HIMYM Fanfic: "Legenfamily" 2/5 B/R
Title: Legenfamily 2/5
Pairing: Barney/Robin
Word Count: 1682
Rating: PG-13 (mature themes)
Summary: Older and wiser, a divorced Barney and Robin face an unexpected development that could bind them together forever.
Author's Note: This was meant to be the Robin-is-#31 story, but soon took a turn of its own. I do not own HIMYM, its characters, or anything vaguely related to it. This is my own what-if scenario.
PART TWO
Barney’s words slammed into Robin with the force of a hurricane, cutting through the barrier of protection she’d erected around herself. He’d said the word, she hadn’t, and that fact brought wit it a measure of relief. “Yes.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and the sound of elevator doors. She could see, as well as if they were face to face, Barney massaging his temple as if that would help him understand this surreal conversation. “I don’t understand.”
Neither did she. “I just came from the doctor. Can we please not have this conversation over the phone? Where are you?”
His answer came right away. “I’m in the lobby of the Harmon building.”
“Small world.” Robin scanned the lobby with a quick glance. No wonder the man never took a bad picture. She didn’t need a camera to capture him now. The sight of him, framed by the brass elevator doors sent a surge of yearning coursing through her. His gray suit, blue shirt, shoulders ever so slightly broader than before, hair still thick and blond, all combined into one glorious image that seared itself into her soul. Barney could blend in or stand out as he pleased, an ability only honed by the passage of time. Right here, right now, he wanted her to see him, and she did. “I’m in front of the big clock.”
“I’ll come to you,” he said, and the connection cut off.
Robin sank onto the marble bench, no longer trusting her legs or her judgement. She’d meant to call somebody else first. Anybody. Lily or Tracy. Even Ted. Marshall. Her own mother. Her finger had hovered over Loretta’s name on her contact list –still under ‘Mom’- before some primitive part of herself had chosen Barney. Like that ever resulted in good decisions.
By the time Barney reached her, he’d acquired flowers. Real roses, white tipped with red, surrounded by a froth of baby’s breath and wrapped in white tissue. Definitely not the magic prop he could pull out of his sleeve. At least he wasn’t mad. Not yet. She’d keep this image, too; the guarded hope in his blue eyes, the way his brows and the corners of his mouth both tilted up by the slightest degree. The crease in his forehead, still the biggest giveaway of his confusion. “Hi,” he said, and for the space of half a heartbeat, Robin rocketed back in time to the day of their wedding.
A lump formed in her throat. “Hi.”
He extended the roses with a rustle of tissue. “These are for you.”
“Thanks.” Robin accepted the gift and scooted down the smooth, cool surface of the bench to make room for him. She didn’t know what to say next, didn’t know what she could say. There was no time to build up to her news with polite small talk about family, mutual friends, the weather, or how much good his donations to Supermutts had done. “So, you’re in a sex group?” The question flew out of its own accord.
“Twelve step group for sex addiction.” His correction held no anger, only a statement of fact. “It helps.”
Robin shifted in her seat. “I’m keeping it.”
Barney’s brows flashed upward. “The bouquet?”
“That, too. I’m having the baby.” There. That was out.
“Okay,” he answered, and a heavy silence fell between them.
“That’s your reaction?” Robin asked when the quiet grew too loud. “Okay?”
Barney regarded her through darkened eyes. “Did you want me to tell you it’s not okay to have this baby? I’m not going to do that. I’ll support whatever you want, but you can’t put something that big all on me.”
Robin fingered the paper that cradled her roses. “I’m not. I literally just found out, okay? I thought I was sick,” she watched the weight of the word settle on Barney. “I was so sure I couldn’t have kids, ever, and then the doctor tells me I’m having one. I have your baby growing inside me and I need more from you than just okay.”
The slow shake of Barney’s head and the odd tilt of his mouth weren’t the response she’d expected. “I know, and you’ll get it. I expected to be having this kind of conversation a long time before now. Ten years, maybe twenty. I had responses prepared, but they don’t apply now.”
“We would not be having this conversation twenty years ago.” But we could have. The path her life could have taken dangled out of reach. She might have returned Barney’s knowing look, the slight upthrust of his chin that first night at MacLaren’s. Whether that would have ended in a one night stand or a marriage that didn’t crash and burn after three short years, she didn’t know, but it would have been one hell of a ride.
