mash_slash | Fic: Right, PG13 (Reply)

Okay, so like...I wrote this in September of 2005, and posted it then, but I also promised someone like...four months ago? That I would post some stuff I wrote back then. I haven't done any fanfic writing in forever, but I did manage to dig out three that I thought were moderately decent. This is the first of them. It's also the only one that isn't nc17.

Sooooooooooooooooo

Title: Right
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1529
Summary: Margaret accuses Hawkeye (and Trapper) of something.
Notes: Trapper just thinks it's funny. I totally see him like that sometimes. (Not into it himself, but easygoing about it.) Also, thanks to

subluxate for the long-ago beta.

<3D~
(OH SHIT DO YOU GUYS REMEMBER GERALD)

“Homosexuals?” Henry repeated, looking exasperated. “Them two? Major – “

“I assure you, Colonel, I would not make such an accusation unless I was sure of it.” Margaret said firmly, her arms folded and her lips tightly pressed together.

Henry rolled his eyes. “Radar!” he called. “Can you send for - ?”

“Hawkeye and Trapper are on their way, sir.” Radar poked his head into the office. “And so’s Major Burns.”

“Good,” Margaret said, now looking pleased. “We’ll get this cleared up, then.”

“If you say so,” Henry sighed. He held his hand out to one of the chairs facing his desk. “Have a seat, Margaret, we’ll probably be here awhile.” She didn’t say anything in response, but took the seat and folded her hands in her lap, looking straight ahead.

Suddenly, a pair of hands went over her eyes and she stiffened, reaching for them. “Captain Pierce!” she squawked.

“No no, you have to guess who!” Pierce’s voice said from behind her.

“Slim Summerville?” McIntyre’s voice guessed. “Harry Truman?”

“Close, but no cigar.”

“Groucho Marx, then.”

“Now you get a cigar.” The hands were removed from her eyes and Margaret blinked, seeing something long and brown dangling infront of her. She turned her head and glared.

“I wasn’t guessing,” she said. “And I don’t want that!”

Hawkeye shrugged, putting it back into his robe pocket. “Suit yourself. I thought maybe I could light it for you, and then Frank.”

“You were gonna light Frank?” Henry raised an eyebrow.

Hawkeye shrugged. “She wasn’t going to.”

“Colonel Blake!” Margaret said loudly.

Henry sighed. “You guys know why you’re here?”

“I foolishly opened a notice from my draft board,” Hawkeye shrugged again. “S’why we’re all here.”

“I came to get away from my wife,” Trapper shrugged also.

“I don’t find that hard to believe,” Margaret looked him up and down. He grinned and put his arms behind his head and leaned back in the chair under the window.

“What’s the rub, Henry?” Hawkeye asked. “Drinks, Trap?”

“Major Houlihan here says you’re a homosexual,” Henry said, watching them both carefully. Hawkeye and Trapper exchanged a look, and then Hawkeye smirked while Trapper rolled his eyes and fixed their drinks.

“Major Houlihan says a lot of things, Henry,” Hawkeye said.

“She also said we kept a nurse hidden in our tent for a week,” Trapper noted.

“And that was never proven,” Hawkeye added.

Margaret glared at him, then reached for Frank’s arm as he entered, whistling. “Frank, I’m glad you’re here.”

“You’re the only one,” Henry muttered, propping his chin up with his palm, his elbow on the desk.

“I came as fast as I could,” Frank said, putting his hands in his pockets. Hawkeye elbowed Trapper and they both smirked.

Margaret gave them a black look, then turned back to Frank. “I need your help,” she began, “to finally get these fools out of here. Our ever-knowledgeable Colonel doesn’t believe me.” Now she gave Henry a fierce glance, to which he responded by continuing to look at her boredly. “And he’s all wrapped around their fingers anyway.”

“Henry, it doesn’t matter what you put on my finger, I’m not marrying you.” Hawkeye interjected. Trapper snorted and Henry yawned.

“No one was talking to you, Mister Smarty Pants!” Frank snapped.

“His pants are no smarter than your pants,” Trapper commented.

“I dunno Trap, his pants see the floor of Margaret’s tent more often than mine do,” Hawkeye clicked his tongue. “Though no one said how smart that was.”

Margaret stamped her foot. “Frank, they’re homosexuals!”

Frank blinked, then looked at Pierce and McIntyre, who looked back at him innocently. Frank turned back to Margaret, and then started laughing. “Them? Margaret, you’re kidding!”

Margaret’s mouth dropped open, and she hid her rising anger with another stamp to the floor. “I am certainly not kidding, Major!” she said.

“I don’t believe it!” Frank shook his head, plopping down in the chair next to Margaret’s.

“Frank?” she said, looking and sounding hurt. “I know he is,” she protested, pointing to Hawkeye.

