Fic: First Night
Inglourious Basterds ficlet, too lazy to be fancy haha
Title: First Night
Rating: uhhhh it says fuck once, but other than that, a-ok
Synopsis: Hirschberg is terrified. Kagan helps.
It's the Basterds' first night in the woods, but Gerold Hirschberg isn't scared, okay? He's shaking because it's cold, not because he's terrified of every little sound in the bushes or because he could die any day now, someone could sneak up on them while they sleep and murder every last one of them...
His stomach twists and there's a lump in his throat when he thinks about their first encounters with the Germans, earlier that day. He shot the guy right in the heart, the first time he ever killed a man. And growing up with a deli as the family business, he was no stranger to cutting meat, but when he scalped that dead soldier, he took about two seconds to bolt away from the body and vomit up his breakfast.
He shivers as he thinks of it now, the scrape of metal against bone and oh God he can't think of it or he's going to puke again. All day he's been regretting this, his choices, his lies. He's too well-off to be here, he should be in high school, he should be enjoying life, the golden boy. Instead he's lied his way into the French countryside that scares him more than anything now. Shutting his eyes tightly, he remembers his sixteenth birthday, only months ago, with his family and friends all around, fuck, why didn't he keep that? Did he think he was some kind of hero going off like this? Because right now he doesn't feel like a hero at all; he feels like a lost little boy in a stern group of men.
It's been hours since someone last made a sound, and Gerry can't help it anymore. Chapped lips quiver though he bites down, trying to stop himself, but with a choked whimper the first tears come. He covers his head with his blanket to muffle the sounds but everything feels so loud in the silence of the summer night, and soon he hears a rustling.
“Hey, Hirschberg, is that you--”
“Who--” Gerry chokes, squeezing his eyes shut again.
“It's me,” the voice whispers. “Kagan. Or just Andy.” Thin fingers coax the blankets out of Gerry's tight grip and lift them away, letting the former farm boy look down at the younger man, sniffling and sobbing in his bedroll.
“What's wrong, kid?” Andy's voice is gentle; somehow Gerry can trust it. Sniffling, he sits up, looking up at the man kneeling beside him.
“I can't sleep, I...” Swallowing hard, Gerry whimpers, “I'm scared.” Andy just nods and puts his arm around the smaller man's shoulders, sighing.
“It's gonna be fine. You're just nervous.” Trembling again, Gerry starts to cry once more, not sure whether to believe him. Patting his back, Andy eases him down into his bedroll.
“I'll stay here until you're asleep, okay?”
“O-Okay.”
Gerry's just happy he didn't get called a baby, which is the way he feels right then. But he can't worry about it right then, even if he's practically getting babysat now. He doesn't care, and soon after that, the promise of safety and protection lulls him to sleep.
Title: First Night
Rating: uhhhh it says fuck once, but other than that, a-ok
Synopsis: Hirschberg is terrified. Kagan helps.
It's the Basterds' first night in the woods, but Gerold Hirschberg isn't scared, okay? He's shaking because it's cold, not because he's terrified of every little sound in the bushes or because he could die any day now, someone could sneak up on them while they sleep and murder every last one of them...
His stomach twists and there's a lump in his throat when he thinks about their first encounters with the Germans, earlier that day. He shot the guy right in the heart, the first time he ever killed a man. And growing up with a deli as the family business, he was no stranger to cutting meat, but when he scalped that dead soldier, he took about two seconds to bolt away from the body and vomit up his breakfast.
He shivers as he thinks of it now, the scrape of metal against bone and oh God he can't think of it or he's going to puke again. All day he's been regretting this, his choices, his lies. He's too well-off to be here, he should be in high school, he should be enjoying life, the golden boy. Instead he's lied his way into the French countryside that scares him more than anything now. Shutting his eyes tightly, he remembers his sixteenth birthday, only months ago, with his family and friends all around, fuck, why didn't he keep that? Did he think he was some kind of hero going off like this? Because right now he doesn't feel like a hero at all; he feels like a lost little boy in a stern group of men.
It's been hours since someone last made a sound, and Gerry can't help it anymore. Chapped lips quiver though he bites down, trying to stop himself, but with a choked whimper the first tears come. He covers his head with his blanket to muffle the sounds but everything feels so loud in the silence of the summer night, and soon he hears a rustling.
“Hey, Hirschberg, is that you--”
“Who--” Gerry chokes, squeezing his eyes shut again.
“It's me,” the voice whispers. “Kagan. Or just Andy.” Thin fingers coax the blankets out of Gerry's tight grip and lift them away, letting the former farm boy look down at the younger man, sniffling and sobbing in his bedroll.
“What's wrong, kid?” Andy's voice is gentle; somehow Gerry can trust it. Sniffling, he sits up, looking up at the man kneeling beside him.
“I can't sleep, I...” Swallowing hard, Gerry whimpers, “I'm scared.” Andy just nods and puts his arm around the smaller man's shoulders, sighing.
“It's gonna be fine. You're just nervous.” Trembling again, Gerry starts to cry once more, not sure whether to believe him. Patting his back, Andy eases him down into his bedroll.
“I'll stay here until you're asleep, okay?”
“O-Okay.”
Gerry's just happy he didn't get called a baby, which is the way he feels right then. But he can't worry about it right then, even if he's practically getting babysat now. He doesn't care, and soon after that, the promise of safety and protection lulls him to sleep.