FIC: Work (1/1) HIMYM
Title: Work
Summary: Robin hates her job
Rating/Warnings: PG
Written for: fanfic100 #89 Work
Word Count: 1,202
Fandom/Pairing: HIMYM: Barney/Robin
Spoilers: Season 5 - Zoo Or False
After the conversation about Marshall getting mugged, Barney followed her out into the kitchen, glancing up at her a little guiltily, then burying his head in the refrigerator when to avoid her eyes.
Not that Robin was in much of a mood to be drawn into Barney's "sympathy sex" escapade. Honestly, after she'd explained to him how his constant womanizing still hurt her, she'd have thought he'd tone it down around her. But she guessed that, sadly, Barney Stinson never learned. And in any case, it was always a little awkward when the two of them were alone together. She never really knew what to say to him without the others around.
"You okay?"
His question startled her, making her feel surprisingly vulnerable.
"Huh?"
"I mean, earlier," he continued. "You said that you hate your job? But I thought, with Don there, you know…" He trailed off, leaving a question hanging in the air.
Trust Barney to hit her with a low blow like that.
But could she really blame him? It wasn't like she was making much of an effort to bring Don into their group. And of course there were some good reasons for that. Hanging out with three different guys she'd had relationships with made her feel as much of a slut as sleeping with Mitch-the-naked-man ever had.
But really, that wasn't the reason.
Robin shrugged her shoulders, made a non-committal noise, then turned towards the sink, absently rinsing a couple of glasses under the warm water. Behind her, she could hear Barney shift his weight from foot to foot and hear his quiet breathing.
"Is everything okay with Don?" Barney mumbled the question. "Only, with you guys working together…?" Robin didn't want to turn around, didn't want to see that earnest, slightly panicked look on his face that told her he was being real.
So she answered with a brittle, "Yes," and turned around with a too-bright smile. "Things are really good."
What she wanted to do was damn him to hell, him and his Platinum Rule. She already doubted this thing she had with Don and the more that Robin doubted it, the more she felt obliged to stick it out. She'd screwed up relationships with both Ted and Barney because she'd been so flaky. Nobody's perfect. Certainly no guy is perfect. And she wasn't getting younger.
The other day, Lily had mentioned having kids again. It had made her flustered, made her words come out kind of hoarse.
Perversely, the more Robin felt uncertain about her relationship with Don, the more she clung to it and told herself she was just being stupid.
Barney was looking at her, his blue eyes wide and annoyingly expressive, like he was reading every flickering thought. It made her feel weirdly violated.
Don never looked at her that way. Don always looked at her fondly, a little nervously, like he was always apologizing for something. Barney rarely apologized. So when he did, it felt like a big event.
Ted always made Robin feel like she was the one who should be apologizing.
Still, different people, different dynamics. It was useless to second guess romance. She was just being stupid.
"It's just stress," Robin said, trying to cut through the heavy atmosphere that seemed to have developed in the vacuum of her explanations. "You know, the pressure…"
"Well, any time you want to talk, you know I'm here," Barney said. "I know a little something about-" He bit off what he was going to say, and she watched him, marvelling at how he eased from real-Barney to awesome-Barney from one moment to the next. He shook himself, like a diver sloughing off a sheet of water, and flashed her his bullshit smile. "Let's say I've got my own demons."
"Hey," she said lightly. "Are you practicing a pickup line on me?" She didn't really mean it, it was just something to say, but she could see from the flicker in his smile that her words had wounded him.
Damn it, he might not have learned to be tactful about his sexual conquests around her, but she was just as culpable. The one thing she knew would hurt Barney, the one thing that he'd told her outright, was when she belittled his attempts at real friendship. They embarrassed him enough already, without her poking fun at them.
The trouble was, she did that because he scared her. When he got all serious, got intense, it frightened her. It intimidated her because she worried that she wasn't good enough for that somehow, that she didn't deserve to be the girl he'd changed his lifestyle for.
