For all the Canada jokes her friends made and how old they sometimes got, Robin admitted they wouldn't be funny unless there was some truth to them. And as she stuffed a huge bite of buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup into her mouth, savoring the fluffy goodness, she had to concede the point that, yes, okay, Canadians thought this was an amazing food. How could that possibly be a negative? Pancakes were legitimately delicious.
Barney raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of orange juice. "Easy there, Scherbatsky," he cautioned. "You know that stuff literally grows on trees. They're not gonna run out." She watched him cut off a small bite of his omelet. Which of course was made with egg-whites and lean turkey. Had to watch his diet, apparently…For a man-whore, he could be such a woman.
Robin washed her magnificent bite of syrup and sugar down with a gulp of water. "You're the one who invited a Canadian out for pancakes," she pointed out. "Gasoline on a fire, dude."
He laughed, and she couldn't help but enjoy the sound immensely. He hadn't been doing a lot of that this last week or so. Not that she'd even seen him much. Robin had been spending a lot of time with Alistair and Barney had been… well, who ever knew where Barney went when he disappeared. Things had been a little weird before the birthday party, but that whole incident had really messed things up. Robin had felt so bad after hearing James's story that she hadn't really been sure they should wait a whole week until Barney's present was done before they went to apologize. But seeing Barney's sheer joy at the presentation of the suit was enough to convince her it was an apology worth the wait.
"Fire does not consume food at that rate," Barney replied, gesturing to Robin's plate. "Trust me, I've thrown gasoline on an actual fire before." For some reason, Robin didn't doubt or question that.
"Hey," she objected between bites, "if I were you I'd be nicer to the person who helped you win an epic game of laser tag. And," she motioned to the giant stuffed alligator he had sat next to him in the booth, "that thing."
Barney patted the prize toy gently on the head. "You're right. We mustn't lose site of what's important here. And that is the fact that, after all these years, I can finally put Mr. Gator in a place of honor in my apartment."
She couldn't help smirking at his mock-seriousness. "Right, along with all your other prized stuffed animals?" she commented off-handedly.
"What?" Barney sat up straighter. Was it her imagination, or did he seem genuinely alarmed? "Pft, who told you I had other stuffed animals? Wait, did Lily find out—no, never mind." He quickly cut himself off with a gulp of orange juice. Robin eyed him suspiciously, very slowly taking another bite of pancake as he stared her down with an odd mixture of nonchalance and panic. But Robin decided not to ask, and she swore she saw Barney's shoulders relax. "Ah, well, point taken. Eat up."
"You really work up an appetite playing that game," Robin insisted as she took a smaller, slower bite this time, savoring her food instead of inhaling it.
Barney just sat back in the booth, smiling as he watched her eat. Since when did he do that? For some reason, she flashed back to that night out at that fancy restaurant, when he had been acting so oddly. Her gut reaction was one of worry. But then Robin reminded herself of what James had said, about the group being like Barney's family to him. When they all thought about it, the really nice things Barney had gone well out of his way to do for them truly did add up. When they'd first met she used to think it bordered on pathetic sometimes how much he seemed to crave the approval and friendship of the group. But she was starting to realize just how true his caring for all of them was.
Barney must have noticed her slipping into a contemplative state, because his features scrunched up in tentative concern. "What's up, Scherbatsky?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Nothing, I was just thinking." She smiled. "I'm glad this party went a lot better than the one last week."
"Not hard to top," Barney replied wryly. "We kept everyone out of the ER this time, so that's an autowin."
"It's not just that," she insisted, sounding a little more serious than she'd realized she was feeling. Barney obviously noticed, because he paused with his orange juice glass halfway to his lips. Robin continued, "We just really didn't have the right attitude about your party last week." Barney let the glass lower down to the table as he listened silently. "I mean, you did hit my boyfriend with a flaming stick. But I know that was an accident. Still, the way we acted was pretty shitty. Kicking you out like that. I'm sorry."
