Disclaimer: I do not own HIMYM or anything remotely related to it. This is my own what-if imagining.

New York, May 25, 2017

Robin waited at the international arrivals gate, cardboard sign reading "Stinson" at the ready. She smiled at the appreciative glances of the two other chauffers, and flashed her wedding ring at the one who wouldn't look away. The short skirt and heels weren't for them, but these looks reminded her the outfit would soon be well worth the discomfort of waiting for Barney's delayed flight.

At last, the gate opened and the arrivals pourd in. Robin caught sight of the only one who mattered, a flash of blond hair and gray flannel standing out from the herd. Barney headed straight for her, grin growing wider and brighter with every step. "I think you're my ride."

"I think you're right." She lowered the sign and tilted her head, lips parted, to receive his kiss. "Happy fourth anniversary."

His arm slipped about her waist and they fell into step together, his wheeled carryon rolling behind them. "Happy fourth anniversary. I missed you."

"I missed you, too. How was Munich?"

Barney's brow crinkled. "Long meetings, heavy food, and it rained the whole time. That thing we talked about before I left, though? Totally happened."

His words, and the knowing smile that accompanied them, stopped Robin in her tracks. "Are you serious?"

"Completely. Would I lie about something like that?" He gave her sleeve a gentle tug. "We have to keep moving, or all the bratwurst and beer I consumed over the last two weeks are going to permanently settle into what may one day be termed 'the old abs place.'"

Robin picked up her pace as much as she could in those heels. "You really did it?"

"I really did."

The tantalizing image danced around the edges of her imagination. Created by nature, perfected by a meticulous regimen of grooming and personal care, the work of art that was Barney Stinson needed no embellishment. Still, she knew all his clues, all his tells. He wasn't lying. Somewhere on his person, her husband now had a tattoo.

May 11, 2017

The night before Barney left for Munich, he and Robin cocooned on the couch with popcorn and beer, and the season premiere of Aces of Ink. "Sure you don't want to watch The Karate Kid instead?" Barney asked as the opening credits scrolled across the screen, stylized splashes of ink outlining the names and faces of each contestant in turn. "How come we have to watch a tattoo competition because somebody you went to Degrassi with has a shot at the title?"

"There, that's Stefan." Robin pointed at the screen as the image of one Stefan Munro, tall, blond, and sporting an impressive array of colors and shapes on his shirtless form filled the screen. "It's like rooting for the home team in hockey. How is that different from him watching me on the news?"

"Okay, fair enough. How come it took you this long to tell me you dated a tattoo artist?"

Robin lobbed a kernel of popcorn at Barney's head. "Stefan wasn't a tattoo artist when we dated, you idiot. He was a sweet kid who liked to draw. We were sixteen. He looks good."

Barney nudged Robin's leg with his knee. "What do you mean, he looks good? I mean, okay, he's blond, but the rest of it?"

"I mean he finally grew into himself. He was kind of nerdy when we hung out. This looks like him, like who he always was inside."

Barney grabbed the remote, hit rewind and then pause. "Is that a robin on his left shoulder?"

The bird was huge on the giant screen. Robin read aloud the crisp white script that appeared beneath a closeup of the art. "First tattoo: robin perched on maple leaf. Significance: first girl I ever loved." First girl he ever loved. Heat flooded her cheeks. He'd never said anything. "Artist: Kara Brooks, Seacouver Ink, Seacouver, Washington."

"Did he have that when you were going out?"

Robin shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Besides, it says he got it in Washington."

"The first girl he ever loved?" Barney's words came tense and tight.

"Hey. I married you. Look, his bio says his wife is expecting their fourth child. Stefan and I were kids when we dated. I was in that awkward stage between RJ and Robin Sparkles."

Barney's chin jutted. "Exactly, and he still put a permanent symbol of you on his body for the rest of his life."

Robin stroked Barney's ring with the tip of one finger. "So did you, and you get actual me on your body any time you want. Still jealous?"

