pair of ficlets
Mar. 22nd, 2007 12:46 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
danakszoul.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
mash_slashAuthor: Anne Marsh
Title: Fifty-Fifrty
Spoiler Warning: Post-ep for 'Check-Up'
Pairing: H/T
Teen-ish
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: all the cool kids are doing it.
I struggled not to drop any of the jars of plasma I'd just been handed. It took the grace and skill of a ballet dancer, but eventually I set them down without breaking a one.
"Don't hurt yourself." Trapper teased. "You know, unless you think it would be funny."
"That's my problem." I shook my head, gravitating to him. "I go too far. I'll do anything for a laugh."
"You know what would be great?"
"If it involves me getting hit in the face, forget it-- I may need to fall back on my looks someday."
"Actually, I was changing the subject. What would be great is if you could get me a sandwich. I guess you *could* hit yourself in the face with a sandwich, but I don't know if I'd eat it afterwards."
"If I had a sandwich, I'd be the one eating it."
"You shouldn't be so cruel to me, Hawk. I'm a sick man."
"Yeah, no kidding. I've always known that about you."
"Hey!" He protested, chuckling a little too much to be taken seriously.
And it was the truth, what I said before. I would do anything for a laugh, providing it was his. He's got the most gorgeous smile, when you can find it, the one that lights his whole face and makes his eyes sparkle...
"Okay. If I should somehow come across this mythical sandwich, I'll split it with you. Fifty-fifty."
"Sixty-forty. You called me sick."
"Fifty-fifty. You called yourself sick and I agreed with you."
"Fifty-fifty." He allowed. "But I get the toothpick that holds it together."
"No deal, the toothpick is fifty-fifty, same as the sandwich."
"What if the sandwich is peanut butter? No toothpick."
"Then you can have half the toothpick holding my drink together."
"I suppose splitting the drink is still out of the question." He sighed.
"Sorry. You're a sick man, remember?" I ruffled his curls. Really, for no other reason but to touch them.
"Yeah." He grabbed my hand before I could take it away. "Look... is there anything I'm not too sick for?"
"Sleeping. Being medicated."
"Let me know when 'necking' gets added to that list."
"Whoever called it that was a poor judge of anatomy."
He laughed. It was golden. I didn't know laughter had a colour, but I think now it must, at least if it's his.
"So why'd you stick around this dump? I'd think they'd at least let you get treated at Tokyo General."
"The offer wasn't good enough." He shrugged.
"The offer wasn't-- *Tokyo* wasn't good enough? I gotta say, I think you held out a little too long on that one, 'cause they got you stuck here instead."
"I chose you." He mumbled the words, crossing his arms defensively.
"Trapper, I'm flattered, but Tokyo's gotta have doctors at least *almost* as good as I am."
"Not for Doctor Pierce, for *you*. *Hawkeye*. I wouldn't have come back... they would have transferred me out. To some unit that didn't have you in it. I'd rather take my chances in this rathole than wind up someplace else..."
"Aw, Trap... Say, didn't we already do this sentimental hooey?" I tried to wipe at my eye without looking like I was wiping at my eye. Luckily post-op was pretty empty today-- Trap and a couple kids who weren't exactly conscious-- but still.
"No, we did a different sentimental hooey." He grinned, and at least his eyes were a little watery as well.
It was then that I noticed something else, which really, I should have been aware of the entire time.
"Trapper, are you still holding my hand?"
"... Yes."
"You really want me to clear you for necking, don't you?"
He waggled his eyebrows. "You offering, Sailor?"
"That's Doctor Sailor, Soldier."
"Please. Doctor Soldier, Doctor Sailor."
"Hey, how'd I become a sailor?"
"I don't know. Because they've got such cute little outfits?"
"You're a naughty boy." I snickered.
"Think about it. The pants'd hug that cute little butt just so."
"You're the one with the cute little butt. I have the nice chest."
"Who's got the legs?"
"I've got hips and thighs, you've got knees and calves."
"Fifty-fifty." He smiled. "Fair enough."
There was a long pause. He let go of my hand nervously, then grabbed it again, at least as nervously as before.
"Hey, Hawk... how serious were we being? I mean, I know we weren't being serious, but... You make the same jokes over and over, you start to think it's a little true..."
"It's a little true." I nodded.