He shifted a little in his seat, seeming like he was wavering between going into that odd serious Barney territory or back to his normal self. Finally, he settled for a smile that was only half-sleazy as he said, "Hey, I've had plenty of chicks kick me out of their apartments before. I'm used to it."
"Hey, I know, I'm one of them, remember?" she quipped without thinking. As soon as it was out, she wondered why the hell she'd said that. She blamed it on all this thinking about Barney as a friend and actual adult with feelings. As she looked at him, decked out as Han Solo, seated next to a giant stuffed alligator, she realized how much easier he made it to just picture him as a kind of hyper kid who clung to the cool kids. And not someone she had seriously opened herself up to and had a weirdly mature experience with… jeez, was that a year ago now?
Robin was too caught up in her sudden internal panic over her gaffe to really notice how Barney responded right away. When she came back to reality, he was laughing dryly. "Yeah, you… point." He took a large bite of omelet, and she felt the need to return things to normalcy.
"You're that old now that you're having trouble stringing together coherent sentences?" she teased lightly, praying that he would pick up on the signal to please, please skip the awkwardness and return to normal.
He obliged. Of course he did. This was Barney. "Ha!" he laughed a little too loudly. "I will have you know that I am reaching a totally dignified age."
"Really?" she asked challengingly. "You realize that you are almost halfway through your thirties. And," she added, "that you are actually closer to 40 now than you are to my age?" she raised one eyebrow, savoring the effect that little jab might have on him.
And yep, she saw a small shudder run over his shoulders. He gritted his teeth and popped his neck in that anxious way he sometimes did. "Yeah… well..." he stammered, "and you're almost thirty!" he said it like it was the foulest thing that could have come out of his mouth.
She tried not to let on that, okay, that did make her a little nervous. Because he was still being ridiculous. "How does it even make sense for you to call people younger than you old?"
He scoffed loudly. "Robin, please. I'm a dude. 34 is, like I said, a dignified age for a guy. And let's be frank, I'm kind of hitting it out of the ballpark." He gestured with one hand at his body. "But for chicks, 30 is the dreaded expiration. The 'use by' date."
"Gee Barney, that's charming. I can't imagine why you ever get drinks thrown in your face," Robin said flatly.
But he only shrugged casually. "Hey, just telling you the facts as guys see them. A couple more years and you're through. I'm just saying," he pushed his eggs around on his plate nonchalantly, "if I were you, I'd be locking someone down before it was too late. Rope some poor sap into a lifetime of monogamy while you still have the feminine wiles to do it."
Her eyes narrowed slowly. "Wait, am I hearing this correctly?" she asked. Then, very deliberately, "Is Barney Stinson actually advising me to marry someone?"
His eyes widened a little as he realized what he was saying. And, most likely, how deeply it offended his core virtues. "No. No, definitely not." Barney sounded very insistent about that, and Robin gave him a suspicious look. He was getting nervous, and starting to talk quickly. "Just saying the age thing, it's a big deal, you should be aware of it and-- but seriously, don't get married." That came out all in one breath, with a little too much emphasis on the last part. "Because, you know… one less real bro left," Barney explained, gulping.
Robin couldn't quite figure out what had brought that on. She guessed the idea of all of his friends joining in on evil marriage alliances and abandoning him factored into his whole need to be needed. "Barney, what in the world makes you think that I, of all people, am thinking about getting married? I mean, who do you think I am, Ted? That's crazy." She sounded a little too much like she was trying to convince herself. Where had that come from? But she knew exactly where, she just refused to acknowledge it.
Even with her pretty good poker face when it came to feelings-related issues, Robin got the sense that Barney was onto her. He slowly wiped his mouth with a napkin and raised his eyebrows at her in a silent question. Dammit. Okay, but this was Barney. If she pretended like there was nothing there to talk about and instead started a discussion on Lando Calrissian's awesome cape, she knew he would gladly join in. That was Barney's main asset as a friend – his ability to distract you from real issues with one of his many inconsequential ramblings or theories or jokes.
