The Spark (Barney/Robin) w/ mention of (Robin/Ted) 2/?
Title: The Spark: Act I
Author: lilithisbitter
Rating: R (Darkfic, Sex, and Barney's mental issues)
Spoilers: Pilot through Legendaddy
Word Count: 2000+ (This Part)
Summary: Like a coin, every story has two sides. This is the side of the Rough Patch that Ted Mosby never saw. Barney Stinson's side. He only thought he was saving Robin Scherbatsky from discovering the monster he really was. He had no idea of the mess he would leave in his wake.
Previous Chapters:
Act O: The One That You Put On a Pedestal
Author's Notes: Wait... don't run. While this fic does cover The Rough Patch among other episodes, Barney Stinson does not become morbidly obese. It instead asks the logical question... what if Barney Stinson was really wearing a fat suit the whole time? I played around with this concept in my head for over a year until recently. Somebody on our LJ group watched The Rough Patch and it inspired me to finally start writing this. So, thank you. Thank you everyone for inspiring me.
Act I: And I Just Can’t Contain This Feeling That Remains
Barney never set out to be a monster.
It really wasn’t on his checklist of things to do and back when he was munching granola, he had no idea he was already one.
He was broken. He came from a broken home. His father, Bob Barker had left and his cool Uncle Jerry had gone splitsville after he knocked down the model of the blue whale.
He always figured he could ignore it. He was good at ignoring things if they didn’t fit in with his vision with how the world worked. So he ignored his broken home life and his classmates calling his mom a whore. It was difficult. Barney was small for his age and had been skipped ahead a grade.
So, Barney did what any kid did and starting ignoring life. They figured he had ADHD. His mom just thought her youngest was lazy and tore the script for the medication they gave her in little pieces before flush it down the toilet. They both were wrong.
Barney could never explain it. He liked learning; he just didn’t like the people around him. So, he missed out on classes where he was teased the worst. He never really fit in, the outcast, the pariah, the joke, the failure. He was the stick figure of a kid who was a year younger with glasses and clothes that constantly smelled like cigarette smoke, the ears the stuck out through a mop of wild blond curls, who played Dungeons and Dragons by himself, and had a battered Ewoks lunchbox.
He just didn’t fit in.
He was the outcast.
Barney the suck up.
Barney the screw up.
Even the girls hated him. No, worse than that… girls loathed him. Barney would never admit to that. Not even when they locked him in the coatroom over the holidays. His mom was out of town flashing her boobs at a Van Halen concert, but Barney was in denial about that. She was the greatest mom in the world. She wasn’t a shrill as everyone said she was. And just because he had to do the majority of the cooking because she could burn water, didn’t mean she was bad. She was learning how to cook simple things and she could always make a good ice cream sundae.
Only one part of his head told him how wrong that was and he was very good at shutting that part up.
He never went to prom. Kids like him never did. He stayed home and watched movies where 20 something pretending to be teenagers went to proms. Besides, he was so young looking, he’d stick out and his hair was so long, he’d be mistaken for a girl. He told himself that he didn’t want it.
Barney never set out to be a monster. When he was a kid, monsters scared the crap out of him. Monsters were bad, all wrong. A monster was the last thing he ever wanted to be.
It just happened.
Complete unhappy accident
Opposite of serendipity.
Barney never set out to be a monster.
Barney had set out to become legen…
Wait for it…
---
“Right,” Barney said, a little too false chipper for the look on his face and by the way his fists were clenched, that was pretty much a given. “Where was I?”
“MacLaren’s Pub, I believe. You spend a lot of time there.”
“Well, we all spent a lot of time there,” Barney said, teeth gritted in obvious irritation, a partial fourth line etching its way on his brow. “It’s the New York bar scene. I am Ted’s wingman after all. The Goose to his Maverick.”
Dr. Grossbard wrote down, ‘Patient still exhibits belief that life would be better if he was in a fictional story.’ “But Barney, doesn’t Goose die in Top Gun? Wouldn’t you rather be Iceman? It’s quite a worrying view that you pick the character who doesn’t make through the movie alive.”