"So when am I cleared for necking?"
"Cool it, big boy." I gave his chest a little shove, and he landed against his pillow. "I'll come by and give you your physical later. You never got your short arm inspection..."
"You tease."
I winked at him. "I'm worth the wait."
He smiled and settled back. I left post-op like I was walking on clouds for once, and all because of him...
---/-/---
FIN
Author: Anne Marsh
Title: Cold
R/K
Teenish? (I'm so bad at self-rating...)
Spoiler Warning: None whatsoever.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: pretty please with sugar on top?
I was sleeping up until the door swung open. I thought it was just the wind made it do that, seeing as how it's winter and pretty harsh and all.
I really didn't want to get up, only someone had to shut the door again. Well, before I could get up, it closed without me, and when I got my glasses on, I could see a raccoon coat shivering in the dark. I mean, that's what it looked like.
"Klinger?" I asked. You know, just to be sure.
"Hey, Radar." It was Klinger, and his teeth chattred when he talked. "Sorry to wake you. I just got off sentry duty and I couldn't make it back to my tent with this storm going. I wore the wrong shoes for this..."
"Well, gee," I tsk-ed. "You oughta know better'n to go out like that in this weather. I mean, between you and me, we both know you're not crazy for real, so you really gotta take better care of yourself!"
"Well, thanks, kid, but if I start taking better care of myself, I-- Hey. What happened to your cot?"
"Colonel Blake, a mambo record, and a bottle of rye did. But Captains Pierce and MacIntyre who helped happen to it had a rubber mattress they said I could use until the requisition form for a new one goes through."
"You look like you're trying to sleep in the middle of a lifeboat."
"Well, it normally sleeps two. Captains Pierce and MacIntyre said it was real good for company, and when I said company usually sleeps in the VIP tent, they said that wasn't what they meant. I think--" I dropped my voice to a whisper. "I think they meant *girls*."
"Say, you don't mind if-- I mean, I can't cross the compound like this, and so long as you've got the space, I promise I don't snore."
"Oh, uh,"
"And if I'm wrong and I do, you can just shove me 'til I wake up and stop. C'mon, *please*, Radar? Don't make me go back out there! These are open-toe!"
"Okay, well hang up your coat then. You might as well, I don't know what to do with all this room."
"Thanks, Radar, you're a pal!" He hung the coat up to dry, kicked off the heels-- and no wonder he was miserable in 'em!-- and raced over to the bed.
Yeah. A pal. A pal who's got-- got motives! I dunno, maybe not *motives*, 'cause that sounds kinda mean almost, but butterflies. In my stomach. Around him. Who's in bed with me. Wearing a little black dress. I never even seen a real girl in a dress like *that*. I guess it's not so revealing on a guy, only in a way it seems more-- more like he's... gosh, I don't even know the words for it! I think the Colonel's given a lecture about this stuff, but it wasn't very helpful, and it didn't cover what to do if the girl who's figure A or B is really a guy A or B and so are you only you think he looks better in a dress and heels than all the girl As and Bs put together.
There was never a lecture on how to share body heat with a fella in a dress who you also wanted to do stuff with that were kind of covered in another lecture.
There was definitely never a lecture on how to handle it if he put his arm around you and that tingling feeling that's usually in the pit of your stomach drops. Or what to do if he was breathin' on your neck, just accidentally, and it made you feel real funny only you didn't want him to know 'cause then he'd know. Or--
"KLINGER!" I shrieked. I mean, said in a manly fashion.
"What?"
"Your feet are cold!"
"So? You've got socks on."
"Well that's how cold they are, I can feel 'em freezing clear through!"
"Well they aren't gonna get any warmer if I have to keep 'em away from all the rest of the body heat."
"Aw, okay." I relented. 'Cause even if they were kinda-- really-- cold, honestly I didn't mind his feet rubbing up against mine. And I really didn't mind his arms around me.
"When's your new cot s'posed to come in?" He yawned.
"Tuesday or so."
"Oh. So you got this thing 'til then?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"I, um... I got sentry duty again tomorrow night. If I wear sensible shoes, you think you'd mind me comin' in here again with warmer feet?"
I blushed so hard I coulda sworn I glowed in the dark. I dunno if some of me could handle the excitement two nights in a row...
"Aw, I don't mind." I said anyway.