And yet, the way he was looking at her, with that open expression, willing to truly listen, reminded her that Barney was more than just a fun guy to hang around. As she'd gotten to know him, this had been a difficult side of him to accept. But considering what they knew of Barney's track record with any kind of personal attachments, maybe what he really needed out of his friends wasn't just to laugh at his jokes, or even to throw him an awesome party. Maybe he needed their trust. What was it he'd said that one night? He wanted to be someone she could have an actual conversation with. She knew from experience that he actually could be a good listener when he wanted to be. He'd been there for her during the whole Simon thing… not that she wanted to think about that night and all the weirdness of it any more than she had to. That didn't get acknowledged, not even to herself.
Finally, Robin let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding (on account of the marriage topic, definitely not the 'one night that didn't happen' topic). "Okay, you're probably going to think this is stupid," she picked at the edge of the plastic table cloth.
Barney cocked his head to one side, studying her genuinely. "Hey, even when you're a little stupid, you're still one hundred percent awesome."
She looked up, catching the friendly warmth in his expression. It triggered a small smile from her. "It's just… I don't know, lately I've been thinking that this whole single life thing is great for your early 20s, but that maybe, eventually, I might be… willing to settle down."
Robin would have expected some kind of disdain or outrage on Barney's part. But instead, he said nothing, and Robin couldn't quite read his expression. She was pretty sure whatever one was up right now was a mask for something else anyway. So maybe he really was disgusted and she just had no way of knowing. God, that man was frustrating. Finally, Barney shrugged, just shrugged and said, "Well that's probably natural, isn't it?"
"Natural?" Robin couldn't help but sound as dumbfounded as she felt. Barney had a serious side but he was still Barney after all. And unless he'd had a personality transplant she was unaware of, Barney Stinson was still the most anti-marriage person on the planet.
He sighed as he set his fork down on his plate. "Look, I've seen the grim statistics. I know the majority of people my age are already married." He paused, and she noticed him drumming his fingers on the table as he continued, "And that's actually one of the reasons for the age 30 cutoff I usually stick to. Because honestly, there are attractive women over 30. But most of them are off the market by then."
Robin considered that for a moment and thought she might be losing her mind because that actually make sense to her. It was strange, because it seemed like this should be one of Barney's irreverent "theories", but it wasn't coming across that way. She wasn't quite sure how to qualify what it was coming across as, though. Maybe… resignation? "So," Robin started jokingly, "statistically the older I get without being married, the more prized I will be since I will be like the only 10 my age left?"
Barney smirked, "Something like that." They shared a smile, which he broke after a moment by looking down at the table. "Can I ask, though… what brought this whole thing on?" He gave her a mostly joking but, she could have sworn, slightly concerned look. "Don't tell me you've somehow fallen deeply in love with the Crown Prince of Queensland after just a couple of weeks."
"Alistair? No," she said, firmly and honestly. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I like him and all, but this has nothing to do with him. I mean, it's not like I have anyone specific in mind at all. I just…" Oh boy. She was getting ready to head into super secret territory. The kinds of feelings related incidents Robin rarely shared with anyone. Lily, sometimes. But she hadn't told Lily about this. But here was Barney, lending such a genuinely sympathetic ear. Hadn't she just been thinking he deserved more of her friendship and trust? He was waiting, not prying, as Robin debated then finally decided, what the hell. "I had this weird conversation with Ted a couple weeks ago."
"Oh?" Barney asked, not able to hide the surprise on his face even as he tried to cover by draining the last of his orange juice.
"Yeah," Robin waved a hand dismissively, "It's stupid. I don't know why I'm acting like it's some big secret, because it's nothing. He and I were just having a conversation about marriage, which of course he's crazy about. And I mean, like I said, I might be warming up to the idea of eventually settling down for the right guy."