Barney shrugged, fingers still twitching for a cigarette. “So are you sure I can’t smoke just one? Just one little smoke for Barnabas, Doc?”
“You know your name is Barnaby, not Barnabas. You’re not Greek,” Grossbard said curtly.
“I could be,” came the little chirped reply. “And they would say, ‘There stands Barnabas Stinson. His penis was enormous.’ My statue would be nude.” He grinned crookedly and gestured at his crotch. “And erect. To scale.”
“Rather off subject.” He could feel a migraine bubbling up toward his temples. Somehow Stinson brought that out in him.
“So, he said, how about them smokes?” Barney asked again.
“You know the policy. It hasn’t changed since you walked in.”
“You’re killing me here,” came the piteous reply from the man who was more child than adult. “Just one smoke. You don’t need to tell anyone. No one needs to know.” He slouched down in the chair, trying obviously for the poor Barney nobody loves him and nobody ever will routine. “Give up one cigarette for a dying man.”
“No.” When Barney insisted on reverting to a child, it typically meant one was prone to treating him like a child.
“I’ll be your best friend.”
“We’re a doctor and patient.”
“I’ll have my accountants cook your books.”
“No. And isn’t that illegal?”
“Fine. One cigarette. I’ll tell you the story instead of remaining silent the whole time.”
Then why won’t you shut up? Dr. Grossbard wanted to say, but it was hardly professional. Barney always tried his patience. “One cigarette. One story. I don’t see how that hurts things.” Doctor Grossbard withdrew a singular cigarette and passed it over.
The look on Barney’s face was sheer rapture as soon as his fingers closed around the paper. Immediately, his first action was to bring it up to his nose and sniff it. It was a Barney thing. “Oh. My. God. Thank you. Thank you so much. I have been craving a smoke like you wouldn’t believe…” Barney trailed off and looked at Grossbard. “Don’t I get a light?”
“You didn’t ask for a light. As I recall, you asked for one cigarette.”
“Fine,” Barney said, scowl already on his face. “You only get the first bit of my story. I want a light for my cigarette if I’m going to tell any more of it.” He tucked the cigarette behind his ear. “You win this time, mental health dude. Right. So it begins in a bar. Way back in 2005.”
“2005, wasn’t that when you met a Miss-“
“Doc, don’t interrupt me. I’m trying to tell a story here. It was 2005 and things were awesome. And then Marshall had to ruin the thing the whole kit and kaboodle by making Ted aware of his shrinking ovaries…”
Dr. Grossbard resumed his endless writing.
---
2005
The test market for typing out lyrics to your favorite AC/DC song in order to appear busy had worked better than Barney had ever hoped. Busy implied how important businessperson he was without leaking confidential business out to the public and apparently girls found that surprisingly hot. He was currently typing out Black in Back when Carl set a drink order that wasn’t his behind his laptop.
Barney ignored it. He was getting into the grove. His fingers were flying. He was thoroughly, completely rockupied. He never noticed the babe in the green sweater trying to reach around him. Well, okay, if Barney had to be honest, he did notice her perfect perky wool covered sweater kittens the instant they started bouncing. The body they were attached to was annoyed. “Hey, pretty boy, that’s not your drink order.”
He closed his laptop and turned on his most charming smile. The gal those perfect all natural breasts were attached was equally perfect and all natural. A quick glance over with extra time spent on those boob shaped boobs revealed dark hair, blue eyes, smile a little toothier than he liked, and a lot more intelligent than he definitely liked. Green Sweater Girl leaned on the bar. “So, like what you see?”
Barney grinned back. He could play this game with the best of them. “So,” he echoed back. “Do you like me liking what I see?”
“That depends if I can have my drinks?”
