Summary: Barney attempts to adapt the 12 step model to help him over come a very particular addiction. BroTP, season 4 through the fight.

Disclaimer: I do not own How I Met Your Mother, or the characters found there in. I own nothing, well, I own a cat. But that doesn't seem relevant.

***The First Step***

"Kids, there's a long list of places I would have expected to find your Uncle Barney in the middle of the day. Strip clubs… Bars… Adult bookstores. . . Tailors. . . Laser tag. . . Maybe even work, but there was one place that I would never have expected to find Barney Stinson…"

Dr. Grossbard is a total quack. That was the only conclusion Barney could come to as he stared into the crappy cup of coffee he held in his hands. Only a total quack would send someone as utterly awesome as Barney Stinson to a church, at noon, on a Tuesday.

When Dr. Grossbard, hereafter referred to as "the Quack," had told Barney the only grounds under which he would continue their sessions was if Barney joined SCA, Barney had struggled with the acronym. Why, for example, would a psychiatrist order Barney to attend a Society for Creative Anachronism event? Sure, beating people with a sword or padded stick might be fun, if Barney were a 14 year old virgin, but it hardly seemed like sound psychiatry.

But, the Quack, in that annoying, pseudo-patient voice, had explained that the acronym stood for "Sexual Compulsives Anonymous". Like having too much sex was a problem. Like having too much money, or being too awesome, or looking too good in a suit, or drinking too much scotch. Okay, that last one might actually be a problem. But Barney did not have a problem with sex, no matter what the Quack said.

Sure, Barney couldn't not hook up. He'd tried, twice, in the last six months, and had failed. That wasn't the problem though. If there was anything Barney had a "problem" with, it was. . . Well, he wasn't sure yet what to call it. He'd been toying with "Sudden Onset Feelings for Robin Scherbatsky Disorder", or SOFRSD, but, strangely, the for that acronym had already been taken. Shame there wasn't a twelve stepper for that.

An hour and fifteen minutes later.

Stuart walked into MacLaren's, his eyes searching the bar. He found Barney sitting in a booth at the back.

"Hey, Barney," Stuart said as he approached the suit clad blond. "What's the big emergency? And why did we have to meet at a bar? You know I'm an alcoholic."

Barney smiled at the short paunchy geek. "Still?"

"Yeah, it's kind of a lifelong thing."

Barney motioned for Stuart to sit, which he did reluctantly, "I know, I was just having a little fun with you. Stuart and Barney, having a few laughs, just like old times."

Stuart looked at him cock-eyed. "What old times?"

"Exactly! So, how's the drunk thing going?"

"I'm out of here!" Stuart started to get out of the booth, but Barney shot out a hand to grab Stuart's wrist, compelling him to stay.

"Wait, wait--"Barney loosened his tie, "Stuart, I need your help."

Stuart looked at Barney cock-eyed again, "With what?"

"Stuart, I want you to be my sponsor."

"Kids, while your Uncle Barney was busy making a mockery of a recovery process that has helped millions, your Aunt Robin and I were, well, we were falling off the wagon in our own way."

Robin looked at Ted as he pulled back on his jeans. "God, a quickie at lunch, we are literally a cliché, aren't we?"

Ted shrugged and smiled. Ever since Robin had moved in and they had settled into this "friends with benefits" situation, Ted had been smiling a lot. Meaningless sex with his ex-girlfriend, who happened to not only be his best female friend but also his roommate, might not be the healthiest way to get over Stella leaving him at the alter, but it was better then drinking and growing a beard.

"I really got to get back to the office," he said, bending down to tie his shoes.

"Yeah, and I've got to get back to . . . Well, doing nothing." Ted looked at Robin, who was already transitioning from afterglow back to gloomy. She was in a bad place, and what they'd been doing for the last few weeks probably wasn't helping. . . But Ted wasn't in such a great place himself.

"See you at the bar later?" He didn't even really listen to her mumbled agreement before heading out the door. That left Robin, alone and naked, laying in Ted's bed.

"Yup," she said out loud, talking to herself. "That nothing isn't going to do itself."

Robin got out of bed and climbed into the shower. She took a moment to smell her body wash, its scent filling her nose and soothing her nerves. It smelled like the sea, and not low tide or the Hudson, but the good kind of sea, the kind people pay good money for things to smell like. As she bathed herself, and replaced Ted's smell with that of the ocean, she let her mind wander. She remembered the beach in British Columbia where they had filmed the music video for "Sandcastles in the Sand." She remembered the last time she had seen that video, and the smell of a certain other man.

"Stop it." She said to herself. She'd been talking to herself a lot lately; wasn't that a sign of insanity? If that wasn't then fantasizing about Barney Stinson while having sex with his best friend definitely was. But she couldn't stop. . . She had a Barney problem.

"So, as I was saying kids, your Uncle Barney was trying to convince our friend Stuart to be his sponsor for a very specialized kind of addiction."

"Barney. . . I didn't know you had a drinking problem." Stuart said as he settled back into the booth with Barney.

"Please," Barney said with a dismissive chuckle. "My problem is nothing as mundane as drinking too much. . . Though, seriously, stay strong with that, buddy. No, my problem is much more complex. I have SOFRSD."

Stuart looked blankly at Barney for a moment, his lips moving silently as he tried to work out the acronym.

"All you need to know, my little friend, is that it's an addiction, and I need your help to break it."

"Barney, battling addiction is a lifelong struggle."

"Maybe for you, but I'm so awesome I figure I can knock it out in a day, day and a half tops." Barney smiled at that, and thrust his hand into the air. "Sobriety five!"

Stuart shook his head and reluctantly smacked Barney's hand. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, but you clearly need help."

"I knew I could count on you, Stuart! Where do we start?"

"Well, we're going to start with the first step. You have to admit that you are powerless over your addiction and that your life has become unmanageable."

Barney scoffed again, "My life isn't unmanageable. My life is awesome."

Stuart put his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. "Barney, you're going to have to try a little harder than that."

"Please," again, Barney's defensive and dismissive laugh filled the booth. "So what if . . . It. . . is the first thing I think of each morning? Or if it's what I think about all day? Maybe my work has suffered, a little, and maybe it fills me with shame. . ." The confident smirk fell from Barney's face. "Crap."

"Yeah," Stuart said, a whimsical smile on his face. "Step one is not a lot of fun. But look on the bright side, it gets worse from here." Stuart grabbed a cocktail napkin from the next table and, borrowing a pen from Wendy the Waitress, scribbled something down.

"So . . . What's next?"

"Next, I'm going back to work and you are going to this address. " Stuart slide the napkin across the table and Barney saw that it had an address in midtown written on it. "Call me when you get there." With that, Stuart slide out of the booth and headed out of the bar, leaving Barney looking at the napkin.