Hawkeye pointed to himself questioningly. She growled in response. Trapper reached over and shook Hawkeye’s hand, saying, “Congratulations, buddy, I always knew you were one to put your rear at the head of your priorities.” Hawkeye snorted and held out his glass for a refill.

“You believe me, don’t you Frank?” Margaret asked, somewhat pleadingly.

“Well, uh, um...no. Sorry, Margaret,” he said. “I know Pierce has done some strange and odd things, but it doesn’t make any sense that he would be a homosexual.”

“Thanks Frank,” Hawkeye said, shooting him a wide grin. “I could kiss you.” Frank rolled his eyes.

“It does make sense, if you just paid attention the way I do – “ Margaret went on.

Frank was shaking his head. “If Pierce was a homosexual, he would have been all over me.” He nodded firmly. Trapper and Henry choked on their drinks.

“What?!” Hawkeye yelped. “Are you loony?”

Frank looked mildly offended. “I’m an all-American man!” he said. “If you can think of any reasons anyone wouldn’t want me, I’d like to hear them!”

Hawkeye looked like he’d accidentally ingested something from the Mess Tent. “How many do you want? Rather, how long do you have? Maybe until the end of the war? Because the war could end and we’d still be sitting here, listing!”

Henry sat back in his chair and put his hands up. “All right, all right, enough of this. Major Houlihan, do you have any actual proof of what it is you’re accusing Captain Pierce of, or are you just speculating? Because no matter how much I’m sure you’d like it, you can’t speculate up a blue discharge!”

Margaret glared at Henry, now. “I didn’t hear either of them doing any denying!”

“I deny that I did any denying.” Hawkeye said immediately.

“I’m not a homosexual,” Trapper shrugged. Then he grinned. “Ask the nurses.”

“There, are you satisfied?” Henry asked Margaret, gesturing to the two Captains. “All’s well, everyone’s friends. Now get out of my office.”

Margaret jumped to her feet and put one hand on her hip, the other pointing at Hawkeye. “Just you wait until I get pictures!” she threatened.

“Would you?” Hawkeye looked interested. “Make sure you tell me beforehand, so I’m wearing my best birthday suit.”

“Oh!” Margaret snarled, then turned to the door. “Come, Frank!” she demanded. Frank scrambled out of his seat and followed at her heels as she stormed out of the office.

“Here Frank, here boy, good boy,” Henry said under his breath.

Trapper snorted and finished his Scotch and set the empty glass on the corner of Henry’s desk. “Well,” he said, putting both hands on his knees.

“That was worth making me put pants on,” Hawkeye remarked.

“You’re not wearing any,” Henry said, leaning over and noticing the other man’s bare legs.

“Which is where my sarcasm comes into play.” He stood, drained his own glass, and set it down with a flourish. “Is that all then, Ever-Knowledgeable One?”

“Yeah yeah, sure.” Henry waved a hand at him. He paused, then tilted his head, eyeing Hawkeye. “Level with me,” he said suddenly. “She got any reason to think that?”

“To think what?” Hawkeye asked, clasping his hands behind his back and looking smug.

Henry looked uncomfortable. “What she said.”

“She said a lot of things, Henry.” Trapper said, repeating something Hawkeye had said earlier. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Well, are you...you know. A homosexual,” he clarified, when Hawkeye didn’t answer.

Hawkeye still didn’t say anything for a moment, and then, “Well, Henry? Why do you want to know?”

“Well, I just...look, I don’t care what you answer,” he said. “That’s not my business, I just try to run a hospital. And I don’t care what those two goons think or don’t think you are, as long as there’s actually reason for them to think...”

“Since when do they think at all?” Hawkeye shifted from one foot to the other.

“Frank doesn’t,” Trapper observed. “But then, he never has.”

“I just wanted to know, for myself.” Henry said to Hawkeye.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “To see if I was right or not.”

“You think we are?” Trapper asked. “I just think it’s amusing.”

“No, no, I don’t think you are.” Henry shook his head.

“Good,” Trapper nodded.

“Just me?” Hawkeye raised his eyebrows.

“Well...”

“Sorry Henry,” he clicked his tongue. “I promised myself I would never, ever, tell you that you were right. C’mon Trap, we still have to let that nurse out of the Swamp.”

“Hey now, you can’t go,” Henry protested as Trapper and Hawkeye made to leave through the doors. “You have to answer my question!”

“I already did!” Hawkeye protested. “You weren’t listening.” Henry looked confused.

“C’mon Gracie,” Trapper held out his arm.

Hawkeye hooked his arm through Trapper’s, and flipped his hair. “Sorry Henry,” he said again. “We also have to figure out how one can take a martini intravenously. And we’ve the perfect nursing test subject.”

Henry watched as the two strolled out of the office, and sighed, shaking his head. He hated it when Major Houlihan was right.