34 of 34
A/N: This story is a long time coming. I originally had the idea over a year ago, but didn't like the storyline I had created. Then a field trip to Washington D.C. back in May finally gave me the inspiration to dig it back out again. I wrote it when I was in Mexico in June, but never got to fully finish it. I thought it would be a much more exciting choice for the ficathon than a new chapter, so I finally put my mind to it and finished it!
Barney: It's not possible! You cannot have sex on a windsurfing board!
Lily: How do you know?
Barney: Glad you asked, Lily. I have crafted a list of all vehicles, land-based, aquatic, and airborne, in which / on which it is possible to have sex. Of these 33, I have had sex in / on 31. Windsurfing board: not on the list. Oh, PS in order to hit 33, all I need is bobsled and the Apollo 11 space capsule.
Lily: To get that last one, you'd have to break into the Smithsonian.
Barney: This conversation never happened.
The Newseum- Washington DC
"I want to thank you for this prestigious award, in a place that celebrates our field in the most unique way. I could not have done it without the help of many, and being honored in this way, being recognized in this museum for the future of all who visit, is a lifetime goal I never knew I had. Thank you to all here at the Newseum for this award, to all my colleagues who have selected me, and to my wonderful husband. I couldn't have done it without you."
Applause echoes through the enormous and open six story space. The building has an architectural flare that Ted would love, not to mention a killer view. She steps away from the podium into Barney's embrace, from where he guides them to their table. She sets the award down in front of her, still admiring the very fact that she had been nominated, let alone chosen as the winner.
"Congratulations, Scherbatsky," is whispered into her ear, as Barney pecks her on the cheek. He takes his seat next to her.
She doesn't hear much of the last speaker, as she is still in awe of the beautifully engraved piece of glass in front of her. It's only Barney that finally breaks her out of it.
"Scherbatsky? You coming?"
"Huh?" she stares at him, finally coming back to earth.
"It's cocktail hour, and you know we'll never hear the end of it from Ted if we don't take advantage of this view."
She shakes it off, and finally rises from her seat. He places his hand in the small of her back, guiding her in all her evening gowned glory to one of the most spectacular views in all of DC.
After a quick visit to the bar, they are standing at the railing, listening to jazz, and sipping scotch.
"How is it that in almost three years this is the first time we've made it to DC?" he asks, admiring the skyline.
"Time? Crazy schedules? An inability of someone to leave nieces and nephews, if even for a day?" she spits out quickly.
"Hey! I'm not that dependent!" he cries out in defense.
"Fine, then take one picture of Penny off your phone," she challenges.
"You know I can't do that," he replies. She grins back, taking an extra-long sip.
"Scherbatsky, I just want you to know how proud of you I am." His words course through her, and although they may not be from her father, she realizes that the opinion of the man in front of her matters much more to her than anyone else's.
"Thank you," she replies.
"And because of that, I suggest we ditch this dinner-" he starts to declare, in a grandiosely Barney fashion.
"You know I can't do that. I'm the guest of honor."
"Fine. Then we will stay an extra day, so I can take you to the best restaurant in town, so we can celebrate."
"You've got yourself a deal."
"What the hell, Barney!? I agreed to an extra day, not a three in the morning kidnapping!" she protests from the back of a town car that she was half dragged into in the middle of sleeping.
"But Scherbatsky, this will be epic! Totally in line with licking the Liberty Bell!" he insists.
"No," she protests simply.
"I haven't even told you where we are going!" he whines.
"You don't have to. It's three AM, we are in a black car, in the middle of a city wracked in scandals. I will pass on whatever this is you are trying to pull, because it seems like a recipe for disaster," she counters in quite a calm manner for the situation.
"Oh ye of little faith. Do I need to remind you that you did get in the car with me?"
"Damn you," she mumbles in defeat.
"You like danger," he teases, and she feels a certain sexual spark start to build.
"I'm still not happy about this."
The car pulls to a stop outside a very angular building.
"Are we where I think we are?" she asks.
"It all started in 2002," he announces, "years before your awesomeness was felt in the New York area."
"For crying out loud," she mumbles.
"A certain awesome fellow came up with a splendid idea. There are a finite number of vehicles in which one can have sex in or on. The list contains 34 vehicles, and yes, a windsurfing board does count, thanks by the way for that one."
"You're welcome?"
"For years I have been trying to complete my mission of having sex on or in every vehicle that there is to have sex in or on." By this point, he is gesturing dramatically. "In fact, as of the present moment, both you and I have only one vehicle left to complete our list since our return from the wind surfing honeymoon days, not to mention the visit to the Olympic Park when we went to Canada. And now, we are minutes away from completing my many year journey in- ."
"The Apollo Space Capsule," she says, completing his sentence dryly.
"The Apollo Space Capsule!"
"We're breaking into the Earth and Space Museum aren't we?" she groans.
"No, we are not breaking in. I still have a contact from the FBI who owes me a favor. He even took off the plastic shell on the capsule so we can get inside!"
"You're a crazy idiot."
"So you're game?"
"What do you think? Let's just get inside before someone sees us!"
"Thank you, Scott."
"No Problem. Just don't break anything."
They watch as Scott walks away, leaving them alone in the center of the vast space in the pitch dark. Above them are hanging aircraft, and in the dark, it's a rather frightening place to be. They quickly turn their attention to the capsule, knowing their time is limited.
"I don't see how they fit three people in this thing," Robin laments.
"It's not that small."
"Really? Have you looked in there?"
"Come on. If we could do it in an airplane bathroom, we can do it in there."
"You make a good point."
"So what are we waiting for?"
The climb inside the capsule is awkward, and trying to find a position that won't break anything is even more awkward, since the capsule is in a tilted position.
They end up in a precarious angle on what was originally the back of the seats. It's not the most comfortable, and somehow Robin keeps sliding into the window, but they don't care. The thrill and bragging rights alone are enough to get them off, and when they do, it's like shooting off into their own universe.
"That was..." She pants, still reentering earth's atmosphere.
"Out of this world?"
"I was thinking more like a blast off."
"God I love you."
"So, you're done. How does it feel?"
"We're done," he corrects her. "And incredible. I couldn't have had a better partner in crime."
"No question on that," she agrees. "Do you think that we are the only people who have done it on a spacecraft?"
"I don't know, but we certainly won't be the last!"