Learning How to Live (10/22)
Learning How To Live
Authors: jerseystrife , idioticonion and alixzin
Rating: mild M for some unpleasant adult themes
Summary: Something is terribly wrong with Barney Stinson and his friends have all started to notice him avoiding them. When questions arise, Barney fights to keep his secrets and to keep the life he's grown comfortable with living.
Disclaimer: Sadly, none of us own either of the shows.
Note: A million thanks to roland44 for the beta.
Previous Chapters: One| Two| Three| Four| Five| Six| Seven| Eight| Nine
September, 2008
Robin made him soup.
She got him settled on the couch, put on her old, jumpy VHS copy of Die Hard for him to watch and cooked him soup. It was simple and nutritious and was basically a lot of chopping so it gave them time to talk, or just watch movies in silence if he was too tired. She could always tell if he was too tired.
Actually, the majority of the time he was too tired. But she always pushed him to eat.
They made a game of it. He'd ask her to do something (usually something unspeakable but fun) in return for him eating. Sometimes, usually the evening after a hospital appointment, it was hard to get him to eat anything even with bribery. Which was why she was cooking soup in her bra and jeans.
"Want something to drink?" She yelled out as she was stirring the pan.
There was silence from the other room so she came out of the kitchen, tapping the wooden spoon on her hand. She expected him to be asleep but he was wide awake and sitting up, grinning, his blue eyes too large against his pinched-thin face. "Hey, have you gone deaf now, too, as well as the cancer? Cos, man, that just sucks." she said, a little angrily. She hated how worried he could make her just by not replying.
He sniggered. "Nah, I just wanted you to come back in here. It's like my very own Victoria's Secret fashion show. Is that a new bra? Scherbatsky! Nice! Are you dating some new dude?"
She rolled her eyes. As if dating was something she could even think about these days, even if she had the time! As if dating was something she or Ted could think very much about? Although Ted seemed to be doing marginally better than she was. "As if I'd tell you, even if I was?"
He tutted. "Robin, Robin. I'm the first person you would tell. Come on! Have pity on a dying man-"
"You are not dying!" There was a catch in her voice as she said it.
"-Who's only chance to get his rocks off is to listen to the dirty stories his best friend tells him."
Robin laughed then. How was it that he always managed to be adorable even when he was being a lecherous creep?
"There's no story to tell."
"Then make one up!"
"Barney, no."
"Then I won't eat your soup." He let out a dirty laugh.
"Then I'll put my clothes back on."
"Touché, Scherbatsky. Touché…"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
She got him into bed, trying not to be alarmed by how light he was now, how his bony elbows jabbed her ribs as she lay him back. "I'm cold," She complained.
He patted the bed beside him. "Room enough for two. Probably room enough for three, since I've lost about seventy pounds. Bring a friend?"
She laughed along with him. Dinner had been really difficult. She knew how he hated to be fed, especially when his throat didn't seem to work properly. Every mouthful had been a titanic struggle. At one point she'd considered showing him a nipple.
"Please," he said. "Robin. I won't try any funny business. Bro's honor."
She tossed her head, threw back the covers and got underneath them. They lay there, side by side, for a few minutes while she listened to him breathing, low and shallow.
"Can't sleep," he said, his voice gentle. "Tell me a story."
"Barney!" she said, warningly.
"Come on, tell me a dirty story. You owe me that much. What if you wake up tomorrow and I'm dead. Then you'll regret it. It'll be, like, all your fault?"
She laughed. She knew that she was the only one he did this to - this gallows humor. He'd never dare try it on Ted or Lily or Marshall- it would kill them.
"Faker. You're not going to die in your sleep."
"Promise not to jerk off, if that's what you worry about."
"You couldn't even if you wanted to. You can barely lift your arms, let alone get an erection."
"Scherbatsky!" he said, outraged. Then he lifted the cover, "Don't listen to the evil woman, Barnacle junior!"
She inched closer to him so she could feel his pajama bottoms against her bare legs. After a moment, she said. "Okay…"
He started and turned his head to look at her. "Seriously?"
She laughed at his reaction. "Yeah, I'll tell you a dirty story." He looked so eager, it was almost painful. Barney Stinson, reduced to this? She had to clear her throat to continue.
"So, there was once this guy I had the hots for. I met up with him in a bar. We went-"
"What were you wearing?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Descriptions are very important in storytelling. You have to describe everything."