Barney jabbed one finger into the air. “Challenge accepted. If, nay, when, I master the art of time travel, my first stop will be to go back twenty years before this very day, where twenty years ago me will pick up twenty years ago you.”
“Oh, you would?” Robin couldn’t hold back the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, probably.” She lay her hand on her still-flat belly. “At least this isn’t the first time we’ve had this kind of conversation. Guess last time was a dry run, huh?”
“Guess so.” Barney’s gaze rested on her hand as it rested there. “I will be as involved as you want me to be.”
The tissue crunched between her fingers. This next part was going to be hard, and he wasn’t helping, caressing her with only a glance. “Thanks. There’s um, one more thing.” She fixed her own sights on a spot on the wall over Barney’s left shoulder, a trick that would pass for eye contact with most people, but this was Barney. Even after all this time, he knew all her tricks. Eyes it was. “Nobody else can know about this.”
“Call me crazy, but I think our friends are going to figure this out. Hiding behind boxes and giant teddy bears only works on TV sitcoms. Maybe you could convince your more gullible friends, let’s say, Ted, you were just getting fat, but how are you going to explain the tiny person you’ll suddenly be carrying around everywhere?”
Robin shrugged. “I’ll get a nanny.”
“A hot nanny?”
“A hot male nanny. I’ll get a manny.”
Barney waved a hand in dismissal. “Nobody says ‘manny’ anymore.”
“You do know I can fact check that.”
He flashed a mischievous grin. “I’m counting on it.”
“I’m serious. Nobody can know about this until I tell them.”
“Why wouldn’t you want people to know?”
She silenced him with a look. “It would be awkward.” She ducked her head, her hair falling forward to cover the blush that burned her cheek. “Nobody knows you and I,” this was all still so new she didn’t know what words would fit. “That we had a date,” she said at last. “I have a lot going on right now. I’m the spokesperson for Supermutts. Yesterday, I signed a contract for my own talk show.”
Barney’s high five came so fast she met it on pure instinct. “Awesome news, but I already got you the biggest bouquet that vendor had. Hear that, kid? Your mom has a talk show. Prenatal five.” His hand stopped a millimeter shy of her midsection. “Can I?”
No hovered on the tip of her tongue. “Sure.”
The warmth of his touch seeped into her core. “Hi. I’m your dad.” When he took his hand away, she felt the loss. “There’s really somebody in there?”
“There really is,” she said, “and that’s why I don’t need people I barely know anymore asking me very personal questions.”
A muscle twitched in Barney’s jaw. “If you mean Marshall, Lily, Ted and Tracy, they don’t have to be strangers. They’re our best friends.”
“Were. We barely have anything in common anymore.”
“Au contraire. As of today, we’re all parents.” He paused, the lines at the sides of his mouth, deeper now, and more enticing than ever, creased. “We’re parents.” A sense of wonder threaded through his voice with that, his face lighting from within. “Robots versus Wrestlers is this weekend. You should come.”
Robin shook her head. “I can’t.”
As quickly as it had come, the light extinguished, a prickly caution sliding itself between the two of them. “I get it.” The tightness in Barney’s voice told Robin he didn’t get it at all, but the topic of conversation needed to end. “I still buy your ticket, you know. Every year.”
An elderly couple, white-haired and impeccably dressed, strolled past, the woman elbowing the man and tilting her head toward the roses Robin still cradled. The man smiled, slipped his arm around his companion’s waist and as they walked away. That should have been us. Still could be, a quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered. Shut up. “I know.” There wasn’t room enough for the person she’d become to sit with the ghosts of all they had been to each other crowding their box. “Maybe next year.”
“Kids under five get in free. Sorry,” he added at her scowl. “Too far in advance?”
Another silence settled, this one softer, more companionable. Almost the way it used to be. Almost. Robin counted the roses, touching a manicured fingernail to each bloom in turn. Thirteen, not twelve. Once upon a time, she’d have called that a sign, but she didn’t believe in signs anymore. It hurt too much. Facts never lied. Facts, she could trust. The too-familiar warmth of Barney’s hand covering hers, that she couldn’t trust at all.
“Hey. You and I don’t have to be strangers. I don’t think we can be, if we’re going to co-parent.” The light of an idea seized him, his enthusiasm reaching out to draw her in. “Better than that. Bro-parent.”