“Of course.” Tucking away his laptop into his silver briefcase, he flashed her another winning grin that was sure to get her weak in the knees. Barney met her eyes, conveying innocence even as his elbowed knocked every single vodka cranberry off. “Oh no. Clumsy me. I’m so sorry.” Play up the hopeless goof angle. He had seen Ted do this once, but completely on accident. Even if had looked like Ted peed his pants. Total panty peeler. “Let me make it up for you by getting you and your friends a fresh round of drinks?”
“Does that work on everyone or just the dumb ones?” Green Sweater Girl was shaking her head, smile widening to expose her gums. Ordinarily, he would have been turned off, but on her, it looked pretty damned good. “But yes. A round of drinks on you.”
“Not literally, I hope. With a package like this.” Barney gestured at himself. “What do you think?”
She studied him, tapped her finger against her jaw, whilst making little hmmming and hawing sounds. Which got Barney nervous. No girl had ever taken her damned sweet time in coming up with an opinion about his awesomeness. It was really pissing him off.
---
“That’s a symptom of your Narcissistic personality disorder,” Grossbard observed over his clipboard. “Needing others to tell you that you’re still worth something in the world. I know that’s hard for you to see in yourself, but-”
“No, it’s not,” Barney insisted. In his hands, the cigarette was being wrung into shreds by his wringing. “Did you have to interrupt me to point that out? I’m perfectly awesome. Anyway… girl… bar… that was Robin.”
Grossbard flipped through the file. “Ahh, yes, Miss Scherbatsky. How does Ted’s ex-girlfriend play into this?”
“Well, I haven’t been honest with you.”
Barney swore his doctor muttered, “Well that’s obvious.” Or maybe he was clearing his throat. “Is this related to why you checked yourself in?”
“Maybe,” Barney squeaked. He cleared his throat. “I mean… what’s it to you, shrink dude? Don’t you have better things to do?” He cleared his throat again, louder. “Like hypnotize people and stuff?”
All he got was a flat stare of doom from the man.
“It was only a joke,” he admitted, lamely. “Can’t you shrink dudes take a joke?”
---
She smirked. Not a good sign. Never a good sign. Barney could see her IQ shining through and damn it was high. “I think you should fire your barber.”
Barney scoffed. “I don’t go to a barber. I go to a stylist.”
The smirk only got bigger. She saluted him with his own glass of scotch. “Ahh. One of those guys. Gotcha. But you should fire him or her.”
“What do you mean?”
Green Sweater Girl tilted her head to the side, smirk already spreading across her face. She was so damned unreadable. Typically he could figure out a cutlet in no time at all. But this girl was reading all of his plays and batting them right back in his face…
---
“I know that girl is Robin, no need to give her a fake name.”
Barney scowled. “You have no air for drama, sir.” He did a quick double take. “How did you know?”
“I’ve been your therapist for years,” came the cryptic reply. And then came the less cyptic follow up. “You already told me, a few minutes ago. Your friend Ted-“
“Best friend,” Barney quickly corrected.
“Best friend had met a girl named Robin Scherbatsky. A girl in a green sweater. You considered that he was,” Dr. Grossbard checked his notes, “Going all castrati over her. That was from an older conversation. I keep extensive notes. Go on.”
Barney stuck out his tongue and proceeded to give a rather angry sounding raspberry.
---
Robin tilted her head to the side. “To be blunt, you look like a used Q-tip.”
His hands immediately went up to cup themselves over his hair. “A what? Madame, I demand an explanation!”
She twoinged one of his curls. “You’re a tall skinny guy with a big head and somebody gave you a haircut that’s kinda a bit on the puffy side. You kinda look like a used Q-tip.” She took that opportunity to swipe his drink.
“You… your used Q-tip,” he fumbled. “And that’s mine.”
“Well, it’s not like I’m seeing any of these drink replacements you promised.” Robin sipped from her stolen scotch, looking rather triumphant. “Where was I? Ahhh… yes. The suit looks good on you, bur how do I know you didn’t stuff the crotch?”
