New York City, April 2016

"Robin," Patrice called out as soon as she spotted Robin weaving her way through the maze of desks and cubicles on her way to her corner office, "how did the interview go? Did you get your statement? Ah, what am I saying; of course you have. Let me take your bag, it looks heavy. I have your messages right here. Do you want to go over them now or later? I put the urgent ones on your desk already, so these can-"

"Not now, Patrice!" Robin shrieked, already irritated by her assistant and not slowing down a bit, even though she had never been able to shake Patrice off who always caught up easily, despite Robin's longer legs. Robin still considered it a cruel joke from the universe that even after leaving World Wide News she couldn't escape Patrice. Worse even - now the woman she couldn't stand was her assistant. How that had come to be Robin wasn't entirely sure about, but she blamed Patrice exclusively. She had probably told Robin's new bosses a tale of how well they used to work together. Unfortunately, Robin had been too new at this job to already make demands when it came to choosing her own assistant or even veto her superiors' choice. Also, she'd been too happy about finally being a real reporter who got sent on assignments to interview important people or cover news stories and big events to bother, at the time.

"Okay," Patrice relented easily, used and long immune to Robin's outbursts. "I'll come by after lunch then. Do you want your coffee now?"

"Yes," Robin pressed out between clenched teeth, annoyed at the completely unnecessary question.

"I'll get it for you. Be right back." Before the woman finally left her alone, Patrice turned and called back, "Uhm, Robin, your private line has been ringing all morning. Seems someone's trying to get a hold of you."

"You don't say," Robin murmured, careful not to be heard.

After one too many incidents involving Lily spilling the beans and inviting Patrice along to a girls' night out, Patrice was no longer allowed to answer Robin's private line which wasn't really Robin's private line, but was the number that only her closest friends and informants knew and which was unlisted to avoid calls from various PR managers, sleazy attorneys, random threats from scorned persons of interest that Robin had exposed on air, and all kinds of other scum her regular journalism job brought with it.

Robin stepped into her office, firmly closing the door behind her and slipping off her heels, throwing them into the padded chair in the corner. She sighed in relief. Looking good for the camera did have its disadvantages, especially if you had to stand in front of the Court House all morning since the early dawn.

She eyed the stack of papers and post-it notes on her desk. It wasn't even noon yet and already she was exhausted. She couldn't wait for the weekend to come. Two whole days with nothing to do but lounge around the apartment and not answer calls or rush to a super-urgent something somewhere in the city.

Robin sat down in her chair and with sloping shoulders picked up the topmost note. She had to start somewhere.

She had barely read through the handwritten message when her phone rang. She picked it up, eyes still locked on the writing in front of her, and answered distractedly, "Stinson."

"Mhh," the voice on the other end of the line sounded, "I'll never get tired of hearing that."

Robin smiled, a little bit of the tension draining out of her just from the sound of his voice. "Barney," she breathed. "You'll never get tired of hearing what?"

"You, wearing my name," he replied.

On air she still went by Scherbatsky. But legally she had been Robin Stinson for almost three years now.

"Yeah, you seem very partial to me wearing your things - your shirt, your ring, your name. Is that a fetish?" she wondered aloud.

"That's one word for it. I'm sure our friends would come up with a few other ones, depending on who you ask," Barney replied. "But I do wish we had more time that we spent with you wearing all of the above - and nothing else."

Robin's mind drifted away. "Hmm. That does sound good."

"Great. I hoped you'd agree."

Robin tuned back in. "Agree to what?" She sounded suspicious which was basically the default setting with Barney anyway.

"How soon can you be ready? Do you think you can meet me at JFK in about 90 minutes?"

"Barney," Robin sighed and took a deep breath before continuing. "Can't you for once give me a little bit of a head start?" Three years ago, she would have still been surprised by his hairbrained and sudden plans, but she had had enough time to grow accustomed to them since then.

"I tried," Barney defended himself, "But you had your phone switched off again."

"You knew I was on air," Robin argued.

"Oh, I saw that," Barney suddenly remembered. "That was live? You were awesome by the way."

"Thanks. And yes, it is always live. You think we pre-record news? Besides, I was wearing the dress which you helped me zip this morning. Twice," she added as she remembered their extended goodbye in the kitchen.

"Yeah, I did," Barney drawled and Robin could practically hear the gleeful smirk on his face. "Phone five."