"I was wearing a dress. Black and backless..."
"The one with those little silver stripes around the hem?"
How in the hell did he know that? She laughed. "That one, yes…"
"Bare legs or stockings?"
She grinned. "Suspenders and stockings, with five-inch black spike heels."
"Niiiiice!"
"Can I get on with it?"
He scooted over a tiny bit closer to her and she put her arm around his shoulder.
"So I'm dressed to kill and he sees me. He likes what he sees but he's too cool to show it much. I like that."
Barney chuckled. "Lame!"
"Oh, come on. You know how this works."
"So, you like a guy who's not all over you. Who's already got you a drink and knows what you need after a hard day journalizing, or whatever the hell it is that you do."
"What would I drink?"
"Martini. He gets you a martini."
"He's got good taste."
"Yeah he does." Barney grinned but she can see the edge of pain and exhaustion creeping over him, dulling those bright blue eyes.
"So we talk a little. And I ease one foot out of the stiletto and brush his leg with my stockinged foot. He smiles, like we share a secret, and he takes my hand and plays with my fingers…"
"He traces his finger over your palm and across your wrist."
"That tickles," she giggled.
"He leans forward and whispers in your ear, so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek," he replied.
"What does he say?" she asked, suddenly feeling a lot warmer.
Barney's voice dropped so that she had to move in close to hear him. "He says: I'm going to make you come using only my lips."
She couldn't help but snort with laughter. "He's dirty."
"Yeah, but it works. You're thinking about it. You know you are."
She was. She so was. Why in the hell wasn't she dating? If Ted could find the time..? "Okay, say it works and he's got my interest. I'm not gonna go to his place…"
"Why not? You'd get to leave in the morning and never call him."
"What if I wanted to call him again?" Robin's chest tightened. There was a pressure on it, like a lead weight.
"He might not be around…" Barney whispered.
"So," She said, dashing a tear out of her eye before he noticed. "So, we go back to my place. I fetch us some wine. French. Red."
"Classy. But he's not thinking about the wine. That is, unless he gets to pour some into your naval and lick it out."
Robin giggled. "Maybe I'll let him do that…" But she could feel his body relaxing against hers and when she turned her head she could see his eyelids drooping.
"If you try and get some sleep, I promise to continue with the story tomorrow…" she cajoled him.
"S'not fair," he moaned.
"That's life," she said, pulling him close.
"Not for much longer," he muttered, before going limp in her arms, his breathing slowing to a steady, regular rhythm.
"Not if I can help it, buddy," she thought.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Summer 1996
Charles was not what Doogie expected when he had to work with him professionally. He was completely different from the flirty, sexually charged man he had met in the club while he was on stage. When Charles was working, he was all about the character, about the musical, and focusing all his passion on the play to make it new and exciting even though he did it several times a week. It was the passion about his art which made Charles seem like a completely different person. The passion was what drew Doogie to him after the first live show they performed.
He came up to him after the show as everyone was rushing to get out of costume. Charles was taking his time and Doogie assumed it was to avoid having to sign a million playbills once he left the stage doors.
"How do you do it?" Charles had turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow that was still covered in stage makeup. Doogie swallowed and pushed away his nervousness. "Doesn't it get boring after several times?"
Charles shrugged before turning back around to look at his reflection in his mirror. He began to clean the rest of his makeup off his face. "It can be. The most challenging thing about theater is keeping yourself entertained. When you get bored, the audience can tell."
"What do you do to make yourself not bored?"
Charles chucked and looked at Doogie using the mirror. He let his eyes wander up and down Doogie's body, being very obvious he was checking him out. "I meet new people and they make the play seem shiny and new for me. For example, you have a very powerful potential for your voice. The only reason why you were tagged ensemble is the lack of confidence and technique. Well, that and the lack of open spots. Keep working and you could end up an understudy."
Charles finished cleaning his face and turned back around, leaning on the counter-top behind him. "I'd love to hear what that voice can do if it was trained. I could help you with a few things I picked up along the way."
Doogie raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "This has nothing to do with the.. uh, club meetings?"
Doogie didn't realize Charles was moving closer until he was backing into the wall.
"I'm not going to deny you're attractive or promise that I won't imagine other ways I can get you to use that powerful voice of yours."
