A/N: Forgot before, but obviously I don't own the "Barney" character, and not really "Loretta" either. I'll take credit for Jude and Gerald though.

Birds bounced around the tree, from limb to limb, chirping in a joyful celebration. Barney grinned as he tried to balance himself on the tips of his toes, his eyes following a small bird with brown speckles on its wings, its head twitched this way and that, taking in all that was to be seen. It didn't seem strong enough to fly yet – which might explain why it hadn't taken flight like the other birds who had jumped from their branches and engaged in mid-air summersaults, amusing themselves with others. But maybe it could, if it really wanted to... If it got the right encouragement, maybe the wings it bore wouldn't matter, if only it had someone to learn from... Didn't birds go to some sort of flying school? Or was that just left to their parents?

But Barney wasn't able to ponder the nature of flight any longer because he was suddenly pulled away from the window by a strange and unseen force.

"And who are you?" Asked a dark haired man with a pudgy face, he gave Barney a side-ways grin.

Barney glared back, "Well, who are you?"

"I am the best man," he proudly declared, adjusting his bow tie.

"Better than who?"

"No, dude," he said chuckling at the child's ignorance, "I'm the best man at this wedding."

"Wedding?"

"Yes sir-ree, the wedding of Jude Chapin and Therese Sobym, now..." He sighed deeply and adjusted his footing to more comfortably observe the youngster at equal eye height. "Where are your parents...?" His eyebrow rose and, tilting his head slightly upwards, he narrowed his vision as if the answer were written on top of the perplexed boy's nose. "So?"

"I came with my mom..." Barney finally conceded.

"Of course you did, champ," he stood back up and offered his hand to the small boy who glared up in perplexed disagreement. "No? Okay then, follow me."

"My mom told me to stay here."

"I'm sure she did."

"She did!"

"Yes, yes," he concurred, desperate not to have the boy begin to cry out and make a scene. "Shh... Okay, okay, she did," his eyes inspected the halls, assuring himself that no one had heard his cries. "But!" he enthusiastically added, "but, I believe I saw her looking for you in the main hall."

Barney looked him over with great disbelief, "You don't know who she is."

"I don't know – I don't know?!" He dramatically stated in shock and seemed hurt by the comment, "You think that I don't know who your mama is?"

"Do you?"

The man pondered a moment. "Well no, I don't. I might, what's your name?"

"Barney."

"Barney, that's a cool name." He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a few steps towards the main hall. Barney stood his ground. "You're like Barney Rubble, then. Do you know who that is?"

"Of course I do!" Barney said, walking forward to better converse with the man. "He's on the Flintstone."

"Yes he is, and he is awesome."

"But Fred is the star of the show; Barney just makes stupid jokes and laughs." He said now calmly strolling down the hall.

"What? No. No, no, no, you're completely misunderstanding his role. Barney isn't just the funny neighbour, he's Fred's wingman!"

"Wingman?"

"Yeah, you know what a wingman is, don't you?" The small boy shook his head. "A wingman is the best friend who helps his pal nail- uh... I mean, meet uh... girls. He is essential in any friendship."

"But Fred is already married."

"As is Barney." Barney stared up at the strange man, awaiting further explanation as he was lead down another hallway. "Which brings me to the more important role of Barney Rubble."

"What's that?" They had now reached the mouth of the main hall, where clumps of people, all dressed in their best, were walking in murmuring in animated fashion and seated.

"That Barney isn't just making jokes. He and Fred are best friends, and that, little man, is as strong if not stronger than any marriage or relationship."

"Really?" Barney squinted – he must be wrong.

"Sure, they were together before getting married, still are." His smile changed, earning the sincerity and credibility of his words, at the very least, the benefit of the doubt. "Barney's not just comedic relief, he's Fred's best friend. There's no replacement to a best friend."

"Isn't Fred friend with Wilma?"

"Yeah but she's a chick, doesn't count."

They had both stopped walking, Barney barely realizing that he disobeyed his mother's orders. Gerald took a look around the mess of people wondering who brought a kid in jeans to a black tie wedding.

"So, Barney," Barney looked up to the man, "Uh… What's your last name again?"

"Stinson."

"What?"

"My last name is Stinson."

"Barney Stinson?"

"Uh huh."

"As in... Loretta Stinson's son?"