Countdown
An ATDOAH fic
By at.the.drop.of.a.hat
A/N: It's me. Again. First off, I'd like to say that I will be taking a bit of a break from after this to catch up with my life…I'm sort of going through a difficult phase right now….on with the fic…
Caitlyn sighed as another loud thump of bass – that goddamn electro music again – echoed from the wild party upstairs.
Why the hell can't they go watch the ball drop in Times Square? She grumbled to herself.
Caitlyn Gellar was working a part-time job as an advice columnist for the Times – who knew she would and up writing? – and lived in an apartment in New York City. She was, unfortunately, working on New Years' Eve, and couldn't wait till she finished this particular piece.
She looked at the countdown she had set up on her laptop desktop – 45 minutes left for 2016 – and sighed. There was no way in hell she was going to finish this article, change and meet Nate in time.
She reached for her phone and dialed Nate's number. Shit. No credit.
She looked back at the next question: "My boyfriend is always busy and we can never meet because our schedules simply don't match. How do I find a compromise?"
I wish I knew how the hell to answer that question, Caitlyn asked herself. Who do they think I am, some airheaded ditz who knew all about love lives? Not the case.
As she moved on to the next question, she couldn't help but glance back at the desktop – 40 minutes.
She heard the faint sounds of someone throwing up upstairs – ugh, someone didn't know how to control their alcohol. The retching reminded her of the fact she hadn't eaten dinner yet – fuck.
She stood up, knocking over half the voluminous stack of unimportant and clueless questions from gay junkies, druggies, old people, and anything in between – she always was a clumsy person. She sighed and righted the crumpled papers quickly and made her way to the kitchen.
She grabbed a pack of Ramen and opened the fridge to reveal a pack of Hot Pockets. She decided on the Hot Pockets and stashed the Ramen back in the pantry. As she put them in the microwave and prayed to the Good Lord that the goddamn thing wouldn't explode this time, she couldn't help but glance at her watch – a present from Nate. Half an hour left.
She made her way back to her bedroom/sitting room/office. She rolled her eyes as the microwave beeped obnoxiously before she even had the chance to sit down – the trip wasn't even worth it.
Caitlyn made her way back through the cluttered apartment and fished the Hot Pockets out of the microwave. Cussing at the heat of the food, she shoveled them on to a paper towel and made her way back to her office, unplugging her laptop. Balancing her laptop in one hand and her food in the other, she precariously stepped through the jungle of strewn papers, napkins, and take out boxes. She collapsed on the worn and frayed couch and turned the TV on – if she couldn't go watch the ball drop at Times Square, she might as well watch it live.
She glanced at her watch – 15 minutes. She reached for her cell phone (which had been shoved into her sweatshirt pocket) to see if for some reason she now had credit. No such luck. Her phone was now dead.
She gave up on the search for the charger after a few minutes – how the hell was she supposed to charge the phone if she couldn't find an outlet, anyway?
She sighed at the time on the TV – it was 11:50. She began tapping warily at the worn keys of her laptop, hoping to get some sleep tonight.
She miraculously got through five questions when she heard a knock on the door.
"Who the hell-" she cut off her sentence as she tripped over a folded up lawnchair on her quest to door and cussed loudly.
"In a minute!" she yelled in the general direction of the entrance to her apartment. She thought she heard a chuckle at her antics, and she frowned.
Who ever it is better be ready for a pissed-off Caitlyn Gellar, she thought to herself.
She swung open the door and had barely opened her mouth when she felt lips on hers. Her eyes fluttered open to attempt to see who it was, but shut them when a pair of hands brushed her neck as they ran through her hair.
Only one person had guitar-roughened hands like those.
Only one person could kiss like that.
She pulled back, breathing hard. Her head was spinning so much she could barely make out the head of curly hair.
"Happy New Year," Nate Black said.
"H-h-hi," she spluttered out.
"Sorry about the kiss and all – it's just you looked so good-"
She snorted as she looked down at her outfit- a blue sweatshirt bearing the words "Duke" and black sweatpants. She knew her hair was a chaos from the way she had been running her hands through it all night.
"Sorry I didn't show- last minute work overload- phone died- I- couldn't- outlet…" her words faded away as Nate's lips hovered at her ear, kissing and whispering, "Let's go inside…it's cold out here."
Thank God Nate wasn't half as clumsy as her.
A/N: Did you like that? Sorry it's so short. Dedicated to my uncle – I love you, workaholic.
Now, I'll make the reviewing process easier for you:
You liked it: A. You loved it: B. You hated it: C. You thought it was okay: D. Thought it was nice: E.
Challenge coming up!