Author's note: A de-anon from the LiveJournal kink meme.
A Game of Soldiers: Chapter 2
Gilbert yawned. Yawned, the bastard. "Sarge? How much longer before we get off this chopper?" he asked.
Arthur checked his watch. It would be quite a while before they reached the landing zone. "About forty-five minutes. Why?"
The corporal smirked. Arthur knew that smirk, and he was not the only one.
"Oh god," Ludwig muttered.
"I didn't say anything yet!"
"You're going to start telling another one of your ridiculous stories–"
"Shut up, West! They are not ridiculous, they're cool!"
"I'd like to hear it!" Feliciano said brightly.
Gilbert beamed. "See? Feli there thinks so!"
Ludwig looked pleadingly at Arthur, who merely shrugged. "Oh, why the hell not. We have time to kill," said the sergeant.
The corporal cackled. "Okay, Feli! Since you're the newest guy here, I'm going to tell you how Sarge and I met!"
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Hang on," he said.
Feliciano looked puzzled. "But you've told me that one–"
Gilbert ignored them both.
-x-x-
Stabsgefreiter Gilbert Beilschmidt eyed his new surroundings with a degree of enthusiasm. Here he was, one of the few men from the Heer to join the CBAB – what the fuck is with that acronym? – and as happy as he was for being selected, the fact that his younger brother was also selected to join the Brigade made him proud to the point of bursting. And while joining the Brigade did not earn him nor his brother a promotion, it did make a big difference in their pay bands, which more than made up for the stupid name.
"Come on, West!" he said to his brother, "let's go around and take a proper look at this whole place!"
"Now? But I want to unpack and sort my things–"
"There's plenty of time for that later! Let's check this place out!"
Ludwig hesitated for a moment, but decided to go with his elder brother's wishes. Gilbert was right; they had plenty of time. A mix-up in communications had resulted in the German contingent arriving two days earlier than scheduled at the CBAB camp, causing a minor stir and guaranteeing a good dose of bollocking for the bastard responsible for the cock-up. Although quite a deal had yet to be sorted out – uniforms, squad assignment and so on – thankfully at least their living arrangements had been settled. After a quick briefing by a few very harassed-looking officers and NCOs, the Germans were all shoved into the barracks and politely told to mind their own business and find useful things to do, because there was already a massive amount of fuck-all around the camp to deal with and no one needed any more.
Quite a number of their countrymen had the same idea as Gilbert; already more than a few had set off to have a look around after they were done storing their gear and had changed their clothes. Most of them were headed to the nearest town, the rest to the recreation complex. "How did you know that's the rec building?" Gilbert wondered when Ludwig pointed this out.
"They gave us a map at the briefing. Where did you put yours?"
Gilbert shrugged. "So that's what that piece of paper was. I stuffed it somewhere. Anyway, who cares about the map? I've got you."
"Let's go see the recreation facilities," Ludwig suggested, "I want to find out if the library has a good collection."
"You need to get that perfectly groomed head of yours out of those boring books, West! Screw the library, I want to check out if they've got a decent TV. One of those big flat-screens would be great for watching porn."
"You know that pornography is not allowed in–"
"Says the guy who has at least twenty gigs' worth of BDSM in his laptop," Gilbert interrupted, ignoring his brother's sputtering, "now come on."
-x-x-
"Why Ludwig," Arthur said, grinning, "never thought you were a bondage fan."
Ludwig turned bright red. "That-that's just ridiculous!" he protested.
Gilbert waved one hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Yeah, yeah. I lied. He doesn't have twenty gigs of BDSM in his computer."
Arthur relaxed. "Oh good."
"He's got eighty," Gilbert said with a smirk, while his brother turned a very amusing shade of purple.
"Fuck!"
-x-x-
"Hey," Gilbert said in approval, "this isn't so bad!"
Ludwig agreed with his brother's assessment. The recreation complex was a far cry compared to the facilities they were used to back in their old camp; it had a decent library, several gaming rooms ("With video games!" Gilbert exclaimed in excitement), computer and Internet facilities, even a barbecue and grill area, and according to the map and handout, it also had lots of TV rooms. Twenty of them, to be precise.
Gilbert immediately rushed to see them.
However, most of the rooms were either locked or occupied to almost full capacity, so the two brothers were forced to walk almost all the way down the hall before Gilbert could satisfy his curiosity.
He was pleased that the room he entered had a big, flat-screen TV, but was not quite so approving at the lack of DVDs to watch; the shelf near the TV was almost bare except for a few titles.
"You probably have to go to the library and check them out first," Ludwig said, "or maybe the good ones are in the other rooms."
"I'm not talking about movies, West," Gilbert grumbled, "I'm talking about porn! What kind of place is this? Usually someone would hide a porn DVD somewhere..." He continued grumbling to himself as he searched the TV cabinet, then turned to have a second look at the shelf.
"Can we go now?" Ludwig said. He wanted to check out a few books from the library, so he would have something to do tonight after he was done unpacking.
"Might as well," Gilbert muttered and turned around to follow his brother out the door, but not before giving the shelf a hefty kick in frustration. "Did you bring your laptop? I'm gonna try and hook it up to the TV tonight – aaack!"
It was only then the two discovered that the shelf was not only devoid of good DVDs to watch, it was also rather precariously balanced.
-x-x-
"Ve, Sarge... that's not how it went in the first story the corporal told me."
"Oh?" That was the only syllable uttered, but it was more than enough for said corporal to choke out a nervous laugh, and then inch a bit further away from the squad's IC.
