[mijmeraar] A man once, Pt 1 of 1, 13+
Apr. 14th, 2008 09:07 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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mash_slashTitle: A man, once.
Pairing: Hawkeye-centric. Implied Hawkeye/BJ.
Rating: 13+
AN: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100 prompt 'outsides'. Something random that came to me this evening. ~470 words.
I used to know a man, once. He lived down my street.
He read the paper on his porch in his bathrobe, with his dad; he drank from a mug that had an ‘I’, had a chip on the handle. I heard he was troubled, but I never asked him of his troubles and I heard he was going nowhere, but I didn’t know where else he’d go. He seemed happy enough, or at least I heard him laugh, sometimes.
When I asked for a war story, something scary, he laughed.
He told me war was death, and stories were life, and so you couldn’t have both, not really.
*
I used to know a man once. He took my mother for a dance.
He brushed his hair back with his hand and tilted to and fro on his two feet. He spoke in a rumble, tried to impress me with impressions, told me he knew a kid like me once. Right down to the wire glasses. He said, so tell me, Radar, how will the night go, do you think? I told him I was Timothy and if it was up to me, the night wouldn’t go at all. It was the only time he really smiled.
When I asked him if he loved my mother he said no.
He said there’s no more of that left, but that’s okay, that’s what your mother told me too.
*
I used to know a man once. He played poker with my dad.
He sat at the table, at the head, speaking really loud and singing even louder. He wore beanies in the summer and wore dog tags around his neck; they’re not mine, he said, Hunnicutt, he said, jingling them, and I knew that wasn’t his name. I knew he was Hawkeye, like the character, and I thought that’s what he meant by his clothes. He was just in character.
When I asked him who was Hunnicutt, he smiled.
He told me Hunnicutt was just a man he knew, once, a long time ago.
*
I used to know a man once. He saved my brother’s life.
He wasn’t a doctor anymore but he still knew the steps. He breathed life into my brother, literally, pushed a heartbeat back into his body. He consoled me, after, even though I didn’t nearly die. Survivals hard, I know, he said. Fighting’s hard. He showed me a picture, a jeep with some people. He was there, he was younger, but his eyes were older, close to death even.
When I asked him what did he do, there, in the war, I meant how did he fix people.
Except he didn’t tell me that, he told me how he broke, himself. He told me, I fell in love.
Pairing: Hawkeye-centric. Implied Hawkeye/BJ.
Rating: 13+
AN: For
fanfic100 prompt 'outsides'. Something random that came to me this evening. ~470 words.I used to know a man, once. He lived down my street.
He read the paper on his porch in his bathrobe, with his dad; he drank from a mug that had an ‘I’, had a chip on the handle. I heard he was troubled, but I never asked him of his troubles and I heard he was going nowhere, but I didn’t know where else he’d go. He seemed happy enough, or at least I heard him laugh, sometimes.
When I asked for a war story, something scary, he laughed.
He told me war was death, and stories were life, and so you couldn’t have both, not really.
*
I used to know a man once. He took my mother for a dance.
He brushed his hair back with his hand and tilted to and fro on his two feet. He spoke in a rumble, tried to impress me with impressions, told me he knew a kid like me once. Right down to the wire glasses. He said, so tell me, Radar, how will the night go, do you think? I told him I was Timothy and if it was up to me, the night wouldn’t go at all. It was the only time he really smiled.
When I asked him if he loved my mother he said no.
He said there’s no more of that left, but that’s okay, that’s what your mother told me too.
*
I used to know a man once. He played poker with my dad.
He sat at the table, at the head, speaking really loud and singing even louder. He wore beanies in the summer and wore dog tags around his neck; they’re not mine, he said, Hunnicutt, he said, jingling them, and I knew that wasn’t his name. I knew he was Hawkeye, like the character, and I thought that’s what he meant by his clothes. He was just in character.
When I asked him who was Hunnicutt, he smiled.
He told me Hunnicutt was just a man he knew, once, a long time ago.
*
I used to know a man once. He saved my brother’s life.
He wasn’t a doctor anymore but he still knew the steps. He breathed life into my brother, literally, pushed a heartbeat back into his body. He consoled me, after, even though I didn’t nearly die. Survivals hard, I know, he said. Fighting’s hard. He showed me a picture, a jeep with some people. He was there, he was younger, but his eyes were older, close to death even.
When I asked him what did he do, there, in the war, I meant how did he fix people.
Except he didn’t tell me that, he told me how he broke, himself. He told me, I fell in love.
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