It was such a strange thing, that they had rarely done it before. Some may even have deemed it a little crazy considering the status of their relationship. Regardless, holding hands was a form of intimacy not commonly held by Barney and Robin. Barney did not so much mind it, but Robin did, for some odd reason. He would try, every once in a while, to gently grasp her hand, even sometimes during those nights they'd spend watching scary movies, but she would always be sure to brush his hand off of hers, no matter what the circumstance.
"What do you hate so much about holding hands?" he'd ask her, with a laugh but with general inquisitiveness as well. "These hands, Robin, are not just any hands. They are the hands of MAGICIAN. You know that well and good. I mean, feel how soft these babies are."
She wouldn't generally give him a true answer. That was the strange thing. Instead, she'd often change the subject, usually with something like, "Wow, can you believe that guy just got chopped in half by that ax-murderer? What a predictable plot!" She would do that snorting laugh of hers. Then she'd do something like playfully punch Barney on the shoulder and get up to get popcorn or get up to use the bathroom. It was always something different, but Barney never received a true answer from her. And for years, he would continue not to.
(Christmas morning, December 2016)
The windowpanes of their apartment were frosted over with intricate crystalline traces of ice, like Jack Frost's fingerprints, each with its own delicate design. Outside, the early morning scarlet sun was coming up upon the buildings and high rises, casting its beautiful, orangish hue over the freshly fallen snow in a way that made it glow like holiday lights.
The smoky aroma of freshly cooked bacon hung in the air as Robin awoke that morning. Barney was not in bed next to her. Throwing on her fluffy, soft, pink fleece robe, she made her way out to the living room, where he was, standing by the Christmas tree in a plush looking Santa hat, holding a plate of tasty bacon.
"Merry Christmas, Scherbatsky," he greeted her with a smile. "Eat up, cuz I got something so awesome that it's actually beyond awesome. It's like a combination of awesome and legendary. Like if awesome and legendary had a baby. If awesome and legendary hooked up and-"
"I got it," Robin said as she took the plate from his hands.
When she had finished eating, Barney threw on a coat and took her outside, where, to her surprise, a stunning Harley Davidson was parked at the curb, its shiny blackness a sharp contrast to the glistening white snow all around it.
She gasped. "Oh my God, Barney! How did you-? Where-?" She could not get the words out of her mouth. She was simply too shocked. For years now, she had told Barney of her desire to own a motorcycle, but had not once expected he would actually fulfill that desire. Now, it turned out that, to her surprise, he had.
"Right? Right?" he said excitedly. He hopped on it and revved it up. Invitingly, he patted the back end of the seat. "Hop on, Scherbatsky- we're goin' for a holiday spin!"
Robin eagerly did so, and up to a point, the ride was great fun. However, due to Barney's lack of experience in ever driving a motorcycle, a terrible accident happened when he steered the engine straight into traffic. Fortunately and ironically, it was an ambulance that hit him, and luckily for Robin, she was thrown off when the motorcycle halted, her impact to the ground not being very hard, so she came away with the lesser of a few deep cuts and some bruises. But Barney was not in good condition.
Robin spent the majority of that Christmas Day with her injured husband in the hospital room- not the ideal Christmas, but she was only concerned with his well-being at this point. He was racked up pretty bad, with both legs broken as well as one arm, a broken nose, and numerous smaller fractures all across his body. She sat next to him as he laid in bed, watching his chest rise and fall with each slow breath. But he was breathing, and that was all that mattered.
"Well, that was fun for the twelve-ish minutes it lasted," Barney remarked flatly.
Robin nodded. "Yeah, you fulfilled my dream of getting to ride a motorcycle, I'll give you that. And then…took it back by crashing it, but you tried."
Barney cracked a small smile. "Yeah, I tried."
A few minutes later, he asked her, "So…this whole holding hands thing. Whattup?"
Of all times, Robin could not believe that he chose now to ask such an irrelevant question.
"Dude," she said, tilting her head incredulously.
"What? Most people like to hold hands when they're in the hospital together!" Barney retorted. "Isn't that just common couples crap?"
Robin sighed. He did have a point. Regardless, Barney's puppyish, big blue eyes were wide in inquisition as he stared at Robin, expecting an answer. She couldn't resist telling him.
"Please?" he pleaded.
"Alright, since you're all laid up and pathetic, I'll tell you," she said. "The reason I've never told you this is because I don't want you to become paranoid. Promise me you won't become paranoid?"
Barney nodded his head in agreement. "Promise."
"It's got to do with my parents," Robin began. "Before they were divorced, they were…let's just say annoying as hell together. I now realize that like 98% of that was a lie to make me NOT sad about the status of their relationship, but I digress. Anyway, they were the essential super-irritating couple, and, of course, at five years old, I couldn't help but believe them and take it all for real."
Barney, at this point, was more than slightly confused. "Wait a minute- how is this related to holding hands? Seems like a far walk for a short drink of water to me, if ya know what I mean," he remarked.
"Well, maybe if you'd let me continue, I'd get to that," Robin responded, somewhat impatiently. "Can I continue, Stinson? Is that okay?"
"Hey, no need to be sarcastic," Barney retorted. "And yeah, go on."
"Anyway," Robin said. "I would see them, a lot, holding hands with each other. I would tell them how cute they were as a couple, and they'd always answer with something dumb and cheesy, like "You'll be like this someday too! Just wait for it!" Ha. What a joke."
"I feel so loved," Barney remarked dryly.
"Look, the point I'm trying to make here is this: I know it's not always like that, but I tend to associate holding hands with lies and false relationships. My parents tried way too hard, and I don't want us to end up the same way that they did. Alone, and living in two separate provinces of Canada. I don't want to have to justify our relationship by showing off, you know?"
Barney was silent for a few minutes. "Wow," he finally said. "I…still think it's kind of a stretch, but I understand. At least sorta. Then again, those were your parents. That's not us, Robin. That won't ever BE us. I've never once felt like I needed to prove something here, I'll be honest. I mean, If something is real, then…you don't need to prove it. You can feel it, and that's actually enough, isn't it?"
"Aww, that is so sweet," Robin replied.
"Like this shooting pain in my entire body, I can really feel it now," Barney finished, wincing. He turned his attention back to Robin.
"So…you gonna stay here with me, at least half the night?"
She shrugged. "Why not. It's Christmas, I've got nowhere else to go, and you look like you could use something courtesy of me."
"I don't know, I might be a little too sore for that, but we can give it a go," Barney said, before Robin cut in with, "Not that! I meant I could hold your hand! You want to, right?"
"Oh, yeah, that, sure."
With no future hesitation, Robin gently took Barney's cold hand in hers. She and Barney were nothing like her parents. They never would be. She had all the reassurance she needed to believe that now.
It was in the hospital that Christmas night that the brunette realized she was far more comfortable with such an informal gesture than she ever expected to be. The last thing she would recall feeling was the soft touch of his hand in hers before she and him fell into a restful sleep, comforted by the warmth so brought on between them by an unfortunate motorcycle accident.