"I'm not jealous."

"You are."

Barney tilted his head in the direction of the screen. "You're looking at some basically naked dude's tattoos. I know when you're turned on."

"By you. I love when you get all competitive. I'll admit, I find my old friend's tattoos interesting. A lot of them are his own art, things he used to draw in school. The right tattoo on the right guy does have a certain appeal, but I'm married to you. I don't look at other guys that way anymore. I might as well have 'exclusive property of Barney Stinson' tattooed on my ass, and no, I am not going to do that."

Barney affected a pout. "Why not? I would."

"Would what?"

"Get a tattoo if you wanted. Exclusive property of Robin Scherbastky-Stinson."

Robin laughed. "Your ass isn't big enough for my entire name."

"First name? Initials? Really tiny writing?"

"Would you quit it? Put your arm around me and watch the show. We're voting for Stefan at the end."

Barney did as she asked, his silence lasting for a full minute. "I vote for him to wear a shirt."

May 25, 2017

"What and where?" Robin's gaze flicked up and down the length of him. At this point, the only places she could rule out were face, neck and hands.

"A gentleman never tells."

She gave his arm a squeeze. He didn't flinch. Left upper arm was out. "True, but I'm asking you."

"I am not telling. You either have to guess or find it. I will give you two clues. It's in a private location and has great personal significance."

Shivers of anticipation tingled along Robin's skin. "Want to skip the bar and go straight home?"

"Best wife ever," Barney said a mere second before his mouth claimed hers.

They made it back to the apartment in record time, heading straight to the bedroom to make up for two weeks spent apart.

Afterwards, Robin lay back against the pillows, tracking the rise and fall of Barney's breathing. Chest, back, arms, legs, and private areas were out. She reached out and pulled down his lower lip. Nothing. "Liar. Unless you tattooed an internal organ, there is not a speck of ink anywhere on you."

Barney propped himself up on both elbows and regarded her from under slanted brows. "You haven't looked everywhere," he said, each syllable slow and precise, and then she knew."

"Give me your left hand," she said, and he did. She turned his hand palm down and took his ring between her thumb and forefinger, twisting it upward enough to see Robin, in small, precise black script the same width as his ring. "Oh." The sound escaped her in a squeak.

"That," he said, "is the most private part of my body, because that ring is never coming off for the rest of my life. Exclusive property of Robin Sherbatsky-Stinson. Do you like it?"

She rubbed the ink with the pad of one finger. "I love it. I'm sorry I can't do the same thing."

"Scared of needles?"

Robin's pulse skipped. "No, um, I mean, I can do it, but not until after November."

"What's happening in November?"

"You need your present now." Robin slipped from between the sheets and dressed in the robe draped over the foot of the bed. She padded back into the living room on bare feet, returning with a small white box wrapped with a red bow. "Open this." She handed the box to Barney and perched on the edge of the bed, breath catching in her throat.

He took too long pulling the ribbon free, too long lifting the lid from the box, parting the layers of white tissue paper. At last, he plucked the maple leaf onesie from its nest, holding it aloft by the shoulders. "Are you serious?"

"I'm serious. We got lucky. The first round of treatment worked. This is happening."

Barney set the onesie back in its nest and set the box aside on the nightstand, then patted the empty spot beside him. "Get back in here. We have to figure out what we're naming this kid, and where we're going to put it."

Robin settled back into the place she'd always belonged, snuggled against her husband's side. "Babies generally go in cribs."

"I mean on me. You've made me a marked man, Sherbatsky. If you think I'm not carrying our child's name on my body, then we're going to have a problem. If this kid is changing your body forever, he or she is changing mine, too."

She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in the warm, musky scent of him. "We're not going to have a problem. This is the best anniversary ever, right? I don't know how we're going to top this next year."

Barney gathered her close, wrapping her –wrapping them- in his embrace. "Challenge accepted."