R_S: Had to throw a Les Mis reference into this one haha.

Glorious Nymphs

Chapter 7

Men's Work

It had been nearly three weeks now, and the Basterds decidedly enjoyed living with the Nymphs. For the most part, everyone had warmed up to each other and it was almost as if they had always been one big family. They were sweet and mostly fun to be around (when Celia wasn't being a pill) and practically took care of them. They often got hot meals and showers, and for the first time since the start of the war, they were able to relax. The barn could get a bit drafty, but it had a certain charm and a sense of safety that came with a roof over one's head an absolutely zero rumors regarding their whereabouts, especially since the French seemed unwilling attempt any friendship or visitation of the strange American women on the hill. They were certainly eager to return to a life of Nazi killing, but the break was a nice change of pace. Stiglitz and Wicki were healing quickly, almost entirely better. Things were going well. So, of course tragedy had to strike- so to speak.

It was still cool late in the morning, dew collect delicately on the grass from the early morn's light rain. The greenery crunched beneath their feet as they made their way across the yard to the ivory tower of a house that protected the sisters. As per usual, most of the Basterds fell back as Aldo stepped forward to knock politely on the kitchen door and wait for them to be allowed inside. Those days Rosa would normally rush to let them in with a warm smile or, if she was not within earshot, Phoebe would greet them pleasantly. On a good day a hot breakfast would be laid across the table, and if not, there would at least be some bread with butter or cheese. If Celia was still at the table, she would glower at them and remove herself as swiftly as possible, though Raine always made a point to greet her as a gentleman despite the fact. Today, however, they stood there for far longer than normal. It took Rosa no more than thirty seconds to rush the door if she was near, and it took Phoebe only about twenty to figure out if she was not available and let the men in. Today, however, they hit the minute mark before Celia of all people opened the door.

"You lot bring bad luck, if you ask me." She spat with a chilling glare before turning haughtily back into the house, leaving the door ajar for their entrance. Donny and Aldo shared a look before the Basterds began politely removing their hats and stepping inside. It was not hard to figure out what had happened, with the brown and white fuzz just barely visible in the open shoebox. Rosa's eyes were slightly reddened, a drawn sadness to her features. Phoebe's expression was soft as she laid a gentle hand on her younger sister's shoulder and covered the deceased kitten. Celia was still glaring at them from Rosa's other side.

"See, soldiers bring death." She said. To the men's surprise, it was Rosa who shot her a sharp look and scoffed. Phoebe pursed her lips, gazing at her elder sister from the corner of her eyes.

"We take care of plenty of strays that don't make it, Celia." The blond said in an even tone, "Don't go blaming them for something they had nothing to do with. It seems worse this time because it was Mouse, but it's no different than normal." Rosa nodded in agreement before scooping up the shoebox and politely making her way through the gathered men and out the door.

"She buries them at the edge of the woods." Phoebe explained to their questioning looks. To the Basterds' credit, most of them made an effort to conceal the fact that they thought mourning a dead animal was a ridiculous notion. A few of them, however, did have some sympathy for the poor little thing, if only because she was their Little Nymph. Kagan followed her out to help dig the hole and maybe offer some comfort. He would not complain if she was curled up in his arms, even if she was crying. For the most part the men just solemnly sat at the table as usual, figuring this morning they would forgo breakfast rather than rudely ask for it after the family pet had died. As they settled into what was usually their post-breakfast rituals, the blond laughed lightly.

"Oh look at you lot, walking on eggshells as though our womanly feelings are in a complete tangle just because the kitten died. It's sweet, gentlemen, but unnecessary." Fetching the bread and butter from the pantry, she placed it on the table, "Eggs are in the icebox if you'd like them, and there are frying pans beneath the stove. I trust being away at war has not robbed you of all your cooking skills." She sent them a cheeky grin at that and slipped quietly away to do whatever it was that pregnant women did. The Basterds figured she probably knitted booties for the baby all day or something.

Celia regarded them coolly, "Try not to burn the house down." She snapped before stalking haughtily from the kitchen. Raine slid up from the table to follow her out of the room and down the hall. She made it all the way through the dining room before she could no longer stand the southerner's presence.

"What?" she demanded tersely, whipping around to stare him down with her arms crossed. Aldo stretched lazily before letting his gaze settle on her gently, as though trying to will her to be as calm as he was. His voice reflected as much slipping lightly through the air as he appraised her.

"Miss, we're mighty thankful that y'all are playin' hostess for us, so we were figurin' we might do some stuff to return the favor like help around the house n' such, if there's any men's work t'be done." Celia bristled at this, fixing him with a cold glare.

"There isn't any 'men's' work to be done around the house, Lieutenant, simply work to be done. And I assure you, we can handle it just fine." He resisted the urge to role his eyes at her feministic insistence, wishing she would just settle into a lady's place. She did not wait to hear his response, turning to continue on her way.

