yippee ki yay!

This time, when the fear that dwells in Barney awakens, it's when they've already landed. They're back in Seattle, visiting Gordon's folks again for the holiday. The, uh, winter holiday.

He doesn't want to think about it real close.

But it's hard not to, when Seattle is decked in white and little specks of colorful lights, glowing like fairies in the cold winter evening. They've had a record snowfall, the car radio informs them, and we've all been dreaming of a White Christmas!

The song comes on, spreading through the car, creeping across Barney's skin. He shivers, shrinking away from the tune, and Diane turns up the heater for him.

He's been trying not to think about this part of the trip, of coming back to Diane and Rob's place again so soon. He's done his damnedest to squash it, shove it out of his head, burn it away. Unfortunately, there's just no escape here, not like there is at Black Mesa. And even then, the decorations are up, here and there. There's a little Christmas tree on top of the reception desk near anomalous materials, which he purposely does not look at or go near.

Barney's not afraid of Christmas, he tells himself. He's not scared of lights or trees or Santa Clause or anything, he's just...

December hasn't always been the best time of year for him. Especially the 25th. A red sports car speeds past them on the highway and Barney flinches, glances over at Gordon, who's asleep in the other seat. Just as well. He doesn't feel up to explaining why he's suddenly so on edge.

They're here for two weeks: flying in on the 20th, flying out on the 3rd. And Barney's going to try, he's going to try his hardest, to make sure he doesn't ruin Christmas for the Freemans.

Like he always has before.

Getting the time off again was the hard part; he'd really had to grovel and beg and almost fake cry and offer to take extra shifts, and then extra shifts on top of that. And then finally, his supervisor had relented, said that as long as he worked the overnights next month, and every one of the long weekends in the spring, it was fine.

The snow is a nice touch, Barney decides, resting his cheek against the window. The whipped cream on top of the trauma sundae. Not that it ever snowed much back home, but it really sells the Christmas theme.

He decides to stop looking at it, stop thinking, stop dwelling, closes his eyes, and doesn't open them until the car stops in the Freemans' driveway. Doug is in the window, howling at the car as they pile out, gathering bags and trudging through the fresh-fallen snow towards the door.

Gordon yawns, knocking his wrist against Barney's, and smiles sleepily at him. Barney smiles back, a forced look, as Diane unlocks the door to let them in.

Doug comes bounding to meet them, boofing noisily in his excitement. Barney crouches to pet him, rub his ears, as Gordon signs that he's going to go use the bathroom.

"Doug missed you," Rob tells him, as he's hefting Barney and Gordon's suitcases up the stairs.

"He howled when we came back without you boys," Diane confirms, stopping to tousle the dog's fluffy head. She straightens up, heading for the kitchen, and Doug rolls away from Barney to follow her and beg for food.

Rob comes back down the stairs. "Hey, make yourself at home, son," he says, and Barney nods, still forcing that fake smile.

"Yeah, 'course..."

He braces himself before he approaches the living room. He's gonna have to get used to it, he reminds himself. The big tree and the lights and whatever Christmas decor they've got. He's just gotta grin and bear it, because this is where he's spending the next two weeks. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes as he approaches the doorway, and opens them to--

It's just the living room. No lights, no tree. Not even any knick knacks that are out of the ordinary. Barney blinks, looks back at the hallway, then faces the living room again.

Gordon's folks haven't decorated for anything. He enters the living room cautiously, approaching the couch to have a seat. He sits down so gingerly, as if afraid the sofa might explode and reveal a tree, but there's nothing. It's like Christmas isn't even approaching.

"Do you want a beer, or some cocoa or something?" Diane calls from the kitchen, as Barney sinks into the couch. "We've got cider, tea, coffee..."

"Coffee," Barney decides, even if he knows it'll have him up half the night. Diane nods, heading back to brew some. Doug comes into the living room through the kitchen, climbs up on the couch, and lays in Barney's lap. He pets the dog idly.

Maybe this is okay. It could be, right? Maybe there was no reason to panic. He feels kind of silly now, getting so worked up over a holiday. For all he knows--

"So Barney," Rob says, entering the living room. He settles down in his armchair, where he always sits.

"Rob, do you want coffee?" Diane calls, and Rob answers in the affirmative before addressing Barney again.

"I'll admit, we don't really know... Well, we were thinking, we could go pick out a Christmas tree tomorrow. For you."

Barney feels goosebumps crawl up his arms, laughs nervously. What the hell? "Uh, no, you don't gotta do that," he says, barely keeping the terror out of his voice.

Rob raises an eyebrow. "You don't want one?"

"No," Barney chokes, as Diane walks in and hands him a coffee. He sips at it, grateful for the rich, bitter taste to distract him, to prevent him from answering anymore holiday questions.

"Did you ask him?" Diane asks, as Gordon strides in and takes a seat beside Barney. Rob shrugs, in a I'll tell you later sort of way.

They have a late dinner, and then Barney and Gordon head up to his bedroom. Gordon signs that he's <exhausted,> and Barney's kind of grateful for it. He's not sure he's up for doing anything besides passing out himself.

They get ready for bed, and Barney climbs under the covers beside him, holding onto Gordon and praying for sleep to overtake him, praying that maybe he can just wakey up two weeks from now on the flight home.

He doesn't sleep well. He dozes a bit, but wakes up repeatedly, until he resolves to just get up. Maybe he needs to do something, to get his brain to shut down.

So he gets up, and as he's heading down the stairs, Doug joins him. "Hey buddy," Barney whispers, as the dog steps off the bottom of the stairs and knocks his head against his thigh.

He sits on the couch, turns the tv on with the volume real, real low. The glow of the screen illuminates the dark room, makes it glow in blue around him as Barney settles in, trying to lose himself to the silent images moving by, to something other than Christmas.

But he's already there, the house in Texas, watching them put the bow on the car.

He'd been up all night, mostly smoking, downing whiskey. Christmas had never been fun for him, but now that he was almost 16, at the age where every normal boy would be bringing girls home to show off...

Well, to say Ed hadn't gone easy on him lately would be an understatement.

Barney glanced at his window. The sky outside was grey with cold, but empty. Not a single snowflake to be found, just miles and miles of grey. There was a Porsche in the driveway, a bright red, shiny thing. Not Ed's tastes, but a gift for Lauren. She'd be moving out soon--reportedly, though they'd been saying that for the past two years now--and she'd need a new car to get her around. A convertible car, apparently. They'd put a big bow on it while Barney watched from his bedroom window, puffing on his cigarette.

The sun wasn't up yet, but Barney could see it out there in the pre-dawn hours. Lauren's gift--or, at least, the most impressive thing she'd get that morning. He took another drag off his whiskey, eyes narrowing. God, they never got him nothin' that nice, never.

He slipped into his shoes without thinking about it, headed down the stairs, past the lights of the Christmas tree in the main living room. A pause, to snatch the little box with the keys in it from under the tree, and he headed out the front door.

So he was stealing Lauren's Christmas Porsche. So what? Barney took one last drag off his cigarette, stubbed it out and flicked it into the driveway as he approached the car. It was a pretty thing. All shined up for his sister. He glanced at the little box in his hand, a weird feeling creeping over him, and shrugged.

He tugged the big bow off the top of the car, unlocked it and climbed in. It was a nice vehicle, all new car smell and shiny chrome and stiff leather. Barney turned the key in the ignition, then retracted the convertible's roof. He revved the engine a couple of times, just getting a feel for it.

The front door opened and Barbara came running out, in her nightgown and robe and slippers. "Barney!" she yelled, "for the love of God, get out of the car!"

