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[teapot-yo.livejournal.com]

I just stumbled across this wonderful community and had to join. I wrote this a while ago, but I'm going to post it here anyway as a New Year/Community-Joining offering. It's Hawkeye/BJ and I hope you like it. (It's under a cut for length.)



Around the corner from anything real, Hawkeye's trying to breathe and fall in love at the same time.

When Hawkeye hugs him, BJ smells like Christmas and death. When Hawkeye kisses him, he tastes like love and reluctance. And when Hawkeye stares at him from across the Swamp, he looks like passion and exhaustion. BJ is a mass of contradiction, so it’s only fitting that being in love with him is the most bittersweet part of Hawkeye’s life.

"Your mother never told you not to stare?" BJ questions languidly.

"My mother never met anyone as beautiful as you," Hawkeye replies without missing a beat, and they share a laugh.

The wonderful thing about BJ is that his laughs are always real. He’s got so much to think about, so much to fear and hate and question; but if he laughs with Hawkeye, it’s never just to indulge him. Hawkeye knows that sometimes he stays up at night wondering about how it will be with his wife, but BJ possesses infinite grace, and because of that he is able to keep the wonder to himself. Because of that he is able to make the time that Hawkeye and he spend together about Hawkeye and BJ, not Hawkeye and BJ and then-- after the war-- Peg.

The terrible thing about BJ is everything that he worries about when he’s not with Hawkeye. In spite of refusing to show it, he’ll always be preoccupied with his wife, or with his daughter, or with the kid that died at his hands yesterday. It’s not really that Hawkeye’s jealous of the attention those things garner. It’s just... he doesn’t want BJ to have to worry about any of that.

"I’ll bet your mind is heavy," Hawkeye says, thinking out loud. The comment isn’t going to make sense to BJ, but BJ isn’t the type to dissect the way Hawkeye’s brain works. Besides, he’s got the feeling that BJ knows more or less what he means.

"I’ll bet you’re right."

"I’ll bet you don’t know what I’m talking about."

"Haven’t the foggiest," BJ says lightly. "But I assume there’s a compliment buried there somewhere, so I can only thank you."

"You see through me like a window."

"Only thanks to years of practice."

It’s light banter, really more to pass the time than anything else, but there’s a deep, underlying affection and fondness. Hawkeye knows that he doesn’t mean to BJ what BJ means to him, but he means something, and in Korea, something can be everything if you look at it from the right angle.



Sometimes, when Charles isn't around, they dance. It's awkward: both of them lead in a clumsy, untrained series of steps. But it is still dancing, and what they lack in grace, they make up for in passion.

"Ow," Hawkeye says softly, and BJ murmurs a swift apology.

"I thought you said you were good on your feet," Hawkeye continues. BJ doesn't answer, and it takes Hawkeye a while to realize they aren't dancing anymore. "What's the matter?"

"Hawk, look at us!" BJ exclaims, keeping his voice carefully low. "Two six foot men traipsing around an army tent to avoid thinking about their lives... is that what you want?"

Because he will go to great lengths to avoid cheapening this already fragile relationship, Hawkeye resists the urge to reply, "You are my life." Instead, he nods. "Yeah."

Something in BJ's face crumbles as he realizes what Hawkeye's known for a long time (forever?): Hawkeye'd give anything not to need BJ the way he does.

"I'm sorry," BJ murmurs, and, like everything else about BJ, it is painfully genuine. Before Hawkeye can exhale and apologize, BJ's lips are pressed against his cheek. It's the sweetest, most innocent thing Hawkeye's ever seen BJ do, and Hawkeye's heart breaks when BJ whispers, "I just want you to be happy."

Hawkeye doesn't move for a few seconds, feeling forty hours' worth of whiskers on his cheek and forty years' worth of love on his mind. The right thing to do, he knows, would be to snake an arm around BJ and be sure that BJ knows he loves him, but he can't bring himself to do it, and that's when he realizes that the end is not as far as the start.

"I'm sorry, Beej," he whispers, and when BJ pulls away from him, looks him in the eye, and says, "I know," he wants to cry for the second time that day.

There's a knock at the door just then, and BJ, who doesn't bother to take his hands off of Hawkeye's shoulders, turns his head and yells "Come in" just in time to see Radar burst in with a handful of letters. "Mail," the tiny boy says, tipping a letter toward BJ. "From your wife, I think," he adds, looking down at the postmark, and it's not Hawkeye's day at all.

The only time Hawkeye ever sees BJ get truly shaken is when he receives a letter from Peg. BJ is a carefully balanced equilibrium; he is two lifetimes contained in one body as some sort of cruel joke. On the one hand, he is the caring husband who would give up his own life for his daughter's. On the other, he is Hawkeye's lover, who wants only to make it through the war. These two worlds cannot exist side by side; the roots of one would choke the other. Letters from Peg serve only to remind BJ of what, in his world, is the most important (the only, probably) rule: any equation involving both Peg and Hawkeye, regardless of the variable, will inevitably leave BJ with nothing.

