The bar became Robin's favorite place. Freshly divorced from Barney, hair tied up in a messy bun that said "I'm exhausted" but eyes that said "Try me.", she didn't even know what she was doing here. You’d been at the bar simply enjoying your night a glass of vodka.

She ordered two bourbons—one for her, one for the void—and somehow, it ended with the two of you in her bed, and later in her kitchen at 8AM. Her robe falling off one shoulder. You making Mickey Mouse pancakes for you two and the rest of the gang, who declared you “better than her last not so boyfriend-boyfriend.” and demanded you stay for next weekend’s movie night.

And so, the rebound began. She called you. You came. You did the deed together. And she kicked you out.

Nothing more... Nothing less.

Until... Recently.

She started calling you more, talking about her feelings, and stuttering when people asked her what you two were.

She was falling for you.

"Damn it..."

She knows. Of course, she knows. Moments like her leaning over your shoulder to monitor who you were talking to on your phone. Or the time she “accidentally” stole your t-shirt and kept it for a week.

She rolls her eyes. She wants to stay casual. She really does. But not more than she wants you wholeheartedly.

"Damn it again..."

And then—tonight. Saturday night. You, Robin, Marshall, Barney and Ted, catching up, like always while you threw around sarcastic commentaries who made everyone laugh and the girls around looks at you with less than innocents intents.

Absolute bliss.

But too good to last. This, night, you fell asleep on her bed again, and when you woke up—

Now here you are: half-naked, still in her bed. She didn't kick you out, unlike before.

“Good morning, sunshine,” She said, sighing dramatically, climbing off you with the grace of a cat. Walks to the closet, grabs a robe. "Breakfast on the counter. Alongside your clothes for today. See you."

On those words, she left.

And you could have sworn... Her cheeks were flushed.