Ed was right behind her, and his eyes bulged in rage. Like a fucking--one of them dogs, the ones with the huge eyes. Barney snorted, putting the Porsche in reverse as Ed came storming down the driveway at him. He hit the gas a little too hard, reversed into the mailbox, then quickly put it into drive and flipped around to speed towards the road.

He could hear Ed behind him, yelling curses and threats, and Barbie was just yelling as he drove towards the main road, then towards the highway.

It was a fast little car, and the ranch vanished behind him in what seemed like seconds as he hit the highway. He was flying, the world around him a blur as he sped through the silence of Christmas morning. The sun was coming up behind him, and Barney adjusted the rearview mirror to ignore it. He reached for his whiskey on the passenger's seat, unscrewing the cap one handed to take a long swig.

He drove for a while, probably about fifteen minutes, before the lights came on behind him and the siren started up. Barney readjusted his mirror to see the cop waving him towards the side of the road.

He slammed onto the gas, accelerating. Man, who cared anymore. Not him! So he'd stolen a car. So he was speeding. So he was driving drunk. "I don't care!" he shouted into the wind, flipping off the cop chasing him.

That was all well and good, until he crashed. Barney jolted against his seat belt, thinking idly that it was a good damn thing he'd put it on. The airbag slammed into him next as the car sat prone, front end mangled where it had struck the barrier. The cop slowed to a stop, lights still flashing, and approached the car. Barney rolled his shattered window down helpfully.

The officer took one look at his face, then the whiskey bottle spilled on the seat next to him. "You're Ed's boy," he surmised, and Barney gulped.

"Yessir."

"And this would be your sister's Porsche then, wouldn't it.." The cop kind of chuckled at the look on his face, shook his head. "Well boy, you're in for a world of hurt now."

He wakes up because Doug's snoring. The tv is still on, playing some middle-of-the-night infomercial soundlessly at him. He lifts his head, looking around for some indication of the time. The clock on the mantel reads 4:07.

He tries to move, but Doug has him trapped on the couch. Barney sighs, closing his eyes again for a moment. He's exhausted, he wants to go back to bed and hold Gordon, but Doug just whines when he tries to move him.

Barney drifts back to sleep on the couch, back to his bedroom under the eaves of the house, where he'd healed up after the incident.

"Lauren's pretty pissed," Lindsey informed him. A pause: "Mom and dad, too."

Barney just groaned, eyes on the wall beside his bed. He didn't feel up to this right now: the play by play of how bad he'd fucked up.

"Yeah, you lemme know when they aren't," he muttered. Lindsey let go of his hand, starting to stand up.

"I just don't see why you had to ruin Christmas," she said, and Barney held down a flinch, keeping his eyes on the wall.

She hadn't walked away yet. Lindsey stood by the bed, looking him over for a minute. "Barney, if... if you don't stop soon, I'm scared dad's gonna kill you for real."

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking. Lindsey pressed on. "Maybe you should just--"

"What. What should I do?"

"There are--you could--if you would just try, Barney, I don't think it would be so hard. Being normal." He grit his teeth, tuning her out, reminding himself that Lindsey's thirteen, she doesn't know what she's talking about.

"I'm not sayin you gotta marry a girl," Lindsey continued, "but if you at least had a girlfriend, maybe--"

"Get outta my room."

"Barney..." When he didn't respond, she'd left him, shutting the door softly behind her, as Barney let himself cry.

It sucked when your kid sister was smarter than you. And Lindsey was pretty dumb, God bless her, so that was sayin something.

But God, Ed might really kill him soon, huh? It was too bad he didn't have any friends, anyone to remember him. Twenty years from now, no one would even know his name.

Barney jolts awake when the tv turns off. Rob looks over at him, setting the remote back on the coffee table. The room is still and silent for a long moment as Doug climbs off of Barney, walking over to Rob to paw his leg, ask for food.

"Mornin," Barney offers, wincing at the crick in his neck.

"Were you down here all night?" Rob asks, as Barney glances back at the clock. 7:25.

"Uh," he says, intelligently. "Sorta."

"Do you need to talk, son?" Rob asks, and Barney shakes his head, rubbing his face.

"Nah, I think... I'm gonna go get in bed." He stands, yawning, and starts towards the stairs to do just that. Rob doesn't stop him, or say anything, just lets him head back to Gordon's room to pass out until almost noon.

He doesn't dream, but sleeps through to 11:48 before he finally drags himself back out of bed and to the shower. If he just cleans up, he knows he'll feel better.

He's stepping out, wrapping himself in a towel, when Gordon lets himself in. "Hey, darlin," Barney says, as Gordon lingers by the door, hands shaking with something he wants to say.

<Are you mad at me?>

"No? Why would you think that?"

<Okay,> Gordon signs. <But you're not happy here.>

Barney turns away, busies himself with squeezing toothpaste onto his toothbrush to get the bad taste out of his mouth. "S'not you," he promises, mouth full of foam, watching Gordon in the mirror.

<Dad says you don't want a Christmas tree,> Gordon signs finally, as Barney's brushing his tongue.

Barney coughs, spits, and rinses his mouth out. "Yeah, well.. I don't," he says, wiping his face on his towel. Gordon looks like he wants to say more, to ask more, but his eyes soften upon seeing Barney's face.

<Okay.>

"Okay," Barney echoes.

<Is there anything you do want?>Gordon asks, and Barney shrugs. <My parents... we all want you to be comfortable.>

"I am," Barney sighs. Lying. "It's just a rough time of year for me, darlin."

Gordon approaches, stepping over Barney's pajamas on the bathroom floor, and kisses his cheek. They sign <I love you> together, bump their hands together as Barney turns to examine his stubble in the foggy mirror.

Gordon doesn't drag him off to do anything that first day, and Barney's grateful. He spends much of the afternoon hanging out in Gordon's room, in his bed mostly, watching movies on the little tv Gordon had hauled out of his closet.

He drifts in and out of sleep, exhausted and, after a while, shaky from hunger. He oughta get up and have some dinner, at least, he knows. Gordon must have the same thought, because he comes to check in on Barney around five, signs to him:

<Are you hungry?>

Barney nods, reaching for him as Gordon climbs onto the bed with him.

<Dinner's almost ready. Do you want to come down?>

Barney knows he should, but he feels gross. It's that pesky, nasty feeling you get after laying in bed all day, wasting the weekend on sad, sweaty naps.

<I can bring you up a plate,> Gordon tells him.

"No, I... I'll get up." He pulls back the blankets, and Gordon moves so that he can stand. Once vertical, the woozy hungry feeling really hits him, and Barney sways a bit. "I'm fine," he assures Gordon, "just need somethin in me."

They head downstairs, and Barney's just starting to question the difference in how they're dressed as they reach the dining room. Gordon's got a nice shirt and pants on--like he's about to go on a date, or to a job interview. Barney glances down at his Black Mesa t-shirt and sweatpants, feeling out of place.

Rob and Diane smile at him as they enter the dining room, where all sorts of food is laid out. And there in the middle of the table is a menorah and oh, that's right. He vaguely kind of distantly recalls Gordon telling him once before--

Idiot, Barney, he chides himself mentally, but forces himself to smile and talk. "I guess I oughta go get changed--"

"No, no, you sit down," Diane says, as Gordon guides him to his seat. Barney settles in, feeling awkward.

He eats without really tasting, laughs and talks without hearing himself or anyone else. Rob is distracted by the dog for a moment, and Diane hops up to grab something from the kitchen, and Gordon takes the chance to sign to him.

