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Apr. 24th, 2018 05:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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120_minutenChallenge: Jemanden in einem anderen Licht sehen / jemanden neu kennen lernen
Fandom: Hogan’s Heroes / Ein Käfig voller Helden (@![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nyx_chan, rei17, krieg ich bitte einen Tag? Danke!)
Charaktere: Peter Newkirk, Louis LeBeau
Wörter: 1005
A/N: Das ist weder die ursprüngliche Idee noch das Fandom zu dem ich sie schreiben wollte, aber… Offenbar habe ich kapituliert. Fuck. Ich werde nicht darüber weg kommen, dass ich schon wieder etwas in diesem Fandom geschrieben habe...
Über die Jahre hat Louis mehr als genug Gelegenheiten, neue Seiten an Newkirk kennenzulernen.
When Louis first met Corporal Peter Newkirk, the Englischman was curled up in the corner of his cooler cell and snarled at him like a feral animal. Louis hadn‘t expected much more from a rosbif and in any case, he shared the sentiment.
His unfounded, but nonetheless well-deserved, hatred lasted exactly until the following night, when he tossed and turned on the lumpy matress, shivering under the pathetic excuse for a blanket with nothing left to do than listen to the ragged breaths and whimpers coming from the cell across the corridor. The Englishman still sounded like an animal, but a trapped, starving,scared animal and Louis couldn‘t help the pang of sympathy. He had just arrived at the stalag, he had no idea what the boche did to their prisonors, but they were in this together, weren‘t they?
Of course, this feeling of kinship vanished in a flash when, the next morning, the Englishman opened his mouth.
When Louis and Newkirk were released from the cooler and herded into the same barracks, they had spent the better part of two weeks developing a habit of trading insults in an incomprehensible amalgamation of French and Cockney Rhyming Slang. Occassionally, they would split the difference and meet in the no-man‘s-land of heavily accented English just to make it perfectly clear which body part would be meeting which kitchen appliance.
As far as Louis was concerned, Newkirk was unbearable, infuriating, too loud, too English and entirely too thin. So what if he shared his rations, the muddy dishwashing water the Germans called soup was even more unbearable. Newkirk, naturally, just complained about the extra food, insisting that he wasn‘t a bleeding‘ tot, but seeing as Louis didn‘t have the slightest idea what that would be, Newkirk could just deal and drink his cabbage water like a big boy.
When Newkirk didn‘t complain, and that was rare in and of itself, he cheated at cards and smiled easily and helped Louis to break into the guard‘s mess. So for all Louis cared, Pierre was an unbearable nuisance of a person, but he was his nuisance.
When Hogan arrived in the camp, Louis and Pierre had long since settled into a comfortable routine of bilingual insults, black marketing and regularly scheduled trips to the cooler after failed escape attempts. It was Newkirk and LeBeau against the rest of the world, even if they did let Kinch or Olsen in on a few of their hare-brained schemes.
So when the colonel pitched his little project to them, Louis just shrugged with practised French nonchalance and glanced up at Pierre who pulled a face. „’E‘s ’round the bend.“
„Oui, indubitable.“
Pierre shrugged. Louis pulled a face. „We‘re in, mon colonel.“
It was just another hare-brained scheme, just another way of getting themselves into the cooler or shot or worse, but damn, if it wasn‘t the best reason they had had so far. Also, having a task, an actual goal or just plain old hope did wonders for Pierre. Louis had known the other man and his quicksilver temper for over a year by then, and he wasn‘t exactly surprised, but it was good to see him become Newkirk who would roll his eyes at Carter or Pete who would take over the radio from Kinch.
Newkirk the tailor smiled just as easily as Newkirk the POW but it was softer around the edges. Newkirk the conman had as bleak an outlook on life as Newkirk the Englander, only now he thought twice before jumping into the next suicidal scheme. Newkirk the spy still carried himself like a man who knew the whole world was out to get him, but the set of his shoulders was just a little bit straighter and the comforting hand on Louis‘ shoulder a just a little bit warmer.