"Yeah! He said that he single-handedly rescued you from a dozen crazed militia–"
"Bloody cheek!"
-x-x-
Arthur had always wanted to try his hand at knitting. He had always been good with a needle and thread, having no problems at attempting an interlaced herringbone stitch or a closed Cretan stitch in his sleep, and thus figured that knitting would not pose a problem. It was just a different way of mucking about with yarn and oversized needles, he reasoned.
Still, the fact that he was new to the whole business required some peace and quiet, for he needed to fully concentrate on his first project – a scarf. While NCOs like Arthur had the privilege of being housed in separate quarters instead of in the barracks with the enlisted men, the French bastard he had the misfortune of having as a neighbour was such a bloody pest with his – his Frenchness – that Arthur simply could not find the solitude he required.
He had found a refuge in one of the TV rooms in the recreation complex, simply by the virtue of the room missing a TV. The fact that the room was also at the far end of the hall was also a plus; practically no one bothered to walk all the way there, preferring to utilise the nearer rooms. And there were plenty of TV rooms, since the last thing the Brigade needed was regular fights among its men over who gets to watch live football telecasts.
No one would disturb him in his refuge, and he could spend his off-duty hours working with yarn in peace. Perfect.
"Knit one," he said softly to himself as he eyed the pattern, "and purl two–"
Alas, the loud crash from the next room not only interrupted his knitting but also ruined it, for he was so startled by the noise he accidentally yanked it apart.
He eyed the mess of yarn in his hands and sighed. So much for his initial endeavour into knitting. Might as well stick to embroidery, he decided as he stood up and jammed the ruined mess in his pocket, then headed to the next room to investigate the crash.
He opened the door. "Oh bloody hell," he exclaimed as he spotted someone – oh god, it had to be an old geezer with that white hair – being molested by that dodgy shelf. The poor bastard was the third one this week.
The other man in the room, a tall blond giant, had one side of the shelf in his hands and had lifted it a little when he noticed Arthur. He let go.
Arthur's German was limited to 'Ja', 'Nein', and 'Sprechen Sie Englisch?' but he knew whatever the man being crushed by the shelf shouted was not complimentary.
"Please don't mind him," said the brick shithouse in the calm tone used by someone who is accustomed to such ridiculous situations, "he's just an idiot."
"What the hell, West!" the idiot under the shelf cried out in protest.
Arthur blinked. "I see. And you are?"
"Oh. Obergefreiter Ludwig Beilschmidt."
"Can't you two idiots do your introductions later? Get this thing off me!"
Oh, sod it. What the hell is an Obergefreiter? He wracked his brain, trying to remember what was the equivalent rank in CBAB. "I thought your name's West," he said as he held one side of the bookcase.
Ludwig squirmed slightly before he grabbed hold of the other side of the shelf. "That's just his nickname for me. Uh. Sir?" That last bit was added in obvious hesitation. It was understandable, since like him and his idiot friend, Arthur was dressed in civvies since he was off-duty; there was no way for the man to know his rank.
Arthur shook his head. "I'm no officer," he said – and neither was an Obergefreiter, that much he was certain – before he continued, "now let's get this off your mate."
A quick heave and the shelf was set upright, then shoved back in its proper place.
-x-x-
"Sarge, quit hijacking the story! That's not what happened!" Gilbert said, shaking his head. "I'm far too awesome and too cool to end up doing something – something stupid like being knocked down by a fucking bookshelf!"
Ludwig rolled his eyes while Antonio hid a grin, for both of them knew better.
"See, Feli," Gilbert continued, "what really happened was that our sergeant here was so overwhelmed by my awesome presence that he dropped his pansy knitting on the floor and literally couldn't say a word–"
His statement was cut short by the distinctive sound of a rifle being cocked. The sergeant's rifle, to be exact. "What was that, corporal?"
"Oh, nothing. Carry on, Sarge."
-x-x-
He gave up trying to figure it out. "Obergefreiter?"
"Yes?" At Arthur's questioning look, Ludwig explained as he helped his companion, "Oh. Private."
"I see. And him?"
"Stabsgefreiter – I mean, Corporal Gilbert Beilschmidt. My brother."
The corporal dusted his sleeves once he was standing up. He was not an old geezer after all; he just had hair like one, as well as a pair of rather freaky-looking eyes. "Who the fuck put that stupid shelf there anyway?"
"No idea. It's a bit dodgy, but you just found that out for yourself. You all right?"
"Yeah. Thanks, uh..."
"Sergeant Arthur Kirkland."
-x-x-
"And that," Arthur concluded, to Feliciano's furious nodding, "was how we really met."
"I still like my version better," Gilbert said rather loftily.
"Which one? The one with the crazed militia, or the one with the Protoss and the Zerg?"
Gilbert snickered. "That's what I'm here for, Sarge. To share my awesomeness and bring some excitement in your boring tea-drinking, pansy-knitting life. And hey, at least now you know something about computer games!"
"Hah. You could've gone with your friend Bonnefoy's squad then, instead of mine."
"Who, Francis?" Gilbert made a face. "Oh, fuck no. He's not bad, but he's such a loser."
"Probably because he's French." Prejudices and stereotypes be damned, Arthur thought. And while he was at it, the frog too.
Gilbert sniggered. "What have you got against the French anyway?"
"What have you got against kebabs?"
"I'm old-fashioned, I like wurst better than döner."
Feliciano asked, "So who's Bonnefoy?"
"Now that, Feli," Gilbert said, "is another story."
"Oh god," Ludwig mumbled, then Gilbert kicked him in the shin.