<Are you okay?>

"Yeah, I'm fine--"

<You're not,> Gordon signs, frowning. Rob glances over, then quickly looks away, realizing that he's intruding. <Barney...>

<I told you, this is just a rough time for me,> Barney signs back. <I'm not mad at you.>

Gordon nods, gaze flickering from his hands back to his face. <Can we talk after dinner,> Barney signs, and he nods again, bringing his boyfriend's hands closer to kiss them.

He feels marginally better after dinner. At least he's not shaking anymore, now that he's eaten. Gordon drifts after him to the living room, hanging back as Barney takes a seat on the couch. His hands are still, silent, but poised to say something.

"I forgot your folks were Jewish," Barney laughs, pushing a hand through his hair. "I know you told me last year, just... forgot..." He trails off as Gordon kneels on the couch beside him, eyes searching his face for something.

<Does it have to do with your family?> Gordon asks him, and Barney licks his lips, averting his eyes. Avoiding eye contact.

"Shit, darlin, when doesn't it have to do with them," he laughs finally, then clears his throat and shifts in his seat. "I'm alright, I'm just... Some bad stuff happened around Christmas." Gordon reaches out, stroking his hair. "I, uh. Stole my sister's car one year."

Gordon tilts his head, and Barney spills. "Ed bought her a Porsche for Christmas, had it out in the driveway--I stole it. And crashed it." He kind of grins at that, like it's funny. Gordon's not laughing.

"Aaah... Well, after that, he about murdered me. You know." He's conveniently left out the part of the story where he was sloshed. He doesn't need Gordon to know that bit about him.

"Lauren hated me for a while too. We didn't talk until... a couple years back, I guess. I called before I left college, got to talk to them both again." Gordon's still watching him, searching for more. "That's all I got, baby," Barney says. "It's just--bad stuff happened, every year. I ruined Christmas every year." He clears his throat. "An' I don't wanna ruin your family's Hanukkah too."

Gordon shifts on the couch and leans against him, head on Barney's shoulder. He takes his hand, squeezing it, and Barney sighs, tilting his head back. "Honestly," he laughs after a minute, "I forgot, but y'all being Jewish probably saved me from melting down the second I walked in the house. If I'd had to be around all that Christmas stuff for two weeks, I'd... lose it."

Gordon nods, and turns his head to kiss his jaw. "I love you," he murmurs, voice soft and sweet as ever, and Barney melts.

Gordon must have said something to his parents--Barney doesn't know what, knows Gordon wouldn't just air his business out for them or anyone, but they don't bring up anything Christmas related over the next few days. Rob changes the radio whenever a Christmas song comes on, lands on some alt-rock station.

Of course, they can't do anything about the decorations of the world around them, as they're headed for the restaurant. They're going for Chinese food, which Gordon signs to inform him is a tradition, and Barney's grateful for a taste of normalcy, but--

God, the restaurant is so decked out, it's almost sickening. Tinsel and faux snow and paper snowflakes and little reindeers on the ledges between booths. Gordon slides into the booth first, giving Barney the option to get up and walk out if he needs to; he threads their hands together, rubbing his thumb over the back of Barney's as they peruse the menu.

It's fine. It's not a big deal, Barney tells himself. It's just not. He's not scared of some stupid holiday ornaments. He knows, realistically, that his abuse--still feels weird calling it that, like it's something serious--had nothing to do with Christmas, or presents, or anything like that, but damn if it all doesn't make him think about it more.

He sips his oolong tea, manages not to choke when Jingle Bell Rock starts playing over the restaurant's sound system. "Be right back," he murmurs, pulling away from Gordon, who also stands and follows him to the exit, out into the snow and cold.

"Hoo boy," he breathes, once he's out front. His breath escapes him in a little puff of steam, and he pats his pockets, searching for something that's not there. Gordon just stands by, rubbing his shoulder.

"Sorry," Barney says, rubbing his jaw. "I'm sorry." He's managed not to cry, so far. Just breathe, smash the feeling into nothing, and shove it in the back of the closet--

<You're not doing anything wrong,> Gordon signs, and Barney shakes his head. God, he wishes he still smoked. That sounds so good right now. Like it would clear his head right up. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he shakes his head again, whimpering.

Gordon yanks him into a hug and Barney bawls into his shoulder, trying to calm himself and failing. God damn. Every time Gordon takes him anywhere, he has to ruin it, doesn't he?

"Barney," Diane says, cracking open the front door. "Gordon, we're going to order to go, okay?

"I'm sorry," Barney sobs, and she pats his shoulder.

"It's okay, Barney." She hands Gordon his coat, so that he can drape it over Barney's shoulders, and then passes over the car keys.

Gordon leads him to the car and helps him into the backseat, then climbs up front to start the engine, turn the heat on. Barney feels like shit, ruining their family outing like this, their tradition.

"I can jus' sit ou' here," he says shakily, as Gordon's climbing into the backseat beside him. "You folks shouldn't have ta--" He stammers when Gordon shakes his head and starts to sign-- "Baby, it's your tradition." He's whining. He knows it.

<You're more important,> Gordon signs, and pulls him over to rest his head on his shoulder and wait.

He's calm enough to be right and proper embarrassed by the time Diane and Rob get back to the car, carrying two big brown bags of food.

"You alright, son?" Rob asks, as he's climbing in. Barney doesn't answer, just closes his eyes and wills his mind to stop. Gordon rubs his hand, leaning over to buckle his seatbelt for him, and lets him rest.

Two things happened very quickly, over Christmas break. Lauren announced--and Lindsey relayed it to Barney, who was not present for this meeting--that she was moving out. And starting a family, her and Dan and their boy, the boy she'd had senior year of high school.

Well, she didn't announce it by herself, obviously. Her fiancée Dan was there by her side, as she showed off the ring. "Diamond's the size of a boulder," Linsdey told Barney later.

"How'd Dan afford that," Barney huffed, and Lindsey eyed him strangely.

"Dad promoted him," she said simply, and Barney cursed softly.

The wedding was to be held in March, and Barbie was overjoyed, and Ed was thrilled, and nobody but Barney seemed to find it suspicious that she was getting married awfully quick. "She's not pregnant again," Lindsey said, and rolled her eyes when Barney pressed the theory. "She and Dan have been waiting for forever to get their own house."

Lauren hadn't said a thing to Barney since Christmas Eve. Barely acknowledged his existence anymore; she'd shoulder him out of the way if they passed each other in the hall, but she didn't look at him, didn't say a thing. Barney had started to feel like a ghost in his home. Lindsey still talked to him, sweet Lindsey, but she also wasn't home all the time, had her own friends and her first boyfriend, Gary.

By the time Barney returned to school, it was mid January. And word had spread, just like he knew it would. The sheriff's son had told his circle, and Dan had gone out of his way to inform just about everyone he knew at St. Mary's, and now not only was he the queer kid, he was also the boy who stole a car to go joyriding, drunk.

His reputation just could not get any better!

When his classmates weren't ignoring him, they'd corner him to beat him up--so not much of a change from pre-Christmas, but Barney was starting to become sick of it, spotting himself with twin black eyes every time he passed a mirror. He liked to think that he had a nice face, underneath it, and while he wasn't sure if bruises could last forever, it was concerning. Bad for his vanity!

He was bleeding on his uniform shirt, and that was kind of annoying too, Barney thought, scrubbing at the stain from his bloodied nose. That only seemed to be making it worse. How could he have known? He didn't do laundry.

This beating hadn't been much different from any of the others--a bashing for daring to come to school, for being in the way, for being gay. Barney sniffed at his reflection in the second floor bathroom mirror, spat blood in the sink, and dabbed at his nose with toilet paper.