All things considered, Louis liked the new Newkirk. He was still a nuisance, but he was their nuisance.
When Newkirk finally found his way to Paris as he had promised so many times before, he hadn‘t actually announced that he would come, but Louis hadn‘t expected anything else. By this point, he hadn‘t expected anything at all.
After the war, Louis had retired from the service as soon as he could and he hadn‘t looked back once. Newkirk, on the other hand, had stayed on, reasoning that it was either spy or cat burglar and the years of tunnel digging in Stalag 13 had done quite a number on his knees. It turned out that Newkirk the Cold War spy was a reliable letter writer who never quite dropped the caustic sense of humour or the tendency for needlessly embellished stories that didn‘t even resemble half-truths.
So, when Newkirk finally arrived in Paris, Louis almost didn‘t recognise him and only partly because of the years that had etched themselves into his face. The man sitting on the bench right in front of Louis‘ restaurant was slouching alright and trying to make himself look small and unassuming just like the troublemaker in the cooler, but here it was entirely for the benefit of the young boy who laughed in delight as he pulled handkerchief after handkerchief out of his sleeve.
„Pierre?“
Both the boy and the man in the grey suit looked up at the name. A slow smile spread over Newkirk‘s face upon recognising him. The boy smiled even wider. „Papa, papa! He can make coins appear from thin air!“
„Look out, Pierre, he can also make them disappear from your pockets.“ Louis had to warn his eldest, but he couldn‘t quite help the laughter.
„That‘s ’ardly fair, Louie!“
Pierre who was just out to visit his mate smiled just as wide as Newkirk the tailor, but his eyes sparkled with unadulterated glee as he turned back to the boy, reaching out his hand. „Pierre, hu? On m’a tellement parlé de vous. Je m‘apelle Peter.“
„Your French is still atrocious.“
„You‘re all ’eart, mate, all ’eart.“
„And you are a bloody nuisance. Come here already!“
Fandom: Hogan’s Heroes / Ein Käfig voller Helden (@
nyx_chan, rei17, Charaktere: Peter Newkirk, Louis LeBeau
Wörter: 1005
A/N: Das ist weder die ursprüngliche Idee noch das Fandom zu dem ich sie schreiben wollte, aber… Offenbar habe ich kapituliert. Fuck. Ich werde nicht darüber weg kommen, dass ich schon wieder etwas in diesem Fandom geschrieben habe...
Über die Jahre hat Louis mehr als genug Gelegenheiten, neue Seiten an Newkirk kennenzulernen.
When Louis first met Corporal Peter Newkirk, the Englischman was curled up in the corner of his cooler cell and snarled at him like a feral animal. Louis hadn‘t expected much more from a rosbif and in any case, he shared the sentiment.
His unfounded, but nonetheless well-deserved, hatred lasted exactly until the following night, when he tossed and turned on the lumpy matress, shivering under the pathetic excuse for a blanket with nothing left to do than listen to the ragged breaths and whimpers coming from the cell across the corridor. The Englishman still sounded like an animal, but a trapped, starving,scared animal and Louis couldn‘t help the pang of sympathy. He had just arrived at the stalag, he had no idea what the boche did to their prisonors, but they were in this together, weren‘t they?
Of course, this feeling of kinship vanished in a flash when, the next morning, the Englishman opened his mouth.
When Louis and Newkirk were released from the cooler and herded into the same barracks, they had spent the better part of two weeks developing a habit of trading insults in an incomprehensible amalgamation of French and Cockney Rhyming Slang. Occassionally, they would split the difference and meet in the no-man‘s-land of heavily accented English just to make it perfectly clear which body part would be meeting which kitchen appliance.
As far as Louis was concerned, Newkirk was unbearable, infuriating, too loud, too English and entirely too thin. So what if he shared his rations, the muddy dishwashing water the Germans called soup was even more unbearable. Newkirk, naturally, just complained about the extra food, insisting that he wasn‘t a bleeding‘ tot, but seeing as Louis didn‘t have the slightest idea what that would be, Newkirk could just deal and drink his cabbage water like a big boy.
