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mash_slashTitle: should auld acquaintance be forgot
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mijmeraar
Pairing: unfixed M/M
Rating: 13+
AN: This began as a piece for BJ/Hawkeye and then morphed into something else entirely. It explores a M/M relationship that might have been, but I hope it says a great deal more than that. It also transcends the MASH fandom, and is more about soldiers at large. I really like this piece, and I hope that you do too. Comments are love.
Without this war, they would have been wide eyed boys with ocean dreams; clotted with whimsy and always with skinned knees. They would have met over ice-cream and model airplanes and made friends because they wanted to; not because they fell together down the same dark hole, not because of the letters marked official.
They would have lied in the tall green grass and looked up at the big blue sky and they would have seen clouds and birds and the sun at noon and the speckles of gold it left behind their eyelids. They would have taken apart a teddy bear and put it back together and they would have folded their arms and nodded their heads and said quite firmly, “Stay in bed, Mister. Bear,” because a broken leg needs rest and that’s all it was, a broken leg.
At night they would have lied in bed and listened to stories of the little heroes and their big, wonderful adventures. Stories of the impossible, of dungeons, dragons and damsels in distress, of things they never could fear for they never could be. They would not hear of peace as peace just was, and they would not ask – where have all the big boys gone? – because the big boys were at school or at work or kissing their girlfriends at the drive thru even though they really shouldn’t.
They would have been boys and nothing more and it would have been enough, it would have been all anybody needed of them.
*
Without this war they would have grown up slow and learnt things fast and fought through college among jokes of life and the crazy pursuit of it, not death and the crazy waste of it. There would be booze and poker, risqué movies and cheap pick up lines; there would have been all of it for no real reason, for fun and games and misspent youth. Not for daydream and distraction. Not for distancing themselves from death.
Without this war they would have broken rules on their terms and struck taboo for love. They would have stolen kisses in the quiet night, no mortar fire, no gunshots; and they would have gone to bed together because they were falling in, not crumbling down. They would have made love with the light on, face to face, and they would have spent the morning twisted limb from limb; telling tales in low voices, watching as the sun washed through the windows and feeling it as it soaked them in its warmth.
Without this war they would have treasured simple moments. They would have trick or treated with fake blood and had Christmas with real snow and sang out of tune by the fire, toasting marshmallows and drinking hot chocolate. They would have understood, been understood, they would have questioned, and been questioned, and it would have meant something, it would all have been for something.
They would have called out to the world, called out to be seen, and the world would have looked and heard and the world would have known.
*
Without this war they would have been boys at heart for always. They would have laughed [and meant it] and they would have cried because the joy was too much to keep inside. They would have told true stories to the young; this one time we were fishing, this one time we were travelling, this one time, all these times we had. They would have lived life full, out to the edges, not afraid of what might come of it, only afraid they would not see it all, see every last stitch on this great earth.
Without this war they would have mourned, death they did not cause and would not see. They would have had their bad times, their worst times, and they would have fought over stupid things, over food and drink and who would do the laundry, who would make the bed. They would have had their enemies; enemies who they could not see eye to eye with, and not enemies they did not match skin to skin with. They would have fought their battles, with words, with conscious judgment; and they would have fought when the fight was fair, when they could see the end and the end was clear.
Without this war they would have lived by their own choices, and some of those choices they would come to regret. They would have etched their mark into the world, and not their name into an endless list of endless men who fought for pride, pride forsaken. They would have been some people who were alive once, just like all the rest, and they would have been happy to be no-one, really, just everything to each other. They would have been so happy, and they wouldn’t have had to know any better.
*
They don’t toast to the New Year.
They toast to the old ones they never had.
Author:
mijmeraarPairing: unfixed M/M
Rating: 13+
AN: This began as a piece for BJ/Hawkeye and then morphed into something else entirely. It explores a M/M relationship that might have been, but I hope it says a great deal more than that. It also transcends the MASH fandom, and is more about soldiers at large. I really like this piece, and I hope that you do too. Comments are love.
Without this war, they would have been wide eyed boys with ocean dreams; clotted with whimsy and always with skinned knees. They would have met over ice-cream and model airplanes and made friends because they wanted to; not because they fell together down the same dark hole, not because of the letters marked official.
They would have lied in the tall green grass and looked up at the big blue sky and they would have seen clouds and birds and the sun at noon and the speckles of gold it left behind their eyelids. They would have taken apart a teddy bear and put it back together and they would have folded their arms and nodded their heads and said quite firmly, “Stay in bed, Mister. Bear,” because a broken leg needs rest and that’s all it was, a broken leg.
At night they would have lied in bed and listened to stories of the little heroes and their big, wonderful adventures. Stories of the impossible, of dungeons, dragons and damsels in distress, of things they never could fear for they never could be. They would not hear of peace as peace just was, and they would not ask – where have all the big boys gone? – because the big boys were at school or at work or kissing their girlfriends at the drive thru even though they really shouldn’t.
They would have been boys and nothing more and it would have been enough, it would have been all anybody needed of them.
*
Without this war they would have grown up slow and learnt things fast and fought through college among jokes of life and the crazy pursuit of it, not death and the crazy waste of it. There would be booze and poker, risqué movies and cheap pick up lines; there would have been all of it for no real reason, for fun and games and misspent youth. Not for daydream and distraction. Not for distancing themselves from death.
Without this war they would have broken rules on their terms and struck taboo for love. They would have stolen kisses in the quiet night, no mortar fire, no gunshots; and they would have gone to bed together because they were falling in, not crumbling down. They would have made love with the light on, face to face, and they would have spent the morning twisted limb from limb; telling tales in low voices, watching as the sun washed through the windows and feeling it as it soaked them in its warmth.
Without this war they would have treasured simple moments. They would have trick or treated with fake blood and had Christmas with real snow and sang out of tune by the fire, toasting marshmallows and drinking hot chocolate. They would have understood, been understood, they would have questioned, and been questioned, and it would have meant something, it would all have been for something.
They would have called out to the world, called out to be seen, and the world would have looked and heard and the world would have known.
*
Without this war they would have been boys at heart for always. They would have laughed [and meant it] and they would have cried because the joy was too much to keep inside. They would have told true stories to the young; this one time we were fishing, this one time we were travelling, this one time, all these times we had. They would have lived life full, out to the edges, not afraid of what might come of it, only afraid they would not see it all, see every last stitch on this great earth.
Without this war they would have mourned, death they did not cause and would not see. They would have had their bad times, their worst times, and they would have fought over stupid things, over food and drink and who would do the laundry, who would make the bed. They would have had their enemies; enemies who they could not see eye to eye with, and not enemies they did not match skin to skin with. They would have fought their battles, with words, with conscious judgment; and they would have fought when the fight was fair, when they could see the end and the end was clear.
Without this war they would have lived by their own choices, and some of those choices they would come to regret. They would have etched their mark into the world, and not their name into an endless list of endless men who fought for pride, pride forsaken. They would have been some people who were alive once, just like all the rest, and they would have been happy to be no-one, really, just everything to each other. They would have been so happy, and they wouldn’t have had to know any better.
*
They don’t toast to the New Year.
They toast to the old ones they never had.
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