Author's Note: Not a part of the alphabet one-shots, but I hope you enjoy.

Kick Me

Gertrude couldn't believe Floyd had actually found her what had to be one of the only male prostitutes in all of Hageneau. He was cute, there was no denying that, and the sex had been great, there was no denying that. But the way he kissed her hand afterward made her feel weird. As far as she knew, you didn't kiss someone's hand after a one-night stand. Especially if you were a prostitute. In the fractured German she'd learned from Webster, she apologized for having to leave so abruptly, blushing (actually blushing, in the middle of a fucking war) as she backed out of the boy's room and shut the door.

"Jesus…" she muttered, running a hand through her mussed-up hair. Her olive drab shirt was half untucked, her boots unlaced on her feet, and she was still trying to decide whether she had actually enjoyed the experience or not. With a sigh, she figured awkward sex was better than no sex at all and started down the hallway.

Near the back exit of the whorehouse, Gertrude heard screaming from behind a closed door and when it flew open and banged against the wall, out stumbled Liebgott, shouting violently in German and still buckling his pants. Web had only taught Gertrude the basics of the German language (having been cut short by his injury in Arnhem), so she couldn't tell what Liebgott was shouting about, but his face and the way he was yelling loud enough to bring down the walls was a good indication that it probably wasn't anything pleasant.

Gertrude cocked her head to the side. "Joe?"

Joe jumped, startled, and finally got his belt buckled. For a while, they just stared at each other and then Joe turned and began walking away.

"What…" Gertrude's question trailed off, as did the screaming from the room. Gertrude strode past the open doorway without looking. "Joe, wait up!"

By the time she opened the back door, Liebgott had reached the bottom of the steps and began stomping off toward town. Gertrude followed, her boots clanging on the rusty metal steps. "Joe, what happened?"

The man still gave no answer and Gertrude had to speed up the strides of her considerably shorter legs to keep from falling behind. "Are you gonna talk to me?"

When Joe still kept silent, Gertrude finally sprinted to reach him and they were halfway up the road when her fingers closed around his arm. "Joe-"

He wheeled quickly to face her, yanking his arm sharply out of her grip. His face was incredibly close to hers. "She didn't wanna fuck a dirty Jew!"

Gertrude took a shaky step backwards, her green eyes trained on Liebgott's dark browns. The girl wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. Maybe for Liebgott to complain about the hooker having gonorrhea, which would have gotten a hearty laugh out of Bill, or maybe for him to say she had actually turned out to be a man. But not…this.

"She said that?" Gertrude's voice was low, almost a whisper, and Liebgott was livid, his lips nearly pulling back over his teeth in a snarl.

"Along with a million fuckin' other things, yeah." He leaned back finally, either having realized he was making Gertrude uncomfortable or something else. He planted his hands on his hips, breathing heavily in anger.

Gertrude dug the toe of her boot into the ground and glanced around her. She knew what she wanted to say, but there was a 50-50 chance that Joe would punch her lights out. Finally she settled for a dulled-down version of it.

"She's just a stupid whore, Lieb. Don't listen to her."

Liebgott laughed humorlessly and gestured widely with his hands. "Sure, she's just a stupid whore! But that doesn't change the fact that that's how everyone feels!"

Gertrude again glanced around at her dark surroundings and then bit her lip. She and Joe weren't the best of friends. At best, they were simply allies in combat. They weren't close like she and Floyd or she and Johnny. The fact that Gertrude had welcomed Webster back with open arms while Joe still held being absent from Bastogne against him didn't help either. But, despite being brought up in a bigoted, abusive household, the one thing Gertrude knew about Joe was that she didn't hate him for being Jewish. She didn't really understand how anyone could. "I don't feel like that…"

Joe was in her face again within seconds, possibly even closer, not to mention angrier, than the last time. "Yeah? You stick up for Sobel every time someone called him a Yid or a kike?"

Gertrude had been under the impression that hating Sobel had been a Company-wide commitment. "…no, but-"

"Then you're just like the rest of 'em."

That hurt. He was saying she was as bad as the fucking Gestapo? Just because she didn't stand up for Captain Fuckface Sobel every time someone made fun of him for being Jewish? That bastard didn't deserve anyone to stand up for him. And apparently, she thought, on the verge of tears as Liebgott stormed away, neither did Joe.