"But my offer is sincere." Charles' voice was lower as he dipped his head to Doogie's ear. His mind flashed to all the steamy make out sessions in the club and his face flushed with embarrassment and arousal.
Lips brushed his ear, "Do you want to learn?"
Doogie was nodding as Charles took a step back like he had expected that answer. "Good. Tomorrow, be early. Private voice tutoring before the afternoon performance. You won't regret it."
There was no smirking, or anything sexual behind Charles' smile now. He seemed generally excited to be working with him. Doogie couldn't help but become even more curious about Charles. At first, the man seemed only interested in embarrassing him or making out with him. But now he seemed to sincerely want to help Doogie develop a talent he never gave any real thought to. He wished he could read minds because he was totally confused at the mixed signals he was receiving.
Interpersonal interactions were never his strongest suit.
-----------------------------
“Good morning Barney,” Robin said cheerfully as she entered the bedroom with his breakfast. He was already awake and lying in bed watching the morning news. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked upon noticing the beads of sweat on his forehead and his glassy eyes, two signs that she had come to recognize to mean he was in pain “Do you want me to go get you some pain meds?”
“M’fine,” he mumbled in an uncharacteristically slurred voice. This made Robin stop what she was doing and examine him closer. He didn’t seem to be watching the TV at all and his normally pale cheeks were flushed rosey red. Instantly her hand went to forehead which to her horror was scalding hot.
“Ted! Get in here!” she shrieked before turning to Barney and running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair “Sweetie, you’ve got quite a fever.”
“Okay,” he murmured with a slight smirk, not really hearing her.
“What’s wrong?” Ted came bursting into the room with his hair half styled and tie hanging undone. He was in the middle of rushing off to an important meeting with a client and was looking stressed.
“Ted, he’s burning up.”
“What?!” All his previous concerns were dropped as he rushed over to feel Barney's forehead for himself. “Hospital. Now,” Ted declared simply as he removed the covers and lifted Barney into his arms. Normally, Barney would have howled in protest but now he just stared blankly at them.
“Ambulance?” Robin asked.
“No, they’re too slow. I’m driving him myself. Get the doors for me and call his doctor to let him know we’re coming.”
Authors: jerseystrife , idioticonion and alixzin
Rating: mild M for some unpleasant adult themes
Summary: Something is terribly wrong with Barney Stinson and his friends have all started to notice him avoiding them. When questions arise, Barney fights to keep his secrets and to keep the life he's grown comfortable with living.
Disclaimer: Sadly, none of us own either of the shows.
Note: A million thanks to roland44 for the beta.
Previous Chapters: One| Two| Three| Four| Five| Six| Seven| Eight| Nine
September, 2008
Robin made him soup.
She got him settled on the couch, put on her old, jumpy VHS copy of Die Hard for him to watch and cooked him soup. It was simple and nutritious and was basically a lot of chopping so it gave them time to talk, or just watch movies in silence if he was too tired. She could always tell if he was too tired.
Actually, the majority of the time he was too tired. But she always pushed him to eat.
They made a game of it. He'd ask her to do something (usually something unspeakable but fun) in return for him eating. Sometimes, usually the evening after a hospital appointment, it was hard to get him to eat anything even with bribery. Which was why she was cooking soup in her bra and jeans.
"Want something to drink?" She yelled out as she was stirring the pan.
There was silence from the other room so she came out of the kitchen, tapping the wooden spoon on her hand. She expected him to be asleep but he was wide awake and sitting up, grinning, his blue eyes too large against his pinched-thin face. "Hey, have you gone deaf now, too, as well as the cancer? Cos, man, that just sucks." she said, a little angrily. She hated how worried he could make her just by not replying.
He sniggered. "Nah, I just wanted you to come back in here. It's like my very own Victoria's Secret fashion show. Is that a new bra? Scherbatsky! Nice! Are you dating some new dude?"
She rolled her eyes. As if dating was something she could even think about these days, even if she had the time! As if dating was something she or Ted could think very much about? Although Ted seemed to be doing marginally better than she was. "As if I'd tell you, even if I was?"
He tutted. "Robin, Robin. I'm the first person you would tell. Come on! Have pity on a dying man-"
"You are not dying!" There was a catch in her voice as she said it.
"-Who's only chance to get his rocks off is to listen to the dirty stories his best friend tells him."
