Disclaimer: it all belongs to Tarantino. Reviews always appreciated, flames forwarded to Hans Landa!

BACK from vacation..and guess what? Nearly finished this story! So expect a lot of updates. Long car rides come in handy, no?

The shooting was coming from the direction of the basement.

Donny sat up so quickly his head bumped, hard, against Aldo's chin. The older man swore and removed his hands from their place at Donny's thighs to clutch his injured face.

"Fuck, somethin' didn't go right," he muttered, throwing Donny off his lap to grab his clothes. The younger man rolled off the bed and did the same, glancing anxiously out the window in time to Aldo's raging comments.

"Stay with Utivich," Aldo ordered, pulling his handgun out. "I'm bringin' Omar and Herschberg with me." he headed toward the door, Donny pulling on his jacket as he trailed behind. Aldo paused a moment, as if he were listening for something, before wrapping an arm around Donny's waist and pulling him closer, the hand holding the gun groping the wound in his leg, his face buried in the pale neck.

He waited until he heard the sufficient groan from Donny before thrusting open the door, grinning like a damn wildcat. Donny huffed through his nose and marched out after the lieutenant.

Stiglitz was watching. It was making Donny feel real uncomfortable, having the older man watch Aldo whisper into Donny's ear. Kind of like how a wolf watches a rabbit from the bushes- never attacking, merely plotting. The others, in their naivety, would presume it was something meant only for those two to discuss. Tactics, perhaps, that would later be shared with the group.

But tactics- at least, military tactics- did not usually involve Donny's eyes gleaming like that, didn't make Aldo cock an eyebrow and clear his throat. Military tactics didn't make Donny look away, they made him look forward with more anticipation.

Stiglitz cracked his knuckles and spat on the ground.

He was sitting near the doorway leading into the street with Utivich, both growing increasingly impatient. Utivich in particular seemed on edge, his large blue eyes combing the street for something, any hint of what was going on. Now and then they traveled to Donny's face before flitting away, embarrassment written across his face. His hands moved like birds from his face to the Garand, then the Garand would fall to the floor and he would run his fingers over the edge of one of the windows.

"Ants in the pants, Utivich?" Donny asked, smirking as he unloaded and re-loaded the stolen rifle. He wasn't sure why he did it- he was bored, maybe, and didn't want to be a mirror image of the kid sitting across from him. Didn't want the Little One know he was nervous as fuck, too.

"You got a-" Utivich's voice faltered, then he decided visuals would work better. His index and middle fingers tapped against his neck, then moved to the hollow at his throat before he quickly moved his eyes and his hands to the floor.

"Oh." Donny's own hand shot up to cover the marks the kid had indicated. "Thought the jacket covered 'em good enough," he grumbled.

"Stiglitz told me." Utivich suddenly admitted. His eyes were wider than usual, his arms settled over the Garand. "About you and Aldo, I mean," he added, rather unnecessarily.

What was he supposed to say? Donny couldn't deny it. Stiglitz had known nearly right away, and he wasn't surprised he had told one of the men about it; quite frankly, the fact Stiglitz had told only Utivich was astounding, and Donny had to wonder how the others had never noticed.

It was as if Utivich had read his thoughts during those moments of silence. "The other guys are suspicious, yeah, but they haven't really said much about it, only Stiglitz and I know for sure. He didn't want to tell the others, because, well, you know, if word gets around they might not be too comfortable-" the kid was rambling to fill the quiet air, to assure Donny.

"You think of your sergeant any differently for it?" Donny interrupted darkly. He felt his stomach drop when Utivich affirmed the question.

"I mean no offense or anything." Utivich said quickly, his hands fluttering in the air. "It explains the way you both have been acting lately, I guess. You sure haven't been talking to us much, and it's a good time watching you, but..lately, you beating those Germans into the ground gets a little.." Utivich shuddered. "Scary, I guess. Like it's right out of some nightmare or something."

"That's not because of Aldo!" Donny responded indignantly.

"When was the last time you purposely got brains and shit all over your buddies?" Utivich prodded. Donny became silent once more, mulling over Utivich's accusations. The kid was wrong, Donny hadn't changed..had he?

"You have a girl back home?" the sergeant asked suddenly. The shaking of the kid's head confirmed Donny's suspicions. "Didn't think so."

"Nor do you." Utivich said accusingly. Donny snorted and agreed, pulling out a cigarette. "Since when do you smoke?"

Donny paused in lighting, his fingers lingering. "Come on, Utivich. Now you're gettin' ridiculous." Utivich's eyes became unnaturally hard, and he turned away, hands resting once more on his knees.

"When ya gonna be back, Murphy?"

"Come on, the Marines? Shoulda gone with the Navy!" someone laughed.

"Goin' to the Pacific? Shit, that's gonna be one hell of a ride-"

Murphy had shrugged, laughed, responded to the questions and comments, yet Donny had said nothing. Murphy was leaving, he would leave, all their friends would be gone. He felt a strange surge of jealousy when Murphy's girl Sally wrapped her lithe arms around his neck. The Irishman turned his eyes on his friend, worry etched on his face as he wrapped an arm around Sally's waist.

"All right, Donny boy?"

Aldo never whispered. Rather, he would lower his voice to a growl, a rasp, a murmur. But never a whisper- it was too kind, too soft.

After their initial encounters, Aldo lost his tenderness with Donny and had become more dominating over the younger man. They would retreat further into the forests, covered the truck with more blankets, lock the doors, in attempts to muffle their noise. Donny found himself wearing the worn-out leather jacket more and more often until the visible marks on his neck and collarbone had faded into believable excuses.

The bruises around his wound, however, had grown. Technically, Donny should have been bothered by this. Realistically, Aldo would have said or done something about it. But they knew this was virtual suicide- it would require explanation that would lead to more questions, greater suspicion.

He'd asked one night as Aldo's hand ran over the wound roughly why he had such a sick fascination with it. "I like mistakes," Aldo had smirked, breathing his smoker's breath into Donny's ear.

It was strange, how fine Aldo felt with it all. Donny had become uncomfortable, nervous even. What did he call the two of them- a relationship? Or were they in something much more shallow and selfish?

Had he always felt this way? He remembered Murphy's jokes when Donny would seem far away while cutting his hair. "Thinking about the girls, Donny? Or should I say the boys?" and Donny would laugh with Murphy and the other guys, knowing it was just a joke, don't let it bother you, but when you go home at night it's all right to scream into your pillow because you're frustrated and don't understand what you feel and how bad you feel when you go to the synagogue with all those bad thoughts.

Was it a feeling always nestled inside him that was just now making its way through his veins, intoxicating his heart and his mind? Or was it a product of circumstances? He felt Aldo's nails dig into his shoulder and breathed- one, two, three- better to let Aldo have some fun and you can think about it later when he's sleeping so for once in your life you can have a good cry, because the Bear Jew doesn't do that kind of stuff.