Robin wondered if Barney's boastful chatter about the girls he'd slept with lately came from a similar place. They both pushed people away. Sadly, that had included each other.
"I'm sorry," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "Long day."
He nodded and swallowed a mouthful of beer, looking deflated.
"Things with Don are just fine," she said, feeling defensive. "Things at work will be just fine."
"That bad huh?" He countered with a smirk. She smacked him on the arm.
"C'mon dude, let's go get pizza?" She moved towards him but he was blocking the door.
"I'm sorry," he said, and the real-Barney look was back again.
"You don't need to be," she countered. "I said I'm fine."
"I meant," he said, reaching out and sliding an arm around her waist, taking her hand in his, "that I didn't notice you were so unhappy. You've been stuck in a rut for way too long, Scherbatsky. Should have helped you find another job."
"You don't have to do that!" Robin squeaked, as he led her around the kitchen floor. She could hear music playing from the TV in the other room and realized that they were moving in time to the music.
They were dancing.
"Barney, stop that," Robin said, although she didn't try and break away and kick him in that balls. Which is what she should definitely be doing.
"I'm sorry we never got to have a last dance." He said in a low voice, looking down at her with a serious expression. Why did he have to be so god damn tall, and feel so firm and warm under his suit, and hold her so close? Why did he have to smell like fresh air and cigar smoke and a hint of bitter chocolate cologne?
He spun her around and they moved together until she felt giddy. He dipped her back like he was Fred Astaire and she tilted her face. Another inch closer and their lips would meet.
But then he righted her again and pulled away.
"You're forgiven," Robin said, unsteady on her feet.
"So, pizza?" He asked with a boyish grin which made her heart skip a beat. She felt hot and heavy and strange.
She nodded silently in reply and followed him out of the kitchen staring daggers at his broad shoulders and slender waist. He'd done what he'd always done, ever since she'd first known him.
Barney had challenged her and made her doubt herself again. Robin knew that come the next morning, she'd be on the internet looking for a new job.
And Don? Well, that was something for Future Robin to deal with.
Summary: Robin hates her job
Rating/Warnings: PG
Written for: fanfic100 #89 Work
Word Count: 1,202
Fandom/Pairing: HIMYM: Barney/Robin
Spoilers: Season 5 - Zoo Or False
After the conversation about Marshall getting mugged, Barney followed her out into the kitchen, glancing up at her a little guiltily, then burying his head in the refrigerator when to avoid her eyes.
Not that Robin was in much of a mood to be drawn into Barney's "sympathy sex" escapade. Honestly, after she'd explained to him how his constant womanizing still hurt her, she'd have thought he'd tone it down around her. But she guessed that, sadly, Barney Stinson never learned. And in any case, it was always a little awkward when the two of them were alone together. She never really knew what to say to him without the others around.
"You okay?"
His question startled her, making her feel surprisingly vulnerable.
"Huh?"
"I mean, earlier," he continued. "You said that you hate your job? But I thought, with Don there, you know…" He trailed off, leaving a question hanging in the air.
Trust Barney to hit her with a low blow like that.
But could she really blame him? It wasn't like she was making much of an effort to bring Don into their group. And of course there were some good reasons for that. Hanging out with three different guys she'd had relationships with made her feel as much of a slut as sleeping with Mitch-the-naked-man ever had.
But really, that wasn't the reason.
Robin shrugged her shoulders, made a non-committal noise, then turned towards the sink, absently rinsing a couple of glasses under the warm water. Behind her, she could hear Barney shift his weight from foot to foot and hear his quiet breathing.
"Is everything okay with Don?" Barney mumbled the question. "Only, with you guys working together…?" Robin didn't want to turn around, didn't want to see that earnest, slightly panicked look on his face that told her he was being real.
So she answered with a brittle, "Yes," and turned around with a too-bright smile. "Things are really good."