Robin laughed then. How was it that he always managed to be adorable even when he was being a lecherous creep?
"There's no story to tell."
"Then make one up!"
"Barney, no."
"Then I won't eat your soup." He let out a dirty laugh.
"Then I'll put my clothes back on."
"Touché, Scherbatsky. Touché…"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
She got him into bed, trying not to be alarmed by how light he was now, how his bony elbows jabbed her ribs as she lay him back. "I'm cold," She complained.
He patted the bed beside him. "Room enough for two. Probably room enough for three, since I've lost about seventy pounds. Bring a friend?"
She laughed along with him. Dinner had been really difficult. She knew how he hated to be fed, especially when his throat didn't seem to work properly. Every mouthful had been a titanic struggle. At one point she'd considered showing him a nipple.
"Please," he said. "Robin. I won't try any funny business. Bro's honor."
She tossed her head, threw back the covers and got underneath them. They lay there, side by side, for a few minutes while she listened to him breathing, low and shallow.
"Can't sleep," he said, his voice gentle. "Tell me a story."
"Barney!" she said, warningly.
"Come on, tell me a dirty story. You owe me that much. What if you wake up tomorrow and I'm dead. Then you'll regret it. It'll be, like, all your fault?"
She laughed. She knew that she was the only one he did this to - this gallows humor. He'd never dare try it on Ted or Lily or Marshall- it would kill them.
"Faker. You're not going to die in your sleep."
"Promise not to jerk off, if that's what you worry about."
"You couldn't even if you wanted to. You can barely lift your arms, let alone get an erection."
"Scherbatsky!" he said, outraged. Then he lifted the cover, "Don't listen to the evil woman, Barnacle junior!"
She inched closer to him so she could feel his pajama bottoms against her bare legs. After a moment, she said. "Okay…"
He started and turned his head to look at her. "Seriously?"
She laughed at his reaction. "Yeah, I'll tell you a dirty story." He looked so eager, it was almost painful. Barney Stinson, reduced to this? She had to clear her throat to continue.
"So, there was once this guy I had the hots for. I met up with him in a bar. We went-"
"What were you wearing?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Descriptions are very important in storytelling. You have to describe everything."
"I was wearing a dress. Black and backless..."
"The one with those little silver stripes around the hem?"
How in the hell did he know that? She laughed. "That one, yes…"
"Bare legs or stockings?"
She grinned. "Suspenders and stockings, with five-inch black spike heels."
"Niiiiice!"
"Can I get on with it?"
He scooted over a tiny bit closer to her and she put her arm around his shoulder.
"So I'm dressed to kill and he sees me. He likes what he sees but he's too cool to show it much. I like that."
Barney chuckled. "Lame!"
"Oh, come on. You know how this works."
"So, you like a guy who's not all over you. Who's already got you a drink and knows what you need after a hard day journalizing, or whatever the hell it is that you do."
"What would I drink?"
"Martini. He gets you a martini."
"He's got good taste."
"Yeah he does." Barney grinned but she can see the edge of pain and exhaustion creeping over him, dulling those bright blue eyes.
"So we talk a little. And I ease one foot out of the stiletto and brush his leg with my stockinged foot. He smiles, like we share a secret, and he takes my hand and plays with my fingers…"
"He traces his finger over your palm and across your wrist."
"That tickles," she giggled.
"He leans forward and whispers in your ear, so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek," he replied.
"What does he say?" she asked, suddenly feeling a lot warmer.
Barney's voice dropped so that she had to move in close to hear him. "He says: I'm going to make you come using only my lips."
She couldn't help but snort with laughter. "He's dirty."
"Yeah, but it works. You're thinking about it. You know you are."
She was. She so was. Why in the hell wasn't she dating? If Ted could find the time..? "Okay, say it works and he's got my interest. I'm not gonna go to his place…"
"Why not? You'd get to leave in the morning and never call him."
"What if I wanted to call him again?" Robin's chest tightened. There was a pressure on it, like a lead weight.
"He might not be around…" Barney whispered.
"So," She said, dashing a tear out of her eye before he noticed. "So, we go back to my place. I fetch us some wine. French. Red."
"Classy. But he's not thinking about the wine. That is, unless he gets to pour some into your naval and lick it out."