When Newkirk didn‘t complain, and that was rare in and of itself, he cheated at cards and smiled easily and helped Louis to break into the guard‘s mess. So for all Louis cared, Pierre was an unbearable nuisance of a person, but he was his nuisance.
***
When Hogan arrived in the camp, Louis and Pierre had long since settled into a comfortable routine of bilingual insults, black marketing and regularly scheduled trips to the cooler after failed escape attempts. It was Newkirk and LeBeau against the rest of the world, even if they did let Kinch or Olsen in on a few of their hare-brained schemes.
So when the colonel pitched his little project to them, Louis just shrugged with practised French nonchalance and glanced up at Pierre who pulled a face. „’E‘s ’round the bend.“
„Oui, indubitable.“
Pierre shrugged. Louis pulled a face. „We‘re in, mon colonel.“
It was just another hare-brained scheme, just another way of getting themselves into the cooler or shot or worse, but damn, if it wasn‘t the best reason they had had so far. Also, having a task, an actual goal or just plain old hope did wonders for Pierre. Louis had known the other man and his quicksilver temper for over a year by then, and he wasn‘t exactly surprised, but it was good to see him become Newkirk who would roll his eyes at Carter or Pete who would take over the radio from Kinch.
Newkirk the tailor smiled just as easily as Newkirk the POW but it was softer around the edges. Newkirk the conman had as bleak an outlook on life as Newkirk the Englander, only now he thought twice before jumping into the next suicidal scheme. Newkirk the spy still carried himself like a man who knew the whole world was out to get him, but the set of his shoulders was just a little bit straighter and the comforting hand on Louis‘ shoulder a just a little bit warmer.
All things considered, Louis liked the new Newkirk. He was still a nuisance, but he was their nuisance.
***
When Newkirk finally found his way to Paris as he had promised so many times before, he hadn‘t actually announced that he would come, but Louis hadn‘t expected anything else. By this point, he hadn‘t expected anything at all.
After the war, Louis had retired from the service as soon as he could and he hadn‘t looked back once. Newkirk, on the other hand, had stayed on, reasoning that it was either spy or cat burglar and the years of tunnel digging in Stalag 13 had done quite a number on his knees. It turned out that Newkirk the Cold War spy was a reliable letter writer who never quite dropped the caustic sense of humour or the tendency for needlessly embellished stories that didn‘t even resemble half-truths.
So, when Newkirk finally arrived in Paris, Louis almost didn‘t recognise him and only partly because of the years that had etched themselves into his face. The man sitting on the bench right in front of Louis‘ restaurant was slouching alright and trying to make himself look small and unassuming just like the troublemaker in the cooler, but here it was entirely for the benefit of the young boy who laughed in delight as he pulled handkerchief after handkerchief out of his sleeve.
„Pierre?“
Both the boy and the man in the grey suit looked up at the name. A slow smile spread over Newkirk‘s face upon recognising him. The boy smiled even wider. „Papa, papa! He can make coins appear from thin air!“
„Look out, Pierre, he can also make them disappear from your pockets.“ Louis had to warn his eldest, but he couldn‘t quite help the laughter.
„That‘s ’ardly fair, Louie!“
Pierre who was just out to visit his mate smiled just as wide as Newkirk the tailor, but his eyes sparkled with unadulterated glee as he turned back to the boy, reaching out his hand. „Pierre, hu? On m’a tellement parlé de vous. Je m‘apelle Peter.“
„Your French is still atrocious.“
„You‘re all ’eart, mate, all ’eart.“
„And you are a bloody nuisance. Come here already!“
no subject
Date: 2018-04-24 06:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-04-24 08:05 pm (UTC)Bickering idiots sind aber auch schwer zu widerstehen.^^
Und jetzt muss ich dieses Fandom nachschlagen...
So lustig die Serie bisweilen ist, ich meinte es ernst, es wird nur schlimmer, wenn man zu viel drüber nachdenkt... Aber da ich grade meiner Schwester den Link zu einer Szene schicken musste: Hier X'D
no subject
Date: 2018-05-02 07:15 am (UTC)