A/N: This was supposed to be part of a longer fic but that fell through, so I decided to post it on its own anyway. That's why it's so short (and to be honest I feel it's a little pointless, too), but it's fluff and I don't think a little fluff has ever hurt anyone, so enjoy! :)

Barney Stinson and Robin Scherbatsky did not spoon.

They were two independent, grown-up people who were not in a relationship with each other, and they didn't do cuddling, not to mention spooning.

She was okay with that.

Lying on her back, Robin turned her head to her left to look at the man sleeping next to her. He was curled up on his side and facing the wall, a position she had watched him settle into during her sleepless hours, which were now amounting to two.

Damn it, Scherbatsky, get your shit together. She thought to herself as she went back to looking at the ceiling of her room. You're not some weirdo who stares at people while they're sleeping. She smiled, because she was not. And she was about to fall asleep any second now, because she had control over her stupid brain, and her stupid brain was not telling her to wrap her arms around Barney Stinson anyway.

Except, she was cold.

You're not cold, you idiot. A little voice told her. It was August and she was Canadian and she couldn't be cold. In fact, there was absolutely no way she could be cold. But then again, he was hogging all the covers, and it was not like she had kicked them off of herself just a few minutes earlier. She ignored the voice.

She rolled on her side, looking at his back again. She slipped her feet back under the covers, almost imperceptibly getting closer to him as she raised her head to check if he was actually asleep. His chest was rhythmically raising and falling, and she was glad he was not awake to witness the extremely mushy thing she was about to do. I would never hear the end of it. She thought, and for a moment, she wondered if that was true. Because somehow, neither of them had complained when they had watched a movie on his couch just a couple of days earlier and they had ended up falling asleep all over each other.

But they didn't talk about that.

The pace of his breath slightly quickened and before she knew what she was doing, she was whispering his name.

"Barney?"

Her eyes widened in horror as she realized what she had done, her body abruptly going back to its supine position, her heart beating fast as if she had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Oh my God, I woke him up.

I woke him up and I was literally one inch away from his face.

Smooth, Scherbatsky, really smooth.

You're just the queen of smoothness, aren't you?

Why don't you just tell him you love him already.

Wait, what was that? This was not what this was all about. Love was not even close to what they were doing here, they were just very good friends who had awesome sex several times a day and sometimes slept with each other on the couch and some other times casually played with each other's fingers under the table at MacLaren's because they couldn't stand not to touch.

She quickly glanced at him, and realized he hadn't moved. She let out a sigh of relief.

Okay, wow, that was close. Now just go to sleep and forget about this crazy idea.

Or not.

She slid closer to him again, her arm slipping under Barney's as she kept moving forward, until her body was completely pressed against his back and his blond hair was tickling her forehead. She pressed her lips against his shoulder, and then she adjusted herself into her big spoon position.

It didn't feel wrong at all.

She felt Barney grab her hand, entwining their fingers as he adjusted himself against her, closing the already nonexistent space between them.

"Flugelhorn?" She sheepishly asked, snuggling her head against his shoulder, her forehead touching his skin.

"Mmm, no." His eyes were still closed and his voice sounded sleepy, but she could hear the smile and a hint of surprise in his tone. "This actually feels kind of nice."

She smiled against his skin. Her voice was barely a whisper, her mind already drifting into sleep. "Don't get used to it."

His answer was distant, and maybe not real at all.

"I'll try."