He looked awful.

He had been thinking about something Lindsey'd said, Christmas day, when he'd been nursing his bruises and cuts from the car crash and the subsequent beating. It's not like you have to marry a girl, but if you at least had a girlfriend...

Yeah, that wasn't an option. His own preferences aside, there wasn't a person at St. Mary's Private School who didn't know about him. There wasn't a girl alive who'd believe that Barney Calhoun had suddenly gone straight for her--and even if there was, the chances of anyone else buying it were slim to goddamn none.

He dabbed a wet paper towel against his split lip next, wincing. This sucked, though. He had to figure something out quick, because this wasn't working.

Gordon touches his hand, jolting him awake to find the car parked, Diane and Rob climbing out already. <Are you hungry?> he signs, face worried, brows knit. <We don't have to do dinner if you want to rest.>

"'M fine," Barney murmurs, rubbing at his dry eyes. "You should eat. I'm gonna.. I'm gonna go to bed."

<Do you want me to come with you?> Barney watches him sign and sighs, shrugging. <Do you want to be alone?>

"Yeah... I'm sorry, Gordo."

Gordon squeezes his hand, signs <it's okay,> and unbuckles his seatbelt to climb out of the car. Barney follows. He wishes it felt okay.

He heads upstairs, dragging his feet, and falls face first into Gordon's bed to nap. He feels awful; this whole trip has been bad, worse than the last one. Worse than the first one, in his opinion, because this time it's his behavior that's the problem. He sighs, breathing Gordon's scent off of his pillow, and closes his eyes.

He managed not to scream when he got bowled over walking out of the bathroom, but the noise that did escape wasn't much better. Barney sat up carefully, looking back at the person who'd knocked him over. Some girl, someone he'd never seen before, with a tall, slim build, long brown braided hair, and a pretty face. Not his type, but he was aware she was a pretty girl.

"I am so sorry," she said, fumbling around on the tile floor to find her glasses. Barney handed them to her and she slipped them on her face. "Jesus! Did I hit you that hard?" she asked, looking him over, and Barney snorted, shaking his head as he shook with laughter.

"I'm sorry," the girl said, standing and holding a hand out to him, pulling him to his feet. She was a few inches taller than him--but who wasn't, at this point. "I'm new, and I was trying to get back to my locker before the bus left--"

"Well then you probably oughta hurry," Barney said, and she nodded, clutching her books to her chest, but didn't move.

"Well.. it's probably left already, by now," she said, looking away. Awkward. Barney wasn't sure what she wanted him to do about that. As if reading his mind for that thought, she lifted her gaze. "You could... walk me home. If you wanted to."

Barney did not want to. But something clicked in his brain, and something else whirred to life. He had an idea. A bad one, but maybe...

"You said you're new?" he asked, and she nodded, confirming. Yeah. Yeah, that could work, couldn't it? Someone who didn't know him at all...

"Yeah, I'll walk you home," he said, grinning despite the pain in his face. Her cheeks lit up red as she smiled.

The problem with it was... he had no idea how to ask her out. Debbie did it for him eventually, three weeks in; asked if he wanted to go steady, be her boyfriend. He could at least appreciate that about her--she was bold. Always charging ahead without looking.

So he'd said yeah, sure. Or something to that effect, and her eyes had lit up all bright again, happy. He made her happy, he was aware of that. And she wasn't bad company, not at all. They could talk, even about things he was interested in. She'd just sit there next to him, hands on her skirt, listening to him spout off theories about UFOs, and nod and give him her input.

It took him a while to figure out that this was friendship, that they hadn't actually become girlfriend and boyfriend at all. He didn't say a thing about it, though, because Debbie seemed content, and that was fine by him.

It was when he brought her home from the movies one night that she pushed the issue. "Aren't you gonna kiss me?" she asked, as Barney turned to leave her on her porch.

Ah. Right. Barney had laughed, said "course I am," and come back to her. She had her eyes closed, head tilted down, so he didn't have to feel bad about closing his eyes too.

Just pretend it's someone else.

She looked satisfied, and Barney thought to himself, I've done it. I've achieved straightness, as he walked home.

Barney jolts awake as a heavy weight drapes across him. He grunts, squinting in the dark of Gordon's room, barely making out the mass of hair lying atop him. Ah, Doug. The dog whines for a bit and finally lays his head down with a big, heartfelt sigh.

"I get it, buddy, trust me," Barney yawns. He feels like shit, in so many ways. He's exhausted, and he wants Gordon to come hold him, but he knows that's not fair when his boyfriend's trying to enjoy Hanukkah with his parents.

Trying. Despite Barney's efforts to ruin things again.

He feels shitty, and he doesn't get why he's gotta go through all this again. Why's he gotta spend all week dreaming about that last Christmas, that last year at home? It's not like any of it's good memories. Shouldn't he be repressing this shit for good, or something?

Fuck, he hasn't really thought much about Deb in... Well, hasn't thought of her properly in years. He doesn't want to think of her now, but the wound stings too much to ignore at the moment.

Barney slips back into sleep, and he dreams of home.

Sunday night's dinner was quiet. Just the scrape of silverware on plates, the clinking of water glasses. Lindsey sat to Barney's right, shooting him furtive glances, looking away to Ed. Barney was about to ask her if he had something on his face when she piped up on her own.

"Barney has a girlfriend."

Barney choked, Barbie dropped her fork, and Ed continued chewing, glancing over at her.

"Izzat so, sweetie?"

"Linds," Barney hissed. She kicked him under the table.

"Tim Dawson saw you kissing her on her porch," Lindsey continued, as Barbara stared at them both.

Barney waited for the hammer to come down, any second now. But Ed just nodded, turned his gaze to Barney. "Good for you."

"Why didn't you tell us," Barbara chided him, and Barney looked down at his plate.

Because I knew you wouldn't believe me, he thought, and they ate his silence up as if he were just bashful.

Come next Sunday night, Barbara had badgered him into inviting his girlfriend to dinner, and Barney had no good excuses for why she couldn't make it. So he invited her, and Debbie was over the moon with excitement.

As it turned out, his family adored Debbie. She and Barbara hit it off right away, as Debbie helped in the kitchen. Then she spent dinner talking and laughing with his family, answering all sorts of pestering questions about herself as Barney sat by, eating dinner quietly, letting her hold his hand.

See, now, that was going to be a problem. If his family got too close to her, if they liked her too much, they were guaranteed to figure out that he was faking around her. They were guaranteed to hate him even more when he inevitably fucked it up.

But even Ed liked her. After dinner, he pulled Barney aside, and he thought he was in for it--but the old man just clapped him on the shoulder and hugged him.

Alright, maybe faking it would work for a little longer.

Gordon climbs into bed beside him and Barney shifts, halfway between memory and dream and half awake to boot. Gordon drapes an arm over him, kisses his temple, murmurs "I love you" in his ear. Barney rolls over to face him, pressing close to hold onto Gordon in turn as he drifts back to sleep.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, starving. When had he last eaten? Lunch, the day before, his tired brain supplies. He pulls carefully out of Gordon's grasp, and his boyfriend rolls over sleepily, snuggling up to his pillow instead.

He creeps down the stairs, approaching the light coming from the kitchen. Diane is up, eating leftover Chinese food and tapping away at her laptop at the breakfast nook. Barney hovers in the doorway until she notices him.

"You hungry?" she asks, and he nods, crossing into the kitchen. "There's plenty of leftovers."

He gets a little bit of everything on his plate and microwaves it, as Diane continues working. "I couldn't sleep," she admits, "I was, but I woke up an hour ago and just knew how to wrap up this project..." She glances over at him. "Are you feeling better, honey?"

