Dedicated to Steve, my very perceptive anonymous reviewer who discovered my dirty thoughts in The Basterds' Epitaph. All the porn henceforth, every impassioned cock-thrust, every brutal, sloppy, man-lovin' kiss, is all for you. And pray that QT does not find out about slash. He is crazy enough to put it in a movie...
EDIT: Quentin Tarantino DID find out about the slash. His comment: "Donny is a pitcher, not a catcher." Eli Roth, who told him about the "S&M porn on livejournal", agrees. Far be it from me to contradict the Master.

SLASH WARNING IS WARNED AND WILL NOT BE WARNED AGAIN. Very bad words are used.

Disclaimer: QT is God. As we hearken to his Word, meaning goin' to the movies, we write our Gospels from within our souls... being geeky nutters and cheerfully raping "the canon". Just like 2000 years ago, eh?

Rating: PG-13 so far.

Thanks: Grrrrazie to LoveAndCoughDrops for beta reading. No thanks to Linndechir for distracting me with Landa/Hellstrom.

The Ballad of Hugo Stiglitz and Aldo Raine

Spring 1941, a clouded day.

A small plane above Nazi-occupied France.

-/-

"Lieutenant, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're kinda pale."

"Shut up, Donny."

"No, really."

"I said, shut the fuck up, Sarge."

"No shame in being uncomfy in a tin box five miles above a Nazi army, sir..."

Aldo growled and kicked him, ending the conversation.

His breath came fast between clenched teeth, and try as he might, he couldn't forget that they were flying. In air. It wasn't right, people flying. It wasn't fuckin' American. Looking down, he'd see clouds under his feet. And his feet tingled, already awaiting the sensation of turning into bloody mush five miles below. He hated flying. Hated it more than goddamn Hitler himself – right now, anyway.

Trust Donny to fucking notice.

He'd kill the sonuvabitch, if he dared to laugh. No, better.

Donny's wide mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile. He was tucked in tight on the wooden bench between the Lieutenant and young Utivich. Lt. Raine was stuck between Donny and the wall. He had thought it would provide him with a sense of stability and comfort, but all he could think of were that three inches of steel was all that was between him and five miles of air. Damn it.

Donny snorted a little, like he always did when he was about to laugh. He could probably feel Aldo shivering.

One thing left to do, then. Aldo summoned his best commanding voice.

"Sergeant?" Hm, not bad.

"Sir?" Donny was definitely smirking, goddam smug kike bastard. Raine leaned over to whisper into his ear, close enough for Donny's hair to tickle his nose.

"You wanna have a laugh at my expense, you little cocksucker, do it. And I'll tell 'em your first name. Your REAL first name."

The blood drained from Donny's face. "You wouldn't. Fuck no!"

Aldo smirked. "Language... Ishmael."

Donny whimpered silently, even though the whisper had been almost too quiet for him to hear over the roar of the plane. The Lieutenant's mouth was almost covering his ear, to ensure nobody else heard. No sense in wasting such a trump card. He sighed in relief when Aldo leaned back, triumphant grin and all. But the Lieutenant's merriment was short-lived and lasted for exactly ten seconds, until his eyes fell on the parachutes.

They were supposed to jump off an aeroplane. At least, he wasn't the only one with shaky knees about this.

When the time came though, it was as if his nerves had turned off, overloaded. And the jump was the last thing that stood between him and killin' Nazis. Now, either he would die, horribly but quickly... or he'd live, which had a pretty good chance of happening. He could only hang on and pray.

The responsibilities of a commanding officer, making decisions, waited below.

All and any comments appreciated.