It was inevitable... Barney/Robin Fic: Tear Up The Rule Book; 1/1
Title: Tear Up The Rule Book
Author: Helen shootingstars88
Characters/Pairing: Barney, Barney/Robin
Spoilers: None specific, set somewhere in s4
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own HIMYM or it's related characters, scenarios and awesome catchphrases.
Author's Note: This was going to be a drabble since I'm new to writing for this fandom but then it sort of took on a mind of it's own so now it's a oneshot. There's also a little shout out in there to jamie55 's idea of Robin and Barney getting Brinner. Unbetaed so apologies for any errors.
~
He has no idea how it happened or when exactly it started, but somehow Barney Stinson has started comparing every woman he sees with Robin Scherbatsky.
It’s ruining his (still pretty awesome) life.
Barney likes things simple, doesn’t deal in uncertainties. His life is facts and rules and patterns, sets of steps he can follow that never deviate far from the theory behind them.
A pretty face with a vacant stare, plus alcohol.
A hundred bucks says when you turn around I say “wow”.
23 minutes in a cab back to his place.
Call you tomorrow. (No I won’t).
And yet now that this terrifying new habit has taken hold, everything is different and there are no hard and fast rules anymore.
It doesn’t stop him from looking for them though, from studying the train wreck that is his life lately with a whiteboard, jumbo markers and a stiff drink.
~
Nothing makes much sense.
Some nights, low-cut-shirt-dyed-blonde-hair is only a five and looks-a-bit-like-Robin-when-she-laughs is a nine.
He squints at strangers and drinks enough for double vision because if he can’t quite see straight, brown hair and a big smile is enough.
Lily says this feelings crap is making him a better person but she doesn’t know about nights like these, nights when he closes his eyes as a stranger screams his name and imagines it’s someone else.
He used to use fake names and stories but at least he looked the bimbos in the eye.
And yet there are nights when everything is different, when she’s been too close for too long and he hates her a little bit for not knowing that she’s killing him.
She goes off to work and he wants anyone in the world but her, desperate to the point that a plain-looking six is far better than the eight who’s been giving him the eye, the one who’d be perfect if she didn’t have that slight Canadian accent.
Worst of all or maybe best of all (he hasn’t quite decided) are the nights when no-one in the world is good enough.
On those nights, they’re a team, joking and laughing together until everyone else has gone home and it’s just them, eating a very late dinner (for him) or a very early breakfast (for her).
She goes to work and he goes home, alone and yet smiling because he swears she looked a little sorry to leave him. He thinks the light-headed feeling might be hope, not just scotch. Maybe Lily’s right about him after all.
~
Three hours and several scribbled coverings of his white board later, he realises that no matter what kind of night is it, whether he wants someone like her or no-one at all, at the heart of it all and against every woman he sees, Robin always wins.
He must really be in love with her.
Crap.
He has no rules for that.
He wipes the board clean, pours another drink and starts to make some.
~
Author: Helen shootingstars88
Characters/Pairing: Barney, Barney/Robin
Spoilers: None specific, set somewhere in s4
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own HIMYM or it's related characters, scenarios and awesome catchphrases.
Author's Note: This was going to be a drabble since I'm new to writing for this fandom but then it sort of took on a mind of it's own so now it's a oneshot. There's also a little shout out in there to jamie55 's idea of Robin and Barney getting Brinner. Unbetaed so apologies for any errors.
~
He has no idea how it happened or when exactly it started, but somehow Barney Stinson has started comparing every woman he sees with Robin Scherbatsky.
It’s ruining his (still pretty awesome) life.
Barney likes things simple, doesn’t deal in uncertainties. His life is facts and rules and patterns, sets of steps he can follow that never deviate far from the theory behind them.
A pretty face with a vacant stare, plus alcohol.
A hundred bucks says when you turn around I say “wow”.
23 minutes in a cab back to his place.
Call you tomorrow. (No I won’t).
And yet now that this terrifying new habit has taken hold, everything is different and there are no hard and fast rules anymore.
It doesn’t stop him from looking for them though, from studying the train wreck that is his life lately with a whiteboard, jumbo markers and a stiff drink.
~
Nothing makes much sense.
Some nights, low-cut-shirt-dyed-blonde-hair is only a five and looks-a-bit-like-Robin-when-she-laughs is a nine.
He squints at strangers and drinks enough for double vision because if he can’t quite see straight, brown hair and a big smile is enough.
Lily says this feelings crap is making him a better person but she doesn’t know about nights like these, nights when he closes his eyes as a stranger screams his name and imagines it’s someone else.
He used to use fake names and stories but at least he looked the bimbos in the eye.
And yet there are nights when everything is different, when she’s been too close for too long and he hates her a little bit for not knowing that she’s killing him.
She goes off to work and he wants anyone in the world but her, desperate to the point that a plain-looking six is far better than the eight who’s been giving him the eye, the one who’d be perfect if she didn’t have that slight Canadian accent.
Worst of all or maybe best of all (he hasn’t quite decided) are the nights when no-one in the world is good enough.
On those nights, they’re a team, joking and laughing together until everyone else has gone home and it’s just them, eating a very late dinner (for him) or a very early breakfast (for her).
She goes to work and he goes home, alone and yet smiling because he swears she looked a little sorry to leave him. He thinks the light-headed feeling might be hope, not just scotch. Maybe Lily’s right about him after all.
~
Three hours and several scribbled coverings of his white board later, he realises that no matter what kind of night is it, whether he wants someone like her or no-one at all, at the heart of it all and against every woman he sees, Robin always wins.
He must really be in love with her.
Crap.
He has no rules for that.
He wipes the board clean, pours another drink and starts to make some.
~