"Yeah," Barney says thickly, leaning against the counter to pick at his food. "I think so."

The kitchen is silent, other than Diane's laptop, the clack of her keyboard. She shuts the laptop suddenly, setting it aside. Barney glances at her.

"If you need to talk, I'm here," she tells him. "I can brew us some coffee, or tea, and we can just talk it out."

Barney laughs dryly, and shovels some more fried rice into his mouth. "I appreciate it," he says, "but..."

Diane tilts her head, so reminiscent of Gordon. Barney takes a breath, glancing at the clock on the stovetop. 3:04. He should be more tired, he thinks, but then again, he's been asleep since at least seven last night..

"I don't even know where I'm supposed to start," he admits, setting his fork down. Diane nods, and stands to start making tea for them both. "I don't... know how to do this. Any of it."

"Well, why not start there," she says. "What don't you know how to do?"

"I don't know how to dance," Barney lied, when Debbie asked him to a school shindig. Correction: Debbie asked him to ask her to the dance, which he wasn't going to do.

"Well I can teach you," she laughed, but stopped upon seeing his sour face. "What, you don't wanna go with me?"

"It's not that," he said quickly, defensively. Careful now, Calhoun, or you're gonna give it away. "I just--I don't know, I've never been to any school dances." She looked like she was about to encourage him some more, so he pressed ahead. Careful, careful! "I'd rather just be with you. Just you."

Nailed it! Her face went pink, and Debbie sat down quickly on the edge of his bed, looking away. "Well why didn't you say that," she asked, as Barney mentally congratulated himself for getting out of hot water.

He raised an eyebrow when her hand found his, lowered it before she looked over at him. "Can you be honest with me," she started.

No, he thought, but he nodded.

"You've really never had a girlfriend before?"

Barney mulled the question over in his head for a second, then realized he needed to answer quickly. "Of course not," he laughed, stealthily stealing his hand back.

"Alright," Diane says, leaning against the armchair. Barney's on the couch, head in his hands, fingers dragging through his hair. "So you had a girlfriend."

"Fake girlfriend," Barney croaks. He pauses. "I know it was messed up, but--"

"We're not going to judge you, honey," Diane says. Barney sighs, and she sips her tea.

"Whatever happened with you and this girl, and your family... you can't beat yourself up over it forever, Barney," Diane says, and his shoulders slump a bit.

"I don' even know why I'm thinkin about it," Barney admits, lifting his head and reaching for his tea. "Just-- yesterday, I guess, got me thinkin..."

"You were exposed to environmental triggers that reminded you of your trauma," Diane supplies. He shrugs, only about half sure of what that means. "It's common for abuse survivors to develop triggers that put them back in the mindset--"

"I get it," he groans, then regrets it when Diane falls silent. "Sorry."

"You're fine," she says.

"I just feel... awful, that every time we come out here, I'm like this."

"It's not your fault, Barney," Diane says.

"You folks must be sick to death of... sayin that."

Diane sighs, and moves to straighten up. Guilt presses into Barney, dissipating when Diane rubs his shoulder.

"Barney, you may as well go ask my son to marry you right now, because we're not letting you go. We adore you." She pats him on the back, then takes his half-drank mug of tea. "I'm going to get us some more," she announces, heading for the kitchen. Barney hides his red face until she's gone, then sighs and tips his head back, staring at the ceiling.

He hears Gordon stumble down the stairs, and he comes into the living room, scratching his bare stomach. Barney looks over at him, half asleep, dazed, no glasses on his face, and lets him fall face-first into his arms.

"You tired, gorgeous?" Barney asks, stroking his hair. Gordon mumbles wordlessly. "You should be in bed."

"Oh good, there he is," Diane says, coming back to set a fresh mug of tea on the coffee table for Barney. "You can ask him now."

Barney shoots her a look and she laughs, gazing at them both fondly. Gordon snores in his arms.

"I've been thinkin about it," Barney admits, looking down at his boyfriend. "Popping the question. Not now, of course, but... someday."

"Well you have our full support when you do," Diane says. Barney returns the smile she gives him, then turns focus back to Gordon, who mumbles in his sleep and pulls closer.

Diane eventually covers them with a blanket and tells Barney to get some rest. He nods, laying his head against the armrest of the couch, and holds onto Gordon as he slips back into dreams.

He'd taken her to prom, in the end. It was what she wanted, and Barbara and Ed had started grilling him on it too, don't you wanna see your girlfriend all dressed up?

Barney was scared, though, he wouldn't lie. Sure, it was a private school dance, so it was sure to be mild, but still--90% of his grade knew he was a dicksucking queer, and the other 10% believed the rumor that he'd killed someone drunk driving.

But it was her senior prom, and Debbie was excited, and he let her adjust his tie before they entered the school's gymnasium-turned-dancefloor.

"Relax," Debbie told him, as they walked through the door, arm in arm. "Dancing's not so scary. Just remember what I showed you." For some reason, she seemed nervous too, but Barney didn't question it much.

A couple of her gal friends came over to gab with her, gushing over her pink gown, her beautiful hair--! Barney slipped away for a moment to get them some punch. He sighed, scooping two drinks, and took a sip of his as he--

The punch was spiked. No way that it wasn't. Fruit punch didn't just burn like that. He wondered who'd done it--possibly one of the football team, seeing as how a few of them were looking over there and laughing now.

Or they were just having a chuckle about the gay kid showing up to prom. Yeah, yuk it up.

Debbie returned her focus to Barney when he returned, took a couple sips of punch, and then coyly invited him to dance. Dancing wasn't hard. Barney had a good sense of rhythm, and he used to dance in the basement sometimes--not slow dancing, obviously, but fun, heart pounding dance moves. His nerves were melting away, courtesy of the cup and a half of punch he'd downed, and he and Debbie leaned on each other, moving to the music.

"I feel a little faint," Debbie told him, a few dances and a couple cups of punch later. "Do you mind if we get out of here?"

Barney was nothing if not agreeable, and so he agreed. Debbie was a lightweight, he realized, following her back through the crowd to leave.

"I'm sorry," Debbie said, as their shoes crunched over the gravel of the parking lot. "I just got so dizzy back there..."

"It's fine," Barney said.

"Oh, but we didn't get our picture taken..."

"Really fine," Barney said amicably. He stopped at the car to open the door for her--one of Ed's cars that he'd loaned him for the night, to get his gal to and from the dance. God, how easy it had been to win Ed's love and respect. All he had to do was fake being straight, until he was!

Debbie pursed her lips, glancing towards the school, and shut the door. "Do you mind if we just sit for a while?" she asked, and Barney shrugged. Agreeable. Amicable to anything!

She climbed into the back seat, and Barney considered it for a long moment before climbing in to sit on the other side. Debbie leaned over to kiss him--and he was never gonna like that, he had come to realize. Kissing a girl. Was it always going to be so miserable, kissing women, for the rest of his life? His mind wandered. After graduation, they'd be off to college, maybe. Or maybe they'd just get married. Ed would probably be happy if they just got married straight away, and Barbie would be overjoyed. He could picture himself in a tux, and a bride in all white, face hidden by a veil approaching. Yeah, sure. He'd be fine with that. Agreeable, always!

"Barney," Debbie breathed, and he realized with a jolt that she had her hand on his zipper. "Is this okay?" she asked, and he chuckled nervously, looking away.

Be pleasant. Be charming. Be delightful! Be a man, be straight, be the pride of your family--

"Yeah, of course," he croaked, looking away as Debbie pressed her gloved hand flat against the front of his pants. He focused on the back of the driver's seat as Debbie pressed closer, kissing him, guiding his hand to her breast--nope, didn't like that--and unzipped his pants--nope, not good, not having fun here--and pulled her glove off and reached into his briefs.