“Bro-parent. Yeah. I think we can do that. Want to start by walking me out?”
Pairing: Barney/Robin
Word Count: 1682
Rating: PG-13 (mature themes)
Summary: Older and wiser, a divorced Barney and Robin face an unexpected development that could bind them together forever.
Author's Note: This was meant to be the Robin-is-#31 story, but soon took a turn of its own. I do not own HIMYM, its characters, or anything vaguely related to it. This is my own what-if scenario.
PART TWO
Barney’s words slammed into Robin with the force of a hurricane, cutting through the barrier of protection she’d erected around herself. He’d said the word, she hadn’t, and that fact brought wit it a measure of relief. “Yes.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and the sound of elevator doors. She could see, as well as if they were face to face, Barney massaging his temple as if that would help him understand this surreal conversation. “I don’t understand.”
Neither did she. “I just came from the doctor. Can we please not have this conversation over the phone? Where are you?”
His answer came right away. “I’m in the lobby of the Harmon building.”
“Small world.” Robin scanned the lobby with a quick glance. No wonder the man never took a bad picture. She didn’t need a camera to capture him now. The sight of him, framed by the brass elevator doors sent a surge of yearning coursing through her. His gray suit, blue shirt, shoulders ever so slightly broader than before, hair still thick and blond, all combined into one glorious image that seared itself into her soul. Barney could blend in or stand out as he pleased, an ability only honed by the passage of time. Right here, right now, he wanted her to see him, and she did. “I’m in front of the big clock.”
“I’ll come to you,” he said, and the connection cut off.
Robin sank onto the marble bench, no longer trusting her legs or her judgement. She’d meant to call somebody else first. Anybody. Lily or Tracy. Even Ted. Marshall. Her own mother. Her finger had hovered over Loretta’s name on her contact list –still under ‘Mom’- before some primitive part of herself had chosen Barney. Like that ever resulted in good decisions.
By the time Barney reached her, he’d acquired flowers. Real roses, white tipped with red, surrounded by a froth of baby’s breath and wrapped in white tissue. Definitely not the magic prop he could pull out of his sleeve. At least he wasn’t mad. Not yet. She’d keep this image, too; the guarded hope in his blue eyes, the way his brows and the corners of his mouth both tilted up by the slightest degree. The crease in his forehead, still the biggest giveaway of his confusion. “Hi,” he said, and for the space of half a heartbeat, Robin rocketed back in time to the day of their wedding.
A lump formed in her throat. “Hi.”
He extended the roses with a rustle of tissue. “These are for you.”
“Thanks.” Robin accepted the gift and scooted down the smooth, cool surface of the bench to make room for him. She didn’t know what to say next, didn’t know what she could say. There was no time to build up to her news with polite small talk about family, mutual friends, the weather, or how much good his donations to Supermutts had done. “So, you’re in a sex group?” The question flew out of its own accord.
“Twelve step group for sex addiction.” His correction held no anger, only a statement of fact. “It helps.”
Robin shifted in her seat. “I’m keeping it.”
Barney’s brows flashed upward. “The bouquet?”
“That, too. I’m having the baby.” There. That was out.
“Okay,” he answered, and a heavy silence fell between them.
“That’s your reaction?” Robin asked when the quiet grew too loud. “Okay?”
Barney regarded her through darkened eyes. “Did you want me to tell you it’s not okay to have this baby? I’m not going to do that. I’ll support whatever you want, but you can’t put something that big all on me.”
Robin fingered the paper that cradled her roses. “I’m not. I literally just found out, okay? I thought I was sick,” she watched the weight of the word settle on Barney. “I was so sure I couldn’t have kids, ever, and then the doctor tells me I’m having one. I have your baby growing inside me and I need more from you than just okay.”
The slow shake of Barney’s head and the odd tilt of his mouth weren’t the response she’d expected. “I know, and you’ll get it. I expected to be having this kind of conversation a long time before now. Ten years, maybe twenty. I had responses prepared, but they don’t apply now.”
“We would not be having this conversation twenty years ago.” But we could have. The path her life could have taken dangled out of reach. She might have returned Barney’s knowing look, the slight upthrust of his chin that first night at MacLaren’s. Whether that would have ended in a one night stand or a marriage that didn’t crash and burn after three short years, she didn’t know, but it would have been one hell of a ride.