Barney leaned in and smirked. “Well, because you’d know if I stuffed the crotch.” He grabbed the crotch of his suit for emphasize. “All natural. This time.”
Her chuckle this time was warm and welcome. “Hm, maybe I would like to see it.” Okay. That was with a wee bit of sarcasm, but she was interested.
“Maybe more?” He leaned and whispered. “You want to do more to it, right? Got a complete package for baby. Perfect abs, flat stomach, ass you could bounce quarters off-“
“Legs that go on for miles,” Robin interrupted.
“No,” he said. Moment was totally broken and ruined. “Now you make me sound like a girl. Why did you hafta go and ruin that?”
She shrugged casually. “I’ve got a friend who is going through a break up. Now she’s making us all suffer by proxy.”
“And now, you’re making others suffer?” Barney wasn’t quite sure he was getting this. “What shit sense is that? Couldn’t you be happy and bang someone and make them happy?” He then wished he could take that back and waited for the eminent slap.
There was no slap or drink in face or for that matter, knee in his groin. Robin smiled. All teeth this time, but this time it wasn’t mean. She even let out a good-natured chuckle. “Heh, blondie, I think I like your attitude, even if your hair looks like a used Q-tip.”
“Myhairdoesntlooklikeauseqtip,” he mumbled, feeling dejected.
---
“So? How did you feel about that?”
Barney blinked.
Grossbard had put down his pencil and was looking at Barney now with those unreadable eyes of his past his glasses. That was one of the things Barney hated about him. He just had to go around being so unreadable and having a real British accent. “I assume that this story has something to do with why you’re here.”
There was a moment of silence. Barney cleared his throat. “Maybe I’m just deflecting. I’ve been told I’m very good at that.”
“Maybe you know this plays into the grand scheme of everything,” his therapist finally said. The meaning of what he said hung in the air and couldn’t be taken back. “If you didn’t need my help, you wouldn’t be here.”
Barney toasted with an invisible glass of scotch. “Well played sir.”
---
… Dary
But he became a monster anyway.
… to be continued
Author: lilithisbitter
Rating: R (Darkfic, Sex, and Barney's mental issues)
Spoilers: Pilot through Legendaddy
Word Count: 2000+ (This Part)
Summary: Like a coin, every story has two sides. This is the side of the Rough Patch that Ted Mosby never saw. Barney Stinson's side. He only thought he was saving Robin Scherbatsky from discovering the monster he really was. He had no idea of the mess he would leave in his wake.
Previous Chapters:
Act O: The One That You Put On a Pedestal
Author's Notes: Wait... don't run. While this fic does cover The Rough Patch among other episodes, Barney Stinson does not become morbidly obese. It instead asks the logical question... what if Barney Stinson was really wearing a fat suit the whole time? I played around with this concept in my head for over a year until recently. Somebody on our LJ group watched The Rough Patch and it inspired me to finally start writing this. So, thank you. Thank you everyone for inspiring me.
Act I: And I Just Can’t Contain This Feeling That Remains
Barney never set out to be a monster.
It really wasn’t on his checklist of things to do and back when he was munching granola, he had no idea he was already one.
He was broken. He came from a broken home. His father, Bob Barker had left and his cool Uncle Jerry had gone splitsville after he knocked down the model of the blue whale.
He always figured he could ignore it. He was good at ignoring things if they didn’t fit in with his vision with how the world worked. So he ignored his broken home life and his classmates calling his mom a whore. It was difficult. Barney was small for his age and had been skipped ahead a grade.
So, Barney did what any kid did and starting ignoring life. They figured he had ADHD. His mom just thought her youngest was lazy and tore the script for the medication they gave her in little pieces before flush it down the toilet. They both were wrong.
Barney could never explain it. He liked learning; he just didn’t like the people around him. So, he missed out on classes where he was teased the worst. He never really fit in, the outcast, the pariah, the joke, the failure. He was the stick figure of a kid who was a year younger with glasses and clothes that constantly smelled like cigarette smoke, the ears the stuck out through a mop of wild blond curls, who played Dungeons and Dragons by himself, and had a battered Ewoks lunchbox.
