Three weeks after the first session
Lily had finally finished the painting.
She had worked on it in secret, during the dead hours when Barney wasn't present. Alyx had been her confidante and critic, offering suggestions on composition, light, expression. Marshall had provided logistical support, sourcing better quality canvases and keeping Barney occupied with endless games of Laser Tag when Lily needed to concentrate.
The result was... impressive.
Lily contemplated it in the solitude of her makeshift studio (the corner of the living room that Alyx had decorated with plants and good lighting). Barney was there, on the canvas, with a dignity he had never shown in person. The pose was heroic, yes, but there was something more: a vulnerability in the eyes, a relaxation in the shoulders, a humanity that Lily had unintentionally captured.
But there was also something missing.
Lily smiled—a small, mischievous, absolutely Aldrin smile.
"It turned out perfect," she murmured to herself.
The plan for the revelation had been meticulously orchestrated.
Barney would arrive at seven. Lily would place the painting on the easel, covered with a sheet. He would sit down. She would give a dramatic speech, and then reveal the masterpiece. Marshall, Alyx, Ted, and Robin would be hidden in the kitchen, ready to come out and celebrate when Barney finished expressing his astonishment and gratitude.
That's what the plan said.
Reality, as it often does, had other plans.
Barney arrived on time, wearing what he called his "art event attire": a burgundy velvet jacket he'd bought at a thrift store, convinced it had belonged to a European aristocrat; a shabby bow tie; and sunglasses he removed with a theatrical gesture upon entering.
"I am ready to be immortalized," he announced, throwing his jacket towards the coat rack. It missed.
Lily took a deep breath. "Barney, before you see the painting, I want to tell you something."
"That it's so beautiful I'll need therapy to process it? I accept. That you've captured my essence in such a way that future generations will study me in art schools? Also acceptable."
"Something like that," said Lily with a cryptic smile. "I just want you to remember that art is subjective. And that sometimes, what isn't there says as much as what is."
Barney frowned. "Is that profound, or is that a warning?"
"Both."
Lily positioned herself behind the easel, placed her hands on the sheet covering the canvas, and silently counted to three. From the kitchen, Alyx held her breath. Marshall placed a hand on her shoulder. Ted and Robin peeked through the door crack, smiling in anticipation.
"Ready?" said Lily.
"Always ready. It's my motto. Well, one of my mottos. The other is—"
Lily pulled away the sheet.
Barney went speechless.
The silence stretched for five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.
From the kitchen, Alyx could see Barney's expression go through at least seven different phases in a matter of seconds:
Genuine astonishment. Narcissistic pride. Mild confusion. Intense confusion. Incipient horror. Absolute horror.
"Lily," said Barney in a broken voice no one had ever heard from him. "Lily, where is it?"
"Where is what?"
"Don't do that. You know perfectly well what."
Lily tilted her head, feigning innocence. "The jacket? I didn't paint it because I wanted to capture your essence, not your fashion choices."
"NOT THE JACKET." Barney pointed a trembling finger at the canvas. "There. There, where there should be... something. Something of mine. Something that defines me. Something that—"
"Your personality?" offered Lily, with an angelic smile.
"MY LITTLE BARNEY, LILY. MY PENIS IS NOT IN THE PAINTING."
The ensuing silence was broken by a sound from the kitchen: a muffled snort, followed by another, followed by what sounded suspiciously like someone choking on their own laughter.
Barney spun towards the kitchen. "Is someone there?"
More silence.
"Lily, I swear by all that is holy—"
"Barney, calm down. It's art. An interpretation."
"It's an interpretation of me WITHOUT MY MOST IMPORTANT PART!"
"Your brain?" asked a voice from the kitchen. It was Robin, clearly, and she was laughing.
Barney closed his eyes, took a deep breath. When he opened them, there was a dangerous determination in them. "Okay, okay. You want to play dirty? Then let's play dirty."
And without warning, Barney Stinson took off his pants.
Lily opened her mouth to protest, but it was too late. Barney, in his underwear (purple briefs, because of course), grabbed the painting from the easel and held it in front of himself, covering his torso but not his legs.
"Now," he said with surprising dignity for someone in purple briefs holding a painting of his own nude self, "we are going to have a civilized conversation about artistic integrity."
And then, painting still in hand, Barney left the studio and headed for the kitchen.
Lily tried to stop him. "Barney, wait—"
Too late.
Barney burst into the kitchen and found the scene his ears had already anticipated: Alyx, Marshall, Ted, and Robin, huddled behind the door, with expressions ranging from horror to hilarity.
But what Barney hadn't anticipated was the effect of his entrance.
For one eternal second, no one moved.
And then everyone looked.
Not at Barney. Not at his face, nor his indignant expression, nor even his half-naked legs.
They looked at the painting.
The painting Barney was holding in front of himself, which showed him majestic, heroic, imposing... and notably, anatomically, grotesquely devoid of any male attributes.
The silence broke.
Robin was first. She let out a laugh so loud she had to lean on the counter. Then Ted, who tried to contain it and failed spectacularly, emitting a sound somewhere between a snort and a stifled scream. Then Marshall, whose laugh was so deep and sincere it seemed to shake the very foundations of the building.
And then Alyx.
Alyx, who had spent the last few months learning to truly laugh, who had discovered that joy could coexist with pain, who had found her place in this chaotic, dysfunctional, and deeply loved group—Alyx doubled over and laughed.
Not a polite laugh. An authentic, uncontrollable laugh that came from her stomach and brought tears to her eyes.
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The moment of revelation has arrived... and Barney discovered something is missing. Something important. Something he considers "essential."
What did you think of Lily's twist? Do you think Alyx should intervene more in the chaos?
Leave it in the comments, follow me so you don't miss the full reaction, and support with power stones!
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