A/N: This one is short but it's completely free of angst!

"I love nicknames. It makes me feel loved. It makes me feel less alone in this world." -Ellen Page

Nicknames for Newlyweds

Mainly late 2013/early 2014

Pet names. Even the phrase causes Robin to wrinkle her nose in disgust. They have always felt like an unnecessary part of relationships to her, better left to middle-aged housewives and characters in romantic comedies. However, as she adjusts to newly-married life, she finds herself wondering whether it's time for her to re-evaluate her position.

She tries. She really does.

The first attempt is one Saturday in the fall when Barney is ill and refusing to get out of bed. Robin's plan had been to spend the day working but a husband who regresses to a five-year-old when sick makes that difficult. It takes about an hour of his whining but she eventually joins him under the covers, and they waste the day away watching a Doctor Who marathon on BBC America. Call it overexposure to River Song or a mere slip of the tongue but she finds herself saying, "Sweetie, do you want anything to drink?" as she makes her way to the kitchen.

The word is heavy on her tongue, sounding completely alien coming from her. And the pause that hangs in the air before Barney tells her he's fine lets her know that her language choice has registered with him too.

No, Robin decides as she pops a bag of popcorn into the microwave, sweetie should be reserved exclusively for those with wild curls and a nine-hundred year-old time lord to admonish.

The next possibility doesn't even come close to actually leaving her mouth. Sandy is on holiday in Aruba - far too many of his exploits have already ended up splashed across some of the sleazier tabloid sites out there - and Robin finds herself saddled with a temporary co-anchor, Jessica Sloan, whose attitude reeks of someone who'll screw you over the moment your back is turned. Robin has met her type before. Jessica is the girl who has her eye on your job and will do anything in her power to get it. That means Robin spends those two weeks getting to work a little earlier and preparing even harder in the name of staying ahead of Jessica. And when she's forced to listen to Jessica call her boyfriend 'baby' over and over as she takes a call in the make-up room before that night's broadcast, Robin vows that the name will never cross her lips.

Honey is trialled at a work event that she accompanies Barney to over the holidays. The majority of Barney's colleagues are men, and the majority of their wives are at least twenty years their junior. And those who aren't desperately try to act as if they are. It's a sad sight, and as Robin surveys the room she wonders if she is the only woman present who is both free from Botox and old enough to remember the first Iraq war.

It's hard not to roll her eyes at the bleached-blonde forty-something who's poured herself into a dress designed for someone half her age and is currently flirting with Barney using everything she has got. Robin isn't the jealous type but she clocks the woman's hair toss and toothy smile along with Barney's strained polite grin and decides it's time to intervene.

She slips her arm through Barney's, noting his quiet sigh of relief as she appears at his side, and throws the woman a tight smile before saying, "Honey, are you ready to get out of here?" in the most sickly sweet voice she can muster.

"Honey?" he asks with a wry grin as they make their excuses and slip out of the building, and she mentally crosses another name from her list.

The frustrating thing is that Barney does not seem to face the same problem as her when it comes to terms of endearment. Conversations, texts, and voicemails are peppered with a mish-mash of sweeties, honeys, and babes. The latter has emerged as his personal favourite and he seems to relish using it now that he is free to do so. And the truth is that Robin can't say she minds. She expects to feel annoyed when she's woken up by Barney whispering "morning, babe," in her ear but she feels a rush of love instead. And "morning, Barney," always feels a little empty and formal in comparison.

The solution presents itself unexpectedly one evening when Barney shows up at WWN to take her for dinner. Her mind is all over the place as she tries to remember what still needs to be done before the staff production meeting the next morning, and though Barney swears he's okay to wait for her at her desk, she can't help but feel a little guilty.

"We're almost done, I swear," she tells him as she leans over him to send out an e-mail to David for tomorrow's meeting. "Five more minutes and then dinner."

"It's fine. Go and do whatever you need to do. I will sit and shoot sad looks your way until you take pity on me, your poor lonely husband who just wanted to treat his wife to dinner."

She's about to throw a witty retort back at him when Matt shouts for her from the other side of the room. She's off again like a whirlwind in heels, and shouts, "five more minutes, B," over her shoulder before disappearing down the corridor.

The name choice doesn't even register until she's falling asleep that night. It's the first nickname that hasn't made her want to roll her eyes or gag. It's free of the clichés that dog the slew of other pet names and nicknames, and it's the first one that's sounded like her.

That isn't to say that her nickname-hating stance doesn't remain. Barney whines for three days about the supposed pain in his arm when she whacks him after he calls her "Scherbs." And the look she gives him one night when he calls her "Robbie" is enough to let him know that he's not going to be having sex for the next couple of days.

B, however, slowly starts to become a part of her vocabulary. He's still Barney most of the time but every so often he's just B. When she's confined to bed with the flu and unable to gather the energy to go and get food, a groggy call of "B" lets Barney knows that he's needed. And when her father dies and he's there, she says, "he's gone, B," and crumples into his arms with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Sure the occasional babe and honey slip in there, but there's something about B that lasts. Maybe it's the way he smiles ever so slightly when she says it or that it's a name that only she gets to call him. Whatever it is, it sticks. And she realises she doesn't find the use of nicknames quite as horrendous as she used to.

But she'll never tell Barney that.