Sleeping

When Barney opened the door to Ted's apartment, early one raining Wednesday evening, he almost walked straight into Robin.

"Hey Marshall…" She mumbled, lurching across the room like Frankenstein's monster, her eyelids drooping.

"Marshall?" Barney mouthed, watching her go with a lopsided grin. Was she… sleepwalking?

Yeah, sure, he'd heard about this from Ted but he'd never given it credence. Yet here she was, stumbling about the apartment in her jammies (yet still somehow looking drop-dead gorgeous) and calling him "Marshall"? Oh, he just had to stick around and see what she did next.

But all she did was head for the bathroom so he grabbed himself a beer and knocked on the door to Ted's bedroom. No answer. Damn! Where was Ted? Probably out with that Karen chick. It was definitely putting a kink in his Wingman duties. And not in a good way.

Barney heard the toilet flush and Robin emerged, shuffling back towards her room. She would have walked straight into the couch if he hadn't grabbed her shoulders and steered her around it. He then trailed behind her, piloting her around several low-lying hazards until she reached the door to her bedroom. Something tickled at the back of Barney's mind as he followed her across the threshold but he managed to surpress it, especially when Robin bumped into her bed, grabbed on to him and sent them both sprawling on to the mattress with her half on top of him.

"Hmm…" He said as she nuzzled his neck. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

"'m sorry Marshall…" Robin said, planting open mouthed kissed across his jawline to the base of his throat. "Won't tell Lily if you don't. You know she's sleeping with Ted…?"

What the hell?

Information overload, maybe… Sleep-talking, maybe… But all he could think was "So she has a thing for Marshall?" That would explain a lot.

But then, as Barney felt her fingers pick clumsily at his belt and her lips buzz against his collarbone through his shirt, his brain kind-of shorted out. Robin's breath hitched as she mumbled. "You smell good… like Barney. Barney always smells so good that you could just eat him right up…"

His stomach twisted, his eyes snapping wide open. God, it shouldn't feel so good and hurt so much to hear those words from a single chick. Not when he could have anyone he wanted. And then she was definitely trying to get his shirt off so he gave her a helpful hand, popping a couple of buttons and receiving a tiny laugh of appreciation from her. "Nice…" She said, her tongue lapping at his chest.

He went from relaxed to achingly hard in about two seconds flat.

He squeezed his eyes closed. He should get up, leave her to sleep. He shouldn't do this (but it felt too fucking good to stop)… she was mentally incapacitated by pills (but when had that ever stopped him before?)… She was his friend (but he'd loved her for almost a year now and these feelings showed no sign of going away)…

"Robin…" Barney protested, crippled by indecision until one of her hands drifted lower and she pressed the flat of her palm against the bulge in his pants.

He almost came spontaneously from the shock and the pressure alone.

"Mnnnghhh!" He moaned, inarticulately, as she somehow got his fly part way open and slid her hand beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers so that she could get a grip on his dick.

No way this was happened… No way, no way, no way… He was dreaming, had to be… this was some kind of fantasy, some kind of fever-dream because there's no way that Scherbatsky was actually beside him, one long, long leg curled around his, pinning him down. There was no way that Scherbatsky was jerking him off.

But she was.

And he felt like a helpless, groaning idiot as she played with him, gently, harder, gently, harder, teasing and taunting him and taking him all the way to that painful, razor's edge but no further. She reduced him to a panting, desperate mess, unwilling to push her unless she came to her senses, but unable to get what he needed, unable to… unable to…

Oh g-

She slackened off again, her wrist going limp.

Then she began to snore.

NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Barney's mouth dropped open, his hands balled into fists. He was close, so close, too close… He was practically quivering. One tug, that's all it would take.

One... Fucking... Tug.

"Damn you Scherbatsky!" He muttered, reaching down for her hand, his fingers covering her own and pressing them around the base of his dick, ready to send himself into oblivion if necessary when-

He heard the front door to the apartment open, and voices.

Ted and Karen.

There was high-pitched giggling (from Ted) and a low, filthy chuckle (from Karen) and the sound of things being knocked over. Then there were moans and squeaks and a lot more moaning...

Barney felt a single hot tear of frustration dislodge from the corner of his eye and trickle slowly down his cheek.

Eventually, after several cries of "Go! Go! Go!" (Ted) and "Do me, you bitch!" (Karen) and "I love you!" (Ted), they shut the fuck up and silence resumed.

Barney extricated himself from Robin's (surprisingly vice-like) embrace, zipped up his pants and stumbled out of the room, his mouth dry, his eyes itchy.

He stalked out of the apartment, cursing the lot of them, the rage building in him like a vast, evil tsunami and his lips pulled back in a rictus grin across his teeth. He needed to smash something.

Somewhere out there was a TV with his name on it. And god help that innocent household appliance when they finally met.