The gang had not ventured outside for months. At first, this didn't seem to be much of a bad thing- but at eight months in, practically a full year of being cooped up indoors, the circumstance was beginning to wear on everyone a little.
Granted, there were days when some had been courageous enough to venture outdoors, namely James, Cindy, Lily, and even once Barney, searching for enough food to sustain them all when it seemed to be running scarce, but any food other than the cans and packages that Barney had stored for them seemed to be difficult to find.
Additionally, the weather was beginning to grow cold, being that it was now early November, making it more difficult to last long outside of the shelter. Inside of the shelter, as could be expected, temperaments were growing shorter than they used to as the slight claustrophobic anger began to set in for everyone- what Ted had referred to formally as "The Box Theory", which no one could verify the existence or accuracy of.
The cherry on top of this disaster sundae was the fact that both Lily and Robin were pregnant- Robin at a staggering and awkward 8 months in and Lily at a less debilitating but still not exactly convenient 3- and the women were, as could be expected, not in their best moods, particularly Robin.
Yet another aspect sparking frustration on the growing list was the lack of privacy for all couples- Barney and Robin, Marshall and Lily, and Tracy and Ted, who would all, at this point, have given their first borns for some alone time with just themselves and their significant other.
In the crowded shelter they were at, this was an obvious problem. Bedrooms were something there were only two of, bathrooms one, and anything in between was perpetually occupied by someone else.
This issue wore on Barney, digging into him daily like a nail being slowly driven into wood. Every time he so much as looked at Robin- every time- he was overtaken by a combination of longing, love, and all too many times, lust, that wasn't easy to take care of.
"Hey, Robin," he had told her. "Why don't we...go into the kitchen for a couple minutes?"
Before they could get up, someone else would enter the kitchen, and Barney would wait until later to ask again.
Then, later on, they would be on the bed, passionately making out, about to finally cross the boundary that led beyond that point, when, once again, the door would open and someone would walk in- more often than not, Patrice.
They would pull themselves off of each other, frozen like deer in the headlights, while Barney would straighten out his shirt and act like nothing was happening the moment she'd intruded.
"Hey, Patrice," he'd greet her, wiping off the traces of lip gloss Robin would leave on his lips. "This isn't- it's not what it looks like," he'd lie, though he knew fully well that it was what it looked like.
Patrice would smile and say, "Oh, that's okay, I'm so sorry for interrupting, I'll leave you two lovers alone!", right before Robin would scream at her, "Yeah you'd better leave us alone, Patrice!"
This continued on- daily- to the point where neither Barney and Robin could stand it anymore. But what were they to do? It wasn't like they could just eke out their own private space; that obviously couldn't happen. Or could it?
It was a cold, calm November night. Barney and Ted had indulged themselves earlier in a drinking game, appropriately named "How many times today will Marshall complain about Lily being pregnant" (as this was something he had, for some reason, been doing a lot lately.) So far, today's count had been seven times, possibly a record for him, and seven shots too many for the easily intoxicated Ted and Barney as well.
By the end of the night, Ted had fallen asleep in a tipsy, idiotic stupor on the couch, and the rest of the gang was asleep not long after.
Barney knew this, and fortunately, he was still just sober enough to remember what he planned to do. Quietly, he tiptoed through the rooms- before drunkenly tripping over a coffee table and stopping himself from falling onto Cindy, and Dagger, who was curled up next to her, both asleep in the middle of the floor- and made his way to where Robin was sleeping, which, tonight, was in their bedroom.
"Psst! Robin!" he whispered.
She rolled over. "What?" she asked sleepily, rubbing one eye.
"I got a great idea," Barney answered, slurring on his words a bit. "Come on." It took some persistence (and physical help from Barney) to get Robin out of bed, but in due time, he had succeeded. Using the stairs, he led her up and out into the bitingly cold night air.
"Barney, what are you doing?" she questioned.
He undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt down the middle, ignoring the cold that beat on his bare chest. He said only one word: "Privacy."
Robin, though still in the grasps of sleep, was entirely ready for a go herself. "Oh, finally!" she said, grabbing Barney's head and pulling him up to her, entangling her fingers in his soft, fluffy blond hair.
She kissed him aggressively, and he did the same, their short, shallow breaths billowing out visible clouds of warmth in the freezing night air. He'd always said that making out with a pregnant woman would be gross, but never once had he considered that the pregnant lady in question would be Robin, and furthermore that she would be his wife- he hadn't even expected he would ever have a wife.
Somehow, strangely enough, it made her even hotter- the tightness of her shirt fitting the form of her body, accentuating the more visible curves it had tacked on to her previously very thin figure, teasing Barney in a way that only upped his desire for her even more.
He pushed his body up to Robin's, wrapping his legs around her as he pinned her up to an old electrical pole, sliding up her shirt as he did so. Their chests were pressed directly against each other's now, radiating warmth amidst the night's bitterness.
Their scene of lovemaking, fortunately, lasted for a little while. It was a sound close by that broke them apart eventually, much to Barney's chagrin.
They dressed quickly afterward, paying mind to the frigid air and their bare bodies, but nevertheless, the private time had been very satisfying to them. So far, there had not been any zombie sightings, but that scuttling noise nearby, the noise of a rather large rat scuttling over pavement, caused them both to do a quick turn.
"We should, uh, go back downstairs," Barney suggested, stifling a hiccup, then added, "we're unprotected. God only knows how dangerous this place still is…"
To Robin, everything looked okay, at least at the moment, but she was tired, and their affair had been finished. Yawning, she agreed with Barney, and they headed downstairs.
The following morning, Barney had awakened with a headache and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, combing down a few messy strands of sleep-ruffled hair before realizing that he had, by some odd coincidence, fallen asleep on the kitchen floor.
Standing up, disoriented, he accidentally knocked into Tracy, who was busy preparing breakfast.
"Oh, morning sleepyhead!" she greeted him cheerily. "Someone had quite the party last night, didn't they?"
Barney tiredly scratched his back. "Yeah. A little too much of the party." He began searching around for aspirin, before waking up enough to realize that medicine was not something they had been blessed with for about a year now. He cursed to himself, then changed the subject to distract himself from the pain.
"So, Trace, what's cooking this morning?" he asked.
"Well, for starters, pigeon eggs." she replied, Barney grimacing a little in disgust.
"Ugh. And?"
"Hey, don't be so picky," Tracy retorted playfully. "There's coffee too."
After pouring himself a cup, he sat down on the couch next to Ted, who was once again watching the television with great interest. Sandy Rivers was still reporting.
"In related news today, it appears that the zombie crisis is seeing a new face- a new, possibly two-headed face! Reports from all over the country are claiming the existence of two-headers, which evidently are-" Just then, Sandy was cut short and the familiar growling of a zombie could be heard onscreen. The last thing that could be seen was the quick-moving figure of something very large and hideously mutated before the camera was dropped with an unsettling thud to the ground, eliciting only static.
Barney, in shock, dropped his cup to the floor, coincidentally the same moment his jaw dropped. He exchanged looks with Ted, who had an equally stunned expression on his face.
"Ted...we're in trouble," Barney stated.