Barney jabbed one finger into the air. “Challenge accepted. If, nay, when, I master the art of time travel, my first stop will be to go back twenty years before this very day, where twenty years ago me will pick up twenty years ago you.”
“Oh, you would?” Robin couldn’t hold back the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, probably.” She lay her hand on her still-flat belly. “At least this isn’t the first time we’ve had this kind of conversation. Guess last time was a dry run, huh?”
“Guess so.” Barney’s gaze rested on her hand as it rested there. “I will be as involved as you want me to be.”
The tissue crunched between her fingers. This next part was going to be hard, and he wasn’t helping, caressing her with only a glance. “Thanks. There’s um, one more thing.” She fixed her own sights on a spot on the wall over Barney’s left shoulder, a trick that would pass for eye contact with most people, but this was Barney. Even after all this time, he knew all her tricks. Eyes it was. “Nobody else can know about this.”
“Call me crazy, but I think our friends are going to figure this out. Hiding behind boxes and giant teddy bears only works on TV sitcoms. Maybe you could convince your more gullible friends, let’s say, Ted, you were just getting fat, but how are you going to explain the tiny person you’ll suddenly be carrying around everywhere?”
Robin shrugged. “I’ll get a nanny.”
“A hot nanny?”
“A hot male nanny. I’ll get a manny.”
Barney waved a hand in dismissal. “Nobody says ‘manny’ anymore.”
“You do know I can fact check that.”
He flashed a mischievous grin. “I’m counting on it.”
“I’m serious. Nobody can know about this until I tell them.”
“Why wouldn’t you want people to know?”
She silenced him with a look. “It would be awkward.” She ducked her head, her hair falling forward to cover the blush that burned her cheek. “Nobody knows you and I,” this was all still so new she didn’t know what words would fit. “That we had a date,” she said at last. “I have a lot going on right now. I’m the spokesperson for Supermutts. Yesterday, I signed a contract for my own talk show.”
Barney’s high five came so fast she met it on pure instinct. “Awesome news, but I already got you the biggest bouquet that vendor had. Hear that, kid? Your mom has a talk show. Prenatal five.” His hand stopped a millimeter shy of her midsection. “Can I?”
No hovered on the tip of her tongue. “Sure.”
The warmth of his touch seeped into her core. “Hi. I’m your dad.” When he took his hand away, she felt the loss. “There’s really somebody in there?”
“There really is,” she said, “and that’s why I don’t need people I barely know anymore asking me very personal questions.”
A muscle twitched in Barney’s jaw. “If you mean Marshall, Lily, Ted and Tracy, they don’t have to be strangers. They’re our best friends.”
“Were. We barely have anything in common anymore.”
“Au contraire. As of today, we’re all parents.” He paused, the lines at the sides of his mouth, deeper now, and more enticing than ever, creased. “We’re parents.” A sense of wonder threaded through his voice with that, his face lighting from within. “Robots versus Wrestlers is this weekend. You should come.”
Robin shook her head. “I can’t.”
As quickly as it had come, the light extinguished, a prickly caution sliding itself between the two of them. “I get it.” The tightness in Barney’s voice told Robin he didn’t get it at all, but the topic of conversation needed to end. “I still buy your ticket, you know. Every year.”
An elderly couple, white-haired and impeccably dressed, strolled past, the woman elbowing the man and tilting her head toward the roses Robin still cradled. The man smiled, slipped his arm around his companion’s waist and as they walked away. That should have been us. Still could be, a quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered. Shut up. “I know.” There wasn’t room enough for the person she’d become to sit with the ghosts of all they had been to each other crowding their box. “Maybe next year.”
“Kids under five get in free. Sorry,” he added at her scowl. “Too far in advance?”
Another silence settled, this one softer, more companionable. Almost the way it used to be. Almost. Robin counted the roses, touching a manicured fingernail to each bloom in turn. Thirteen, not twelve. Once upon a time, she’d have called that a sign, but she didn’t believe in signs anymore. It hurt too much. Facts never lied. Facts, she could trust. The too-familiar warmth of Barney’s hand covering hers, that she couldn’t trust at all.
“Hey. You and I don’t have to be strangers. I don’t think we can be, if we’re going to co-parent.” The light of an idea seized him, his enthusiasm reaching out to draw her in. “Better than that. Bro-parent.”
“Bro-parent. Yeah. I think we can do that. Want to start by walking me out?”