"Have you ever... been with anyone?" Debbie asked him breathily, and Barney thought of the quarterback he'd sucked off, and all the other boys before that, and the boys he'd kissed in junior, sophomore year, and all the boys he'd eyed wantingly, his whole life--

"No," he gasped, heart pounding.

"Me either," Debbie said, stroking him. He couldn't suppress a shudder, but she seemed to take that as a sign of pleasure as she tried to stroke him to hardness.

It was fine. He was being agreeable and straight and normal. It was fine. If he just stared hard enough at the back of the driver's seat, he could pretend it was a man touching him with those soft hands.

After a few minutes, though, Debbie seemed to be losing confidence. It wasn't that it didn't feel alright, but god, Barney couldn't get past the whole woman thing. Get used to it, dick! He wanted to yell, we're gonna be doing this until the day we die!

But he couldn't get it up, and he laughed softly, kind of panicked, as Debbie let go of him and sat up.

"Are you nervous?" she asked, and he fumbled for the excuse.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, a little."

She nodded, looking away. She really was pretty, Barney thought, feeling like absolute shit. Such a pretty girl, and he couldn't even get hard.

"Maybe we should go somewhere private," she suggested, and Barney laughed again, half-hysterically.

"Yeah, 'course..."

She sat back, crawled out of the back seat, and he zipped himself up and followed. As they were driving, Debbie started to complain of a headache, and more dizziness, and Barney had so pleasantly suggested that maybe she oughta just go home and have a lie down, rest until she felt better, and they could always see each other at school.

Debbie had looked away from him then, and half whispered "aren't you gonna offer to come up with me?"

Oh fuck. He wasn't getting out of this, was he? Barney kept his eyes on the road, considering driving into the median. Her hand found his thigh and he forced himself to smile, heading for her house.

By the grace of God, her parents were home and waiting up for her, and Barney left her in their hands, headed back to Ed's car, and drove himself home to shower until his skin felt raw.

He avoided her for a few days after that--feigned sick, didn't go to school all next week. He hung out in his room, reading and flipping through magazines, looking up UFO sightings on his personal computer. It was the perfect plan, staying home from school, because Debbie would never be bold enough to come over and try anything at his house.

Until she did. "Barney!" Barbara called up the stairs as he was leaving the bathroom. He sighed, called back "yes ma'am, coming!" and headed for the stairs.

Debbie was sitting in the living room with his mother, and Barney had to tamp down his fight-or-flight response, just stood there and smiled at her, grin and bear it.

"Hi Barney," Debbie said, standing to meet him. "Are you feeling better?"

"Oh, well..."

"You seem fine enough to play around on your computer all day," Barbara said helpfully.

"Yes ma'am," Barney gritted out.

"I brought you your schoolwork," Debbie said, starting to reach into her bookbag.

"Why don't you two go upstairs? I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do," Barbara said, and Barney had to swallow the scream of agony that bubbled up in his chest.

Debbie blushed, looked at him coyly, and reached for his hand. Barney forced the smile back onto his face and led her to the empty second floor, to his bedroom. His girlfriend settled right in on his bed, looking around his room at his posters, his glow-in-the-dark stars tacked to the ceiling, his computer, buzzing with electricity, his bookshelf, stuffed full of conspiracy theories.

Barney stood nervously near the door, until Debbie patted the bed next to her, inviting him over. "I might still be contagious," he warned.

"I don't mind," she laughed. Great, great. Cool. Barney sat beside her, and immediately the girl wanted a kiss, leaned in for it. Suck it up, Barney, think about aliens and kiss the girl.

One kiss turned into making out, which Barney had quite enjoyed the last time he'd done it with a boy. Now, not so much. Debbie's hand found his, bringing it towards her, closer--and Barney yanked himself away from her like he'd been burnt, when his hand brushed against the front of her skirt.

"You don't want to?" Debbie asked, sounding half hurt, half curious.

"N-no! I mean, no, that's not it, just... Still feeling under the weather..."

"Then let me take care of you," she said softly, pushing him back onto the bed. Barney gulped, looking towards his wall, until Debbie pulled him back front and center to kiss him. Her hand palmed eagerly at the front of his pants, and he willed himself to just get hard, get it up, get it over with.

"Do you not find me attractive?" she asked, fifteen minutes later. They hadn't gotten anywhere, they hadn't gotten anything over with, and all Barney had to show for her attempts was a feeling of sickness and shame.

"That's not it."

"Then what?" she asked, feelings hurt. "I'm trying to be the girl you want, Barney, I know this is all boys think about..."

Not in the way you're imagining, Deb.

"I'm just not feeling well," he insisted, and she looked at him tearily, desperate to buy his story. "It's... you can't get hard when you're sick, it's science..."

"Oh," she said, and then laughed. "Oh, Barney, I'm sorry, you must be really unwell."

"Yeah," he laughed, "more than you know."

He couldn't keep going like this. It wasn't working anymore, lying to her about why he couldn't get hard, why he couldn't fool around, why he couldn't finger her. She'd been real upset about that, after exposing herself to him, that he hadn't wanted to do anything. I thought this would help...

He needed to figure out a way to end it, to let her down easy. Let her go find a real man to roll around in the hay with, let him pretend to mope about his heartbreak until he moved out. There had to be a way to break up with her that wouldn't tear her heart to bits, but that would also keep Ed and Barbara off his back...

When he came home from school that Friday, her bicycle was in the front yard. Barney stood there a moment, eyeing the bike, and crept around to the back door, to sneak down to the basement.

He entered the kitchen and heard her crying from the living room. Swallowing hard, Barney approached the door to the kitchen, listening in.

"Here, sweetie," Barbara said, and he heard the soft thump of a tissue box set in front of Debbie. The couch creaked as Barbie took a seat. "Tell me what's bothering you."

"I..." A sniffle. "I don't think Barney loves me." Silence. Barney grit his teeth, closing his eyes.

"What makes you think that?" Barbara asked, sounding devastated. When Debbie didn't say anything right away, she continued, "That boy's wild about you."

"I don't think he's attracted to me... physically," Debbie continued, and blew her nose.

"Why wouldn't he be?" Barbie asked, scooting closer to her on the couch, patting her shoulder. "Debbie, honey, you're gorgeous, he'd be crazy not to..."

"It's just..." Fuck. If ever there was a time to bust through the door and proclaim look, I'm here, no need to talk about me! now was it.

"He doesn't seem... into it. When we fool around."

Barbara was silent.

"He can never seem to get it up when he's with me, and I thought at first," she paused, sniffling again, "I thought "maybe I'm doing something wrong, maybe my hands are too rough," but no matter what I do, it's like he doesn't want me to touch him, or touch me..."

The front door opened and shut, and a minute later, Ed's voice came from the living room. "What's going on? Debbie, honey, what happened?"

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Barney squeezed his eyes shut, straining to hear. Barbara picked her words carefully, purposefully.

"Barney's not attracted to Debbie. Sexually."

Fuck.

Ed was silent for a long moment, then sighed. "I should get home," Debbie sobbed, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, honey," Ed said, voice grim.

Oh please, God, don't let him tell her.

"It's that damn boy."

Fuck!

Barney ripped himself away from the door and slipped back out, onto the back porch. He ran out past the edge of the yard and hid for a while, waiting. He watched from the edge of the trees as Ed stepped out onto the back porch, looking for him, then disappeared back into the house.