He just didn’t fit in.
He was the outcast.
Barney the suck up.
Barney the screw up.
Even the girls hated him. No, worse than that… girls loathed him. Barney would never admit to that. Not even when they locked him in the coatroom over the holidays. His mom was out of town flashing her boobs at a Van Halen concert, but Barney was in denial about that. She was the greatest mom in the world. She wasn’t a shrill as everyone said she was. And just because he had to do the majority of the cooking because she could burn water, didn’t mean she was bad. She was learning how to cook simple things and she could always make a good ice cream sundae.
Only one part of his head told him how wrong that was and he was very good at shutting that part up.
He never went to prom. Kids like him never did. He stayed home and watched movies where 20 something pretending to be teenagers went to proms. Besides, he was so young looking, he’d stick out and his hair was so long, he’d be mistaken for a girl. He told himself that he didn’t want it.
Barney never set out to be a monster. When he was a kid, monsters scared the crap out of him. Monsters were bad, all wrong. A monster was the last thing he ever wanted to be.
It just happened.
Complete unhappy accident
Opposite of serendipity.
Barney never set out to be a monster.
Barney had set out to become legen…
Wait for it…
---
“Right,” Barney said, a little too false chipper for the look on his face and by the way his fists were clenched, that was pretty much a given. “Where was I?”
“MacLaren’s Pub, I believe. You spend a lot of time there.”
“Well, we all spent a lot of time there,” Barney said, teeth gritted in obvious irritation, a partial fourth line etching its way on his brow. “It’s the New York bar scene. I am Ted’s wingman after all. The Goose to his Maverick.”
Dr. Grossbard wrote down, ‘Patient still exhibits belief that life would be better if he was in a fictional story.’ “But Barney, doesn’t Goose die in Top Gun? Wouldn’t you rather be Iceman? It’s quite a worrying view that you pick the character who doesn’t make through the movie alive.”
Barney shrugged, fingers still twitching for a cigarette. “So are you sure I can’t smoke just one? Just one little smoke for Barnabas, Doc?”
“You know your name is Barnaby, not Barnabas. You’re not Greek,” Grossbard said curtly.
“I could be,” came the little chirped reply. “And they would say, ‘There stands Barnabas Stinson. His penis was enormous.’ My statue would be nude.” He grinned crookedly and gestured at his crotch. “And erect. To scale.”
“Rather off subject.” He could feel a migraine bubbling up toward his temples. Somehow Stinson brought that out in him.
“So, he said, how about them smokes?” Barney asked again.
“You know the policy. It hasn’t changed since you walked in.”
“You’re killing me here,” came the piteous reply from the man who was more child than adult. “Just one smoke. You don’t need to tell anyone. No one needs to know.” He slouched down in the chair, trying obviously for the poor Barney nobody loves him and nobody ever will routine. “Give up one cigarette for a dying man.”
“No.” When Barney insisted on reverting to a child, it typically meant one was prone to treating him like a child.
“I’ll be your best friend.”
“We’re a doctor and patient.”
“I’ll have my accountants cook your books.”
“No. And isn’t that illegal?”
“Fine. One cigarette. I’ll tell you the story instead of remaining silent the whole time.”
Then why won’t you shut up? Dr. Grossbard wanted to say, but it was hardly professional. Barney always tried his patience. “One cigarette. One story. I don’t see how that hurts things.” Doctor Grossbard withdrew a singular cigarette and passed it over.
The look on Barney’s face was sheer rapture as soon as his fingers closed around the paper. Immediately, his first action was to bring it up to his nose and sniff it. It was a Barney thing. “Oh. My. God. Thank you. Thank you so much. I have been craving a smoke like you wouldn’t believe…” Barney trailed off and looked at Grossbard. “Don’t I get a light?”
