I know it's early, but had I posted on Dec 31, this fic would be drowning in a hundred others. :)

Three hundred.

Last year, Robin promised her family she'd be spending the holidays with them in Canada.

But she found that she didn't have the courage to go home. Not with a career going nowhere and a series of failed relationships under her belt. She couldn't face them admitting defeat. Her father, who had never supported her decision to come to New York (or any other choice she's ever made, for that matter), is the one person she dreads facing.

Five minutes until 2011, and she's ordering a scotch for herself at the bar. Marshall, Lily and Ted are debating furiously on the existence of Santa Claus within their booth. Meanwhile, Barney had already spotted a potential hook-up across the room, and he's chatting up a girl she knows will never mean a thing to him.

Just another number.

He catches her eye and smiles, then returns his focus.

Once again, her guard is in danger of slipping. She and Barney are friends. Bros, he'd correct her. It had taken one year for their friendship to return to its normal gist, and she would rather be shot than admit to anyone how happy she is about it.

Tempted, Robin glances at him leaning forward and whispering in the girl's ear as she giggles. She knows what he's saying.

One hundred one.

He lays his hand on the blonde's thigh, smirking and tilting his drink in that calculated way of his. Is she still looking? he wonders.

For a second he falters, imagines that it's Robin he is touching next to him and not—Christ, he can't even remember her name. But he still can't think about her without feeling stupid, for having wanted a little too much to find himself and her below a dangling piece of mistletoe.

He looked out for them everywhere they went, even bought boxes of mistletoe for Ted and Lily to decorate their apartments with. They refused. Ted is apparently allergic to them. But Robin didn't seem to notice his behavior, to his relief or disappointment (he couldn't decide). She's been distant lately, and he knows, without her having told anyone, that she's torn between home and her pride.

At the beginning, he assured himself all he needed was time. To forget all that he had loved about her, to remember, in turn, why for years he chose to be a suit-wearing, corporate and compulsive womanizer.

The more he felt it slipping, the harder he tried to be his old self.

He didn't see how it had hurt her, frantic as he was to appear calm and unaffected. It was destroying their friendship. She turned to Don, he suppressed his jealousy, they broke up, he celebrated quietly. And now she shares with him the only real secret he has ever had in his life.

'So about that Red Sox game tomorrow. Will you be sending the limo to pick us up?'

'What?'

'You're the head coach, remember? You promised my friends and me VIP tickets.'

And her eyes, so trusting, so innocent, make him blink. He can't pretend any longer.

His eyes flit back and forth. A guy leans across the bar, extends his hand for Robin to shake. She takes it. He stiffens.

Ten.

'My name is Will,' he says. 'Let me buy you a drink, for the New Year.'

He seems nice. She crosses her legs, glancing across the room. 'Sure.'

Nine

'For the New Year,' she echoes.

They toast, raising their shots and drowning them. The alcohol hits her like a numb bullet.

Eight.

The bar gets excited. Glasses clash against each other, against wood. She looks around to remember this moment. This year, she promises, this year she'll turn her life around.

Seven.

She meets his eye and he reads her mind, excusing himself from the blonde hastily. He walks through the sea of faces in her direction. He has no idea why. Or what the hell has gotten in to him. All he cares about is that it feels right.

Six.

'I'm sorry, Tom—'

'I'm Will.'

'Will. I have to go. It was nice drinking with you.'

'Can I get your number?'

'No. Sorry.'

Five.

She meets him halfway. Not even trying to think about how cheesy this is, how stupid this could be, the repercussions. For once, she doesn't want to. She is determined to start the year not in fear, not in hesitation, but hope.

It's like a scene from one of those movies she pretends to hate so much.

Four.

'How was Paris Hilton over there?'

'She was hot,' he admits. 'But I can't just kiss any hot girl for the New Year. She has to be the most awesome one here. The whole package.'

Three.

'Well, where is she?' Robin asks, smile as wide as could be, looking around.

Two.

He pushes her hair back. 'I'm looking at her.'

One.

Fireworks and cheers explode around them, glasses thumping down on wood, people rising to their feet. But there is none of that between them now. No grand words or confessions of love. That was them almost two years ago, and this them now all grown up.

Their awkward discovery of each other, their relationship, their break-up, their separate lives, their rekindling a friendship—all of it has somehow led to this one moment. Robin has Ted to blame for this train of thought.

The subtle kiss that no one sees.

Reviews are very much welcomed. Advanced Happy Holidays!