He waited until it was dark out, and presumably safe to come home. They'd all be eating dinner, they wouldn't know that he had even come home. Ed's gonna kill you, the voice in his head warned, as he made his way back in through the back door. He knows you're still gay, and he's gonna kill you.

He pushed open the door to the back hall, passing through to get to the stairs. There, he froze. Ed stood at the top of the stairs, coming down from using the bathroom, looked him up and down as if seeing him for the first time.

"Boy," he said coolly.

"Sir."

"Let's have a chat," Ed suggested, and Barney swallowed the fear rising up in his throat, nodded.

They entered the living room, Barney sitting in the middle of the couch, Ed standing across from him. Here it comes.

"Your girl was here earlier," Ed informed him. He cleared his throat. "She was pretty damn upset, Barney."

Barney nodded, looking right through Ed. Maybe he could still escape, some voice in his head wondered. Maybe he could overpower Ed, steal his keys, and drive all the way to Houston, hitchhike from there...

"You know why?" Ed asked, and Barney clammed up, looking down at his hands. Ed cleared his throat again, and Barney glanced at him, then away again.

"Well... She was crying, making a real fuss, because you can't get it up for her." Barney flinched. "Yeah, she told your ma what you two have been up to..."

"I'm sorry," Barney croaked.

"Look, boy, every man gets nervous the first time, but when a girl is this eager to please--"

Barney closed his eyes, shaking. "You're going to invite her over tomorrow and get the job done," Ed said firmly. Barney bit his lip, shook his head.

"How do you expect to have a family if you're not willing to try?" Ed barked, and Barney shook his head harder.

"I don't--w-want a family," he choked out.

"Well, your girlfriend's not going to be real happy to hear that. She's been looking forward to becoming your wife, starting a family with you."

"I don't want a wife," Barney whispered, shaking. "I don't want a girlfriend."

Ed was silent for a moment, and Barney pressed on. "Look, I--I tried. I really tried-- to just... suck it up and be a man. The man you want me to be, but I can't. I'm not. Dad--"

"Don't you dare say it."

"I'm gay, dad, I--" The blow to his head cut him off, and Barney jolted, falling into the coffee table. Ed stood over him, face red with rage.

"Don't you fucking say that, Barney."

"I'm gay! What do you want from me, I'm gay, I can't--force myself not to be!"

"No fucking son of mine--!" Ed hauled him up by the front of his shirt and punched him again, and then again. "Not in my fucking house, boy!"

Barney sobbed, and Ed shoved him to the floor, kicking him in the gut. "F-fuck..."

"Watch your language," Barbara snapped from the doorway. Watching. Lindsey hid behind her, cowering, eyes on Ed.

"M-mom..."

Ed kicked him again and Barney groaned, curling in on himself.

"This is my house," Ed spat at him, yanking him up again. "My house, my rules, and in this house? We don't tolerate your type."

"Dad," Barney whimpered.

"I don't have a son," Ed spat at him.

"I'm still your son! You're my dad, I don't--"

"Ed," Barbara said firmly, shepherding Lindsey towards the stairs. "Get him out of here."

Ed nodded, flexing his hands, and hauled Barney towards the door. "Mom!" Barney called, as Ed dragged him towards his truck by his collar, "mom, please!"

She shut the door on him as Lindsey sobbed.

"It didn't have to be this way, boy," Ed informed him, hauling him out onto the highway and shoving him to his knees. Barney glared up at him. "You coulda had a wife, Barney," Ed pressed on. "Coulda been a real fucking man, had a family... But no, you had to keep fucking around."

Barney closed his eyes. "You know, that girl might give you a second chance," Ed said. "I might give you a last chance."

"Fuck you," Barney spat, and Ed set his jaw. He punched him, then kicked at him, again and again and again. Barney could barely bring his fists up to defend himself as his father beat him, cowering with his head in his arms.

"You're a piece of shit," Ed informed him. "Get up."

Barney stood, shakily, as Ed walked back to the truck. He half expected his father to return with a gun, shoot him where he stood, but instead Ed just started up the engine, grabbed something out of the glove box, and climbed out to chuck it at him. A money clip. It had to have a couple hundred bucks in it.

"Get walking," Ed said. Barney lifted his eyes from the money clip, searching for some answer in his old man's face.

"Dad--"

"You're not my son. Get walking. You're not coming home."

"Bu--Dad--what about school?!" Barney asked, and Ed shrugged.

"Good luck." And he turned and headed back to his truck and drove away, leaving Barney alone in the dark of the new moon.

Barney wakes up to Gordon, drooling on him and breathing softly in his ear. He groans, squinting, and tries to extract himself without jostling his boyfriend. This works in exactly the opposite intended way; he nearly ends up shoving Gordon off the couch, and the redhead wakes up, sleepy and confused as Barney fumbles with him.

"Mornin, sweetheart," Barney says, pulling Gordon close again. A pause. "I really need to piss, Gordon."

<Why're we on the couch?> Gordon asks, yawning.

"You don't remember? C'mon, let me up, I'm gonna go pee." Gordon snuggles into his chest, ignoring him. "Gordon. If you make me piss myself on your parents' couch, I'm never gonna forgive you."

Gordon climbs off of him eventually, so that Barney can hustle to the bathroom. He comes out to find Gordon waiting for him, sitting on the floor against the opposite wall. "Hey darlin," he greets him, and Gordon hops up, trails after him to the stairs.

It's like Gordon's waiting for him to say something, but he has no idea what he's supposed to be saying. Barney glances back at him, suspicious, and Gordon just beams.

"...What?"

<Nothing.>

"Uh-huh," Barney says dryly, heading back down to see if there's anymore leftovers. Gordon stands behind him while he's perusing the fridge, trailing his fingertips up Barney's back.

"You wanna tell me what you're up to?" Barney asks, straightening up. Gordon blinks, innocent. "Uh-huh. What're you planning?"

<What are you planning?> Gordon asks, and Barney squints, then his eyes widen--

"You--you were listening last night?!"

Gordon just grins at him, beams. <I thought it was a dream, actually. Thanks for confirming it.>

Barney could slap himself now. He presses a hand to his face, drags it down with a big sigh. "Babydoll."

<Hi.>

"Whatever you heard, forget it. I'm not... gonna ask you that right now, okay?" He steps away from the fridge and Gordon hip-checks it shut, following him again. "It's not... it wouldn't work right now, it's not--how I want it to be."

<But you want to,> Gordon teases him, and Barney chuckles dryly, turning away and rubbing his tired eyes. "I want to too," Gordon says softly, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around Barney.

"Uh."

Gordon kisses his neck, rubs his face against Barney's shoulder. "You wanna mar-- you seriously would?" Barney stammers, face going red.

Gordon nods, hiding his face as Barney turns to look at him. "No shit?" Barney asks, and Gordon laughs, shakes his head, nods.

<I want to marry you.>

"Jesus," Barney breathes, staggering slightly. "Christ, Gordo, you can't just say that to me."

<Or what?>

"Or I might go get the damn ring out of my bag and ask you in your ma's kitchen." He looks away, clearing his throat. "I, ah. Maybe meant to ask you on your birthday--don't look at me like that," he protests, because Gordon's making puppy dog eyes at him, big and green and longing.

<I would have said yes!> Gordon insists, and Barney shakes his head.

"Timing wasn't right. It's--it's not right now, either, okay? Just--"

<Ask me.>

"No, darlin." Barney tries to kiss his cheek and walk away from the conversation, but Gordon evades, then grabs onto his wrist.

"P-please, Barney..."

