February 5th, 2012

A/N: I was inspired to write one of those vignette-type stories where key moments are highlighted that have a common theme, but the idea I came up with modified with some poetic license. I wanted to write specific moments from different District 12 citizens' POVs on Katniss and Gale's relationship. Most of this takes place pre-Hunger Games through the Hunger Games. It should stick pretty close to canon. Let me know what you think! Reviews are always appreciated.

It's way too early to unlock the bakery doors, but Father dutifully walks around the counter when the insistent pounding on the front door doesn't go away. I glance up from my frosting work to see him walk into our shop.

Gale Hawthorne.

My heart leaps with the hope that she might be with him. It also falls simultaneously because she's always with him.

Today, she's not.

Two squirrels dangle from his belt and he's already working Father for some kind of trade. He sounds desperate, and I think he must be, if he's already been hunting and storming through our front doors this early on a weekday morning. It's not even six!

Of course, I know that he knows this is not just any day. Today is Katniss' birthday.

"I caught two this morning," Gale says, unclipping his game and holding them out to Father for inspection. "I promise I can bring back more."

Father studiously rotates the two animals by their tails, gauging their weight with an outstretched arm. I've stopped frosting and am blatantly watching the exchange, not even caring to hide my interest.

"You hit their sides," Father says. He's not angry, just making a comment.

"I know, sir," Gale says, apologetically. "I'm no where near as good a shot as she is."

I bristle at the admiration – and adoration? – in his voice. Unduly placed, I realize, but I still burn in my annoyance and jealousy nonetheless. It's one thing to have to see them together constantly. It's quite another to hear the proof of their intimacy in his voice.

Father says nothing, and Gale mistakenly reads this as uncertainty. I can already see Father's given in to his request; he's just sorting out how to hide a missing loaf from Mother.

"I promise, whatever you want. Here…" Gale scrounges in his pocket and holds out a few coins. "Take these too."

My eyes widen in shock. It's not a fortune in Gale's hand, not even close. But the fact that he's holding out money at all is almost too much for me to bear. I feel guilt twist my insides uncomfortably at the reminder of their – of her – day to day existence.

"No, no, no," Father says, shaking his head at Gale's outstretched hand. "The two squirrels will be plenty."

Gale's eyes narrow slightly, detecting a trap, but he recovers quickly.

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Yes, of course."

Father walks behind the counter, looking up at me for the first time since the whole exchange started. The sympathy in his eyes only infuriates me more and I turn back to the cake before me. The flower petal I am working on gushes from the tube, dripping over the edge of the cake. Frustration makes me swipe harshly at the mistake, leaving a pink smear against the white backdrop. Father won't yell at me for ruining a cake, but I still feel remorse for losing my temper. We may be better off than most people in District 12, but sugar and flour are still not cheap.

"What did you say you wanted?"

"Whatever you can part with," Gale says, though I see him eyeing the cake with a reluctant hope. Our eyes meet uncomfortably. At least uncomfortably on my end. All I can hear when I look at Gale Hawthorne are the echoes of the silly gushings of girls at school whenever he walks by. How handsome he is. How strong he is. How perfect he is. It only makes me sick because I wonder if thoughts like that cross her mind. Because I can practically read Gale's thoughts about her. She doesn't seem to notice, at least in front of other people. Then again, she's alone with him a lot...

My mind willingly fills in the unspoken details. I try not to glower at Gale.

Father sees his hopeful gaze too.

"Peeta," he says.

I snap my attention away from Gale and turn towards him.

"Finish that frosting and package it for Mr. Hawthorne."

He looks back to Gale.

"Do you want it personalized?"

"Could you write happy birthday on it?" The excitement in Gale's voice is revolting.

"He sure can," Father replies.

I know I don't have a choice now that Father's agreed to it. But it's not like I really ever had a choice to begin with. I'd have done it anyhow. For her.

"Any color preference?" Father asks.

"Green," Gale says.

I switch my icing bag and begin piping the words across the cake top in a light spring green. Slowly, the cursive takes shape and I finish the last y with an extra flourish. Maybe she'll know it was me...

When I finish, I carefully box it and hand it over the counter to Gale. He looks through the clear box top and his face lights up, jubilant.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"You are most welcome," Father says. He looks to me for the briefest of moments, and adds, "I know how special that girl is."

Though I suspect his words were meant for my benefit, Gale Hawthorne actually flushes a deep crimson before he mutters a few more thank yous and practically bolts from the bakery. I am fuming and green icing has spurted all over the countertop from my clenched fists. Father puts his hand on my shoulder, gives me a sympathetic look, and then heads for the back of the shop to skin his squirrels.

I am left alone, green staining my hands and apron.

~Fin