Chemical Reaction on Delay
Summary: She forgives him because she knows he does love her, and she loves him back, and he's making her smile with his silliness and magic. But somewhere in the back of her mind, there's a simmering feeling still waiting to boil over. Tag to Weekend at Barney's.
A/N: I don't usually feel the need to do a correction fic, but last night's episode absolutely requires it. Not only did they cheapen Barney's proposal for no apparent reason, the resolution was weak, rushed, and untrue to character. These are the same people that threw plates at each other and yelled for days, and this lie was a far bigger deal than the writers made it. Barney and Robin are awesome, but I believe they are a more passionate, loving, and real couple than last night's portrayal made them seem. So I 'm writing this to fix some wrongs, and unless they revisit this in a more satisfying manner, I'm making this my head cannon. Feel free to make it yours too.
Robin forgives him because she knows he does love her, and she loves him, and he's making her smile with his silliness and magic. And in many regards, she knows what he says is true – he has always loved to tell lies and elaborate stories and run plays, and this is a part of him she has not only accepted, but fallen in love with as well. She doesn't expect or want him to change for her. He too has accepted her as she is, with all her flaws and quirks.
And the make-up sex later that night is wonderful, warm, hot, loving and at the time she has no doubts. But once they're done, once he's fallen asleep next to her, she's left with a nagging sensation in her mind, and there's something simmering there, waiting to boil over. She herself cannot sleep, and her thoughts are quick and fueled by fire, and she's worked herself up into an angry passion by the time it hits 2am.
And yet she hesitates to wake him. They have been impossibly happy lately, finally, and have yet to break that bliss. She doesn't want this to turn into what happened in their first attempt at a relationship, the way one fight spun out into twelve, and once they started they found it impossible to stop. She isn't ready to let go of this easy, comfortable happiness.
But this Playbook lie – it was what helped to convince her that they really could make it this time, that he really was ready to settle down and be just hers, forever. The Playbook is gone now, but the false sentiment still stings. She can't ease her mind, and all of sudden she needs to deal with this now, before she's consumed by it.
She sits up in bed, turns on the lamp on the nightstand. "Barney," she says, and pushes her hand against his shoulder. He twitches slightly but doesn't wake. She pushes again, and she doesn't feel guilty at all – he's been waking her up for days with yells about plays, yet how that makes sense when he didn't even burn the goddamn thing – anyway, she doesn't care if he needs his beauty sleep. She's ready (though terrified) for things to get ugly.
So she plays hardball, uses her arsenal of Barney-knowledge against him. "Fire!" she shouts.
Sure enough, Barney jolts awake with a cry of, "My suits!" and he's nearly out of bed before he realizes he's been conned.
Usually she'd find his ridiculous exclamations endearing, but she can't even crack a smile. He looks at her once it becomes obvious that there is no threat to his beloved suits. "What's going on? What's happening?" he asks her.
The words are sour in her mouth. "You didn't burn The Playbook."
He looks at her, fear and anxiousness and dim lighting draining the color from his cheeks. "I thought we were alright."
She thought they were too. She really did. "You said you burned it, and you knew how much it would mean, but you lied. It was an empty gesture, meaningless. And I can't help but think, is that how you view this relationship?"
"Robin, I love you – you know that."
Her voice is breaking in waves, louder now. "I know, alright! I believe you love me. But love doesn't give you full reign to treat someone badly, Barney! And it doesn't mean you get to lie about anything you want and have it turn out okay."
He looks at her wordlessly; he is at a loss, and it is only now that they are both realizing the depth of what he's created with this deception.
Tears come, unwanted but unrelenting, her voice hollow and empty. "What else do you think is okay to lie to me about? Is cheating alright as long as you love me and I love you? Is that what you wanted when you asked me to marry you?"
Silence, hard, cold, devastating. Tears are forming in his eyes too, and when he speaks, his voice cracks with emotion.
"Robin, I wouldn't cheat on you." he says. "I know, I know I make a lot of jokes still, but I only want you, and that's all I'm ever going to want." He is desperately sincere, and she hates him for it. She hates that she believes him, that she loves him, and most of all, she hates that somehow all of it might not be enough.