"That ain't fair and you know it," Barney says, and sighs. "God. Okay, you're gonna have to wait on the ring, then, cause it's upstairs--gimme a second." He clears his throat. "Gordon--"

<On your knee.>

"It's my proposal, I'll do it my way," Barney says, but he gets down on one knee anyway, because it'll make Gordon happy. "Gordon... Stop lookin at me like that! Gordon, you've made me so happy over the past couple years," he's rushing through it now, before Gordon can throw him off his game any more than he already has. "I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, baby." He takes Gordon's hand, which is trembling, speechless.

<...Well?> Gordon asks, after a long minute of silence.

"Don't make me say it, it's..."

<Yes, I'll make you the happiest man in the world.>

"Well I wasn't plannin on sayin that part--"

<Only if you make me the happiest man in the world too.> Gordon signs, and then pulls him to his feet to kiss him. Barney pulls him closer, deepening the kiss, only to pull away when Rob walks into the kitchen.

"Oh--sorry," Rob says, starting to duck back out into the hall.

"You're fine, we're done here," Barney says, as Gordon flops his wrist limply, then signs.

<We're engaged.>

"No the hell we ain't," Barney hisses, "that was just practice and you know it."

But Rob is already gone, calling for Diane to come quickly, the boys are getting married!

Barney sighs, rubbing his face, and Gordon leans down to kiss him again, coaxing a smile out.

Shit, maybe December's not so bad after all.

He doesn't give Gordon the ring until New Year's, citing that he wants the real proposal to be special. Diane and Rob usually throw a NYE party, he learns, but they're planning to keep it mellow and lowkey this year. For him.

Damn, he doesn't deserve all this, Barney thinks. The Freemans are so nice to him, so loving, and he's never done anything to earn that. He's not gonna tell them so much, though. They don't need to know about their mistake.

Gordon's been getting antsy, he knows. He wants the ring, and Barney's been withholding it for now, promising he'll get it "when the time's right." They're left in a kind of half-engaged limbo for now, dancing around the concept, dodging questions like live grenades. A date? For the wedding? Well, shucks, we ain't even engaged yet, not really...

Tonight feels like the night, though. Barney's decided on it. When the New Years ball drops, he'll pop the question. And now that moment's only twelve hours away, then eleven, ten, six... The day passes in huge leaps and bounds, time slipping away from him like sand through his fingers, and as the day ticks on, he starts to get nervous. Like he's gonna be sick, nervous. He starts to wonder if it's a sign from God that now's not the time, that he's not ready, not good enough...

The party starts at nine, and the Freemans apparently have a different idea of lowkey than Barney does. If he'd thought he was nervous before at the idea of proposing to Gordon in front of his parents, now that guests are arriving, he's petrified. Nope, no, nah. Tonight's not the night. He doesn't know these people, none of them know him, and what if he gets down on one knee and people just start preemptively objecting? Nah.

Not that the guests don't seem nice. He meets Gordon's old piano teacher, an older lady, who immediately launches into telling him about Gordon as a little kid--which is fun, until Gordon cuts in and drags him away, signing to <forget everything you heard.> Lots of Diane and Rob's friends and colleagues are gathered, loudly arguing and then agreeing with each other over their respective fields. Doug wanders through the party, stealing food out of people's hands and off their plates, looking pleased with himself.

Gordon leads Barney into the kitchen and pours them both some champagne with a sigh. "You alright?" Barney asks, and Gordon shakes his head, smiling.

<Too many people.>

Barney laughs. "Yeah, I get it." It's a little after 11:30 now, and they lean on the kitchen counter together, sipping champagne. Barney can't help but feel a little melancholy now. He'd really hoped to give Gordon the ring tonight, and make it a big, special moment, possibly with fireworks and flying snow, but that's not really going to happen now. He's too nervous. Gordon's too uncomfortable. Timing's no good.

They hang out in the kitchen until midnight, listening to the countdown from the living room. Barney shakes his head, smiling to himself, and Gordon gestures to get his attention.

<What?>

"Just missed my moment, s'all," Barney says, and Gordon tilts his head in confusion. "Well... Hell, c'mon. Let's go outside."

They step out onto the back porch, taking in the winter sky. It's snowing again, and the skyglow makes it look like the sun has just barely set. The ring weighs heavy in Barney's pocket, wrapped up in its velveteen box. It still doesn't feel like the time, but he's starting to wonder, standing out there on the back porch, if there is such a thing as a perfect moment.

Gordon shivers, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as Doug bounds past them into the yard. He's got his eyes on the sky when Barney addresses him.

"Hey, Gordo."

"Mm."

"You wanna marry me?"

Gordon doesn't look at him. He's watching the tail lights of a plane, up in the air above them. <You have to get down on your knee,> he informs Barney, and his boyfriend stares at him.

"In the snow?!"

<You have to!>

"Jeeesus, Gordon," Barney complains, but he's already kneeling in the snow, getting the knees of his jeans soaking wet. "If I die of hypothermia, I can't marry you, you got that?"

Gordon laughs, turning to look down at him. "Well?" Barney asks.

<Say the line.>

"Are you gonna make me the happiest man in the world or what?" He can't be mad, not when he's laughing, beaming up at Gordon.

<Ring,> Gordon signs, gazing down at him in adoration.

Barney digs it out of his pocket, pops the box open and holds it out to him. Gordon examines the ring for a moment, as if he's seriously weighing his options, and then throws himself at Barney in a hug. They both go down in the snow, and Doug comes racing back over, howling all the way.

"I love you," Barney informs Gordon, kissing him, and he feels Gordon knock their hands together, signing it back. "Alright, I love you, but let me out of the snow."

They stand up, and Gordon kisses him again, brushing snow off his fiancée. "Freezing out here," Barney tells him, as if he's just noticed how cold he is. Gordon laughs, pulling him back towards the back door, back into the party. They slip through the back hall and up the stairs, and Gordon runs them a bath to warm up in.

They undress, leaving their clothes in a wet, cold pile on the bathroom floor, and Barney climbs in first, Gordon settling in between his thighs.

"I love you, Gordon," Barney says again, pulling Gordon back against his chest as the tub fills with hot water. Gordon turns his head to kiss him.

By the time they've finished warming up in the bath and gotten dressed again, the party has died down to nothing. The two of them slip back downstairs eventually, where they find Rob asleep in his armchair and Diane tapping away at her laptop on the couch. She pats the cushion next to her leg without looking, and Gordon settles in, resting his head on her shoulder. Rob stirs, groaning.

"You wanna tell 'em, Gordo?" Barney asks, and Gordon smiles, holding out his hand to show his mom the ring. Diane gasps and oohs and aahs over it, and Rob stands to come closer to look. He rubs Gordon's shoulder, then steps around the couch to Barney and grabs him in a hug.

<How do you feel about September,> Gordon signs on January third, as they're headed back into Black Mesa on the tram. Barney considers for a minute. Ultimately, he has no preference on when--just knows that he desperately wants it to be soon. He wants to become Gordon's husband as fast as he can.

"That's fine," Barney says. "I mean, I'm happy with whatever you want."

<It's your wedding too,> Gordon tells him, and Barney grins sheepishly at him.

"Then I think I want it sooner," Barney says, and Gordon nods, biting his lip. "I don't wanna keep waiting to get to where we're going... to be married to you. I just... want to spend the rest of my life with you." He lifts his head, catches sight of the tears in Gordon's eyes, and rushes to comfort him. "Baby, you don't gotta cry about it!"

<I love you, Barney,> Gordon signs to him, pulling him into a hug and resting his head on Barney's shoulder. Barney squeezes him tight.

He doesn't want to let him go, ever.

Lent

Part 3