Oneeeshotsss (mostly Dailtown brainrot)

wip wip wip

   "See you, Walt!" Gale calls, walking out from the familiar laundromat he works at while he spins his keys around his finger. Just finishing his days work and heading home, Gale hops into his car. Going through an unconscious checklist, he adjusts his rear view mirror, clicks on his seatbelt and checks behind his shoulder. Gale backed out of his spot, and heard his favorite foreign radio burst into song. He quickly recognizes it and hums along to the music, tapping the steering wheel ahead of him as he made his drive home. Meanwhile, he summarizes his day in his head, wishing he had his journal on him to write down his thoughts. Gale hummed, thinking about his current interest, Walter White. He fawns about the way the ingenious chemist guided him through the intricate steps of cooking, (although, he didn't very much need it.) The way Walter smiled at him when he had done something correct, then grimaced when he made the slight mistake of measurement. 

It was deserved, Gale decides then.

     He blinks slightly and remembers to focus on his ride home, and how he has plenty of time to reminisce on his silly infatuation when he gets home. When he gets home Gale greets his plants and waters them. He finds its the first thing he notices when he gets home: his plants. He has a deep care for them, and he smiles to himself as he watches the freshly poured water seep down into the roots, knowing they are getting a good drink. He sighs and kicks off his shoes, relieved to have them off. He hangs up his coat precisely to prevent wrinkles. Finally he unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt and is finally a little more comfortable.
 
    He goes through his normal routine of locking the doors, opening the windows and putting away his stuff from the day. Time for a shower, he decides, and walks into his bathroom, turning on the faucet to get hot, and walks to grab a fluffy towel. He makes his way back, and comes back to a steamy and hot bathroom. He strips and folds his clothes up, setting them on the counter. He avoids catching himself in the mirror to prevent becoming uncomfortable and steps into the shower. Gale slowly adjusts to the temperature change and revels in the warm feeling all over. Gale loves showers, and loves the way he can mindlessly go through the steps and maintain good personal hygiene. He squirts some (rather girly) shampoo into his hand.
     
      Gale starts to wash his hair, whistling along to the music he has stuck in his head. He never really has silence in his house, Gale realizes. He concludes it's better that way, enjoying his constant background. He would have headphones in at work, as well, if he wasn't so afraid of missing Walters calls. His thoughts wondering, Gale finds himself stuck of Walter. He wasn't too sure on why he developed one of his foolish attachments to the man, but he has. Gale has always struggled with being too sentimental. He likes the way Walter acts, he supposes. He found Walter quite attractive, well, after the fact he found him enjoyable company. Gale has always had a thing for authority figures. He hopes it isn't some weird psychological thing. |

     Gale bites his lips and starts to wash off the lather of nice smelling soap he just applied, staring at nothing in particular. Almost halfheartedly, he thinks about how the scenes in the back of his head are impossible, before getting distracted about the fact he has to feed himself. He had some stuff in his fridge. Then, almost as if a light bulb went off in his head, Gale decided to dedicate this nights dinner to Walter. For context, Gale had alway enjoyed (normal,) cooking. He liked putting his feelings into his meals, and since he hit puberty and started to develop these 'crushes,' he began to cook meals and plates based on specific people. Whether the food reminded Gale of them, or he believed they would enjoy that meal, Gale enjoyed it. He could still remember the recipe for a pie he contacted for a mean girl in his 10th grade class he, for some reason, liked.

     He began to rack his brain. What reminded Gale of Walter? he considered colours, tastes and just general feelings. He ponders, eventually deciding on Shepards pie. He loved the taste, and it kinda reminded him of Walter, and his old-many-ness. Gale stopped the water and nodded to himself. He should have everything for shepards pie. He wrapped himself in a big towel, up to his chest, for some reason. He finds it more secure, possibly, and dried himself off. He slipped into more comfortable clothes, prepares to spend the rest of his day in his pjs. Gale liked showering before dinner, for he could just fall asleep afterward. When he showered after, he just didn't and ended up kind of stinking. He shook his head and made his way to his laundry room while drying his hair off. It fluffed up as he threw the wet towel into his dirty clothes hamper to deal with later.

     He waltzed into his kitchen, immediately approaching his record player and vinyls, picking up one of his favorite albums and placing it into the record player. He watches the needle skip into action and smiles as the familiar music comes alive, walking back to his counter with a sway in his step. He took a deep breath and looked around him, then began gathering the ingredients to his favorite vegan shepherd's pie. He bites his lips and retrieves his notes, almost positive he has the recipe somewhere in there. He flips through and comes across it, placing the book in the middle of his counter and zipping away to begin. A pretty red apron that with patterns is Gale's favorite, and he pulls it on, getting ready to cook.

    He boils the potatoes, and prepares the oven while they cook. Gale hums and slightly sways his hips to the song as he spins and darts around for different ingredients. He cuts onions, garlic, and more, hands working skillfully and quickly, each cut with intention and thought of Walter. He adds the potatoes to the pan, and vegetables, and seasoning. Gale places the pan in the oven, wiping a slight sweat on forehead off. He smiles at his meal in the oven, excited to dig in. He has to wait for it too cook though, so he walks off and picks up a book to read on his couch in the meantime, turning down the music slightly. He plops down onto his couch and find the place he was last at, marked with his last shopping list. He waits patiently for his food, lounging on his couch.

     Gale was almost upset when he heard his little egg timer ding (you know which one.) Before realizing and setting his book down, not before marking his spot. He got up, pulling on an oven mitt with flowers and bees on it over his hand. He had not bothered to take off the apron, so the man slightly resembled a house wife as he bent over and brought his home cooked meal out the oven. His mouth watered as the scent hit his nose, and he gets a plate and utensils for himself and cuts into his food. He smiles as steam rises from the pie and he piles half the serving onto his plate, admiring the crisp layers. He grabs some foil and wraps up the last of his food, placing it in the fridge. He always made too much for himself, but could put it in his lunch tomorrow.

     He walked to his little table that only had enough space for two, more than he needed. He placed down his food and sat in his chair, setting a napkin into his lap and admiring his handy work for a minute. He cuts into the food and shovels a fork full into his mouth, humming in delight. He thought about Walt, about how the man might react to his weird little habit. Gale almost wishes he could show his boss his efforts, without it being extremely awkward, of course.

    He wonders how he would go about it, telling Walter, 'Hey, Walt! I have a gay crush on you, heres shepards pie!' It was laughable. If he wasn't so troubled by the secret, he would of laughed, anyways. He definitely could make one hell of a shepards pie, though.

While Gale ate he looks out his window. A slow spit of rain develops and Gale is thankful, knowing his grass would appreciate some rain. He needs to remember to buy a sprinkler, Gale reminds himself. The rain makes sounds against the rain that Gale quite liked. He watches the world outside become gray and gloomy and was thankful he was in his warmly lit apartment, eating a shepards pie. 

    Gale savours the potatos, the vegtables and even the genral effort and feelings he put into this plate. He alway thought that these little affectionate meals tasted better then most his meals. Maybe it didn't really, and he has just convinced himself, but it made him feel better about spending all that time on cooking. Even if it was a realtivly easy dish, he didn't need to do all the extra steps, but when he imagined Wal