---/-/---
FIN
=^_^=
Anne
Title: Fifty-Fifrty
Spoiler Warning: Post-ep for 'Check-Up'
Pairing: H/T
Teen-ish
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: all the cool kids are doing it.
I struggled not to drop any of the jars of plasma I'd just been handed. It took the grace and skill of a ballet dancer, but eventually I set them down without breaking a one.
"Don't hurt yourself." Trapper teased. "You know, unless you think it would be funny."
"That's my problem." I shook my head, gravitating to him. "I go too far. I'll do anything for a laugh."
"You know what would be great?"
"If it involves me getting hit in the face, forget it-- I may need to fall back on my looks someday."
"Actually, I was changing the subject. What would be great is if you could get me a sandwich. I guess you *could* hit yourself in the face with a sandwich, but I don't know if I'd eat it afterwards."
"If I had a sandwich, I'd be the one eating it."
"You shouldn't be so cruel to me, Hawk. I'm a sick man."
"Yeah, no kidding. I've always known that about you."
"Hey!" He protested, chuckling a little too much to be taken seriously.
And it was the truth, what I said before. I would do anything for a laugh, providing it was his. He's got the most gorgeous smile, when you can find it, the one that lights his whole face and makes his eyes sparkle...
"Okay. If I should somehow come across this mythical sandwich, I'll split it with you. Fifty-fifty."
"Sixty-forty. You called me sick."
"Fifty-fifty. You called yourself sick and I agreed with you."
"Fifty-fifty." He allowed. "But I get the toothpick that holds it together."
"No deal, the toothpick is fifty-fifty, same as the sandwich."
"What if the sandwich is peanut butter? No toothpick."
"Then you can have half the toothpick holding my drink together."
"I suppose splitting the drink is still out of the question." He sighed.
"Sorry. You're a sick man, remember?" I ruffled his curls. Really, for no other reason but to touch them.
"Yeah." He grabbed my hand before I could take it away. "Look... is there anything I'm not too sick for?"
"Sleeping. Being medicated."
"Let me know when 'necking' gets added to that list."
"Whoever called it that was a poor judge of anatomy."
He laughed. It was golden. I didn't know laughter had a colour, but I think now it must, at least if it's his.
"So why'd you stick around this dump? I'd think they'd at least let you get treated at Tokyo General."
"The offer wasn't good enough." He shrugged.
"The offer wasn't-- *Tokyo* wasn't good enough? I gotta say, I think you held out a little too long on that one, 'cause they got you stuck here instead."
"I chose you." He mumbled the words, crossing his arms defensively.
"Trapper, I'm flattered, but Tokyo's gotta have doctors at least *almost* as good as I am."
"Not for Doctor Pierce, for *you*. *Hawkeye*. I wouldn't have come back... they would have transferred me out. To some unit that didn't have you in it. I'd rather take my chances in this rathole than wind up someplace else..."
"Aw, Trap... Say, didn't we already do this sentimental hooey?" I tried to wipe at my eye without looking like I was wiping at my eye. Luckily post-op was pretty empty today-- Trap and a couple kids who weren't exactly conscious-- but still.
"No, we did a different sentimental hooey." He grinned, and at least his eyes were a little watery as well.
It was then that I noticed something else, which really, I should have been aware of the entire time.
"Trapper, are you still holding my hand?"
"... Yes."
"You really want me to clear you for necking, don't you?"
He waggled his eyebrows. "You offering, Sailor?"
"That's Doctor Sailor, Soldier."
"Please. Doctor Soldier, Doctor Sailor."
"Hey, how'd I become a sailor?"
"I don't know. Because they've got such cute little outfits?"
"You're a naughty boy." I snickered.
"Think about it. The pants'd hug that cute little butt just so."
"You're the one with the cute little butt. I have the nice chest."
"Who's got the legs?"
"I've got hips and thighs, you've got knees and calves."
"Fifty-fifty." He smiled. "Fair enough."
There was a long pause. He let go of my hand nervously, then grabbed it again, at least as nervously as before.
"Hey, Hawk... how serious were we being? I mean, I know we weren't being serious, but... You make the same jokes over and over, you start to think it's a little true..."
"It's a little true." I nodded.
"So when am I cleared for necking?"
"Cool it, big boy." I gave his chest a little shove, and he landed against his pillow. "I'll come by and give you your physical later. You never got your short arm inspection..."
