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[personal profile] care_says
Title: A Thing Not Worth Mentioning
Fandom: How I Met Your Mother
Pairing: Barney/Robin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A progression of events.
Author Notes: So, uh, I originally wrote this as a Yuletide Treat but it was way last minute and I tried to upload it at midnight, but then the deadline passed. Oh well. Also, thanks to [livejournal.com profile] chibirhm for the quick beta.


On Thursday night Robin opens her front door to find Barney standing on the welcome mat. She has one hand behind her out of habit to stop her dogs from getting at him, and then remembers after a second that she gave them away for Ted. She had been right; the dogs were more permanent.

"Glad you’re home, Scherbatsky. Now grab your shoes and we’ll vamoose," Barney says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

She blinks. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, it’s the second Thursday of the month! Mahjong Night at Temple Beth Shalom. The ladies are expecting me and Ted’s on a date, so I need my backup wingman AKA you. It’s gonna be - "

"Ted’s on a date?" she cuts him off.

"Yeah. A barista at Starbucks. You don’t need to do your hair or anything, right? Because I bet a large sum of money against Mrs. Silverman and I automatically forfeit if I’m late."

Robin glances around for her shoes. "I can’t believe you play Mahjong. Correction - bet on Mahjong against little old ladies. Also, I don’t understand why you need a wingman to go. You’re not planning on seducing one of them, are you?"

"Robin," Barney scowls. "Don’t be so vulgar." He then brightens. "The ladies bring their daughters. Nice, young, bright women. Very upstanding. College-educated. And the rack on this one girl - "

"Right. Enough said." She leans over her couch and grabs a sweatshirt and her purse.

Barney buffs his nails as he waits, tapping his foot against the floor. "I don't have all night, Scherbatsky! Mrs. Silverman may seem like an innocent old bird, but really - "

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

**

Mrs. Silverman beats Barney five times out of six. But Barney ends up taking Mrs. Silverman's daughter home for the night.

"Oh, he's a lovely young man," Mrs. Silverman remarks to Robin as they're waiting for cabs. "Too bad he's a goyim, but you can't have everything."

"Are we still talking about Barney?" Robin asks, confused.

Mrs. Silverman squints at her. "You're not in love with him are you? Because there have been so many girls that have been jealous of my Miriam - "

"No, no!" Robin insists and, thank God, a taxi pulls over.

"I know a nice young doctor!" Mrs. Silverman calls after her.

**

Two nights later Barney shows up at her front door again.

"Is it Mahjong Night at Temple Israel?" Robin asks.

"No, we're going to MacLaren's," Barney announces.

Robin peers at him curiously. "Why the hell are you here? I can get there by myself."

"Brooklyn," Barney intones in a deep, mysterious voice. "A place of many dangers."

"Nevermind, just come in." She clears a stack of Gun & Ammo and People off the end of her couch. Time has taught her to not question Barney anymore. "Do you want a beer while I get ready?"

He's investigating a cluster of framed photographs by the fireplace mantel, picking them up one at a time and turning them carefully over in his hands. There's one of her with her family vacationing in Quebec City from when she was twelve and Robin's wondering how many minutes it'll take Barney to start mocking her for her braces and frizzy hair.

"Cute," is all he says though, and then he sets it down in its place and moves onto the next one. He pauses when he notices she's staring at him. "Aren't you getting ready?"

"Yeah," she says, distracted, and disappears into her room. "I was."

**

It turns out that Ted's barista has a chronic lying problem, and the five of them sit at their regular booth listening to Ted writing down the things she told him on a napkin and them voting on whether it's a truth or a lie. Of course it turns into a drinking game.

"LIE. IT'S A LIE, I SAY. LIE," Marshall howls into Barney's face.

"Listen to yourself, Marshall! There is no way that is a lie! If Andrea - is that really her name? - if Andrea had to dance in certain gentlemen's clubs to put herself through college, then I am personally a full supporter of her cause. Strippers are not prostitutes! They are working girls!" Barney bangs his fist down on the table and causes all their mugs of beer to jump. They're mostly empty by now.

Lily shoves aside her third mug and lets out an enormous belch. "Lie," she says.

"Scherbatsky, back me up!" Barney turns to Robin.

She takes in a breath through her teeth and gives him a half-shrug. "Sorry, but I have to agree with Lily and Marshall."

"Three against one," Ted says. "Barney, you gotta drink."

Barney points an accusing finger in Ted's face. "You! You didn't vote!"

"Oh, come on, Ted's vote won't make a difference. You'll be in the minority no matter what. Drink, drink, drink, drink!" Lily starts chanting.

"Fine, fine." Barney takes a swig of his beer. "Okay. Next one."

"Number seventeen - " Ted starts, "She was dropped on her head as a child."

There's silence for a minute and then:

"Oh, I believe that," Marshall says, and everyone agrees.

**

Robin's drunk. She's really drunk. In fact, she's pretty sure she hasn't been this drunk in a looooooong time. Who thought it would be a good idea to play that game anyway? It was probably Barney's idea; so many horrible things are Barney's ideas.

Not that he's being too horrible at the moment, considering she's half lying on him in the cab. He's actually being quite nice, putting an arm around her waist and trying to keep her upright.

"If you need to puke, Scherbatsky, you better do it out the window," he says.

Sooooooo nice.

**

She wakes up the next morning to a glass of water on her nightstand, accompanied by a bottle of Extra-Strength Tylenol. To it there's a bright yellow Post-It.

Moving her head hurts too much, so she just grabs the bottle and presses it up to her nose so she can read it without too much effort.

You owe me a pair of loafers.

It's signed "the Barnacle".

Robin takes the Tylenol and reminds herself to call him later before passing out again.

**

"Do you want to go laser tagging?" Barney's voice is cheerful and upbeat.

She can feel the leftover twinges from her hangover throbbing against her temples. "Not tonight, Barney. And I'm sorry about your shoes, by the way. I will totally buy you another pair."

"Tell you what, if you come bro-ing with me tonight, I'll forget all about the shoes."

"Really?" Robin perks up. To be honest, she's not sure if she could even afford a pair of Barney's shoes.

"Really. I'll be over in half an hour. Suit up!"

**

Yeah.

She's not even sure how it happens.

Sometime after beating the crap out of two thirteen-year-olds at laser tag and celebrating their victory in Robin's apartment with a bottle of scotch, clothes came off.

At first it was a bad idea.

But then it became a really good idea.

And then it was a really, really good idea.

**

They're lying on her couch and his socks are still on. She's trying to get her breathing back to normal, but every time she remembers that she just had sex with Barney, her pulse jumps again. She can't even tell if that's good or bad. Both. Or neither. Or maybe both.

"I think this was a good idea," Barney mumbles sleepily.

Robin raises her head. "Oh?"

"Yeah," he says.

"Hey." She jabs at him with a finger. "You're falling asleep."

"Oh. Do you want me to - ?" He starts to sit up, struggling back into his button-down.

She stares at his bare shoulder, stares hard for a minute. "No," she says finally. "Not really."

"Oh. Well." Barney looks oddly pleased and he lies back down again.

"Hey. Um," she starts.

"What?"

"Do you think...we could just...not tell everyone about this?"

"This?"

"Yeah. You know, this thing."

"This is a thing?"

"I don't know."

She sits up a little and they look at each other.

"I guess it could be a thing," Barney says carefully.

"I guess so too," Robin says and she smiles.

**

In the morning there's another Post-It:

Normally "things" require me to buy you dinner, but you threw up on my shoes, so let's just call it even.

I'll come by after work.

-Barney
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alex m.

January 2020

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