The second instalment of the fascinating tale. Will Peeta get to the bottom of Katniss' problems? Will he find true love? Will Gale be completely in character and not at all cowboy like?
Always the boy with the bread – part 2
He knocked on Gale's mass-war weapons gallery/ blacksmith studio/ important government office door. He heard heavy, solid, many footsteps approaching him and then came a strong, muscular arm around the door.
"Peeta?" He said, grimly.
"Gale." Peeta said, grimly.
Gale looked grizzled, like a bear. Like a big, manly bear. He had mud on his face and his teeth were vaguely blacked (as blacksmiths often are), but not in a horrible way, in a sexy way.
"You look well." Gale said, "Come in...if you must." his voice was gruff, as though dust had settled in his throat. Or maybe even grit on a bad day. Peeta stared at him, awe struck, clothed in a ripped, lose, dirty shirt that showcased his sturdy form well.
Why did Katniss choose me over this sexy man? Peeta thought to himself. Oh yeah...the bomb thing.
They reached his studio and it was covered in all sorts of things, from hi-tech devices, to anvils and even the odd dangerous bomb. "I uh..." nerves overcame him amongst such an intimidating man, but he had to be strong; he needed answers."I came to talk about Katniss."
Gale turned away, half of his face concealed by shade, "Urgh. I-I don't want to talk about her. If you've come to rub it in my face-"
"No, no."
"Huh? Should'a known. You always were nice. You're alright, kid." Gale said, picking up a nearby cocktail stick and twiddling it between his teeth.
"I'm the same age as you, but thanks." he persevered. "Look, I'm worried she's only with me for my bakery... she's gained so much weight since we've been together. She's like a house." Peeta gestured her largelyness by puffing out his cheeks and sculpting rings in the air with his made-for-baking delicate hands.
Gale grunted, "Listen kid, one day you're gonna wake up and smell the fresh loaf. Katniss she's-"
"No-" Peeta interjected, he wasn't ready.
"You're ready to hear this, kid. She's-"
"Please don't-"
"WHEN'RE YOU GOAN WAKE UP AND REALISE? SHE'S ONLY WITH YOU FO' YO' BREAD, PEETA!" Gale yelled, his face contorting, a mad glint in his eyes.
But Peeta shook his head. "No." He wouldn't believe it.
"YOU'RE THE BOY WITH THE BREAD TO HER AND...AND...and that's all you'll ever be, boy-O." Gale's words were soft, unlike his abs. "I'm sorreh, but y'all needed to know the truth."
Peeta sank to the floor, sadly. He bakery, floury hands grasping his hair and pulling in desperation. "BUT WHAT IF I DON'T WANT TO BE THE THE DAMN BOY WITH THE DAMN BREAD ANYMORE! HUH? WHAT IF-"
"What if you wanted to be the blacksmith's man?" Gale said, his eyes covered by shadow. He'd donned a wide rimmed, suede hat as a horse trotted in through the stable door. Glae swiftly mounted it.
Looking up slowly, Peeta's eyes met Gale's greys. "What?" Could he have misunderstood? Could Gale really have meant...?
"I like you, kid. You've got potential to be great. Hows about you use those hands for something else," Gale's eyebrows waggled suggestively, "like forging and welding machinery that needs welding and re-shaping?"
Peeta's eyes watered with emotional goodness. "I-I..." he could feel his feelings for Katniss ebbing away down the drain of love and a new water rising; feelings for Gale. Intense ones at that.
"But you always seemed like-"
"Like what, kid? Like I loved old Kitty-Kat? T'was always you, Peety- always you." Gale approached him, but not menacingly, sexily. "I lurve you, Peet." then his blackened, dirty lips met Peeta's clean, soft ones. The juxtaposition was not at all ironic or symbolic.
"I'll leave her for you. Someone who doesn't just want me for my mad, baking skillz, but for my strong, able and stocky body."
Gale smirked, darkly, "But you'll still bake breaded snacks and the like, won' ya, kid?"
"Um, yes?" Peeta agreed, uncertainty in his voice, which he shook off hastily. "Anyway, I'm off now, going to dump Katniss. See you later."
When Peeta was gone Gale smiled to himself, in an oddly sinister, yet good-hearted way, "Hehe, well it looks like I goan done and bagged myself the boy with the bread."
As that's what he would always be.