Barney had been kind of a jerk to her earlier. Robin had gotten over her anger since last night but at first she didn't even want to be in the same room with him. It hurt too much. Because they'd always understood one another. They both had daddy issues; it was as simple as that. And though Barney had been fortunate enough to mend those fences and was well on his way – if not entirely there – to being over his daddy issues, hers were still alive and kicking. Hard.
She wasn't blessed enough to have a father like Jerome who could change over time, see the error of his ways, learn from his mistakes. No, her father still wanted that son he'd been cheated out of. And Barney had always understood that. The whole father thing was the one place he wouldn't touch. There was no mocking or jokes there, and when the others encouraged her every holiday to go back to Canada to visit her father, try to make him understand how messed up things were between them and how that was affecting her, Barney was the one person she could count on for support, for a million reasons why they should all just leave her alone.
That's why it hurt all the more when he pulled that prank, calling and pretending to be her father – and then laughing about it – because he knew what a sensitive subject that was, how vulnerable it left her.
…..And because, maybe, lately she'd been entertaining a lot of ideas about the two of them, together. What it would be like to try again, if they even could. All of that was scary and messy and unsure but, when Barney first handed her those beers, when they sat on the couch and made fun of Ted, all she could think of was his laugh, his smile, what it would be like to kiss him again, be kissed by him again, touch him in a way that was decidedly more than 'just friends'.
Maybe that's why it stung so much too. Because she'd been busy thinking 'what if' – what if they made a mistake by breaking up; what if they could start again; what if she just let herself do something stupid and wonderful with him tonight – and he'd been busy planning his whole prank call thing, which seemed less like their normal flirtatious teasing and more like uncaring mockery.
But as the dark stormy night wore on, all of them just a little unsure if they'd make it through the hurricane in one piece, Robin could see that Barney genuinely felt bad and was trying to make amends. It was clear in the soft, apologetic way he looked at her; in the careful way he mixed her a scotch just the way she liked it, even in the storm-induced darkness; in how he tentatively inched closer to her as the night progressed until he was finally sitting beside her on the couch again.
Later, Marshall and Lily took Barney's bed, leaving the three of them to rough it in the living room. When Ted fell asleep in the chair, making it just Barney and Robin and his enormous Japanese television, his hand found her arm and nudged her closer to him on the couch. And when the flashing colors and soft dull sound began to lull her to sleep, Robin had the vague fuzzy memory of Barney pressing her head to his shoulder, offering her a pillow for the night.
So when they stood outside a closed MacLaren's the next day, laughing and toasting in the still-pouring rain, Robin was all to happy to share an umbrella with him, the previous night's anger completely forgotten, because Barney was Barney and you couldn't expect him to be perfect all the time. He was a work still in progress, but she of all people could see the changes in him over the past five months. Oh, he was still Barney alright, but something had definitely begun to change, to grow. It was difficult to put her finger on it but he just seemed more mature, more grounded, more….for lack of a better word, grown-up. His life seemed to have more direction to it. And while he still talked a big game, he'd even seemed to have stopped much of his crazy womanizing lately. In fact she hadn't even seen him with a random bimbo in at least a month.
Robin liked this new, improved version of Barney, but it was dangerous too. She was drawn to him all the more. He made her want things she probably shouldn't be wanting. So, right now, she simply focused on jumping around with him in the rain, laughing and splashing each other and watching Marshall trying to kill himself – even without the benefit of insurance.
Then the others went inside and it was just the two of them. It was a little hard for Robin to believe it when Barney began to apologize to her, flat out saying the words – "I'm really sorry about that phone call….No, it is so not fine. I was a jerk" – rather than trying to sidestep or skirt the issue or pretend no wrongdoing at all, the way he used to do for years.
But even though Robin tried to brush it aside as fine, Barney couldn't let it go at that. He'd felt awful ever since he'd pulled his stupid, thoughtless prank. He had to make her see that he knew what he did wasn't okay. And, more than just that, it also wasn't okay for her father to treat her so carelessly either. He'd always hated the man, and was sure he'd punch him on first sight if they one day met, for ever making Robin – the perfect, most awesome woman in the world – feel anything less than amazing.
"If you don't mind my saying," he continued, "your dad is a complete idiot for not calling."
Robin felt the corners of her lips upturn just slightly in response to his words, because he did still understand and he was trying to make her feel better. Whenever she was at her darkest, lowest, most insecure point, he was always there, trying to make her feel better about herself.
"He should never let a day go by without calling you," Barney told her, "because when I let a day go by without talking to you – " It was as if he realized he'd said too much, let more slip than he'd intended to, and he wasn't quite sure where to go from here, how to articulate his feelings without completely showing his hand. "….Um, that day's just no good."
Her lips curved into a full-blown smile then; she couldn't help it. It was easily the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. Like the sun, he needed her to make his day bright.
Barney stepped closer to Robin – that soft, open, adoring look on his face; the one she could never resist – and she found herself drawn in, captured. She knew he was going to kiss her, she could see it in his eyes, and rather then fear it, or move back, or tell him to get his hand off of her as she'd done before, her eyes fell to his lips and her head tilted upward, her own lips parting for his, tingling with the anticipation of a kiss almost two years in the making.
His bottom lip just brushed her top one, the heat of his breath dancing out warm and moist and intoxicating across her mouth, when her phone began to ring.
Even as she reached for her phone, delaying the kiss, Barney bounced on his heels with excitement because she hadn't pushed him away, hadn't told him 'no'. She was every bit as present in the moment as he was – and this was finally happening.
He kept inching closer to her, unable to delay much longer, wanting to get back to what they'd almost started, ready and willing to kiss her despite her phone in-hand, out and ringing in the pouring rain. He'd buy her a new one. What was most important was feeling her lips fully pressed to his for the first time in many long months of wanting her.
When he heard it was her dad on the phone, he knew the kiss would have to wait and he couldn't help feeling a sting of disappointment even as he was happy for her.
An ecstatic Robin made Barney show her his hands before she'd answer, and the two of them laughed together in the rain, soaking wet and completely happy, unaware that their 'almost kiss' wouldn't come again. And once more, they'd missed their chance at being together.