“You didn’t ask for a light. As I recall, you asked for one cigarette.”
“Fine,” Barney said, scowl already on his face. “You only get the first bit of my story. I want a light for my cigarette if I’m going to tell any more of it.” He tucked the cigarette behind his ear. “You win this time, mental health dude. Right. So it begins in a bar. Way back in 2005.”
“2005, wasn’t that when you met a Miss-“
“Doc, don’t interrupt me. I’m trying to tell a story here. It was 2005 and things were awesome. And then Marshall had to ruin the thing the whole kit and kaboodle by making Ted aware of his shrinking ovaries…”
Dr. Grossbard resumed his endless writing.
---
2005
The test market for typing out lyrics to your favorite AC/DC song in order to appear busy had worked better than Barney had ever hoped. Busy implied how important businessperson he was without leaking confidential business out to the public and apparently girls found that surprisingly hot. He was currently typing out Black in Back when Carl set a drink order that wasn’t his behind his laptop.
Barney ignored it. He was getting into the grove. His fingers were flying. He was thoroughly, completely rockupied. He never noticed the babe in the green sweater trying to reach around him. Well, okay, if Barney had to be honest, he did notice her perfect perky wool covered sweater kittens the instant they started bouncing. The body they were attached to was annoyed. “Hey, pretty boy, that’s not your drink order.”
He closed his laptop and turned on his most charming smile. The gal those perfect all natural breasts were attached was equally perfect and all natural. A quick glance over with extra time spent on those boob shaped boobs revealed dark hair, blue eyes, smile a little toothier than he liked, and a lot more intelligent than he definitely liked. Green Sweater Girl leaned on the bar. “So, like what you see?”
Barney grinned back. He could play this game with the best of them. “So,” he echoed back. “Do you like me liking what I see?”
“That depends if I can have my drinks?”
“Of course.” Tucking away his laptop into his silver briefcase, he flashed her another winning grin that was sure to get her weak in the knees. Barney met her eyes, conveying innocence even as his elbowed knocked every single vodka cranberry off. “Oh no. Clumsy me. I’m so sorry.” Play up the hopeless goof angle. He had seen Ted do this once, but completely on accident. Even if had looked like Ted peed his pants. Total panty peeler. “Let me make it up for you by getting you and your friends a fresh round of drinks?”
“Does that work on everyone or just the dumb ones?” Green Sweater Girl was shaking her head, smile widening to expose her gums. Ordinarily, he would have been turned off, but on her, it looked pretty damned good. “But yes. A round of drinks on you.”
“Not literally, I hope. With a package like this.” Barney gestured at himself. “What do you think?”
She studied him, tapped her finger against her jaw, whilst making little hmmming and hawing sounds. Which got Barney nervous. No girl had ever taken her damned sweet time in coming up with an opinion about his awesomeness. It was really pissing him off.
---
“That’s a symptom of your Narcissistic personality disorder,” Grossbard observed over his clipboard. “Needing others to tell you that you’re still worth something in the world. I know that’s hard for you to see in yourself, but-”
“No, it’s not,” Barney insisted. In his hands, the cigarette was being wrung into shreds by his wringing. “Did you have to interrupt me to point that out? I’m perfectly awesome. Anyway… girl… bar… that was Robin.”
Grossbard flipped through the file. “Ahh, yes, Miss Scherbatsky. How does Ted’s ex-girlfriend play into this?”
“Well, I haven’t been honest with you.”
Barney swore his doctor muttered, “Well that’s obvious.” Or maybe he was clearing his throat. “Is this related to why you checked yourself in?”
“Maybe,” Barney squeaked. He cleared his throat. “I mean… what’s it to you, shrink dude? Don’t you have better things to do?” He cleared his throat again, louder. “Like hypnotize people and stuff?”
All he got was a flat stare of doom from the man.
“It was only a joke,” he admitted, lamely. “Can’t you shrink dudes take a joke?”