"So… you talked to Ted about your caving morals," Barney joked lightly. "But I'm sensing that wouldn't be enough to get you so flustered about this. C'mon, what's up?" He probed, sounding a mixture of intrigued by and afraid of her answer.
Robin was once again pleasantly surprised at Barney's maturity and even thankful for his gentle teasing. Her shoulders relaxed as she realized that of course there was no reason she couldn't talk to her good friend about this. He wasn't going to laugh at her or flip out. "Okay," she finally started, "this sounds completely cheesy, but we kind of wound up making a sort of pact."
"A pact? So you spat in your palms then shook hands?"
"Something like that," she said with a half-smile. A moment of hesitation, then, "We agreed that if we got to 40 and weren't married that we'd just marry each other." She shrugged, making it sound as casual as possible. Because it was casual. She eyed Barney closely for his reaction, though.
As predicted, he looked pretty surprised. "Ah, okay. That's… interesting," he replied non-committally. He was searching her out before deciding how to react, it seemed. "Well, were you serious?"
"No!" Robin replied a little too emphatically. "I mean, who does something like that seriously? That's way too romantic comedy even for Ted." She hoped Ted wouldn't be that stupidly romantic anyway, and in an odd moment, thought she saw the same thing go through Barney's mind. "I mean, I guess if it came to that, Ted would kind of be my only hope." She expected Barney to conceded that point at least, but he was strangely silent. "But come on, there is zero chance that Ted still won't be married by the time he's 40. He's more likely to have a Russian bride shipped over and fall deeply, genuinely in love with her." Robin laughed and took the last bite of her pancakes.
Barney shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Maybe it had been a mistake for Robin to tell him about this. Clearly anything involving romantic pacts or pledges was going to give him the heebie jeebies. But still, after some squirming and contemplation, he seemed to brush it off. "No kiddin'," he said, a little bit of his normal joking voice seeping in, "Frankly I'm surprised he hasn't tried it yet, and you are by no means to mention it to him even him even in jest. We don't need to give him ideas."
"Deal," she said, feeling relaxed by hearing Barney joke.
"So okay," Barney said, trying to sort this out for himself more than for her. "You made this half-serious pact with Ted which is never going to matter because he's more likely to marry Janet Reno than to get to 40 without a wife." Robin laughed at that, but Barney was still eyeing her carefully. "And that's the whole deal?" The slightly arched eyebrow, the intensity of his stare told her he could sense there was more. Maybe she should have reminded herself earlier that Barney had a sixth sense for sniffing out women's vulnerabilities and secrets.
Then again, did that always have to be a bad thing? The memory of that talk she'd had with Barney over the Simon breakup came back to her once again, as unbidden as always. He had sensed something deeper was up then. Had been a really good friend. And hell, she'd almost gone to him again during Ted's almost-wedding in yet another moment of vulnerability and need. That hadn't exactly turned out well, but this time Barney was sitting right in front of her, fully clothed, and there were no naked women in the room. It still didn't entirely feel safe – or normal, for that matter – to spill a secret to Barney, but really, what was the harm? Amazingly, he could be discrete. He'd never blabbed about her original confession that she had feelings for Ted, all those years back. Of course, she'd also never told anyone about him stripping in her living room…
Finally, Robin just decided she'd had enough of this ridiculous internal argument. If this wasn't that big of a deal, why did she care if her friends knew? Especially Barney. Who, she had resolved, deserved to be trusted like a real friend. Screw it, she thought. Letting out a long breath, she began, "All right, there was something else…" Barney leaned forward in his chair a little, his elbows resting on the table, some tension evident in his shoulders even though he was trying to hide it. Probably not used to getting 'girl talk' dished onto him.
"I mean, it was really nothing," Robin continued, beginning to gesture with her hands to emphasize the triviality of what she was saying. "Ted and I just had this weird… moment."
