A birthday fic

[amberdowny.livejournal.com]

It’s Mike Farrell’s birthday today! So what do I do? I write Hawkeye/B.J. of course.

 

It started out of sheer practicality. Korean winters were freezing cold--why not share blankets and body heat to lessen the chill? So they did, and it worked, and it was just that much harder to get out of the warm nest now that it was that much warmer.

It had nothing to do with the other person in the nest, of course. It was the heat.

At least, that’s what Hawkeye told himself. He had sworn, way back when he graduated high school, never again. He had been able to salvage his friendship with Tommy, and this friendship was so much more important. This friendship gave him sanity. B.J. Hunnicutt was a little pool of reason in this unreasonable world.

B.J. on the other hand, knew exactly why he didn’t want to leave the blankets, and it scared him for different reasons. He had a wife, a daughter and a dog, and he wasn’t going to do something he’d regret and betray them.

Except, he wouldn’t regret the act so much as regret the consequences. And not just the consequences with his family. Hawkeye would hate him, would be disgusted by him. He didn’t think he could live with that.

It continued because both of them liked the warmth and the other person. Warmth being used in a metaphorical way as much as a literal. They felt better knowing that here, they weren’t being judged, and they could wake up from nightmares sobbing and the other person would understand, and offer some sort of sympathy.

Except, Hawkeye told himself, if B.J. knew some of the fantasies that whirled in his head, he would judge him, and no sympathy would be forthcoming.

B.J. had the same thoughts and more, thoughts of what Peg would think if she knew.

It ended when spring came. Innocently sleeping together, that is. The feelings stayed, and one warm night, Hawkeye finally got up the courage (and the level of inebriation) to do something about them.

“Beej?” he hissed through the darkness of the Swamp.

B.J. woke, and turned toward the sound. “Hawk?” he responded blearily. “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep,” Hawkeye began, then paused, not knowing what to say to get B.J. to do what he wanted.

“That’s nice. I can, so let me.” B.J. rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head.

Hawkeye threw his pillow at B.J. in annoyance. “Beej, come on. I need to talk to you.”

B.J. sighed and sat up. “Right now?”

“Not right right now. We need to go somewhere where Charles won’t hear.”

B.J. swung his legs over the side of his cot and pulled on his pants, then jammed his feet into his boots. “All right, lead on.”

Hawkeye pulled on his own boots but didn’t bother with pants, just tying his robe a little tighter. “Come on then.” Hawkeye slipped out the door and walked away from the camp. He sat down a few hundred yards away, at the base of a tree. B.J. sat beside him.

“Something bothering you, Hawk?” B.J. asked. “Or is this just some random insanity?”

Hawkeye shrugged. “I wonder sometimes,” he replied. It didn’t exactly make sense, but in a way it did. He sighed, then leaned back against the tree. “Beej,” he began, then stopped. This was insane.

“Yes?” B.J. replied, a bit of a smirk tugging at his lips at seeing Hawkeye Pierce, the verbose, struggling for words.

Hawkeye scowled at him. “I see that smirk.” B.J. put on an innocent face. Hawkeye rolled his eyes, then said, “You ever fall for someone your mom wouldn’t approve of?”

“Yeah,” B.J. replied, thinking of Hawkeye.

“Me too. Twice.”

“The same girl twice?” B.J. asked. “Or two different girls?”

“Neither,” Hawkeye said delicately. He saw B.J.’s eyes widen, heard the intake of breath and knew B.J. knew what he meant.

“Oh,” B.J. said at last.

Hawkeye sighed. “Tommy Gillis was first, way back in high school. After an ending that nearly ruined our friendship, I swore I’d never fall for a guy again. But then I did.”

“Oh,” B.J. said again. “I can almost relate.”

“Yeah?” Hawkeye was skeptical.

B.J. nodded. “Yeah. I never thought I would, then I did.”

“Yeah?” Surprise this time. “How’d it go?”

“I haven’t acted on it,” B.J. admitted.

“Me neither.”

And then both of them did. They leaned over and their lips met. It wasn’t a perfect kiss, it was clumsy and awkward and shy, but it was new and exciting and right.

Something new started out of love.