BJ takes the envelope with a smile and thanks Radar, who, in turn, smiles. "It's no problem, sir," he says, blushing. "I mean, it's my job, you know. So I do it." His eyes travel to BJ's hands on Hawkeye's shoulders, and a look of suspicion, confusion, and concern that is unique to Radar crosses his face. "Am I interrupting anything?" he asks carefully.

BJ takes a look at Hawkeye, and then back at Radar. "Yes, sort of, Radar, but it's nothing you need to worry about." He smiles again, and Radar leaves.

"Thanks for not telling Radar he wasn't interrupting anything," Hawkeye says quietly.

"That's sort of a weird thing to thank me for."

"The weirdest things make me adore you."

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome, and thanks for doing it without hurting his feelings. You know how sensitive Radar gets."

"I know how sensitive you get."

"I don't."

"I know you don't want me to open this letter."

"It's from your wife, of course I want you to open it."

"So I'm not going to."

Hawkeye sighs and sits down on his cot. "Thank you," he says, burying his face in his hands. "I'm really sorry."

"For what?"

"It's just rotten that you can't read letters from your own wife when I'm here."

BJ laughs. "You're too hard on yourself. I could read letters from my wife in your presence. I just don't."

Well, that's why I love you.



It's late, so of course BJ's wide awake, grappling with everything he doesn't let himself think about if he doesn't hear Hawkeye snoring.

Ironically enough, though Peg and Hawkeye are the two people he loves more than anything in the world, they are also the only two people that BJ has ever really thought he could hate. This is mostly because (and though he despises himself for it), the thought of them meeting each other makes him dread the end of the war.

As long as there are people getting blown apart every day for him to treat, BJ can stay here, where he can have Hawkeye and also the promise of Peg. But if the war ends, and he goes home to her, there is no way he'll be able to get through a year without Hawkeye. Ultimately, the end of the war means a momentuous decision for which there are no good choices.

And what right do Hawkeye and Peg have to make him feel that way? How much easier would his life be without a war, without Hawkeye, without Peg?

How much sadder?

A month ago was when BJ had reached his breaking point. A month ago was when he had just waited all day for Hawkeye and Charles to either sleep or go into surgery, just so that he could lie in the dark and scream into his pillow. It's not as bad as it was a month ago. He doesn't hate anyone anymore, and he doesn't scream at night anymore. But still.... He looks over at Hawkeye's sleeping form and realizes there isn't snoring anymore.

"Beej? You awake?"

Hawkeye is always at his most endearing when he's sleepy, and it isn't fair. BJ lights a lamp next to his bed and looks across the tent to see Hawkeye, hair flopping across his forehead, eyes drooping with exhaustion, shoulders hunched over.

"Yeah, I'm here," BJ answers needlessly, looking over.

"Charles is in surgery."

"I know."

"He'll be there for a few hours."

"I know."

"Will you... come over here?"

BJ groans, gets up, and crosses the tent. "AUGH IT'S FREEZING."

"I love when you talk without punctuation."

"I'm such a tease."

Taking in BJ, perched on the end of his bed, legs crossed and staring at him, Hawkeye raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, you are."

"Uh, note to Hawk: 'will you come over here' does not equal 'will you sleep with me'."

"Obviously your experiences differ vastly from mine."

"Har har. Honestly, it's really cold out, which is the only reason I'm burrowing under your blankets with you."

"The only reason, eh? Stop making us sound like rabbits. Unless we're going to do other things in the style of rabbits."

"Whaaaat?"

"Well, you know, they-"

"OH. No."

"But-"

"This cot is roughly two feet wide."

"And...?"

"I'm roughly two feet wide."

Hawkeye raises his eyebrows skeptically.

"I AM. At the shoulders."

"Shut up." Hawkeye grabs the top of the blanket and tucks it under BJ. "Are you warming up?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"No problem."

They lie in silence for a few minutes, but in spite of the fact that it is a warm, contented silence, Hawkeye feels the need to fill it. As always.

"You know, it's not just sex with you."

BJ drops a kiss onto Hawkeye's shoulder, a habit which Hawkeye absolutely adores. "Say what?"

"Well. You know. I'm obsessed with sex, and I make all these crude jokes and everything, but I just think you should know that it's more than that with you." The world sparkles in his eyes as he tries to articulate everything and ends up making several unconnected hand gestures that don’t make sense to anyone but himself. "I just... yeah, I think you're cool and everything, but I also want you to be happy, I don't want you to have to worry about anything, I just..."

"I love you." BJ cuts him off, laying down his soul and catching Hawkeye's breath in his throat.

Isn't this what you've been waiting for?

When the weight of the silence starts to choke them both, BJ murmurs, "It's okay if you don't love me." Then his face gets thoughtful. "It's also all right if you can't," he adds.

When Hawkeye still says nothing, he reaches over and turns the lamp off. "Good night," he whispers, dropping another quick kiss, this time onto Hawkeye's lips. "Everything's all right."

In the dark, it's safer. After about fifteen minutes, Hawkeye brings his voice down to a level that's barely audible. "It’s not because I don’t love you," he murmurs, hoping BJ won’t ask him to elaborate, because he can’t.

"What do you mean?"

He curses himself for being a coward before he rolls over and shakes his head. "I didn’t say anything."