looks over, and he's holding the most candid expression Ted has ever seen grace his features, and it's a little startling. "Because, Ted. I'm your wingman, ladies or dudes. What kind of wingman would I be if I discriminated?"
Ted laughs a little. "Barney. What is up with you being my wingman, anyway? So what if I don't get laid every hour of every day?"
Barney doesn't laugh back. "You're my best friend, Ted. Of course I want that for you."
The cab ride is too stuffy, and Barney is too close, and too honest, and Ted figures they're both a little too drunk, so it's a good thing when they're still both at least a foot apart when the cab stops.
"Come back to my apartment with me," Barney says. "It'll be awesome. We can watch 'Star Wars: Return of the Jedi'."
"Okay," Ted says, because he's young, and he has to make stupid choices every now and then.
They don't watch 'Star Wars: Return of the Jedi'. They sit together on Barney's couch and watch the menu screen of the DVD play over and over.
Eventually, after an embarrassingly long time, Ted turns to Barney and asks, "Why aren't you pressing play?"
Barney's just staring at him. "Ted? It's not possible for brothers to be gay, right?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, that's so stupid and unrealistic for two people in the same family to both take it in the ass, right? It wouldn't happen. It can't happen."
"Barney?"
"Night, Ted," he says, and heads to his bedroom.
Ted lets himself out.
It's not until a week later that Ted begins to think perhaps something is wrong. He's still cruising along with the mentality that him liking men as much as he likes women is how Ted feels, but not how he feels, as though Ted is some other completely different person. Then, it really hits him, that he likes guys.
He likes guys.
And, shouldn't he be a little more freaked out by that?
He knows he's an adult, and it's not the first time he's checked out a man in his life, but maybe then, does he have to start thinking about it again, then?
It, of course, meaning Barney, and deciphering all of his glances and smiles and laughs.
Should he be a little more worried about that, now? Now that it's out in the open, Barney is aware of the fact that he likes men.
And Barney is a man.
Shouldn't Barney be having the freak out, anyway? How has honesty honestly backfired on Ted?
"You look so miserable," Lily coos when he makes his way to the table, joints loose and weary. She pats the seat next to her. "Is it some bitch?"
"No," Ted says. "It's nothing."
"It's a guy," Barney provides.
The rest of the group turns to stare. "Huh?"
Barney eyes the bar. "Took Ted to a gay bar few nights ago. Probably got some guy's digits, and now he won't call. Can someone call the waitress over?"
"Wait," Robin says. "You took Ted to a gay bar? Are you sure you're not mistaking him for your brother?"
"Please," Barney says. "James is another 'married' guy, now. Has Ted not told you? He's gay, now."
"Not gay," Ted says, an irate blush covering his face. "Bisexual. Maybe. Barney, is this really the time or place?"
"Dude," Marshall says. "He's the first person to know about this? Not your best friend since college?"
"Actually," Barney interrupts, though no one pays any heed to him. "I'm Ted's best friend."
"He didn't exactly find it out in the most advantageous manner."
It takes a few seconds until, "Holy shit! You're banging Barney!"
"I'm not banging Barney! I'm not banging guys."
Lily pats Ted's hand. "It's okay. All of us have wanted to bang Barney at one point."
Marshall looks indignant. "I haven't."
"Yeah, I definitely don't like where this is going," Ted says. "This may be fueling Barney's already inflated ego, but it's not contributing to my actual well being. I think I'll take off."
"I'll go with you, Ted," Barney says when Ted begins to shuffle out of the booth. "You know—just in case some hot guy decides to tap that and you don't know what to say."
Ted makes an insufferable noise, but doesn't stop Barney.
"Damn," Lily says with a shake of her head. "Barney's got it worse here than he did with Robin."
"Can brothers be gay, even? Does that—I don't know. Does it work?"
"All your brothers are straight," Robin points out.
Lily nods eagerly. "Good attitude toward both your ex boyfriends turning out gay, Robin! I mean, it's not like it was because of you. Robin, does this happen often?"
"Are you really so afraid of liking guys that the best you can come up with is it not being possible for brothers to be gay?"
Barney glances at Ted. "Yes."
"I mean, you're only half brothers after—wait. Yes?"
"Yes," Barney says, giving Ted a weird look. "What? You think I'm afraid to like guys?"
"Considering what I just said, uh, yeah."
Barney claps him on the back. "Good old Ted. Why eliminate half the population? I mean, Lily was right. At one point everyone has wanted to bang the Barnacle. And now they can. Unless they're ugly, I mean. Then they can watch."
"Wow, Barney. You're taking this better than—"
I did?
"—I expected.
"Yeah, uh huh. Enough Ted Talk, all right? Can we just bang already?"
"What!"
Barney laughs. "Dude, I know you've been trying to get me into the sack since Wednesday of, I don't know, forever? I saw the way you looked at my dick when we met in the urinal."
"That was years ago, Barney."
"I know," Barney says with a leer. His face soon collapses into a pitiful expression. "Come on, Ted! It'll be awesome!"
"You're seriously? No—Barney. It's late, and maybe we're a little drunk."
"Ted, we were drunk that night I took you to the gay bar, but there is no way we're drunk tonight. Why can't you just accept the fact that us having gay sex together is so phenomenally awesome that it couldn't possibly be done only once?"
"I think—"
"Stop thinking. That's your problem—that's always your problem."
Ted's silent.
"So, Ted," Barney says, keep his hand resting on Ted's shoulder. "Would you have awesome gay sex with me?"
It brings a laugh from Ted. "I'll think about it."
They don't think that night.