---
She smirked. Not a good sign. Never a good sign. Barney could see her IQ shining through and damn it was high. “I think you should fire your barber.”
Barney scoffed. “I don’t go to a barber. I go to a stylist.”
The smirk only got bigger. She saluted him with his own glass of scotch. “Ahh. One of those guys. Gotcha. But you should fire him or her.”
“What do you mean?”
Green Sweater Girl tilted her head to the side, smirk already spreading across her face. She was so damned unreadable. Typically he could figure out a cutlet in no time at all. But this girl was reading all of his plays and batting them right back in his face…
---
“I know that girl is Robin, no need to give her a fake name.”
Barney scowled. “You have no air for drama, sir.” He did a quick double take. “How did you know?”
“I’ve been your therapist for years,” came the cryptic reply. And then came the less cyptic follow up. “You already told me, a few minutes ago. Your friend Ted-“
“Best friend,” Barney quickly corrected.
“Best friend had met a girl named Robin Scherbatsky. A girl in a green sweater. You considered that he was,” Dr. Grossbard checked his notes, “Going all castrati over her. That was from an older conversation. I keep extensive notes. Go on.”
Barney stuck out his tongue and proceeded to give a rather angry sounding raspberry.
---
Robin tilted her head to the side. “To be blunt, you look like a used Q-tip.”
His hands immediately went up to cup themselves over his hair. “A what? Madame, I demand an explanation!”
She twoinged one of his curls. “You’re a tall skinny guy with a big head and somebody gave you a haircut that’s kinda a bit on the puffy side. You kinda look like a used Q-tip.” She took that opportunity to swipe his drink.
“You… your used Q-tip,” he fumbled. “And that’s mine.”
“Well, it’s not like I’m seeing any of these drink replacements you promised.” Robin sipped from her stolen scotch, looking rather triumphant. “Where was I? Ahhh… yes. The suit looks good on you, bur how do I know you didn’t stuff the crotch?”
Barney leaned in and smirked. “Well, because you’d know if I stuffed the crotch.” He grabbed the crotch of his suit for emphasize. “All natural. This time.”
Her chuckle this time was warm and welcome. “Hm, maybe I would like to see it.” Okay. That was with a wee bit of sarcasm, but she was interested.
“Maybe more?” He leaned and whispered. “You want to do more to it, right? Got a complete package for baby. Perfect abs, flat stomach, ass you could bounce quarters off-“
“Legs that go on for miles,” Robin interrupted.
“No,” he said. Moment was totally broken and ruined. “Now you make me sound like a girl. Why did you hafta go and ruin that?”
She shrugged casually. “I’ve got a friend who is going through a break up. Now she’s making us all suffer by proxy.”
“And now, you’re making others suffer?” Barney wasn’t quite sure he was getting this. “What shit sense is that? Couldn’t you be happy and bang someone and make them happy?” He then wished he could take that back and waited for the eminent slap.
There was no slap or drink in face or for that matter, knee in his groin. Robin smiled. All teeth this time, but this time it wasn’t mean. She even let out a good-natured chuckle. “Heh, blondie, I think I like your attitude, even if your hair looks like a used Q-tip.”
“Myhairdoesntlooklikeauseqtip,” he mumbled, feeling dejected.
---
“So? How did you feel about that?”
Barney blinked.
Grossbard had put down his pencil and was looking at Barney now with those unreadable eyes of his past his glasses. That was one of the things Barney hated about him. He just had to go around being so unreadable and having a real British accent. “I assume that this story has something to do with why you’re here.”
There was a moment of silence. Barney cleared his throat. “Maybe I’m just deflecting. I’ve been told I’m very good at that.”
“Maybe you know this plays into the grand scheme of everything,” his therapist finally said. The meaning of what he said hung in the air and couldn’t be taken back. “If you didn’t need my help, you wouldn’t be here.”
Barney toasted with an invisible glass of scotch. “Well played sir.”
---
… Dary
But he became a monster anyway.
… to be continued