Drabble me

[timepiececlock]

I'm still flushed with love for my new fandom, How I Met Your Mother. I've read literally every fanfic on the internet (there's only like 40 or 50, all of them short) and I'm bored. I've got two plot bunnies brewing (one longer fic concept that I'm kind of collaborating on with irrel, according to a pre-given promise of awesomeness), but aside from that, I'm a dry well when it comes to ideas. And I have this desire to write drabbles. Not whole fics, just drabbles.

So!

Open offer: How I Met Your Mother fandom, any character, any prompt, you'll get a drabble of some kind. Maybe tonight, maybe next week. I'm partial to B/R fic but I like all the characters.

And if any of you want to suit up and write me a HIMYM drabble, too, that'd be LEGEN---wait for it---


Edit: spoilers for season 3 in the comments.

Comments

[loves-bitch.livejournal.com]

Barney, Ted, and Marshall in Las Vegas. (B/R is fine with me too. Though I am only in the middle of the second season so far)

[rashaka.livejournal.com]

I'll be sure not to spoil you for season 3 then.

[redbrunja.livejournal.com]

Robin, suiting up.

No Dice

[rashaka.livejournal.com]

Notes: I don't know how to write Marshall's dialogue style, so I apologize for this in advance. And I don't know where Ted went! This is set sometime recently after the lazer tag episode in season 1.

Summary: 'You fight for freedom from devotion, a battle that will always begin with somebody giving you a piece of advice'

No Dice

"So now that things with you and Victoria are going pretty well, I assume you're probably over all the girls you were into before, right? I take your silence as a yes. So, ergo, therefore, say I were to hook up with someone, say, I dunno, Robin, you'd be cool with that, right?"
"Hh, sure. Good luck with that."
"Hah!"

Lights and flash are integral to the purpose of casinos: distract your eyes and your mind so that you don't notice you're being burgled in a completely fair and legal manner. Barnaby F. Stinson, worldly man of an awesome world, looked at the multicolored, shifting sparkles reflected in the mirror behind the Bellagio ground-floor bar and strategized the best way to rob the robbers before the robbers robbed him. This was feeling like a Blackjack night.

At least, it was until Wingman #2 arrived. The U.S.S. Marshall descended on Barney, gorilla arms open like gun ports.

"I need a beer! I can't believe you flew us to Vegas for free. This is awesome, man. What do you do at that place you call an office?"

This was their third casino, and he was a little bit more drunk than Barney.

"Boring stuff. All you need to know is that we probably saved the world from Y2K. Where did Ted scamper off to? He ran like a little girl as soon as we got past the lobby doors."

"You didn't even work there in 1999. Lawyered!" Pleased with himself, Marshall chugged a huge gurgle of the beer Barney had just placed in front of him. He tried to remember the question. "Ted's losing at blackjack."

"Losing?"

Maybe it wasn't a Blackjack night, after all, Barney pondered. Maybe it was a good night for dice. Who knew if Ted's bad luck was contagious? Marshall was probably a carrier. Like that monkey in Outbreak. Marshall would be the guy who accidentally destroys the human race... after all, someone's got to be around to sob about it afterward.

"Of course he was losing!" Marshall continued. "He didn't want me there. He got it into his head that I cheat with my brain."

"Reeeeeeally?" Barney sat up a little straighter. "How does your brain feel about dice?"

Marshall said, "It thinks they're cube-shaped," and put one hand on Barney's shoulder. He leaned on him, swayed just enough for Barney to imagine how much Marshall probably weighed and realize how gigantic his hands were, then sat down in the adjacent stool. "So man, I gotta know."

"Know what?"

"What's this Ted mentioned about you hitting on Robin? Because," Marshall hunched his shoulders and let out a burbling, sickly sort of giggle, "if it's true, that's too precious for words."

Barney, usually immune to all things Marshallish, discovered an unwelcome bubble of annoyance had floated up his stomach and into his chest cavity.

"Precious?"

"As in Precious Moments. She shot you down, didn't she? Ha! I can tell by your face. No dice, buddy; Robin's out of your league, even you've gotta know that."

The bubble of annoyance began morphing into a balloon of mild disdain, and it wasn't a stretch for Barney to look indignant. Marshall clearly had no idea what he was talking about, and was falsely comparing his own lackluster masculine appeal to Barney Stinson's far more awesome and sophisticated self.

"Ha. There's no woman alive who is out of the Barnacle's league."

"Robin is. By about four more leagues."

With a dismissive snort, Barney said, "I'll have you know, we played Hard Core Battleship."

"She kicked your ass at that too, didn't she?" The lawyer grinned, and with an abrupt decision and an abbreviated sigh, Barney gave up.

"That woman cheats like a man," he grumbled.

Marshall slapped him on the shoulder and shouted to the bartender. "We're going to need another beer over here!"

This is actually incredibly hard. suprisingly.

[rashaka.livejournal.com]

I tried second-person POV for the first time in about ever. I hope it works. The title is from the band Great Big Sea, which I was listening to while writing.



The Old Black Rum's Got A Hold On Me


Okay, Robin, so this isn't how you planned to start your Monday. Life's full of surprises, right? And this probably doesn't really make you a sad, self-loathing idiot. Aside from the self-loathing that you're feeling right now, of course. But that's temporary. It'll be fixed as soon as you get up, face the world, avoid facing--facing him--and take action.

Come on, Scherbatsky. You can do this. This was your night, and it'll be your morning.

Don't look at the Barn--the body--next to you. Your robe is on the floor within arms reach. You'll be able to get it without even shifting the bed if you're careful. Just lift your eyelids, move your shoulders and do. not. look. back. Move already! Why are your eyes still closed? And don't think about the fact that you're touching elbows right now. Don't think about his hip, which is right--it's--

--shifting. Oh fuck he's waking up.

There goes freedom. Or...not?

Okay, so his leg has re-wrapped itself around your leg. Not a problem! Not a big problem. A totally deal-able sized problem. If you just twist your ankle under... there! You're free again. Wow, his feet are warm. No, don't think about that. So is his thigh! And his shoulders are a lot bigger than you thought under the suit. How often does he work out, anyway?

"Mrrrhhheeehhuuhhhgh."

Shit! He's almost conscious. No more getting distracted. Got to get out of here, Scherbatsky. Got to move He's just, just a guy. Just a guy you brought home for a drunken one-night stand. Well, a one-night stand. You weren't exactly drunk, were you?

No, not on topic!

The morning is here. You've got to go work. It's time to suit up.

"MhhhEhhhrrrrgggg....Robinnn?" Oh sweet Jesus, his hand is touching your hand. That's his pinky finger caressing yours. Unacceptable. Edge away now. Hands above the covers! Well done. Now, open your eyes. Finally.

"Morning, Barney."

"Uh...hey Robin."

"Hey."

What kind of torture is this?

"Um. In my experience, the way this normally goes..."

WARNING! - READ THIS FIRST

[rashaka.livejournal.com]

You probably do NOT want to read the drabble below yours, because it has spoilers for season 3. You've been duly warned.

Re: This is actually incredibly hard. suprisingly.

[redbrunja.livejournal.com]

This was love. And one fo the few times second person really, really works.

Re: This is actually incredibly hard. suprisingly.

[rashaka.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked! I never want to write in second again. I think I could only imagine it because it's stream-of-consciousness and she's supposed to be in bed with her eyes closed.