Then she recognized his insert for what it was and exclaimed, "Hey! Don't change the topic. We agreed you wouldn't spring this on me anymore."

"No, we most definitely did not agree to anything like that. I'd remember."

"Sure we did. Not even four months ago, in that cute little hotel in Aspen, with the huge fireplace."

"Oh, you mean that time when you were stripping for me? I have been wondering what the hell I had said yes to back then. Well, that's not gonna hold up in court. Check with Marshall; he'll agree with me. You weren't playing fair, distracting me with your wily womanly ways. And by 'ways' I mean boobs."

"It's not my fault your mind is a one-way street," Robin protested even though she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

Barney's voice rose a couple of octaves. "Deep red lace, Robin! No man can be held accountable for things that come out of his mouth when his wife is wearing deep red see-through lace!"

"Alright, alright," Robin relented, secretly enjoying the fact that her husband of three years was still rendered speechless whenever her hands strayed to the buttons of her blouse.

"So, where are we going?"

"Does this mean you're on board?" Barney asked excitedly.

"I don't know yet. Tell me the destination first."

"Brazil."

"Beach?"

"Plenty."

"Hmm," Robin pondered. "It does sound nice. But I can't," she almost whined, eyeing the stack of unanswered messages.

"Come on, babe," Barney pleaded. "I talked to Patrice and she told me there's no important appointments or deadlines in the next week and a half. And anything urgent can be covered by someone else for a change. Besides, you've been exhausted for weeks."

It was true. The workload was so overwhelming, Robin barely found time to sleep. Of course, horizontal activities with Barney contributed to the sleep deprivation because they always took precedence over sleep and, fantastic though they were, in the long run didn't help her exhaustion levels.

"We haven't made use of our handcuffs in weeks," Barney complained like a petulant child while Robin rolled her eyes.

"Did you pack them?" Robin asked. Because there was no question that he had already packed.

"Please," he confirmed, "like you have to ask."

"Still, only 90 minutes, Barney?"

"Uh, make it 75 now," Barney interjected.

"How am I supposed to get home, pack, and make it to the airport on time?"

"You don't have to pack and Ranjit is waiting downstairs for you, so... whenever you're ready."

Robin sighed in defeat, but then realized what she was agreeing to and a slow smile crept onto her face. A vacation, away from New York, just her and Barney - it did sound like the most perfect thing she could imagine right now. Barney had become really good at giving her exactly what she needed before she even thought of it.

"I hope you packed more than just my bikini," she said, trying to sound stern. After all, it had happened before and the circumstances were frighteningly similar to the first surprise vacation Barney had sprung on her after their honeymoon .

"We'll go shopping first thing after our arrival," Barney replied instead of an answer. That too was slowly becoming a routine of their surprise vacations. Robin wasn't complaining; and if she was, it was only to keep up appearances to keep Barney's ego in check, which required a lot of time and work after all.

"Fine," Robin agreed, though her compliance had never really been in question anyway. "I assume Patrice is in on that and has already cleared the time away with my bosses?"

"Yes. She's a doll."

"Yeah," Robin muttered under her breath, "and as lovable as Chucky."

"Hey, Robin," Barney said, thinking of something, "just think - in less than twelve hours we're sipping Margaritas on the beach."

"Ohh," Robin moaned longingly. She wouldn't say no to a drink right now either. "Okay, okay. I'll finish up here real quick and meet you in a bit."

"Awesome. Love you."

"Love you too."

Robin was almost about to hang up when Barney's voice sounded again.

"Hey, Mrs. Stinson?"

"Yeah?"

"We've actually somewhat over two hours before our flight departs. I thought we'd start the vacation early by celebrating in one of the airport's bathroom stalls."

"Aww," Robin mocked him, "ever the romantic."

"Only the best for my wife. Hey, speaking of only the best for my wife-"

Robin sensed a lewd joke coming and hung up before Barney could verbalize it. But she couldn't help but shake her head fondly at him. Being married to Barney had turned out exactly how she had expected it to; meaning it was unlike anything she could have ever foreseen because it was absolutely impossible to anticipate what he would come up with next. And that was exactly how Robin liked it.

This can stay a oneshot or it can turn into a multi-chaptered something. I've an idea where I want to take the story, but please let me know what you think.