What she wanted to do was damn him to hell, him and his Platinum Rule. She already doubted this thing she had with Don and the more that Robin doubted it, the more she felt obliged to stick it out. She'd screwed up relationships with both Ted and Barney because she'd been so flaky. Nobody's perfect. Certainly no guy is perfect. And she wasn't getting younger.
The other day, Lily had mentioned having kids again. It had made her flustered, made her words come out kind of hoarse.
Perversely, the more Robin felt uncertain about her relationship with Don, the more she clung to it and told herself she was just being stupid.
Barney was looking at her, his blue eyes wide and annoyingly expressive, like he was reading every flickering thought. It made her feel weirdly violated.
Don never looked at her that way. Don always looked at her fondly, a little nervously, like he was always apologizing for something. Barney rarely apologized. So when he did, it felt like a big event.
Ted always made Robin feel like she was the one who should be apologizing.
Still, different people, different dynamics. It was useless to second guess romance. She was just being stupid.
"It's just stress," Robin said, trying to cut through the heavy atmosphere that seemed to have developed in the vacuum of her explanations. "You know, the pressure…"
"Well, any time you want to talk, you know I'm here," Barney said. "I know a little something about-" He bit off what he was going to say, and she watched him, marvelling at how he eased from real-Barney to awesome-Barney from one moment to the next. He shook himself, like a diver sloughing off a sheet of water, and flashed her his bullshit smile. "Let's say I've got my own demons."
"Hey," she said lightly. "Are you practicing a pickup line on me?" She didn't really mean it, it was just something to say, but she could see from the flicker in his smile that her words had wounded him.
Damn it, he might not have learned to be tactful about his sexual conquests around her, but she was just as culpable. The one thing she knew would hurt Barney, the one thing that he'd told her outright, was when she belittled his attempts at real friendship. They embarrassed him enough already, without her poking fun at them.
The trouble was, she did that because he scared her. When he got all serious, got intense, it frightened her. It intimidated her because she worried that she wasn't good enough for that somehow, that she didn't deserve to be the girl he'd changed his lifestyle for.
Robin wondered if Barney's boastful chatter about the girls he'd slept with lately came from a similar place. They both pushed people away. Sadly, that had included each other.
"I'm sorry," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "Long day."
He nodded and swallowed a mouthful of beer, looking deflated.
"Things with Don are just fine," she said, feeling defensive. "Things at work will be just fine."
"That bad huh?" He countered with a smirk. She smacked him on the arm.
"C'mon dude, let's go get pizza?" She moved towards him but he was blocking the door.
"I'm sorry," he said, and the real-Barney look was back again.
"You don't need to be," she countered. "I said I'm fine."
"I meant," he said, reaching out and sliding an arm around her waist, taking her hand in his, "that I didn't notice you were so unhappy. You've been stuck in a rut for way too long, Scherbatsky. Should have helped you find another job."
"You don't have to do that!" Robin squeaked, as he led her around the kitchen floor. She could hear music playing from the TV in the other room and realized that they were moving in time to the music.
They were dancing.
"Barney, stop that," Robin said, although she didn't try and break away and kick him in that balls. Which is what she should definitely be doing.
"I'm sorry we never got to have a last dance." He said in a low voice, looking down at her with a serious expression. Why did he have to be so god damn tall, and feel so firm and warm under his suit, and hold her so close? Why did he have to smell like fresh air and cigar smoke and a hint of bitter chocolate cologne?
He spun her around and they moved together until she felt giddy. He dipped her back like he was Fred Astaire and she tilted her face. Another inch closer and their lips would meet.
But then he righted her again and pulled away.
"You're forgiven," Robin said, unsteady on her feet.
"So, pizza?" He asked with a boyish grin which made her heart skip a beat. She felt hot and heavy and strange.
She nodded silently in reply and followed him out of the kitchen staring daggers at his broad shoulders and slender waist. He'd done what he'd always done, ever since she'd first known him.
Barney had challenged her and made her doubt herself again. Robin knew that come the next morning, she'd be on the internet looking for a new job.
And Don? Well, that was something for Future Robin to deal with.