"A moment," Barney repeated plainly, his voice betraying nothing.
"Yeah. Just this weird thing where we were looking at each other and, I don't know. For a minute there, it really seemed, to both of us I think, like we were going to… kiss." Robin looked at Barney expectantly, holding her breath without really thinking about it. She hadn't realized and didn't quite understand why she was so anxious over his reaction.
But Barney didn't react. At least he didn't move, not for a while. He just remained stationary, leaning on the table, his eyes fixed with an expectant stare almost as if he hadn't registered any of what she had just said. For a second, Robin thought he might be doing that thing where he totally didn't listen when someone was talking to him, and if that were the case she was going to kill him. But after a few moments of deep silence, Barney licked his dry lips and laughed humorlessly. "Kiss. You almost… wow, that's…" he closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over them as he sat back in his chair, leaning away from her. When he finally opened his eyes to look at her, Robin was surprised by the level of distress she saw there. She guessed it made sense, because this was pretty weird. "So," he said, sounding like he was in a vice as he spoke, "what does that mean?"
Robin had hoped that getting this off her chest would make the weird feeling she had about it go away. But Barney's reaction was just making her more nervous and uptight. Great. "It doesn't mean anything. It honestly wasn't… I mean, it's not like I have feelings for him." She thought she saw Barney flinch, but was probably just imagining it. "We were just both thinking about our futures and the 'what ifs' from our past, and obviously there's always some residual stuff there when you've dated someone for that long. But that's definitely over." Barney didn't even make an attempt to nod in understanding. He was staring, mouth frozen partway open, looking like he was having a hard time both breathing and speaking. Obviously she had underestimated his discomfort with this whole thing.
Sighing, Robin said, "Look, just forget I said anything. I didn't mean to make it awkward. I know how sickening it was to you before to see," she almost said 'me dating Ted', but that seemed out of place. "Ted and I together. What with all the coupley-ness overload, along with Marshall and Lily. But seriously, don't worry. Not going down that road again. Like I told you before, the whole dating friends thing is just a bad idea."
"Right," Barney said, swallowing hard. And no wonder, since his mouth had been ajar for a while and was probably completely dried up.
A painfully awkward silence was threatening to settle in over their lonely corner of IHOP. But fortunately when Robin glanced at the clock, she got a reprieve. "Oh, man. We've been here a lot longer than I thought. I'd better head to work. And I'm sure you'd like to actually get some sleep. Probably tired out after three hours of laser tag, huh old man?" The joking attitude was forced, even for three a.m.
"Yeah, definitely," Barney said, still eerily unemotional and distant. But he seemed to pick up on the fact that this was making things worse for Robin, so he blinked a couple times and forced a smile and casual voice. "The you part, that is. I'm nowhere near my limit. Could play another couple hours, but they're closed. Could go for a night job. A really, really long and thoroughly exhausting night jog." The way he said that, with a tense undercurrent, Robin got a strange feeling that he actually might do that.
"Right, well…" Robin stood up, gathering her things. "I have definitely got to get to the studio in time to change out of this outfit and hairstyle, as bitchin' as it is. So…" she reached into her purse, searching for her wallet.
"Hey, I can pay," Barney said, reaching into his pocket for his own wallet.
"Dude, it's your birthday. And you listened to my irrational pointless rambling for way too long. Think you've already paid enough," Robin insisted. She dropped a 20 on the table, then smiled at Barney sheepishly as she put her wallet away. "Next time, just tell me to shut up. Or maybe throw some cold water in my face." She didn't want him to feel like she didn't appreciate him, though, so she added more genuinely, "But seriously, thank you, Barney."
She kind of expected him to offer a painfully forced smile in return. But instead, the smile on his face seemed very sad but very real. Which, somehow, was more painful. "Hey, it's what I'm here for," he said quietly. Robin's eyes lingered on him for a moment before she gave him a quick wave and spun away from the table, heading out the door with determination.