Robin giggled. "Maybe I'll let him do that…" But she could feel his body relaxing against hers and when she turned her head she could see his eyelids drooping.
"If you try and get some sleep, I promise to continue with the story tomorrow…" she cajoled him.
"S'not fair," he moaned.
"That's life," she said, pulling him close.
"Not for much longer," he muttered, before going limp in her arms, his breathing slowing to a steady, regular rhythm.
"Not if I can help it, buddy," she thought.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Summer 1996
Charles was not what Doogie expected when he had to work with him professionally. He was completely different from the flirty, sexually charged man he had met in the club while he was on stage. When Charles was working, he was all about the character, about the musical, and focusing all his passion on the play to make it new and exciting even though he did it several times a week. It was the passion about his art which made Charles seem like a completely different person. The passion was what drew Doogie to him after the first live show they performed.
He came up to him after the show as everyone was rushing to get out of costume. Charles was taking his time and Doogie assumed it was to avoid having to sign a million playbills once he left the stage doors.
"How do you do it?" Charles had turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow that was still covered in stage makeup. Doogie swallowed and pushed away his nervousness. "Doesn't it get boring after several times?"
Charles shrugged before turning back around to look at his reflection in his mirror. He began to clean the rest of his makeup off his face. "It can be. The most challenging thing about theater is keeping yourself entertained. When you get bored, the audience can tell."
"What do you do to make yourself not bored?"
Charles chucked and looked at Doogie using the mirror. He let his eyes wander up and down Doogie's body, being very obvious he was checking him out. "I meet new people and they make the play seem shiny and new for me. For example, you have a very powerful potential for your voice. The only reason why you were tagged ensemble is the lack of confidence and technique. Well, that and the lack of open spots. Keep working and you could end up an understudy."
Charles finished cleaning his face and turned back around, leaning on the counter-top behind him. "I'd love to hear what that voice can do if it was trained. I could help you with a few things I picked up along the way."
Doogie raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "This has nothing to do with the.. uh, club meetings?"
Doogie didn't realize Charles was moving closer until he was backing into the wall.
"I'm not going to deny you're attractive or promise that I won't imagine other ways I can get you to use that powerful voice of yours."
"But my offer is sincere." Charles' voice was lower as he dipped his head to Doogie's ear. His mind flashed to all the steamy make out sessions in the club and his face flushed with embarrassment and arousal.
Lips brushed his ear, "Do you want to learn?"
Doogie was nodding as Charles took a step back like he had expected that answer. "Good. Tomorrow, be early. Private voice tutoring before the afternoon performance. You won't regret it."
There was no smirking, or anything sexual behind Charles' smile now. He seemed generally excited to be working with him. Doogie couldn't help but become even more curious about Charles. At first, the man seemed only interested in embarrassing him or making out with him. But now he seemed to sincerely want to help Doogie develop a talent he never gave any real thought to. He wished he could read minds because he was totally confused at the mixed signals he was receiving.
Interpersonal interactions were never his strongest suit.
-----------------------------
“Good morning Barney,” Robin said cheerfully as she entered the bedroom with his breakfast. He was already awake and lying in bed watching the morning news. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked upon noticing the beads of sweat on his forehead and his glassy eyes, two signs that she had come to recognize to mean he was in pain “Do you want me to go get you some pain meds?”
“M’fine,” he mumbled in an uncharacteristically slurred voice. This made Robin stop what she was doing and examine him closer. He didn’t seem to be watching the TV at all and his normally pale cheeks were flushed rosey red. Instantly her hand went to forehead which to her horror was scalding hot.
“Ted! Get in here!” she shrieked before turning to Barney and running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair “Sweetie, you’ve got quite a fever.”
“Okay,” he murmured with a slight smirk, not really hearing her.
“What’s wrong?” Ted came bursting into the room with his hair half styled and tie hanging undone. He was in the middle of rushing off to an important meeting with a client and was looking stressed.
“Ted, he’s burning up.”
“What?!” All his previous concerns were dropped as he rushed over to feel Barney's forehead for himself. “Hospital. Now,” Ted declared simply as he removed the covers and lifted Barney into his arms. Normally, Barney would have howled in protest but now he just stared blankly at them.
“Ambulance?” Robin asked.
“No, they’re too slow. I’m driving him myself. Get the doors for me and call his doctor to let him know we’re coming.”