When Gertrude stormed into the hotel room she was sharing with Johnny Martin without so much as a word or a greeting, her face splotchy and red, and tossed herself down on the bed across from his, Johnny had tried for over an hour to get something out of her. But Gertrude wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't even really look at him. Just stared at the ceiling like her life depended on it and cried.

She was fully aware how cliché it was, to be a girl sitting there crying, but fuck. Joseph Liebgott was an asshole who had no regard for anyone but himself and she couldn't help it. He had likened her to a Nazi! A fucking Nazi! What the fuck!

The only form of interaction Johnny was able to make was a shake of the head when he asked if anyone was hurt and another when he asked if she herself was hurt. Yeah, she thought, her chest heaving with sobs, but not like you think.

After a while, Gertrude stopped crying, but she still didn't speak. Johnny went back to sitting on his own bed and Gertrude turned toward the wall and curled up into a ball, her unlaced boots still on her feet. They sat like that for a few minutes, until there were footsteps in the hallway and someone knocked on the door that Gertrude had slammed closed when she came in.

When Johnny answered it and Joe's voice echoed through the room, Gertrude gritted her teeth. "…is Gertrude here?"

"I dunno, is she?" Johnny kept the door mostly closed as he glanced back at the girl on the bed. Gertrude turned, her face set, and looked at him for a second. Then she rolled back toward the wall and simply shrugged her shoulders.

Johnny sighed and looked back at Joe. "So, it was you, huh?"

"What was me?"

"You'll see." Johnny went out as Joe came in. "Watch yourself."

Johnny shut the door as he left, presumably to have a few drinks with Bull, and Joe was left standing awkwardly beside Gertrude's bed, trying to decide what to say. He was spared the expense, however, as the girl spoke first, her voice slightly muffled from being turned the other way.

"As far as I know, this is 1st platoon's barracks. 2nd platoon is next door," she said sourly. Gertrude's sadness had since deteriorated into anger.

"I'm not…" Joe rubbed the back of his neck. He really wasn't good with the whole I'm sorry thing. The only person he could ever remember apologizing to in his life was his mother and that had been when he was thirteen years old and if he hadn't, he would have been stuck inside all day while all the neighborhood kids were outside playing baseball. "…I'm here to…apologize."

"Apology not accepted."

"C'mon, Gertrude." Joe knelt down beside the bed, his hands bracing himself on the mattress. "I didn't mean ta call you a…a…"

"A Nazi?" Gertrude turned over so suddenly that Joe jumped, just like he had back at the whorehouse. "'Cus you fuckin' did, whether you meant to or not!"

Gertrude's face was still red, her eyes still bloodshot, as she leaned on one elbow and screamed in Liebgott's face, who didn't even bat an eye. In fact, he didn't even say anything for a few seconds. When he did, it wasn't what Gertrude had been expecting, yet again. She had been expecting another outburst from him, for him to defend himself. Not for his voice to become softer and his eyes to rove over her face like he'd kicked her dog.

"Fuck, you've been…" Crying, was the word left hanging in the air as Joe reached forward to brush at Gertrude's face. The girl shoved his hand away, but Liebgott was a persistent little fuck and eventually he was able to scrape his thumb unceremoniously down the girl's reddened cheek.

"That only made it worse, dumbass." Her words, however, held considerably less malice than before.

"Probably." So he did it again. And again and again, until the rasping of his finger became a soft stroking against Gertrude's cheekbone and the girl's eyelids were fluttering closed against their will. "…I'm sorry."

"…you called me a fuckin' Nazi…" Gertrude breathed, one hand inching closer to Liebgott and clasping onto his shoulder where he was still kneeled beside her.

"I know, Gert." That was the first time he had ever used her nickname. "I know, and I'm so fuckin' sorry. I didn't mean to. I just…I was so angry, y'know?"

Gertrude sat up abruptly, leaving Joe's hand hanging in midair and a cold spot on his shoulder where her hand had been. "That happen a lot?" She asked sarcastically, head now tilted down at him. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together knew that Joseph Liebgott had a temper.

"Look, if you won't accept my apology…you can kick me or somethin'."

Gertrude, stoic expression not changing, swung a leg out and kicked Joe sharply in the side of his thigh so that he toppled over.

"I wasn't serious!"

Gertrude shrugged and held a hand out to help Joe up. He got to his feet and then tugged hard on Gertrude's hand, pulling her up so that she stumbled a bit into Joe's chest. She looked up and found that he was smirking down at her.

"Sorry for screaming in your face," she said.

"Can I kick you?"

Gertrude just laughed. "No."