Title: Soaring Spirits
By: Bridget McKennitt
Characters: Hugo Stiglitz, Wilhelm Wicki
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1047
Summary: Killing Nazis wasn't the only thing needed to sustain a man.
Contains: No warnings in as far I know that can't be extrapolated from the header itself.
Disclaimer: Inglourious Basterds is owned by other companies. They are used here without permission, and for entertainment purposes only. No challenge or infringement upon the copyright is intended, nor should any be inferred. Written for 7iris for Yuletide 2010.
Stiglitz took a drag of his cigarette as he watched Wicki move about with the rest of the Basterds with an ease that he himself did not possess. He knew Wicki had fled to the US from Austria and joined up with the Basterds right from the start, but that was all he knew about him. That and the two of them were the only ones who could speak German.
A thought occurred to him. "Stupid Americans," he muttered in German.
"They are at times, but they mean well." Stiglitz looked up to Wicki flashing a smile at him before sitting down. Wicki continued to speak in German. "We're all here to kill Nazis and these boys have the fuel to fan their fires. It's our Jewish families they are trying to exterminate."
Stiglitz grunted and took another drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. "Don't I know it. Do you have some rations I can steal from you? I lost mine during that raid a couple of hours back."
"Yeah." Wicki dug into the pockets of his jacket and tossed Stiglitz a packet.
Stiglitz tore it open and began chewing on whatever it was that was inside. Perhaps he'd ask Aldo if they could raid a bakery or hold up in a store somewhere to get access at better tasting food. Whenever he looked at the lieutenant, he was always chewing something so it was worth a shot.
"So what prompted your earlier remark?" Wicki asked as he tore open his own ration packet.
"We're in Nazi occupied France, am I right?"
Wicki nodded.
"The enemy we are going after and killing are Germans, yes? Who speak German?"
"Of course."
Stiglitz gestured towards the rest of the Basterds. "And yet before you guys broke me out of prison, only you could speak German. I bet less than half of them can even speak French. How did this unit function for so long?"
Wicki laughed as he took a bite of his food. He swallowed before answering. "Language isn't needed so much as the balls to disembowel, dismember, and disfigure Nazis, of which the Basterds have plenty of, including yourself. Would it please you to know that Donowitz has learned several ways of cussing the Nazis out in French?"
Stiglitz snorted. "I'm delighted."
Just as Wicki opened his mouth, Aldo called out. "All right, Basterds. Let's get up and move 'em out. We gotta hit our new destination in four hours."
Wicki shrugged his shoulders and got to his feet. Stiglitz followed his lead.
***
Aldo took his advice and the next week, the next place they rested their feet and held up in was in a cafe. The previous owners were discovered as Jewish a couple of days ago and were marched out to god knows where. That meant they were free to eat whatever they could find in the cafe.
Aldo and a couple of the other guys were tearing into whatever pastries they could get their hands on. Stiglitz sat with Wicki at a table in the corner of the cafe with a couple of sandwiches and beers. He unwrapped his sandwich and took a large bite. A burst of flavor hit his tongue and Stiglitz chewed faster, wanting to get more of the food into his stomach. A chuckle from Wicki made him look up to see Wicki grinning.
"What?" he asked, slipping into German without thinking about it.
"Nothing. You look like you're really enjoying that sandwich. Usually you're quite stoic, but now? Now, you're practically making love to it." Wicki gave him a playful salute before taking a bite out of his own sandwich.
Stiglitz snorted and reached for his beer. "You've been in France for too long, Wicki. The next time we pass by a whorehouse, I'll show you what making love looks like."
"That sounds like a challenge." Wicki leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, as he tilted his head towards Aldo. "Don't think I didn't know about the suggestion you gave to our lieutenant about our next hiding place. Best idea you've had yet. Unless you can convince him about the whorehouse. Killing's a good release, but I wouldn't mind other options."
"Thank you, and we'll see about that. I don't work miracles. I only kill Nazis."
***
It was a good idea though and Stiglitz wondered how he could suggest the whorehouse to Aldo without the lieutenant realizing that he was getting played. Though, knowing Aldo in the short time he had been traveling with the Basterds, he'd know. It was all about getting Aldo to want it.
Fortunately, it didn't take Stiglitz any persuasive or effort on his part at all. Word got to the unit that there was a high ranking Nazi officer who discretely visited a whorehouse for his pleasure. Not discretely enough. The Basterds infiltrated the whorehouse by the cover of nightfall and set themselves up to wait for the officer.
Wicki was stationed near Stiglitz, like they usually were. Stiglitz wondered if it was just coincidence or if the lieutenant meant for it to happen. Either way, Stiglitz liked it. He wasn't a friendly sort to anyone, not even to those within the unit, but he liked Wicki. The man tended to understand him and the same could be said about him when it came to Wicki.
The room they were in made Stiglitz want to shake his head. It was perfumed to the point of obnoxiousness and there were frills everywhere he turned. As he turned around, Wicki was sitting on the large bed with his gun resting on his lap.
"Should I thank you for this visit or does the applause belong elsewhere?" Wicki asked.
"Elsewhere, but if you are in the mood, I will always accept accolades from you." Stiglitz placed his own gun on the dresser near him so he could reach for it quickly in case anyone came bursting through the door.
"That's good to know." Wicki grinned and gestured around the room. "Except we are missing something here." Stiglitz made a noncommittal noise as Wicki went on. "Though perhaps not. I'd rather be anywhere with my gun, Nazis to kill, and you, friend."
Stiglitz smiled slightly and agreed. "The same, friend. The same."
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