"Then, why, Barney? Why didn't you burn The Playbook if you were sure? When would you ever need it again if we got married? It's..." She trails off and looks away from his face.
"What?" he prompts.
She swallows hard, forcing herself to admit to an ugly insecurity. "It's like you're waiting for this to fall apart."
He looks at her, eyes steady and sure. "I'm not," he promises. "I'm ready for this. We're ready for this."
"Then why, Barney? Explain to me why you couldn't do it."
The silence hangs heavy between them. No, no, no. "No," she says, through another round of unwelcome tears. "I can't do this again, I – I have to go." She's sitting up and throwing off the bed sheets, but his voice breaks through and stops her in place. She hangs onto it like a lifeline, because she needs an answer that makes sense.
"Robin, I'm sorry. It's...it's all I knew how to be."
There's something there, in his tone, that is deeply truthful and raw. It has her stalled, and when he takes her hand in his, she doesn't pull away. "I couldn't burn The Playbook because it's all I've been for so long. What am I without the plays and the gimmicks, the elaborate lies, the suits? What do I seriously bring to the group, or even to this relationship, that can't be tossed aside? Honestly, Robin, I think I would give up anything for you if you asked." A pause, sorrowful; he's cracking around the edges. "I just don't know what would be left of me for you to find."
She's struck hard by this admission. She's known for a long time that Barney has not always liked who he is. As a kid, he was friendless and fatherless, after college he was abandoned by Shannon. He's reinvented himself with a haircut and a closet of suits and an endless wave of one night stands and stories to tell. He wants every night to be legendary, and she thinks she should have known why he's been clinging to the past even as he yearns to move forward.
He continues, unaware of the realization she's just made. "But today, when Jeanette was about to blow it up – I was okay with that, because I really don't need it anymore. You understand who I really am, with The Playbook and without. No one in the world has ever made me feel that way before."
God, she loves him, couldn't stop if she tried. She just wishes she could wash away all his self-doubt. She thought she was the problem, that she could never be enough to keep him interested, satisfied, and in love. She didn't know he was thinking the same thing, didn't realize that he honestly couldn't remember who he was without a silly little book. As if that could possibly define him.
Robin understands now, and her anger is gone. Maybe that's why this time really is different than their first attempt at being together: now, he trusts her to remind him of who he really is and who he wants to be, and she trusts him to do the same for her. As cliché and ridiculously Ted-like as it is to think, they hold each other's hearts now.
And she has to tell him what she's always known to be true. "Barney, you were always more than that," she says, giving him a soft smile, wondering if he remembers when he said similar words to her. He gives her a little, sad smile back – he does.
"You are not disposable, not to the gang and especially not to me," she continues, curling in closer to him. He relaxes slightly as she runs a hand along his chest. "I didn't fall in love with the suits, or the plays, or the stories you tell. I fell in love with you, every part, what you like to show to the world and what you don't. I fell in love with you because you make me laugh, because you're smart, funny, really sexy, crazy, and loving. You're the guy that can always make me feel better, the guy that has always understood me better than I've understood myself at times. You are my best friend, and the only man I could really see myself spending a happy lifetime with."
He smiles at her and wraps an arm around her. "I'm so sorry I lied and upset you. I really do love you, you know."
"I love you too."
He shakes his head slightly. "When did we become so sappy?"
"Mhm, no idea," she replies. "We're probably going to have to have really wild sex soon to win back our awesome points."
"No time like the present," he grins, tracing his hand down her arm. She chuckles, wrapping an arm around his torso and resting her head against his warm chest.
"Too sleepy," she mumbles. "Just hold me tonight. Tomorrow we'll get to it, I promise."
He shakes his head again, feigns a sigh. "What a tease, Scherbatsky."
But he kisses her forehead anyway, and when she falls asleep in his arms a short time later, he doesn't seem to mind at all.
A/N: Dear writers, I still believe in you. Do better.