All Dressed Up, Nowhere to Go
Barney hesitates, outside the door to MacClaren's, telling himself it isn't just nerves that have got him frozen momentarily in place. It's just a feeling of weird déjà vu that hits him out of nowhere, a remembrance of the date, exactly eight years ago today, when he entered the very same bar for the very first time. It's an easy anniversary to remember, because James left New York on Veteran's day, and this time of year always leaves him with a chill that has little to do with the weather and everything to do with feeling abandoned.
This date, exactly eight years ago, he walked into this bar and he met Ted Mosby. This date, exactly eight years and one day ago, his brother left New York and everything they'd built together had crumbled. James was his support structure, his father figure, his role model and his idol. James was the one driving force in his life.
And James had left him.
But James's own personal code had stayed with Barney and in that following day, in a grip of panic, he'd suited up and loitered at work and followed a bunch of guys to the bar. He'd hesitated outside with his hand on the door, had taken a very deep breath, then had sauntered inside, looking for…
A new Bro? A wingman? A substitute brother?
He'd found Ted Mosby, and through him, a whole new family. A surrogate mother/sister in Lily, a new pillar of moral fortitude in Marshall, a hot, unavailable cousin in Robin.
And now he was here again, all dressed up and nowhere to go. This was his bar and yet in that moment he felt like a stranger there. If all he wanted to do was to pick up a bimbo, did he really need to do that in front of Robin?
He didn't have to go inside.
He could let go of the door handle, walk away, and instead visit any of the thousands of other bars in Manhattan. He could find a new happy hour, a new circle of chicks, maybe a new Wingman.
He didn't want to admit to himself that the real problem here is the burn on his soul that wouldn't seem to heal; that he was afraid that the moment he saw Scherbatsky, hot as all hell and ready for action, he'd crumble.
So talking himself into it, psyching himself into it, hesitating at the door, it was all part of the deal.
He tended to cling to people. It was a weakness. Maybe he needed to work on that?
Heh. Nah. He's awesome. He was all dressed up, not a hair out of place, his suit, perfect.
The moment's hesitation stretched into a second, then into ten. Then the bubble burst as someone else pushed past him and opened the door. He didn't even notice them holding it open for him until a girl at the bar complained about the cold.
Then he stepped through. And the girl at the bar, well, her protest died on her lips.
Daddy's home.