"You tease."
I winked at him. "I'm worth the wait."
He smiled and settled back. I left post-op like I was walking on clouds for once, and all because of him...
---/-/---
FIN
Author: Anne Marsh
Title: Cold
R/K
Teenish? (I'm so bad at self-rating...)
Spoiler Warning: None whatsoever.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: pretty please with sugar on top?
I was sleeping up until the door swung open. I thought it was just the wind made it do that, seeing as how it's winter and pretty harsh and all.
I really didn't want to get up, only someone had to shut the door again. Well, before I could get up, it closed without me, and when I got my glasses on, I could see a raccoon coat shivering in the dark. I mean, that's what it looked like.
"Klinger?" I asked. You know, just to be sure.
"Hey, Radar." It was Klinger, and his teeth chattred when he talked. "Sorry to wake you. I just got off sentry duty and I couldn't make it back to my tent with this storm going. I wore the wrong shoes for this..."
"Well, gee," I tsk-ed. "You oughta know better'n to go out like that in this weather. I mean, between you and me, we both know you're not crazy for real, so you really gotta take better care of yourself!"
"Well, thanks, kid, but if I start taking better care of myself, I-- Hey. What happened to your cot?"
"Colonel Blake, a mambo record, and a bottle of rye did. But Captains Pierce and MacIntyre who helped happen to it had a rubber mattress they said I could use until the requisition form for a new one goes through."
"You look like you're trying to sleep in the middle of a lifeboat."
"Well, it normally sleeps two. Captains Pierce and MacIntyre said it was real good for company, and when I said company usually sleeps in the VIP tent, they said that wasn't what they meant. I think--" I dropped my voice to a whisper. "I think they meant *girls*."
"Say, you don't mind if-- I mean, I can't cross the compound like this, and so long as you've got the space, I promise I don't snore."
"Oh, uh,"
"And if I'm wrong and I do, you can just shove me 'til I wake up and stop. C'mon, *please*, Radar? Don't make me go back out there! These are open-toe!"
"Okay, well hang up your coat then. You might as well, I don't know what to do with all this room."
"Thanks, Radar, you're a pal!" He hung the coat up to dry, kicked off the heels-- and no wonder he was miserable in 'em!-- and raced over to the bed.
Yeah. A pal. A pal who's got-- got motives! I dunno, maybe not *motives*, 'cause that sounds kinda mean almost, but butterflies. In my stomach. Around him. Who's in bed with me. Wearing a little black dress. I never even seen a real girl in a dress like *that*. I guess it's not so revealing on a guy, only in a way it seems more-- more like he's... gosh, I don't even know the words for it! I think the Colonel's given a lecture about this stuff, but it wasn't very helpful, and it didn't cover what to do if the girl who's figure A or B is really a guy A or B and so are you only you think he looks better in a dress and heels than all the girl As and Bs put together.
There was never a lecture on how to share body heat with a fella in a dress who you also wanted to do stuff with that were kind of covered in another lecture.
There was definitely never a lecture on how to handle it if he put his arm around you and that tingling feeling that's usually in the pit of your stomach drops. Or what to do if he was breathin' on your neck, just accidentally, and it made you feel real funny only you didn't want him to know 'cause then he'd know. Or--
"KLINGER!" I shrieked. I mean, said in a manly fashion.
"What?"
"Your feet are cold!"
"So? You've got socks on."
"Well that's how cold they are, I can feel 'em freezing clear through!"
"Well they aren't gonna get any warmer if I have to keep 'em away from all the rest of the body heat."
"Aw, okay." I relented. 'Cause even if they were kinda-- really-- cold, honestly I didn't mind his feet rubbing up against mine. And I really didn't mind his arms around me.
"When's your new cot s'posed to come in?" He yawned.
"Tuesday or so."
"Oh. So you got this thing 'til then?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"I, um... I got sentry duty again tomorrow night. If I wear sensible shoes, you think you'd mind me comin' in here again with warmer feet?"
I blushed so hard I coulda sworn I glowed in the dark. I dunno if some of me could handle the excitement two nights in a row...
"Aw, I don't mind." I said anyway.
---/-/---
FIN
=^_^=
Anne
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-03-22 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-23 07:51 am (UTC)=^_^=
Anne