Title: P. comes before V.
Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Barney Stinson and my version of his childhood is my own making and may not be reflected true.
Summary: Barney wanted to be a violinist. Childhood fic.
Rating: PG
A/N: Been sitting on this for some time. Might as well post it. - EDIT- Sorry! Wrote this a while ago and I forgot to post this on FF X/
It was beautiful. The music infused his thoughts and gave him a sort... a sort of high... Everything else faded away, all other noise seemed insignificant and the only thing that matter – the only that made it better... the music.
The notes passed from high to low, tying all together, belonging together.
It was over whelming really.
The violin... the sound... you could feel it in the air... engulfing you... carrying you away...
"Barney!"
Barney jumped, dropping the broom he had been leaning on. The violinist glanced his way, sneering at his clumsiness for a moment before continuing his tune. Barney picked up the broom and looked away from the girl to his boss.
"Yes, sir?" he asked walking up to the music store's counter, behind which stood the manager, Ernie Wheatherbee.
"Stop lollygagging; I'm paying you to clean, not listen to the customer's play." He frowned, but hadn't said it with any real meanness. This wasn't the first time he caught Barney admiring the instruments and he knew it wasn't the last. He didn't mind that though, Barney was smart and eager to please, he was a good worker, even if you couldn't play anything.
"Right, sorry. Uh..., I finished sweeping the back and the front. Windows are clean and I already dusted most of the instruments... Still got the piano to do... uh..."
"What is it?" Mr. Wheatherbee asked, looking up from his clip board where he was making count of the day.
"I was just uh... I was wondering if you could uh... I know you said that I shouldn't touch the tuning of any of instruments but..."
"Speak up."
"I want to learn how to tune the pianos – or something..."
"Or something?"
"Something... I'd like to learn how to play it."
"Is that so?" The boy shrugged. "We might be able to arrange something."