"There's some logs out back that need t'be chopped up for fire wood with winter a'comin', n' some holes on the roof of the barn look like they could sure use some patchin' n' re-shinglin'. Not to mention some hay bails in the barn need movin', if yer cows are gonna eat, n' that car o'yours in the drive has sure seen better days but could maybe get some good out of a tune-up." The brunette froze at the implications. Though his tone was lazy, his words went straight to work. He was right, those were only a few of the problems around the house that needed to be taken care of but posed quite the problem. Phoebe could not do much manual labor with the baby, and Rosa was simply to small and weak for most of it. Celia herself could handle some of the problems, but a lot of them she either needed help for or had no clue how to fix (though she was loath to admit such a thing). Turning slightly, she gazed at the handsome American over her shoulder. He had won this round and he knew it, though she loathed giving him the satisfaction.

"… Fine. If that would make you happy, then do what you want."

He smirked in response, tipping his head in a nod of acknowledgment, "Yes'm, we'll start work soon as possible." Celia did not answer, rushing from the room in anger and leaving a lightly chuckling Lieutenant in her wake.

The work had been slightly more challenging than the men anticipated. Stiglitz and Wicki had been healing well, but physically demanding work was still not in the cards for either. The other men had grown complacent in their time off, and some seemed reluctant to serve any purpose outside of Nazi hunting. Donny had been particularly crass in his disinterest, but Raine set him straight without hesitance and the other men quickly got the picture. Responsibilities were divvied accordingly. For mouthing off, the Bear Jew got the hardest work and the injured men the easiest. The rest was essentially a free-for-all, dependent on his men's unique set of skills.

Utivich, it turned out, knew the most about cars and had Kagan help him look over the red Volkswagen Kdf that sat in the driveway, since the kid was eager to learn about it. There was not much that needed to be done for it, being relatively new and having gone virtually unused by the girls' aunt. Sitting out and exposed to the elements had left it looking a bit worse for the wear, but the workings seemed just fine. It just need some fine tuning, an oil change and such, and they would have to get some gas if they wanted it to run since the tank was bone dry. Other than that, they were ready to roll- though sadly in Hitler's wheels.

Celia readily took to using the vehicle to escape the Basterds' presence, taking more trips into town. Any day it seemed they would be doing less work and spending more time relaxing with her sisters, she found an excuse to run errands. They did not mind much; her attitude could be somewhat cloying. The soft frivolity of Phoebe and Rosa was a welcome reprieve. One such day found them playing cards while humoring a conversation about the elder's impending birth, as it seemed Rosa felt it time to finish narrowing down the child's names. She was eager to rehash what the blond was considering.

"Well if it's a girl, I'm thinking maybe Elizabeth or Liselotte… although those names are English and German, and I think I'd really like something more French. After all, she would be born here, and feminine French names are just so beautiful."

"What about Florence? Oh, or Cosette! I love the name Cosette!"

"Like in Les Misérables?" Rosa nodded excitedly.

"Hmm… Cosette Liselotte- er, no… Cosette Elizabeth Rousseau…" she said the name slowly, testing it on her tongue, "That is absolutely lovely. If it's a girl she will be Cosette Elizabeth… until my mood changes again." She offered a teasing wink at that, referencing how many times she had experienced varied thoughts on matters regarding the babe.

Her sister squealed excitedly, "Oh they sound perfect together! And let me see, for a boy something strong… I've always liked the name Maximilian. It's so refined and powerful sounding, and the nickname Max is still really sweet." The entire room of men froze what they were doing, turning to stare at her with a mix of horror and disbelief. Wicki looked particularly shaken, while Stiglitz merely held his lighter suspended in front of his cigarette, one eyebrow raised in mild interest as the flame flickered. Finally after a long moment of uncomfortable confusion for the girls, Wicki broke the silence.

"Please, never say the name Maximilian in my presence again. It's bad enough my own name is Wilhelm…" The sisters exchanged a confused look.

"Okay, not Max…"

Phoebe shook her head, "Anyway, it doesn't matter. If it's a boy, he will be Richard after his father."

Aldo nodded, "Richard's a real nice name, miss."

"Means 'brave power,' it's a warrior's name. He should be proud to bear it." All heads turned to Stiglitz, sitting in the corner in a halo of smoke. He hardly ever spoke to the girls. To hear him comment on anything to them much less something as frivolous as what baby names the women liked was oddly disconcerting to the other men. Rosa, however, simply smiled at him with unbridled warmth. His eyes met hers for only a split second before his gaze fell back to the floor.

Phoebe cleared he throat, "So it'll be Richard Rousseau or Cosette Rousseau…"

"Either way," Rosa smiled, placing a hand on her sister's belly, "the baby will certainly be beautiful."

Donny sent his most charming grin from where he sat aside the game, sharpening his knife. "With his mama lookin' like that, how could he not?" He waggled his eyebrows and the girls giggled and tutted.

"Don't make me give you a whippin', Donny." Raine warned without looking up, instead placing down a card.

"Yessir." He gruffed but sent the ladies a wink. Rosa returned it, and gazing around the room, she smiled.

La Tour D'Ivoire was finally beginning to feel like a home.

End of Chapter

R_S: A short chapter, but pretty well self-contained, I think. It lets the story get a move on. Let me know your thoughts!