AN: So in this one, Cato and Clove are kind of a thing already, I know these one-shots are usually possible ways they could have gotten together but I had a good idea that was a bit different for this one. :)
Ding. I ignored the ringer on my phone going off and crossed off "Study for science test" on my To-Do list. Ding. Ding.
"Jesus Christ," I growled, flipping my phone over and opening my messages. They were all from different people. The first from Cato, the second from Marvel and the third from Finnick.
Hey bbg call me in 2 ok
Hey short-ass, call cato he wants to talk
CLOVE! CALL CATO NOW! HE WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK WITH YOU OK THANKS
I texted Marvel and Finnick both the same thing- text your own girlfriend, asshole, then went into my contacts and tapped the star to bring me into my favourites, Cato's name was at the top. The phone rang five times on speaker phone before he picked up.
"Hi, asshole," I said indignantly.
"Hello."
"Okay, so you had your dumbass friends text me saying you wanted to talk and then it takes you forever to answer?"
"Hey, calm down," he said. I folded my arms.
"So, what was so urgent?"
"Nothing really. I'm coming to pick you up in 3 minutes, I'm already on my way."
"Wait, why? I'm wearing my pajamas!"
"Good, so am I," he replied casually, then hung up.
Asshole, I texted him, and he replied with a red heart.
Two minutes and thirteen seconds later, he was knocking on the door. My mom opened it before I could.
"Hello, sweetheart," she said warmly to him, and he stepped inside.
"Hey, Diane."
"I like your PJs."
"Thanks."
"Taking Clove out?" she asked.
"Um, something like that."
"Hey..." I said warily, walking over to him. He stooped down to kiss my cheek.
"Cute pajamas," he said, vaguely gesturing to the multicolored plaid pajama pants and (his) oversized black hooded sweatshirt I was wearing.
"Thanks," I laughed nervously.
"Oh, will you calm down?" he chuckled. "Alright, Diane," he said. "I'll have her home by nine-thirty as usual."
"Oh, that's alright, sweetheart. I'll be at a friend's pretty late tonight, so as long as you don't miss your own curfew, don't rush."
"Okay." He grinned at my mom and my heart skipped a little like it always did when he smiled. "Let's go, Clover," he said, taking my hand and leading me outside, closing the front door behind him.
He opened the passenger seat door for me and I slipped in and buckled my seatbelt as he walked around the back of his SUV and then clambered clumsily into the driver's seat.
He held my hand as he drove, only letting go to turn on the radio to an oldies station. We sang aloud to Sometimes a Fantasy by Billy Joel until he pulled into a McDonalds drive-thru. "What do you want?" he asked.
"Blueberry pomegranate smoothie and a medium fry," I replied instantly.
"Please," he added, and I elbowed him in the ribs.
"Oh shut up."
He ordered my smoothie and fries and some chicken nuggets and a rootbeer for himself. We drove a few miles and he eventually pulled into a hiking trail parking lot. "C'mom," he said, and he pulled a backpack from the back seat. I grabbed the paper bag with our food and followed him, confused.
We walked for a few minutes until we reached a cliff overlooking a waterfall that was lit up by hundreds of fireflies. "Wow," I whispered.
He pulled two fleece blankets from the backpack and laid one on the grass. He sat down on it and I followed, and he wrapped the second blanket around us. He took the last few things from his backpack- a laptop and two DVD discs- and set them on the ground. He popped open the CD burner. "Pick a movie," he said, kissing my forehead. I opened one of the DVD cases and placed the disc gently on the burner and closed it.
I leaned into Cato's shoulder and took a sip of my smoothie as the opening scene of High School Musical played on the screen.
